#move his head so he could look up at me. and that's how he passed. looking up at me.

[kitten4sannie]

two player game

pairing: gamer boy! yunho x gf! reader

genre: smut with zero plot

summary: you find something worthwhile to occupy your attention while your boyfriend is wrapped up in his current save file.

w.c: 1.7k

warnings: nasty dom! yuyu (bro gets a bit whiny), tiny bit bratty mostly good girl! reader, pet names + name calling, praise + degradation, SIZE KINK 🗣️🗣️🗣️, monster cock yunho agenda, implied throat/hole training, manhandling, edging, cockwarming w throat, messy oral + deep-throating, finger sucking, a (rough) quick fuck bc yunho cums in 0.5 seconds, breeding + bulge kink, creampie <3

a/n: as a certified yunwhore i simply couldn’t pass up the opportunity to write about gamer boy yuyu ~~ honestly i have no excuse for this tbh i just need him so baddddd and this is what i have to do to keep the voices at bay 😔✊🏼 anygays, enjoy lovelies! and if you liked, please consider sharing your thots with me :3 <3

“You said you would stop playing after you finished that level, Yun, come on,” you whined to your boyfriend, who was currently balls deep in the newest video game he just bought. It should’ve been you he was balls deep in, yet here you were, third wheeling to an inanimate object. 

Yunho ducked and weaved around your waving hands that were currently trying to block his view from the flatscreen tv he was locked in on, sitting up from the slouched position he had on the sofa you both were lounging on. 

“Ugh,” you huffed, throwing yourself back into the couch, your arms crossing over your chest. “Whatever.” 

He turned his head for a moment to look at you apologetically, reminiscent of a golden retriever that just got scolded. “I’m sorry, baby, I swear, I’ll get off soon. I’m just…at a really good part right now.” 

“You said that twenty minutes agoooo.” You leaned against Yunho, your cheek squishing into his large shoulder, pawing at his nearest thigh. “Why can’t you play with me, instead of your stupid game?” 

“Oh, I see.” Yunho raised an eyebrow at you, glancing at you through his peripheral vision. “Someone’s in heat, huh?” 

You let out a whimper, kneading at his upper thigh. “I want you, Yun…Please, pay attention to me~” 

Yunho simply spread his thighs apart, your gaze shifting from his mischievous eyes to his poorly concealed cock still trapped inside his black sweatpants. He grunted, reaching down to adjust it, moving his thick length over so that it laid comfortably across the thigh closest to you. “You can have me, princess. I’m right here.” 

Just as you were about to pounce on him, Yunho grasped the bottom of your face in between his slender fingers. “Ahh, ahh, ahh.” Chuckling at the sight of your squished cheeks and confused face, he leaned in, whispering, “Go ahead and cockwarm me, baby, with that pretty little mouth of yours. You can do that for me while I finish this part, mm?” 

The sick bastard was toying with you. Well, two could play at that game. Licking your lips, you got down onto your knees in front of Yunho, fitting yourself in between his open thighs. Without saying a word, you began to run your fingers along his soft length over the material of his pants, tracing the outline of it, feeling it harden underneath your fingertips, making sure to rub your thumb over his pronounced tip, knowing it was sensitive. 

As if on cue, a small whimper escaped Yunho’s straining throat, his eyebrows screwing together as if to concentrate harder, refusing to look down at you. 

Filled with determination to interrupt his gaming, you tugged the waistline of his sweatpants down, your thighs squeezing together from the way his dripping cock smacked heavily up into his lower abdomen. You wrapped your hand around it, humming at how warm it felt within your grasp, lowering yourself down to slowly drag your tongue from the base up to the tip, licking around the tip until it shined. Lightly sucking it into your mouth, you palmed his balls one at a time, squeezing them suddenly, earning another whimper from your boyfriend. 

“You’re playing dirty, princess,” Yunho grunted, pressing his back into the couch, glancing down at you just in time to watch a good majority of his pulsing cock disappear down your throat. “Fuck, what a good slut…” He stroked the top of your head like he would with a cat, nodding approvingly. “I trained your throat well, haven’t I? Now, stay just like that while I play, okay?” 

Your cheeks grew warm from hearing your boyfriend’s polarizing praise, unable to keep yourself from letting his thick length push even deeper down into your throat, breathing shallowly through your nose, your lips already stinging at the corners. “Mmmrfff….” You stayed still for as long as you could with his oversized cock pressing against your tongue and throat, beads of saliva dripping past your mouth and down along his slick skin, using your hand to lube up what you couldn’t fit inside your mouth in the meantime. 

Yunho shuddered from underneath your touch, his half-closed eyes shifting downwards to burn the image of his tiny girlfriend, who was currently being swallowed by one of his many hoodies, trying her absolute best to fit his big cock inside her mouth. Your stark size differences always made him throb, made him want to take advantage of them in every way he could. “Look at you, taking all of me like that, baby…Take some more, okay?” he exhaled, sliding his slender fingers into your hair and bucking his hips up, fucking himself into your tight, warm throat. 

“Mmnn…!” you moaned back, squeezing your hands into his large thighs, feeling his muscles tighten up underneath your fingertips. You were so wet already, you had no choice but to squeeze your bare thighs together as a poor attempt to keep from soaking the carpet underneath you. Being enveloped in your boyfriend’s warm cologne and clothes while he ruthlessly shoved his cock down your throat was simply too much for a sensitive girl like you to handle without creaming yourself. 

“So tight, princess, just like your wet little cunt, huh?” he groaned out, opting to wrap his fingers around the back of your neck and continue shoving himself into your throat, rolling his hips up in a quick, sloppy fashion, with clear desperation, and a need to give his pretty cum dump a load to gulp down. He audibly hummed at the choked moans and gasps you were letting out, pulling out just to roughly slap his cock down onto your lolled out tongue, grunting and groaning as he shot thick spurts of cum down your throat. He tried to control his panting, wanting to hear your answer to his next question. “You sounded so hot, choking and moaning on my cock like that. You soaked your panties just from getting throat-fucked, didnt you, baby?” 

“Uh-huhhh,” you purred, your voice a bit gravelly from the abuse your throat took, swallowing down most of his load, only sticking your tongue back out when he reached down to push two fingers over it and into the back of your throat. 

Yunho watched with awe as you didn’t seem to gag, humming at the feeling of you sucking the rest of his pre-cum and other mixed fluids from his slender digits. “That’s my good girl…so well trained now…fuck.” 

You moaned onto his fingers that continued to lazily slide over your tongue and occasionally down into your throat, slowly pulling away to purr, “My cunt’s trained too, Yuyu. Don’t you wanna fill up my other hole, see how well I can handle your cock now?”  

Not caring that he had been missing out on the important lore that was playing out in the current cutscene the entire time, Yunho tossed his controller out of the way and lifted you up from the floor, taking a second to push your soaked panties out of the way before he sat you down onto his cock. He let out a small growl, watching your cunt swallow the thick tip of his cock and slowly take the rest of him inch by inch. “God, you’re still so fucking tight, princess…” Yunho pressed his lips onto your ear, rubbing his hands up and down your waist, the borrowed hoodie you wore bunching up near your tummy. “Mm, but you can’t help having such a tiny pussy, can you? So small and cute…perfect for my big cock to fuck full…” 

“Perfect for you, Yun, just for you–nnngh…!” you gasped sharply, just as your boyfriend began ramming himself up into you, his hands tightening the grip they had around your soft waist, using you like you were his own perfectly crafted cocksleeve. “So big, so biggg, fuck–”

“And you’ll fit it all inside your perfect cunt, just like you always do, won’t you, baby? Yeah, just like that,” he groaned out, lowering one hand down to your tummy to rub circles over it, feeling his own cock as it slammed into your cunt each and every time. It never failed to make him feel so dizzy, knowing you were this small, yet you could always take his cock like a champ. “That’s my girl, look at you go, baby, letting me breed you like this…so good for me…” 

“So good, so good for you, Yuyu…” You gripped his shoulders tightly, your nails digging into them through his hoodie, unable to keep yourself from moving your hips down whenever he fucked up into you, growing more and more desperate now that you were on the edge of ecstasy. “Gonna cum…oh my god, breed me, please…!” 

“Gonna fuck you so full of my load, princess…” Yunho tossed his head back into the couch, his deep groans gradually turning into a staccato of whiny, higher-pitched moans, still able to forcefully drive you down onto his cock, but his thrusts growing increasingly sloppy and desperate. All Yunho had to do was lift his head back up to look at your pretty fucked out face and how effortlessly tiny you looked wearing his hoodie to reach his limit, immediately pumping his hot load into you as soon as it began spurting out of his aching cock. “You feel that, baby? All the cum I’m fucking into you…?” 

“Mmhmm…!” It felt so good, you started to cry. “I love it, Yuyu…” 

Just as his cockhead roughly kissed your cervix for the last time, Yunho felt your cunt lock around him like a vice, something warm and wet coating his cock and lap. “Fuck, you just came all over my cock, didn’t you?” He chuckled, rubbing your back in small circles. “Always making such a mess, aren’t you, babygirl?” 

“It’s all your fault, Yun,” you whined softly into Yunho’s shoulder, hugging onto him for dear life, your vision fading in and out. If you had came any harder, you would’ve passed out, though it was always like this whenever you were around your irresistible boyfriend. 

“Mm, why don’t you remind me of who it was that interrupted my gaming session?” He sent a playful smile your way, booping your nose when you pouted. “Oh baby, next time, just ask me if we can switch to a two player game~” 

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[spatialwave]

Hi!! For the kiss prompts, I’d love to read something Reader x Viktor with the scenario ‘kisses meant to distract’ + the dialogue “i think i deserve a kiss” 🥹 thank you!!

tysm for sending this ask!!!! this was so cute to write and it healed me ahaha

➸ pairing: viktor x gender neutral!reader ➸ word count: 680 ➸ tags: mdni! fluffy, hurt/comfort, soft kissing, guilt, sweet ending, reader is in a long-term relationship w/ viktor, no use of y/n. ➸ notes: asked from this prompt list!!

Hextech was a blessing and a curse. It’s components to better society had been coming to fruition, but at the expense of Viktor’s sanity. Hexgates weren’t enough, all they had done was progress the city of Piltover. Nothing had been done to help anyone else. The people in Zaun—himself.

The pain in his body had become unbearable most days, his body frail and weakening with every passing moment.

He wondered why you stuck around all these years, staying at his side as his health deteriorated. You weren’t married, children weren’t on the agenda, and all he did was spend countless hours in his lab with Jayce and Sky.

It wasn’t fair to you.

Yet, you stayed.

Stopping by with a home cooked meal that he picked at, or offering your presence for a few hours while you silently read at the table in his lab while he studied the glowing hexcore.

There was a particular week when Viktor lost all hope. Jayce, now head of the council, had spent less time with the research–in favour of protecting Piltover. A drastic turn of events from their previous shared hopes and aspirations, a way to help rather than hurt.

He sat at one of the aqueducts that sent water from Piltover into the fissures, looking out at the skyline and holding his weight onto his cane. His eyes were tired and cold, souless.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” you said calmly, causing Viktor to jolt and glance in your direction from the sudden intrusion, “Am I interrupting?”

“No,” he cleared his throat, attempting to sit up straighter with his hands still holding tightly to the handle of his cane, “needed some time to, eh… think.”

Sitting next to him on the ledge, you rested your cheek against his shoulder and a hand curved over his slender thigh.

“...about us?” Your voice was hushed, eyes watching the water stream below you.

Viktor’s eyes widened, shaky as he stared at you. You were nuzzled against him, the look of a sad pout covering your face. He could sense the insecurity radiating from you.

“About the hexcore,” he answered honestly, sighing as he pressed his lips against the top of your head, resting there as a fragile hand held the small of your back, “about hextech… I can’t seem to figure it out. It’s been weeks of nothing. It’s… it’s…”

You lifted your head up, lips twitching as you pressed a finger to Viktor’s lips, shushing him. Your eyes flickered between his.

“It’s eating you alive,” you finished his sentence, but not in the way he had intended.

Your heart was heavy for him. Any insecurities of yourself were long gone, and you understood the pain that Viktor was experiencing. It was defeat, feeling unworthy—terrified of death.

You felt terrible for even thinking it had anything to do with you.

“Kiss me,” you mumbled, the finger placed against his lips replaced by your thumb as you grazed it along his bottom lip. Your intent to distract him from the thoughts that weighed him down.

Viktor bore a quizzical look, brows knotting together as he blinked at you.

“Come on,” you murmured, “I think I deserve one. I haven’t seen you in days.”

The corners of his lips twitched, for once, his mind not clouded by thoughts of the hexcore. Instead, fixated on you and the way you looked at him so lovingly with your big doe eyes. How was he so lucky to have someone like you?

He dipped forward, your thumb dropping as his lips pressed to yours. A soft kiss, one that bridged the gap that had begun to split you apart. They moved together fluidly, one of his hands cupping your jaw, as yours pressed against the front of his shoulders.

“I love you,” Viktor murmured, breaking the kiss as your lips brushed together, “thank you… for staying.” His thanks were genuine, you could see the way the guilt flickered in his golden eyes.

“Kiss me again, and I’ll forgive you,” you smiled, closing your eyes as Viktor obliged, smiling against your lips.

[rubiehart]

how are jj and bsf!reader doing after s4’s events…

♪ heavy - the marías ♪

the neurons in jj’s body are practically buzzing with how giddy he is, blonde mop flopping back against the head rest with every bump of the long country road. his lips are fixed in that signature cocky grin that made you fall head over heels for him all those years ago in the sand box days. “you kiddin’ me?” he laughs breathily, the north carolina air whizzing past the semi-crooked open windows. manually wound down ‘cause the twinkie’s an old girl to say the least.

the wind whips through his blonde tresses and he’s happily bobbing in his seat, hands readjusting on the wheel, one on the ten, other on the three, as he fixes his gaze on your form, looking like some kind of hyper-active puppy with you sprawled out in shotgun, back resting against the door as you grin fondly at his antics. he whistles, his adoration of you being completely obvious. “cause seein’ you in that ‘kini.. nearly sent me off my damn feet..”

the change in his approach is noticeable as you pull your head back in from the window to meet his eye, wind no longer roaring in your ears when you smirk almost challengingly, elbows leaned against the rim of the open window, tilting your head to the side questioningly, knowing he could never resist your teasing, you murmur a “yeah?” watching the way he fidgets in his seat as the van rumbles down the empty road.

he noticeably jerks in excitement as your slight show of submission, warm, ring adorned hand moving to rest against your bare thigh, kneading the flesh fondly, eyes never leaving yours as he silently pleads with you. “you’re not kiddin’ right, baby? ‘cuz that’d be real mean, i promise ya.” he speaks slow, in that southern drawl that always made you mentally fold for him, you shrug, faux carelessly as you bump over another pothole, tits jostling in your triangle bikini top.

you dismiss his admission with a soft shake of your head and a flick of his knuckle, cheeky smile on your face as he re-situates himself with two hands on the wheel, a little pissy about the loss of contact. “eyes on the road, jay.” you tease, ironically because you’re sitting horizontally in your seat, and neither of you are wearing seatbelts, he plays along though, tonguing at his bottom lip with a grin. “damn straight baby, gotta get the princess home in one piece, hm?”

the air is thick and heavy, almost swelteringly so outside of the car’s open windows. and if the north carolina sun is beating down fierce on the back of jj’s neck, he doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest as your eyes rake all over his form shamelessly, lazy smile on your face as you take in his angular nose and chiselled jaw, carefree smirk and shining eyes.

you reach for the stereo, turning up the volume as your head whips around, vision fixed on the passing private beach, littered with people and laughter. you pass over more bumps and pot holes, which only makes this more torturous on jj as the fat of your tit slowly reveals itself to him at every jostle of the vehicle.

his hands are white knuckled on the wheel, readjusting his grip, one of the twelve, one on the nine. and it’s not from speed. he’s gripping the wheel so hard that when the car jerks once, twice, three times, he’s squeezing his eyes shut momentarily by the end of it, forcing his mouth shut. the cause for the reaction is the sight he’s currently privy to in the corner of his peripheral view. his jaw is slightly agape, eyes wide and lovesick. “god. damn.” he whispers.

your head whips back in his direction, eyebrows furrowing in confusion before you realise what had elicited that reaction from him. you laugh softly, readjusting the thin fabric of your bikini top over your pert nipple, eyes finding his own wide ones. “eyes on the road, jay.” you reprimand once again, teasing evident in your tone.

he swallows, throat dry as the sahara as he attempts to play it off, drumming his fingers against the wheel, nodding along. “eyes on the road. eyes on the road, yeah, yeah, yeah - yeah.” he’s far from convincing as you snicker at him, watchinf the way his eyes are on the road for all of three seconds before they’re dipping back down again. he’s starting to sweat a little and it has nothing to do with the blazing heat outside.

jj’s lips tug into a smirk that’s all too cocky for his current situation as they speed past the marshlands. he won’t admit the heat that’s currently spreading through his body and quickly making its way south, tenting the front of his swim shorts noticeably. “shut up-“ he grumbles, running his hand through his slightly damp hair, gesturing towards you as he continues. “look at you.”

she just laughs, giving herself a dramatic look over in the windshield, pursing her lips and playing with her hair. “guess i am pretty cute, huh?” his hands adjust on the wheel, relaxing again is his seat as he looks you over with a fond smile, heart swelling for the girl of his dreams. it seemed something else was swelling too.

it’s almost like you can see the cogs turning in his head, sniffing in an attempt to seem casual as he speaks, canines glinting in the sun as he eyes you with hooded lids. “what d’ya think ‘bout pullin to the side of the road for a bit? just for a lil’ while.”

“that was weak.” you laugh, but your eyes tell a different story because he’s already flicking on the turn signal and slowing the van a little.

“so is that a yeah?” he says, the van coming to a stop on the side of the road near a clump of bushes, no passing cars, and he’s desperate to be on you.

“as long as you’re gonna be pullin’ somethin’ else to the side.” you snort, nodding with a raised eyebrow, and he’s already scrambling for the door handle with a triumphant ‘woop’. you follow in suit, pulling open the backseat sliding door of the twinkie.

he gets the door open, stumbling out of the driver’s seat and practically tripping onto the backseats. he lands on his butt with a huff. “that was a weak ass line-“ jj can barely get his words out before he’s got a lapful of his girl and soft, eager lips on his own. he kisses you back with equal, if not more, fervour.

she pulls back, a weak string of saliva connecting their kiss swollen lips as she grins, “you love it.” the heat between her legs being sensed by jj as he grabs her hips, grinding her clothed cunt against his bare thigh.

“damn right, i do baby.” he grins, immediately latching his lips onto the skin of her collarbone, sucking fondly, the smell of her filling all his senses as his ringed fingers dig into the flesh of her hips lovingly.

her head lols back, breathy little whimpers leaving her lips as he marks her, fingernails digging into his broad shoulders as she speaks, voice all soft and needy. “roadside quicky, what’dya think?”

he pulls away softly, hands sliding up her stomach and eventually resting on her tits as his eyes find her own glazed over ones. he lets out a low, shaky exhale against the skin, making goosebumps rise along her arms, a hint of a smirk on his kiss swollen lips. “i think you’re a little eager, baby.” he teases, warm hands sliding under the thin material of your bikini top to palm your tits.

“can you blame me?” she says, in attempt to sound teasing but she just sounds utterly desperate as her shameless eyes roam all over his form, that look in her eye he knew all too well as you grind against his harness softly, eyes locked on his.

“no ma’am.” jj grins, giving your hips another encouraging little squeeze as they move in slow, tantalising circles over his lap. “god, no.” he practically growls, head falling back against the leather seat, adams apple bobbing as he swallows.

the feeling your giving him is something he’d kill to keep forever, and the feeling is easily reciprocated by you. and like every other time you’re with jj, the same question is spinning around your mind: why did you hold back from heaven for so long?

no pressure tags: @daintcas @echobx @forstarkey @heybank @inez-winchester-cameron @iheartjjmaybnk @jjsgirly @kraekat29 @livbedum @lustnluv @maybankslover @maybankswhore @maiiuelle @nemesyaaa @nightsteps @outermaybanks @obaex @obxologies @oceandriveab @princessmaybank @poguediaries @redhead1180 @sleepyjuice @stxrslut @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @jjsbaby

[ventismacchiato]

13 stuck with you — it's a cruel summer with you !

scaramouche x gender neutral reader

The evening air was cool, tinged with the briny scent of the ocean. You wandered along the winding paths near the cabins, hoping for a moment of peace. The day had been exhausting—full of staged dates and forced smiles. It didn’t help that Venti hadn’t cooked your lunch all the way, so the taste of raw fish on your tongue hadn’t fully faded.

You were allowed a break so you decided to go stroll by the ocean, but as you passed the edge of the main clearing, faint voices caught your attention.

“I really thought I raised you better than this. It’s hard being your mother and your boss,” Ei’s voice, sharp and biting, cuts through the quiet. This was new to you, you were accustomed to her voice sounding soft as it lifted through your speakers as she sang your favorite songs. But now it was just harsh.

You paused, barely hidden by a cluster of trees, your breath hitching.

“I’ve noticed,” Scaramouche replied, his tone laced with venom. “Because you’re useless at both.”

A heavy silence followed, one that seemed to press down on the air itself.

“You don’t get to speak to me that way,” Ei said, her voice cold but trembling with restrained anger.

“Since when have you spent any time raising me?” Scaramouche shot back. The bitterness in his voice felt like a dagger, even to you, “You treat me like some sort of pet.”

Ei exhaled sharply, the sound almost a hiss. “Just do your job here. I worked hard to get you where you are today, so don’t throw it away because you can’t keep your childish emotions in check. I don’t understand how your fans or your members haven’t turned on you. I wouldn’t want to work with the likes of you.”

“Whatever,” Scaramouche muttered, his tone dripping with disdain.

Footsteps followed, sharp and deliberate, fading as Ei walked away. You peered out cautiously and caught a glimpse of Scaramouche as he slid down the railing, letting himself sink to the sand. He drew his knees to his chin, a cigarette already lit between his fingers. The soft glow of the ember cast fleeting shadows across his face, his usually sharp features were softened.

You hesitated, unsure if approaching him was the right move. But before you could overthink it, your feet carried you closer. The sound of your steps on the sand drew his gaze.

He didn’t look startled. He barely looked at you. “Did you hear that?” he asked, not bothering to hide the exhaustion in his voice.

“No,” you lied instinctively.

A dry laugh escaped him. “You even suck at lying.”

You dropped onto the sand beside him, wrapping your arms around your knees. He tilted his head back, the cigarette dangling precariously from his lips. “Let me guess,” he said. “If you did hear, it probably ruined the perfect image you had of her.”

“Not really,” you said, trying to sound casual. “I was more of a Yae Miko bias anyway.”

That drew a low chuckle from him, and for a moment, the usual tension between you eased.

You glanced at him. “I can see why you’re such a bitch now. Your mom sucks.”

He scoffed, but there was no real bite to it. “Are you seriously trying to comfort me right now?”

“No, I’m just saying it makes sense.”

A shrug. “Good,” he said. “Because you suck at it.”

“I do not!” you shot back, glaring at him.

For once, he didn’t retaliate with sharp words. The silence stretched out, broken only by the faint crash of waves in the distance. You shifted awkwardly before finally standing. “I don’t know if I’m the person you want to see after… that.” You gestured vaguely toward the path Ei had taken.

But before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out. “She’s wrong, by the way.”

Scaramouche looked up, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. His eyes narrowed slightly. “What?”

“You’re a good idol,” you said, the words tumbling out faster than you could second-guess them. “It’s one of the reasons we fight so much, you know. I’m… jealous.”

His brow arched, and a smug grin began to form. “So you’re admitting I’m better than you?”

“Whatever,” you huffed, heat rising to your face as you turned around.

“Smoking ruins your voice, by the way,” you called over your shoulder as you stomp off.

He shook his head, chuckling softly. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

You didn’t see the faint smile lingering on his lips as he stubbed out his cigarette.

[00:00:00] POST PARADISE INTERVIEW ONE, TAKE ONE

YAE: [LEANS FORWARD, GRINNING] So, Scaramouche… You don’t smell like smoke today. What’s the deal? You quit or something?

SCARAMOUCHE: [SHRUGS AND GLANCES AWAY] Maybe.

YAE: [RAISES EYEBROW] Maybe? You’ve been getting nonstop nagging from Jean about this. Something changed?

SCARAMOUCHE: [SIGHS AND LOOKS AWAY] It’s just… I don’t know. I’m thinking about it.

YAE: [LEANS IN] Thinking about it? For how long?

SCARAMOUCHE: [GRUMBLES] Doesn’t matter how long. I’m just… I’m not into it anymore.

YAE: [NODS, TEASINGLY] So, what, you woke up one day and just decided to change everything?

SCARAMOUCHE: [ROLLS HIS EYES] No. It’s just…. It feels like a bad habit. One that doesn’t do anything for me anymore.

JEAN: [INTERRUPRTS] I’ve been saying this for years and just now you're taking the hint? All the articles and studies I sent and this island is what gets to you?

SCARAMOUCHE: [SHRUGS]

YAE: Hm, this island is what we’re calling them now?

SCARAMOUCHE: What are you talking about?

YAE: Don’t forget love, microphones are always on. A certain someone asked you to, didn’t they?

SCARAMOUCHE: Whatever. I would’ve done this on my own anyway.

JEAN: [LETS OUT A STIFLED LAUGH]

YAE: Yeah right!

SCARAMOUCHE: Oh, fuck off

YAE: CUT!

[00:00:00] POST PARADISE INTERVIEW TWO, TAKE ONE

YAE: [LEANING IN] So, how’s everything going with you and Scara? You two still at each other's throats? Or maybe in each other’s throats.

YN: [SHRUGS] First off, gross. And it's going.

YAE: [GRINNING] Oh come on, give me something to work with here! How’s the real relationship behind the cameras?

YN: [ROLLS EYES] What do you want me to say? It’s... fine.

YAE: [WINKS AND GIGGLES] Yeah? ‘Cause we’ve got the recordings of you calling him a good idol. What’s that all about?

YN: [JUMPS] Wait—what?

YAE: [SMIRKS] Yeah, remember? Your mics are always on. Even when you think they’re off.

YN: Even in the bathroom?! What the hell? Pervs.

YAE: [LAUGHS] Let this be a lesson to read the fine print. Jean is signaling me to state we don’t listen on them in the bathroom. Anyway, how did that make you feel, huh? Hearing yourself say that?

YN: [GROANS AND SLUMPS IN CHAIR] I guess I’ll save the juicy convos for the bathrooms. And I don’t know. It’s... whatever. It’s not like I meant it. I was just saying what I had to say.

YAE: [TEASINGLY] Oh really? So you don’t think Scara is a good idol?

YN: [GRUMBLES] I didn’t say that.

YAE: [NODS KNOWINGLY] Good to know. You’re not fooling anyone, YN. 

JEAN: CUT!

stuck with you!

masterlist — prev | next

i feel insane cus i swear i made a gc text of windblume talking about scara’s comments but maybe i hallucinated it?? so just rmbr yn is just as oblivious ab their feelings as scara

has anyone seen young royals lmao i referenced ei off the mom in that show

make sure to peek at the gc names to know what pov ur reading!

pls comment or send me an ask if u enjoyed i need motivation 🙂‍↕️ ty to everyone who sent one last time 🥹

comment on the MASTERLIST if i can use ur user as a fan in the au!

synopsis — after the disaster that was the live award show, where you and scaramouche got into an argument on stage after both of your groups got a tie for top artists, your guys' PR teams have been in shambles trying to scrape up your mess. that's when the idea to send you both off with some other idols to a remote location for a survival dating show to mend your public image comes up. before you know it your bags are packed and you’re on a plane to a remote island. the only obligation is you need to end up with scaramouche at the end of the show, whether you end up liking him or not doesn’t matter to your managers as long as the show’s ratings stay high. whatever you do in between to get there is up to you!

notes — guys i can’t wait till this semester ends im literally fighting for my life god i hate college

taglist — @na1lea @cindywasneverhere @lunavixia @aestherin @mlaakai @camvrin @retiredmommylover @iheartpieck @cartierfiles @loveariel @silly-ez @mochipls @pomeiu @chuuismylife @flowerypesky @creammpuff @boxdisappeared @kissingkzuha @webbywill @kazusboyfriend @s3xpistolss @pjsucks @bunns-wonderland @lordbugs @localgirlywithnolife @kosumos @danfelions @featuredtofu @pinxeajin @herebyaccident0 @haeunoo @scaradooche @pglt19 @chemiru @childesbabygirl @simonisferal @shutingstar @ttalgi @esuz @tokkishouse @kitsuvil @scarasmood @ihearttori @nomurahayami @starringyau @androxphobic @reivelmin @animeobsessed56 @femaholicc @vi0let-writes

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

P.S. Do You Still Love Me Pt2

Han Jisung x Fem!Reader

Pt1

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ

Body Paragraph: I made a mistake.

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ

No matter how much time passed from you and Jisung's breakup, you weren't able to shake the immense amount of affection and love you still had for him. Maybe it was because three months was barely enough time to even begin considering moving on, or maybe it was because you knew deep down that you might never fully move on. Yet, you couldn't stop yourself from watching his lives, his promotions, his every appearance. Each time, it was impossible to ignore just how sad he looked.

The way his smile didn't quite reach his eyes anymore- how his usual spark seemed dimmer. Even the fans noticed. The comments under his videos were filled with concern: "Jisung, are you okay? You've lost weight…" and "Stay strong, Han, we’re here for you!" It made your heart ache. You knew that expression on his face, the one that tried so hard to look okay but didn’t quite make it. You could see through the mask, and it only made you miss him more.

With a heavy sigh, you sank back into the cushions of your sofa, staring at your phone's screen when a notification popped up, making you jolt.

Kyungsoo. A colleague and friend.

You swallowed hard, feeling the guilt settle like a heavy weight in your chest as you opened the message. After your breakup you had gone out with him to a few dinners- and those were not considered dates at all by you considering they were company events. But even so you felt weird hanging out with another man; and although your friendship was extremley strong- the year you spent with Jisung you decided not to focus on it as much to show respect to Jisung. And now that you were "free" as Kyungsoo put it, things felt different and the thought unsettled you.

Kyungsoo: Y/N, you need to go out tonight. Meet me at 7.

You hesitated. It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate his efforts; you just weren’t sure you had the energy to plaster on a smile and pretend that everything was okay. But your hubae was persistent, and you knew he wouldn’t take "no" for an answer.

You: I don't know if I'm up for it.

His reply was almost immediate.

Kyungsoo: You need this, trust me. I’ll be there with you the whole time. Please, just come.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. Maybe he was right. Maybe a distraction was exactly what you needed to stop yourself from spiraling even deeper.

You: Okay. See you at 7.

Setting your phone aside, you let out a long breath, your heart still heavy. You had to do this. For yourself. Maybe even for Jisung- because if he was moving on, then maybe, just maybe, you needed to try too.

It wasn’t about forgetting him. It was about surviving without him.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, feeling that familiar pang of uncertainty creep up. The same old doubts returned, and for a moment, you almost wanted to cancel. But Kyungsoo’s message echoed in your mind: “You need this.”

You shook your head, brushing off the weight of it. You could do this. It wasn’t about moving on completely but about taking small steps forward.

At exactly 6:57 PM, your doorbell rang.

You grabbed your jacket quickly, heading towards the door. When you opened it, Kyungsoo was standing there, holding a small bag of snacks in his hand, his usual smile soft but genuine.

"You ready?" he asked, his voice full of concern but laced with warmth. He placed the snacks on your table by the door and gestured to them, just to make sure you knew they were for you for later.

You gave a small nod, trying to hide the unease that still lingered in your chest. "Yeah, let's go."

He didn't waste any time, leading you down the hallway, his presence a calming force that eased the tension you hadn't even realized was building. The walk to the car was quiet, but it was a comfortable silence. Kyungsoo didn’t push you to talk, and somehow, that made it easier to breathe.

As you settled into the passenger seat of his car, he shot you a glance before pulling away from the curb. "I know this isn't easy for you, but I want you to remember that you don’t have to be okay right now. Just take it one step at a time, alright?"

You nodded slowly, feeling a flicker of relief wash over you at his words. He had always been the kind of friend who didn’t force anything on you, but when he spoke, it felt like he always knew exactly what you needed to hear. The car ride passed quickly, filled with light chatter that made the time slip by unnoticed. Kyungsoo was good at distracting you.

When you arrived at the cafe, it wasn’t as crowded as usual, just a few people scattered here and there. He parked and turned to face you. "Let's grab some coffee. Everything on me tonight."

As you stepped out of the car, the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, mingling with the soft hum of the background music. You weren’t sure what all Kyungsoo had planned, but the quiet vibe of the place felt comforting- almost like a shield against the memories of Jisung that lingered in the back of your mind.

He led you inside, ordering your usual without asking, and you couldn't help but smile at how well he knew you. He handed you the warm cup of coffee, the steam rising and soothing the cold air around you.

You took a sip, expecting your favorite drink to wash a nice feeling over you but instead you found yourself wincing at the flavor.

It's bitter...

"Jagiyaaaa, try this! I know it might be sweet but doesn't that make it just like me?" Jisung wiggled his brows at you. "Its no fun to drink bitter stuff all the time try this its called- a caramel mocha latte! Its warm and delicous." He held his cup out to you and you took a sip.

"Mm. It sweet. And very warm...it is just like you Oppa~"

"Ah...I'm old enough to be your Oppa? No, No, No. Don't remind me. Seungmin will call me old if he hears you say that..."

"Seonbae?" You looked at Kyungsoo who was looking at you adamantly.

He's younger than Ji...

"Hm?"

"I said I think we both needed this, but the real fun part comes later."

You raised an eyebrow, slightly curious but still cautious. "What do you mean?"

Kyungsoo’s grin widened, and with that, he pulled out two tickets from his jacket pocket. "Karaoke. We're going to sing our hearts out. You can thank me later." He said with a wink. For a second, you were taken aback. You hadn’t sung in front of anyone ever, really. Just Jisung and and Seungmin by accident once. But Kyungsoo’s determination was contagious. He handed you a ticket, his expression turning serious, if only for a moment. "You’ll feel better, I promise."

You hesitated, the inner turmoil warring with the quiet anticipation of trying something new. After a beat, you nodded. "Okay."

The sound of music and laughter spilled from the karaoke bar as you arrived, and it sent a small jolt of nervousness through you.

The room he had rented was intimate, just the two of you. Kyungsoo picked the first song, and to your surprise, he chose something lighthearted, an upbeat tune that had your foot tapping before the first note had even finished.

He handed you the microphone, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Your turn."

You looked at him, and despite everything, despite the ache that still lingered, you smiled- just a little. "You’re lucky you’re my friend, Kyungsoo." As you sang, you felt the tension begin to melt away, replaced by a sense of freedom that was slowly returning.

It wasn’t about forgetting Jisung. It was about remembering that you still deserved to smile, to laugh, and to feel alive again.

The night at the karaoke bar flew by. You agreed to just a few drinks to lighten your mood, to forget the weight that had been pulling you down for months. But a few drinks turned into a few bottles and everything had taken a turn you hadn't anticipated.

The alcohol had hit you way harder than expected, numbing your senses and making you laugh at things that weren't even funny. And you realized this night that had meant to be fun, became a night of self pity. Kyungsoo had stayed by your side all night, a little too close, a little too eager, and you barely noticed how his eyes lingered on you in a way they never had before.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the warmth of the room, or maybe it was the pain you were still trying to hide. But suddenly, Kyungsoo leaned in, his lips brushing against yours before you even registered what was happening.

But in an instant you knew.

It was wrong- everything about it was wrong.

Your heart was pounding, your mind a mess of confusion. You pulled back sharply, stumbling a bit in your drunken state, your voice slurring as you pushed him away.

"No… I can’t-"

But the words caught in your throat, your thoughts spinning. You turned on your heel, barely able to see straight as you bolted out of the karaoke room and into the cool night air. You didn’t know where you were going, only that you needed to get away. Far away. From Kyungsoo, from the kiss that shouldn’t have happened, from the memories that haunted you.

You didn't know how the night could turn to this.

You could hear him calling your name, his voice desperate, but you didn’t stop. Your feet carried you away, down darkened streets and unfamiliar alleys, the city lights blurring as tears stung your eyes. The alcohol made you reckless, made you forget where you were even headed. All you knew was that you needed to escape.

Kyungsoo watched you disappear into the night, his heart hammering in his chest. He had messed up- he knew that the moment you had pushed him away, the look in your eyes a clear sign he had crossed a line. Panic set in as he rushed back in and fumbled for his phone, the alcohol making his hands shake. Your phone was still on the table where you’d left it. He grabbed it, his fingers shaking as he scrolled through the contacts.

Jisung.

Kyungsoo hesitated for a second before pressing the call button, his pulse racing as the line rang. It was late, and he wasn’t sure if Jisung would even pick up, but he had no other choice.

After a few tense moments, there was a click. "Hello?" Jisung’s voice was groggy, a mixture of confusion and irritation. As if he was just woken up. "Who is this?"

"It’s Kyungsoo," he blurted out, his words spilling over each other. "I - messed up, man. Y/N’s gone, she just ran out, and I don’t know where she went. She’s drunk, and I-"

"Where are you? Why do you have Y/N-ah's phone?" Jisung’s voice cut through the panic, suddenly alert. Kyungsoo could hear the rustling of sheets, the creaking of a couch- the sound of movement.

"We were at the karaoke bar near downtown," Kyungsoo said, his voice shaking. “She just took off, and I don’t-"

"I swear to God if you hurt her I'll end you." Jisung snapped, his tone cold and controlled. "Don't go after her. Leave her phone at the front desk. I’ll find her."

The call ended abruptly, and Kyungsoo stared at the phone, his stomach churning with guilt. He knew he had overstepped, and he could only hope that Jisung knew you well enough to find you quick.

Meanwhile, Jisung was already out the door, his mind racing. His instincts kicked in as he navigated the familiar streets, the bitter cold biting at his skin. He knew you- he knew where you went when you were overwhelmed, where you hid when things became too much. And if you were as lost and broken as he feared, there was only one place you would go. The playground. The one you guys had claimed as your own secret spot. It was the place where you'd laugh until your sides hurt, where you’d shared quiet conversations under the stars, where you had been the happiest.

His heart pounded as he rounded the corner, the familiar sight of the deserted playground coming into view. Relief washed over him when he saw a figure slumped on the swings, barely visible in the dim light. It was you- your shoulders hunched, head bowed, a picture of defeat and loneliness. And your eyes were red and puffy as you frowned at a pile of your throw up- causing an audible sigh from Jisung.

How'd she get so shitfaced...?

"Y/N," he called out, his voice hoarse with emotion, and you looked up, your eyes red and glassy, confusion crossing your face as you saw him standing there.

"J-Jisung?" you mumbled, barely able to focus as the alcohol fogged your mind. The sight of him sent a fresh wave of pain crashing over you, and you choked back a sob. "Why are you here?"

He didn’t answer right away. He just walked over, his expression a mixture of anger and concern, as he knelt down in front of you, his eyes searching yours.

"You disappeared," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Kyungsoo called me. He said you ran off. Why didn’t you call me? Did he hurt you?"

You shook your head, unable to find the words, unable to explain the turmoil inside you. Everything hurt- your heart, your head, the betrayal you felt when Kyungsoo kissed you, the betrayal you felt when Jisung left you.

"He kissed me which was gross. And you left me which was...also gross." you finally managed to say. "You left, and I don’t even know why. Pabo." You pouted.

Your eyes were half-lidded, and your face was flushed from the alcohol, but he couldn’t help but smile at how ridiculous the whole situation was. You were a mess, and it was breaking his heart while simultaneously filling it.

"Y/N," he called gently, his voice full of concern as he knelt down in front of you. “Can you stand up for me? Or do you need help?"

You blinked at him, your eyes unfocused as you swiveled your head side to side, the world tilting and spinning. "I’m… I’m fine," you slurred, shaking your head like you could shake the dizziness away. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself and stand, but the next thing you knew, the swing tipped just a little too far forward, and you were flung off, landing face-first into the mulch.

The crunch of the wood chips beneath you was the only thing you heard as you felt the rough ground scrape against your cheek. "Ughh…" you groaned, spitting out a few pieces of wood chips from your mouth. You sat up and wiped your face, blinking like you didn’t quite realize what had just happened. You pouted and looked up at Jisung.

He stood there, frozen for a second as he took in the sight of you sprawled out on the ground, covered in mulch, with a strange combination of tenderness and amusement. "Are you okay?" he asked, kneeling down to gently pull you up by your arms.

You squinted at him through the fog of drunkenness, your face twisting in confusion. "I…I’m fine. I’m just…It tastes like dirt." You spit out a few pieces.

Jisung let out a small breath as he pulled you up. "Alright lets get you-

"What’s a squirrel’s purpose in life, huh?” you blurted, your words slurring together as you stared at him intently.

"A squirrel?" Jisung repeated, blinking in confusion.

“Yeah…" you exclaimed earnestly, tapping your head dramatically. "Do you think squirrels...feel stuck in life?"

He stared at you, utterly bewildered by the random thought, but then you laughed, and it was like all the confusion melted away.

"You know…I think squirrels must get stuck, because…they run around all the time looking for nuts…and that's all they do. They do the same things over and over again...and it's sad to watch...because nothing changes. They stay sad and by themselves..." you trailed off, your eyes suddenly going glassy and melanchoy in thought as if you were some 21st century philospher. "Just like…just like…you."

"Me?" Jisung blinked, the mention of his name snapping him back into focus. “What do you mean by that?”

Your eyes became wide and you stammered. "UM- I'm not saying youre a squirrel or like comparing you to a squirrel I just meant uh...I like you...and...you’re like a squirrel not one just like one- but with…more hair and less fur." You reached to pet his head but instead accidentally slapped his face lightly.

Jisung’s mouth hung open for a moment as he tried to process the sheer absurdity of your drunken ramblings. "Y/N- you’re drunk off your mind and have no ideas what you're yapping about. Lets go home-"

"But I’m not ready to go!" you whined, stumbling as you tried to walk, but you couldn’t quite keep your balance.

"I know you’re not," Jisung said, holding your arm so you wouldn’t fall again. "But we’re going to get you some food and water, then go home okay? You can sleep your craziness off."

You let out a half-hearted protest, but in the end, you let him lead you.

As Jisung led you into the convenience store, your stumbling steps and flushed face made you look like you were on the verge of collapse. The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, casting a stark light over your disheveled appearance.

The store clerk, a young guy who looked barely out of high school, watched the two of you enter, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. He eyed your unsteady gait, the way Jisung was holding your arm to keep you from falling over, and the slurred way you were giggling to yourself.

"Uh…is everything alright?" the clerk asked, his tone hesitant, glancing between Jisung’s worried expression and your obviously inebriated state. His gaze was sharp, like he was assessing whether he needed to call the authorities.

Jisung quickly picked up on the guy’s alarm, his face turning serious as he tried to explain. "She’s just drunk. We’re fine, I promise," he said, his voice soft and calm. "I’m just trying to get her home safely."

The clerk didn’t look convinced, his brow furrowing even deeper. "Are you sure she’s okay?" he pressed, looking pointedly at your droopy eyes and swaying posture.

"She’s my… girlfriend," Jisung said, his voice catching slightly on the word. "She had a bit too much to drink, but I’m taking care of her." His expression was so genuine, so protective, that it seemed to ease the clerk’s suspicion, though he still looked wary.

You, blissfully unaware of the awkward exchange happening just a few feet away, had spotted a shelf of snacks and suddenly veered off in that direction, nearly toppling over in the process. "Ooh, chips!" you exclaimed, reaching for a bag with unsteady hands.

"Y/N, come here," Jisung whisper shouted, guiding you away from the snacks and back toward him. The clerk seemed to relax a little, nodding slowly, but his eyes still lingered on the two of you as if unsure whether to believe Jisung’s story.

Once you were safely by Jisung’s side again, you suddenly reached up and tugged at his hat, a playful grin spreading across your face. "Sungie, why are you wearing this dumb hat?" you asked, your voice a little too loud for the quiet store. "Take it off! It’s hiding your cute face."

Jisung’s eyes widened, and he quickly grabbed your wrists to stop you from pulling the hat off. "No, no, no," he said hurriedly, his cheeks flushing as he tried to keep his voice low. "I need my hat, okay? People can’t see who I am."

"Why not?" you pouted, tugging harder. "Are you hiding something? Are you like…a secret agent?"

Jisung let out a sigh, trying to keep his grip gentle despite your drunken insistence. "No, I’m not a secret agent, Y/N," he said with a strained voice. "I just…don’t want anyone recognizing me right now. Can you please let me keep my hat?"

You paused, your brow furrowing in deep, drunken concentration, before you finally relented with a dramatic sigh. "Fiiiine," you said, letting go of his hat, but not before giving it one last tug. "But only because you asked so nicely."

Jisung breathed a sigh of relief, releasing your wrists as he gently guided you toward the back of the store, away from the curious gaze of the clerk. "Thank you," he said softly, his voice full of affection even though he was clearly exasperated.

You just giggled, seeming entirely pleased with yourself, as if you’d just won some kind of small victory.

As you guys stood at the drink cooler you pressed your face to the glass.

"Chocolate milk…" you sighed happily. "I want chocolate milk."

Jisung’s smile faltered. "Y/N, I don’t think thats the best option. How about cucumber water?" he suggested, pulling a bottle from the cooler.

"NO!" you screeched, looking up at him with an exaggerated pout. "I want chocolate milk! It’s my favorite!”

Jisung sighed, shaking his head. "Chocolate milk it is."

As he made his way to the counter, you looked around, your gaze landing on something that made your eyes widen.

"What… what’s that?!" you pointed, half-shouting, and Jisung followed your gaze to see what you were looking at. His eyes immediately widened.

"Y/N," he said, his voice tight, "Don’t-"

It was a box of condoms, sitting on the counter in full view. You stared at them for a moment, your drunken mind processing the absurdity of the situation. Then you looked up at Jisung with wide eyes.

"Wait…they're condoms!" you said way louder than you knew you were speaking. "You…you think I should get those?"

Jisung’s face immediately flushed red, and he shook his head in panic. "No, Y/N, don’t-"

“Why not? Are we…not doing it?” You blinked, slurring your words. “I mean, we’re both…um…we’re both virgins, right? So...don't we need..."

Jisung’s cheeks burned brighter as he desperately tried to change the subject. Looking at the cashier frantically. "Y/N, please. Don’t make this weird. Lets just get you to bed."

You looked at him for a long moment before bursting into uncontrollable giggles. "I think squirrels need condoms," you said randomly, then paused, as if considering it deeply. "But…I dunno. Do squirrels even have…sex? Or do they wait until their married, too? Or do they not wait- do you think that they love the same squirrel forever?" You looked at the box in a daze. "Extra small- Ji what siz-"

Jisung’s face was now entirely red, his hand clamping over your mouth.

"Okay, that’s enough of that. Put those back." he said through gritted teeth, flustered, as he quickly led you away, throwing the box on some odd shelf. His heart was pounding, his embarrassment sky-high. "Y/N, we're leaving- now." Jisung said, slamming a random bill on the counter and grabbing you and your milk, dragging you out the store.

What the actual fuck is going on right now...shes a completley different person hammered. And why does she keep talking about squirrels? Is this her drunken habit?

You looked at the bottle of milk, frowning as you stared at it. "Why did I want chocolate milk? This is so dumb…I want strawberry milk," you said, your voice starting to quiver with drunken frustration.

Jisung couldn’t help but groan. "Y/N...Just… let’s get you home, okay? We can order strawberry milk when you're sober."

You nodded with a pout, but then suddenly, your face contorted. "I’m gonna throw up again." you muttered, and before Jisung could react, you were turned to him, your stomach heaving as you suddenly emptied the contents of your stomach all over his zipped up jacket.

"Oops, sorry Jisung...you were the closest..." you slurred weakly, looking up at him with a trembling pout. "I-I'm sorry-" You cried wailing as Jisung took a deep breath.

Lord Almighty please help me.

Jisung closed his eyes for a moment, summoning every ounce of patience he had left. The smell was already starting to hit him, and he cringed, but when he opened his eyes again and saw your tear-streaked face, his annoyance melted away. You were a mess- an adorable, chaotic, and incredibly drunk mess- but a mess he cared about more than he wanted to admit at the moment.

"It’s okay," he said, his voice soft despite the situation. "It’s just a jacket. Don’t cry, okay?" He said petting your hair softly.

"But it’s your favorite jacket!" you wailed, your voice breaking as fresh tears spilled down your cheeks. "You always wear it in your lives! Stay will notice!"

Jisung suppressed a laugh, not wanting to embarrass you further. "I think they’ll survive, jagiya. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up."

He glanced at the jacket and sighed, carefully pulling it off and draping it over a nearby bench, knowing there was no saving it tonight.

As you walked- or stumbled -alongside him, you hiccuped, clinging to your half-empty milk like it was a lifeline. "You’re so…nice, JiJi," you slurred, resting your head against his arm as you walked. "Why did you have to be so nice? It makes it harder to…try to hate you."

Jisung’s steps faltered for a moment, your words hitting him like a sucker punch. Hate him? Did you really try to hate him after everything?

I guess I deserve that...

His chest tightened, but he pushed the thought aside. This wasn’t the time to unpack that.

"Let’s focus on getting you some rest, okay?" he said gently, avoiding your gaze as he led you toward his apartment.

When you reached his building, you perked up slightly, pointing at the intercom like it was some fascinating discovery. "JiJi! It’s like a robot but for your door! Beep-boop!" You giggled, pressing random buttons as Jisung struggled to input his code.

"Stop- hey, stop pressing things, you're making it hard baby-" he said, trying to stifle his laughter as you giggled uncontrollably. His breath caught on the last word, and he couldn't deny how natural it felt to call you that again.

Finally, the door buzzed open, and he guided you inside. As soon as you stepped into the warmth of the apartment, your voice rang out loud enough to wake the neighbors.

"MINHO! MINHO-YA! MINHO-OPPA! MINHO MINHO MINHO!" you yelled, stumbling toward the living room.

A door down the hall flew open, and Minho emerged, looking half-asleep and fully annoyed. "What the hell is going on-" His eyes landed on you, and his irritation faded instantly. "Y/N?" There was a smile in his eyes and he turned towards Jisung. "What happened?"

You hummed as you hugged Minho, and he let you hang onto him like a koala. "Minho-oppa can you beat up Kyungsoo for me? He kissed your little sister and it was gross." You said.

Minho rubbed your shoulder and looked at Jisung with a look that could only translate to:

What the actual fuck?!

Jisung sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah. She got drunk. And then she… uh…threw up on me."

Minho raised an eyebrow, clearly amused despite himself. "She threw up on you? Man, that’s love."

You, completely oblivious to the tension, beamed at Minho. "I missed you."

Minho smiled, patting your back as he shot Jisung a pointed look over your shoulder. "I missed you too, you little goblin."

"Shouldn't she have missed me more...?" Jisung muttered, avoiding Minho’s gaze.

Minho studied him for a moment, then nodded, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "Alright. Let’s get her to bed before she destroys the place."

He helped guide you to Jisung’s room, where you flopped onto the bed with zero grace. As Minho pulled the blanket over you, you suddenly turned to him, your face serious despite your bleary eyes.

"Minho… do squirrels get lonely?"

Minho blinked, caught off guard. "Uh…I guess? Why?" He asked making sure you were tucked in properly.

You sniffled, your voice cracking as you mumbled, "Because JiJi’s just like a squirrel…and he left me all alone…and he looks lonely too..."

Minho froze, his gaze snapping to Jisung, whose face was unreadable. You didn’t notice, too busy hiccuping and wiping your eyes with the back of your hand, like an upset toddler.

"I…I thought I did something wrong," you confessed, your words slurring but still heartbreakingly clear. "I thought I broke him…so he broke me instead. But I didn't want to ask but I needed to know...so don't tell him I asked you this but-

"Does Jisung get lonely? Does he miss me like I miss him?"

Jisung felt his heart shatter all over again, guilt and regret flooding him as he watched you curl into a ball on his bed. Minho sighed, patting your head gently before standing.

"I'm sure he does...he's just too stubborn to admit it."

"So, squirrels are stubborn?" You murmured, sinking into Jisung's pillow.

"Very. But squirrels can be very passionate too. And kind and loving. They also can make mistakes..."

"Hm...they...do..." You barely managed to ask, your eyes unable to stay open.

"Yeah, but they can fix them too." Minho got up and looked at his younger member, who was staring at you with a 1000 emotions swirling through his eyes. "She’s your problem now," he murmured to Jisung, his voice soft but firm. "Fix it."

And with that, he left, leaving the squirrel-esque boy, the one you had been asking about all along, alone with the weight of your words; and the realization that he couldn’t keep running from the truth.

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg

@leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon

@night-storm7 @missmajdastark @axel-skz

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ

[pearlymel]

Cont. capitano x fem!reader, NSFW, unprotected sex, riding, reader is called 'wife'.

“the mask stays on.”

…

“whatever for?” but your already silent pleading face did not make him question you any further, if this would please you.. then he was more than willing to obey.

Is this what they call a kink? Capitano thought as a thumb mindlessly brushed over your already exposed hardened nipple, enjoying the way you would squirm in return.

“darling,” he spoke, voice deep as his thumb circles around breast with no intention of teasing you, of course. “would you use me for your pleasure tonight?”

You blink at him, and be tilts his head, awaiting for your answer. His long hair brushing over your body, almost tickling your skin.

Fuck, if he could only chase you down slowly with the mask on—

“ah, y-yeah,” you clear your throat, trying to get yourself together to gently push his back against the headboard, his legs spreading wide for you. His cock jutted proudly from within the tight confinements, fingers barely brushing over his impressive girth, making his breath hitch in response.

You swallow thickly before wrapping your hand around the shaft, raising your hips to attempt to take him all at once. Even when you were already well prepped and dripping for him, taking him in always seemed like a challenge…

His hands trembled slightly as they gripped your hips, helping to guide you to position above him. He always got to handle with care.

Oh and the moment you started sinking down his cock, taking in the head before making your way further down, down—

his head fell back against the headboard, and if it weren't for the mask, you'd see just how much of a panting mess he was being. Nonetheless, he looks equally as hot with the mask on.

The first groan left his lips as your warm cunt stretched around him, and he rolled his hips upwards, burying himself deeper inside you until there was nothing left to take in.

So full.

You couldn't wait before you were already slamming your hips into him, making him startled by the sudden movement of you bouncing up and down, up and down, jaw clenched so tight when he glanced down to witness the way his cock would disappear and reappear from inside you.

His hands slid down to grip your ass, kneading the firm globes as he helped you move above him. You were already in another world, expression too fucked out to comprehend any other feelings.

“my darling wife,” capitano couldn't help but match your movements, thrusting upwards, burying himself as deep inside you as he could go. The head of his cock kissed your cervix everytime you slammed your hips down to the hilt, and he could feel your gummy walls fluttering around him, clenching and releasing in a desperate rhythm that soon made him all fucked out.

“C-cum with me,” you whine, your thrusts growing sloppier with each passing second, nails scraping any place you find untoched on his body before you could cry his name out beautifully when you spasm around him, like you were trying to squeeze the life out of him—

Taking your body in his arms, he thrust upwards one final time as he felt his own release approaching. His balls tightening, his cock throbbing and pulsing within your wet heat.

And there it was, his hips jerked erratically before he spilled inside you.

Capitano could feel his cum flooding, could feel the warmth of it spreading through your body, and could literally feel it leaking out of your sweaty and panting figure.

“… is this what you wanted?” You take the time to ask, and you're only met with heavy breaths and his limp body.

But he nods afterwards.

"next time you could praise me more," oh, he's intrigued.

"maybe sprinkle some degrading words," alright, so you liked it different sometimes. "And then pull my hair a bit," okay, he's a bit concerned but he can do that for you.

"maybe choke me too—"

"... Darling, were you tortured before? I worry for you."

[valewright67]

Ooooh!

In which many many years have passed since Arthur succumbed to his wounds from Camlaan.

Many many years Merlin was alone as Camelot died before him and the world move on.

Many many years that Merlin spent grieving, then honing that into his magic, developing new spells that break the laws of magic and reality.

Many many years that it takes Merlin to perfect a spell to turn back the clock.

Many many years that pass by in the blink of an eye as he rewinds time itself.

Many many years, and yet no time at all, since Merlin has sped up the castle to Arthur's chamber.

Many many years, and yet no time at all, that has passed since Merlin stepped through those towards.

Moved to stand beside the bed.

Lay eyes upon his golden king, the reverent moment undamaged by the drool escaping his lips, the soft, utterly inelegant snores, the horrendously mussed up hair. Rather, made all the better by how utterly human, how utterly alive he is, how entirely real before him.

Oh so very many years since Merlin was able to reach out and touch, without the visage fading into obscurity like all the other half mad hallucinations.

Since Merlin could run his calloused fingers over that golden hair, trail down squished cheeks.

Since he got to watch Arthur's entire face scrunch tightly, like he only did when awaking after being truly, deeply asleep.

Since Arthur lolled his head a little to squint up at him blearily, with oh-so blue eyes Merlin had lost any hope of ever seeing open again.

Since he heard Arthur slur his name in a confused tone, voice still rough with sleep.

Merlin chokes down a hysterical, teary laugh, and Arthur looks more alarmed now, more awake.

"Merlin?" Voice still hushed.

"Forgive me, Sire. I seem to have forgotten your Royal breakfast." He breathes out, not wanting to pierce the reverent quiet, basking in speaking to his golden king once more.

"Is all well? Why have you woken me so early?"

"Not nearly early enough, Arthur. Not nearly early enough."

A far away gaze, snapping all at once back to Arthur when his hand wraps around his forearm. A blinding smile to his worried frown.

Oh how long its been since he felt his hands-

"What- Merlin, why are you crying, what has happened??"

"I-" A startled touch to his own cheek, coming away glistening wet. When had that happened? "I..." A sob wells in his throat.

Many many years of grief and loneliness and longing, all crashing into an astounding joy and relief.

Arthur makes a vaguely panicked noise, sitting up properly and turning to him, and Merlin cannot help but to find it funny despite himself. His golden king had never known what to do with himself when people started crying, and he was no exception to that rule.

He laughs. He thinks he does? He cries? He hiccups, he wheezes, he sobs, his limbs shake and he curves in, curves towards his king, one arm still held up in Arthur's grasp, fist clenching and shaking, really all of him is shaking.

Arthur's other hand clasps onto his shoulders and he chokes on a gasp at the warm touch, giving in to the mind numbingly strong urge to- to be closer, to hold him again, to curl small and tight, to hear and feel that brilliantly strong heart beat thundering along, so loud it's nearly deafening, and yet not loud enough.

His golden king flails, baffled and worried, sputtering out half questions and demands for explanations, and throughout it all, Merlin just laughs and cries at the joy welling up in him, at being so close to him, at feeling his warmth and life and the hesitantly comforting touch as he finally, gingerly, holds him back.

Many many years, and at last, at long long last.

"I've missed you so much, Arthur."

an oooold yet cute merthur sketch

[noomeriff]

Ghostly Affection

Summary: You get separated from Mr. Crawling, will you be able to find him again?

Tags: Mr. Crawling x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Word count: 1849

A/n: Well, after literally years of not writing, guess I just needed a sweet ball of sunshine in the form of a creepy ghost man to make my inspiration come back. Hope you enjoy!^^

Bold: Other World Language

"Mr. Crawling?!"

The sound of your footsteps echoes in the empty hallways, your eyes frantically scanning every room you pass. 

"Mr. Crawling, can you hear me?!"

The dizziness starts again, your vision blurring as you lean on a wall to regain balance.

~~~

It all happened so quickly.

You were walking through the immense maze of hallways, trying to find your way back to the other friendly residents, hoping to find some clue that could help you return to your world. 

 

How long has it been since you've woken up in this place? Days? Weeks? You didn't know. What you did know was that the sound of clothes brushing against the cold floors was starting to become an anchor to your sanity, as crazy as it may sound. 

You smiled as you looked over your shoulder, the friendly ghost smiling in return. For some reason, the presence of Mr. Crawling was the only thing that could make you feel a little bit safer in this dangerous and unpredictable place.

You were passing through a big room, talking, or at least trying to communicate at the best of your abilities, pointing at the objects as he answered in an eager voice to your questions.

 

Then everything started moving. Cracks forming on the walls, pieces of the ceiling breaking down as you looked at Mr. Crawling in panic. The both of you darted forward, trying to reach for the exit.

 

You saw him make it to the doorway. 

 

Then you felt gravity pulling you down.

 

He tried to reach for your hand. Your fingertips brushed against each other for a brief second, but it was too late. 

 

You screamed as the floor crumbled under your feet.

~~~

You catch yourself before sliding down to the floor, using both your hands to get back up, "I should get going."

Really? And where will you go?

You look around, walking into the next hallway, your heart starting to beat irregularly, "I must keep moving, I'm sure I'll find him soon."

But what if you don't? This place changes, after all. 

You shake your head as you open another door, trying to suppress the intrusive thoughts, "Mr. Crawling!!"

What if you never find him? What if you can't find your way back to the others?

You mentally scold yourself, your breathing labored as you feel panic starting to invade your mind. Another door opens, welcoming you into a long, large tunnel.

You will forever walk through this hell alone.

All the strength you had left suddenly vanishes, your arms wrapping over your stomach as you fall on your knees. Dread starts to fill your chest like cold, sharp claws piercing your heart.

 

The only thing you had left was crying, to succumb to the harsh reality of this world. Tears stream down your cheeks, your voice feeble as you try to keep your last bit of hope close. 

"Mr. Crawling..."

 

Something moves at the end of the tunnel. 

Your head shoots up instinctively, your hand wrapping tighter on your crowbar, ready to swing at whatever hostile monster was there. 

You listen closely, keeping your breath steady at the best you could while your eyes squint in the darkness in front of you.

 

Then you hear it.

 

The familiar sound of fabric.

A wave of relief washes over you, so strong that your heart compresses in your chest.

Before you even realize it, you're running. The sound of your shoes echoes within the walls of the tunnel. You run until you can finally see the hunched over figure of your friend, who's looking around, confused and alarmed by the noise.

Tears well up in your eyes, the relief so intense that you can't contain it.

You instinctively throw your crowbar to the side, it was only slowing you down. The metal clings on the ground, catching his attention.

You fall on your knees, your arms wrapping tightly around his body as you bury your face into his chest, "Mr. Crawling!!"

He yelps in surprise, not realizing what's going on as he tries to keep his balance. After an infinite moment of silent, he giggles. The eerie but all too familiar giggle you've been longing to hear, the only thing that could cement in your mind that this is reality, you are not dreaming and you're not alone anymore.

In an instant his thin, but strong arms wrap around you, almost crushing you by the sheer intensity of it, "You find me!"

Tears fall faster as you reciprocate his hug, almost in fear that he could vanish as soon as you let go.

"Floor drop! You disappear! Me worry!!", Mr. Crawling basks in the sudden affection, his body swinging from side to side, unable to contain his happiness, "Me search! You find me! Me glad!"

He suddenly stills, your sobs finally reaching his ear. He quickly tries to take a better look at you, but he's met by your iron grip around his chest.

You feel his long, cold fingers rest on the top of your head, softly caressing your hair to soothe you.

"Pet, pet..."

He doesn't move, not entirely sure what to do, but trying his best to calm you down. 

As soon as you feel your breath steady a little, you feel his hands rest on your shoulders, gently pulling you away from him. Your tears run down your cheeks as he looks at you, his expression getting more worried by the second.

He slowly moves one of his hands close to your face, touching a tear with the tip of his finger, quickly retracting it as soon as it makes contact, "Eye...water?"

Do the other world entities even know what tears are?

His expression somehow turns even more worried, scanning your face and your arms, "You hurt? Pain?"

You take a deep breath, brushing away a streak of tears with the back of your hand, "No, no-" you try to remember the right words in the mess that is your mind at the moment, "Me not hurt."

A moment of silence falls as you search for the right words to use.

"Me...afraid. Many, many afraid...", you grab onto his clothes, "Me not know where you... Me alone..."

You yelp as you feel both of his hand hold the sides of your head, caressing you almost fervently. You're only able to notice his frown, his expression a mask of worry as he tries to make you feel better, "Pet, pet!!"

As your head bounces from side to side, you can't help the laugh that bubbles in your throat, your hair already a tangled mess.

You grab his wrists, fighting against him as he still tries to go on, "Mr. Crawling, wait-!" another chuckle escapes your lips as you look at him, "Stop!"

He stops, his attention turning on you as you lower his hands away from your head. You brush away the tears still on your face, your heart fluttering at the sweetness behind his action, "Me fine! Me not afraid! Me found you! You together me!"

Mr. Crawling takes a moment to understand your words, his smile returning as he giggles. His puts his hand back on top of your head, this time much more gentle as he pets you.

 

"Me glad! Eye water bad! Mouth happy! You ?????? !"

 

This time it's your turn to be caught off guard, your head tilting slightly in confusion as you try to translate his words.

Seeing your confusion, he repeats himself, this time gesturing with his hands to give you some help.

"Eye water-", he points his finger at your cheek, "bad!"

"Mouth happy," he points at his face, his grin stretching as he giggles again, "You ?????? !"

Is he... telling me to smile? 

Your eyebrows furrow at the unknown word as you try to replicate the sound, "??????..."

He nods vigorously, almost amused by your confusion.

You try your best to recall all your knowledge, it's been a while since you've heard a new word, but-.... wait a moment... no, this is not a new word, you've heard that sound before... but when was it?

Your eyes wander, looking down at your hands, now resting on your knees. Your new clothes catch your attention... of course! The Bride! You've heard that word when that kind ghost gave you these new clothes!

It was something that Mr. Crawling said in that occasion, but wasn't he talking about the dress that time...?

Your heart skips a beat as a thought crosses your mind, your eyes widening slightly.

 

No, that can't be the meaning... right? But... what if-

 

Your attention slowly returns on him, his expression almost gleeful as he watches you, waiting patiently for you to arrive at a conclusion.

Your mouth suddenly feels dry as your hand moves, pointing a single finger toward you, "Me..."

 

"...pretty?"

 

His delighted giggle is the only answer you need, "Mouth happy! You pretty! Pretty!"

Your can't help the blush that suddenly dusts your cheeks, the pure sweetness in his voice enough to make you feel butterflies in your stomach.

 

Wait- does that mean he's called you pretty before?!

 

As your face turns redder by the second, you're startled when you feel Mr. Crawling's cold hand against your cheek, "Face fire... why?"

You quickly grab his hand, pulling it away as your blush spreads further, "N-Nothing!!- I mean, No worry!!"

He tilts his head, beaming as he looks at you, his smile wide as he pats your head once more, "Me like face fire! You pretty!"

The moment you lean closer to hide your face in his chest, he wraps his arms around you, locking you in place. His laugh fills the silence, covering your voice as you sigh in both embarrassment and frustration.

He leans down, his cheek resting on top of your head as he pulls you closer, "Pretty! Pretty! ???? !"

You're not sure if you want to know the meaning behind that new word, or at least, you don't know if your heart is ready for it at the moment.

A few minutes pass as you let him shower you in affection, your heart finally calming down. You have to admit, he gives good hugs, even if his touch is cold.

You slowly pull away from him. He lets you, but you notice a hint of hesitation as his hands unwraps from you, but still resting on your shoulders.

Your eyes wander over to your crowbar, abandoned on the floor a few meters from you. You sigh, your mind finally at peace, "Maybe it's time for us to return to the others."

Mr. Crawling frowns, his grip on your shoulders tightening slightly, "You go?"

The look of disappointment on his face almost made your heart melt on the spot, your chest hurts at the thought of ending this precious moment between the two of you.

With a soft smile, you pull him closer once again, burying your head in the crook of his neck. Mr. Crawling chirps in delight, his hand resuming his soft caresses on your head, making you laugh with him.

"I guess a few more minutes won't hurt."

[planetpedri]

Silver soul — Pedri González.

Pairing: Pedri González x Fem!Reader

Summary: When banter leads to an interesting chain of events.

Word count: 1.6k

Disclaimer/s: banter + fluff + light angst

A/N: i unfortunately did change the initial summary + plot but i’m too lazy to change the name

Annoyance seeped through your expression as your head turned to face Pedri’s. The two of you had been the last ones left outside when your friends has moved inside to do various things. You were expecting Pedri to leave along with them, wanting your moment of peace. Unfortunately, he was not going anywhere.

“You couldn’t possibly let me have any peace, could you?” Your eyes narrowed into slits as you shuffled in your seat, bringing your knees to your chest.

The fireplace casted a warm glow across the Tenerife man, making his face adorn a warm color that enunciated his features. You hated how good he looked, it make him so much harder to hate.

Pedri’s mouth forms a lazy grin. “What? You don’t appreciate my company?” He knew what to say to set you off, loving the way your face scrunched in annoyance.

“Not even in the slightest.”

His low chuckle made you even more agitated. He was so likable and charming that it pissed you off, not to mention how easy conversations seemed to flow with him. Every time you spoke, hours would pass without you even realizing.

Pedri leaned back in his chair, head tilted to the side as he looked at your stoic face as you watched the flames dance. “Ay, guapa.” His words catch your attention, your head snapping in his direction. [beautiful]

“Ay, cabezón.” You shoot back, refusing to give into his flirtatious compliment. [big head]

The raven haired man laughed, his head falling forward, shaking slightly. “Okay, I was being nice and you just want to hurt me.”

Your shoulders move up and down, shrugging. “When will you realize you flirting isn’t going to make me dislike you any less?” You tug at the corners of your blanket to lift them over your shoulders to grow more comfortable.

“You know what I think?” Pedri asks, his eyes never leaving you, not even when you give him a hard, challenging glare. “I think you secretly like it.”

A laugh of disbelief leaves your lips, “and what makes you think that?”

Grinning wider, Pedri leans over in his chair. His elbows prop up on the armrest and he holds his head up with his palms. “You may not realize it, but your lips twitch every time I do.”

“Do you ever shut up?”

Pedri shakes his head, “no…” He was about to get real risky with what he says next, “but you can try and make me.”

Oh! Right, right. Funny.

Your lips pull into a thin line, eyes darting around his face. Is he being serious right now? But Pedri doesn’t look like he’s joking, his stupid smirk was gone, a serious look overtaking his face. He was.

“And how do you suppose I do that?” You nervously—wait. Nervous? Why were you nervous? Your knee had began to bounce, something that you did whenever you got anxious and, or nervous.

You were not anxious right now.

Your breathing slowed when Pedri’s gaze fell to your lips. He doesn’t say anything, just hums. He knew exactly what he was doing and you shake your head.

“Yeah, no.” You cough, turning away from him to look at the fire again. Your face was burning and it wasn’t because of the heat from the fire.

Pedri cracked up, finding it ever so amusing how flustered you’d gotten. He never realized how easy it would be to get you riled up like that.

And just like that, you’d stopped talking to Pedri. Completely. And every second of it was hell. All you could think about was his beautiful brown eyes that had a strong orange hue, the way his hair fell so softly on his head, the way he smiled with his teeth. It was so frustrating.

Pedri felt your absence the first time you didn’t show up to a gathering. Even when you didn’t come to a home game. Even when you said you hated him, you showed up periodically every three games.

He texted you, you didn’t respond. He asked your friends about you, they simply gave a, ‘she’s busy’ in response, but he noticed the slight questioning in their tone—like they didn’t believe what they were saying.

So, at his whits end, he stood outside your door in the rain. Pounding on the oak wood door, he progressingly got harsher and harsher until you finally swung it open.

“What—oh.” You falter, stepping back in surprise. “Pedri.”

“Yeah, Pedri. The guy you’ve avoided like I had a disease or something?” He snapped tightly, his hands moving as he spoke in frustration. “Tell me what I did wrong!”

You were taken aback, to say the least. You didn’t think your absence would affect him this much. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” You answer quietly. “Are you cold?”

Pedri was befuddled. Cold? Was this your way of avoiding conversation? He was, of course. “What do you think? I’m drenched.”

“Come inside.” You step out of the way, motioning for him to come inside of your house.

Pedri’s mouth clamps shut. He strides inside and shrugs off his hoodie, leaving him clad in a white tee shirt that was still damp from the water that seeped through.

He’d never been to your house. It was exactly like he pictured. Neat, pops of color, random paraphernalia of the things you liked—yet subtle enough that nobody would know unless they liked those things or knew you well enough. It was all so.. you. He smiled a little.

“I can get you a blanket, coffee, tea? I don’t want you to get sick.” You were already moving toward the couch a few feet away, reaching for one.

Shaking his head, Pedri grips your arm, stopping you effectively. You glance back at him with furrowed eyebrows. “No. Stop stalling. Talk to me.”

Your eyes drift to his hand, ignoring the way his touch sent a bolt of electricity up your arm. “I have been busy. Not really feeling all the socializing. It’s not you.”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me it isn’t true.” Pedri demands, dropping his hand to give you the stage. His arms cross and he cocks his head to the side with a hard stare.

You play with the hem of your sleeve, reluctantly looking at him. “It’s not you.”

Confusion flashes across his face. “Then what is it?”

“It’s me!” You exclaim, rubbing your face. “It’s my complete and utter lack of ability to get you out of my head! It’s the way I can’t stop thinking about you! It is—“ You turn around and take a breath. “My head makes it so difficult to be around you.”

Pedri listens intently, ignoring his urge to reach out and shut you up. His heart races and his head pounds and God he just wanted to kiss you!

He says your name, softly. But you weren’t finished.

“—Not to mention, I want to forget you so bad and I can’t! You have always been annoying but it’s reaching an insufferable level!”

“Are you done?”

“Yes.”

“If you think this is one sided, you are dead wrong.” And that was all he had to say. He wasn’t going to waste your time and ramble about how deeply he felt your absence, or how he couldn’t sleep because your face was the last thing he pictured when he closes his eyes and he didn’t want it to go away.

Your mouth parts, your breath hitching in your throat. Words fail your tongue. When you can’t get anything out, your shoulders slump. Okay. Okay! This was good. Right?

He says your name again, snapping his fingers in your face. Blinking, you take a long breath, a slightly confused smile overtaking your lips. “Wow. Alright. Oh. Now what.”

“Now, I ask if I can have that blanket because I’m pretty fucking cold.” He says through a breathy laugh.

Your head dips when you chuckle, “yeah, yeah. You can sit on the couch. I’ll make you tea, too. You’ll probably catch a cold.”

You were so caring, even when you pretended you couldn’t stand him. You were caring all the time, Pedri supposed that was what he loved so much about you.

When you were back with the blanket and tea in hand, you plop down beside him. “I haven’t been busy. I’ve been miserable.” You confess, leaning your head back against the couch cushion with a loose smile.

“I’ve been miserable too.” Pedri admits, setting the mug aside and leans back as well. When he’s facing you, he takes the moment of silence to scan your face. Every small feature, he took in. Burned it into his brain.

Your stomach hurt with his examination because with it came the softest, most endearing smile. “Are you always going to creepy-stare at me? Or will this end after tonight?”

“Always.” Pedri shrugs, lifting his hand to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing your soft skin. “Don’t do this to me again. Don’t make me have to get upset at you, I hated every second of it.”

You nod, your eyes fluttering shut to sink in his every touch. “Never again.”

“And—“

“Can I shut you up?”

The call back to the conversation that happened only weeks ago had Pedri laughing. “Yes.” Without another word, your lips pressed to his.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you want to be tagged in future pedri posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @sakashq @ar4ujos @joaoflms @gadriezmannsgirl @hrts4havertz @spidybaby @unx100to @st4rgirl-ellie

[buckevantommy]

Buck could fill a small bakery with the amount he's baked in the past few weeks. He cleaned out the flour shelf at his corner market, used a coop's worth of eggs, pushed his mixer to the limit and had his oven working near constantly. Every neighbour on his floor and everyone he's passed in the lobby has had a loaf of some kind left on their doorstep or shoved politely into their hands. Everyone at the station is begging him not to overload them anymore on sugar - they'll take the carb-loaded meals he makes at work but avoid Buck the moment he enters the bay doors with a basket of saran-wrapped sweet bakes.

The worst part is that it's not working anymore. It never really distracted him enough to not want to call Tommy, just put his hands and head to use for an hour or two at time so that he couldn't text or call.

But now there's nothing left to bake with. And Eddie is looking at houses in El Paso. And everyone has family to go home to, except for Buck. And every reason he has for not being the one to reach out first goes out the window.

After a few rings, Tommy answers with a questioning, "-Buck?" and it's a gutpunch he doesn't need today but he's already feeling like shit so the pain just gets absorbed into the rest of it.

"H-hey, Tommy." It feels good to say his name under- well, not better circumstances than addressing his broken heart, but something with a bit of tentative hope at least.

And it's good to hear his voice. The voicemails and audio notes and videos from their time together have soothed him and tormented him at different times over the months, but hearing Tommy respond to him in real time sends a pang of longing through him.

"Um. I-I, uh."

"Are you okay?"

A bitter sound trips its way out of Buck's mouth. "No. No, I-I'm not okay."

"Are you hurt?"

The urgency in Tommy's voice thrills him; he still cares. But Buck doesn't want to misrepresent himself, doesn't want to trick Tommy into caring about what he's going through.

"Guess that depends."

"On what?"

"What kinda hurt you mean."

There's an inhale across the line. "What can I do?"

Tears prick at Buck's eyes. "I just- need someone to talk to." He doesn't say: even though we're not together anymore, can we still be friends? because even though he's missed Tommy being in his life, he doesn't know if he could be just friends.

"Okay." Buck hears some rustling in the background, footsteps, background noise receding. "I'm here. Talk to me."

Tommy wants to hear what Buck has to say, he always did. So Buck talks. He tells Tommy about Eddie moving away, and Tommy listens. And when it gets too much he tells Tommy about a new niece or nephew of his on the way, and Tommy offers his sincere congratulations. And then he tells Tommy about his baking coping mechanism and Tommy quiets.

So much so that Buck checks to see if the call dropped.

"I'm on my fifth engine. I keep taking them apart and putting them back together until they sound better than before. But everytime I was done I had to start again, fix another broken thing, because I couldn't fix.."

Buck takes an unsteady breath. Us. "Me."

"No," Tommy says emphatically. "I couldn't fix me. Too broken to be good enough for you."

It's a heartwrenching confession, but Buck feels a smile beneath the tears sneaking down his face. "You don't think I'm broken? Nobody stays for me, Tommy. At some point I gotta realize I'm just not someone people wanna stick around for longterm."

"Evan.."

Buck breezes over the sound of his name in Tommy's mouth, can't dwell on how good it feels because it won't last. "Guess neither of us are forever guys, huh." His heart, bruised and battered, bleeds a little more. The tears stream freely now. He sniffles, but manages to steady his voice as he says: "I loved you. That was real."

Tommy's breath hitches. "I was a coward."

Buck nods. Cries some more. They're both fucked up.

Tommy hesitates, but then: "I'm off-shift soon. We could.."

He leaves it hanging. There's so many ways Buck could finish that suggestion, most of them unbearably hopeful. He doesn't want to stay in his empty apartment anymore. "Yours?" His voice is a little wet. "Maybe I could help you with that engine."

Tommy's breath of amusement is a balm to Buck's aching heart. "You know something about vintage cars I don't know?" It's teasing, and gentle, and Buck has missed this.

"Maybe. Maybe trying to do it alone is the problem."

Another breath of laughter, followed by resignation in his voice. "Yeah. Maybe you're right."

Buck listens to him breathe for a moment: in, out, in..

"I'll meet you at mine."

Buck's poor heart beats a little stronger.

*

It was more than an hour later, of battling crosstown traffic and then letting himself into Tommy's house because Tommy had explicitly told him to use the spare key. They never gotten to the point of swapping keys. That probably should've been a step they didn't skip over. Buck's too-long legs had skipped too many for Tommy's comfort.

He pushes all thoughts of that aside. He's not perfect, he's too much, but Tommy agreed to see him. Tommy wants.. he's not sure.

Buck stands in the little living room, surveying Tommy's space while his mind spirals, heart yoyo-ing between hope and hopelessness. He doesn't know how much time passes when the front door opens and Tommy appears in the entryway.

He looks good. Tired, if the dark circles under his eyes are anything to go by, but good. His hair is a little longer all over, and it suits him. Buck wants to tell him as much but he can't seem to say anything.

Then Tommy says, "Hey," soft and concerned and fond, a sad smile at the corners of his eyes.

And Buck's tears threaten back into his own. "Hey." His voice is watery and brittle.

Tommy's there in three strides, gathering Buck into his arms, and Buck lets himself be wrapped in an embrace. Winds his arms around Tommy and presses into his solid warmth. Breathes him in as the tears come.

He feels safe. Seen. His heart cradled in care the way his body is cradled in Tommy's arms.

Buck takes a deep, steadying inhale of Tommy's scent and pulls back enough to look him in the face. His hands loose their grip at Tommy's shirt, smoothing to palm him through the cotton.

"About that engine.."

Tommy's smile is wide enough to crinkle his eyes in that way Buck loves, with joy etched in the creases.

"I wanna help you, if you'll let me. We could make it work. Together."

Tommy's eyes glisten. His smile breaks into a grin. "I'd like to try that."

buck probably called tommy every chance he got when they were together. driving home from work and stuck in traffic, it’s time to call tommy and tell him about his shift. late night in bed and he’s struggling to fall asleep without him, tommy’s soft voice will lull him to sleep from the other side of the phone. both on shift and the calls had been particularly slow, he will go and sit on the roof with tommy on loud speaker and they will just talk about anything and everything.

and when buck finds out that eddie is thinking about moving back to texas, tommy is the only person who he wants to talk to about it. so he finally gives in and calls. and of course, tommy will answer.

[shadowsviper]

Finally Home

Phillip Graves x Reader

He's finally home after a long mission.

Requested by: @shadowcompanygirl

Words: 1.4k

Sorry, this took me way longer than I expected but I hope this was good enough. I didn't know how to end it so I kind of panicked and kept writing.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Phillip Graves had been gone for the past two and a half months. Unfortunately for you, it was normal for many soldiers to be gone for months. He was the CEO of the Shadow Company, it was almost guaranteed he'd be gone for weeks or months.

Phone calls and messages from him were rare. He tried his best to call whenever possible, but being in a foreign country with little to no cell service made it hard. The last message he had sent was from over a week ago. It was a picture of the cutest dog you've ever seen. After that message, he was radio silent again.

The night he returned was unexpected. He wasn't actually supposed to be back for another two weeks but his mission had ended earlier than expected.

As he drove himself home, he passed by all the landmarks you would usually point out if you were in the car. Driving past each one, he knew he was getting closer to home. To you.

The neighborhood was quiet, only the hum of his car engine could be heard. Once he parked his car in the driveway, he turned it off and got out. Phil looked at his house. It was a big suburban house he bought with you a few years ago. You had actually been the one to pick it out, something about the color and the design of the house drew you in.

Phil reached into the trunk, grabbing his duffle bags. He tried to be as quiet as possible when he closed the trunk and locked the car.

As he walked up the small steps of the front porch, he noticed a colorful bed of flowers near the bushes. A small smile appeared on his face as he admired them. He was glad that you found something to do while he was gone. He trusted you always to make the house look as nice as possible.

When he walked in, the house was dark and quiet. He figured you were probably asleep, considering it was the middle of the night. He placed his bags on the floor, wincing at the soft thumps of his belongings when they hit the floor. He crouched to remove his shoes.

He didn't notice a figure walking towards him while he was crouched down.

The noises he was making weren't as soft as he thought. He had woken you up. At first, you thought there was an intruder but when you heard nothing other than the soft thumps you assumed something just fell over. Since you weren't fully asleep, you decided to check it out. Not your brightest moment; getting out of bed in the middle of the night to investigate a sound.

You were surprised to find Phil by the door. He wasn't supposed to be back yet, and he didn't seem to notice you.

"Phil?"

Phil's head snapped up to find you standing in front of him dressed in one of his shirts. He stood up to his full height, opening his arms for you.

You didn't hesitate to walk right into his arms, allowing them to wrap around your waist. Your arms reached over to wrap around his neck. His vest still contained most of the stuff he needed for missions. It was bulky enough that it stopped you both from being pressed chest to chest. He would’ve left it at the base but he wanted to get back to you as soon as possible.

As much as you would've loved to stay in that position forever, you pulled away first, moving your hand up to cup his face. Your eyes scanned over his face, searching for any injuries. Thankfully, you found nothing except for that old scar on his cheek. Your thumb brushed over it gently causing Phil to lean into your hand. You could feel the tears forming in your eyes as you process that he was alive and well.

"I missed you," you said. Your voice was quiet and wavering a bit as if you couldn't believe he was actually standing in front of you. "You weren't answering and I thought you weren't coming back for another week or so."

"Change of plans, darling." Phil leaned in to kiss you. It had been far too long since either of you got to be in each other's arms. This time he pulled away first, he brought his hand up to wipe away a few stray tears from your face. “I’m sorry for the lack of calls. I know it worries you, but I thought a surprise would be nice.”

You sighed. You can always count on Phil to scare the shit out of you when he doesn’t answer. As long as he came back to you after a mission, you could put up with it a little longer. 

“Why don’t you get that vest off?” You tugged at the vest with a smile. “Take a shower. I’ll heat up some leftovers for you.”

Phil nodded. He was always grateful that you were willing to treat him so well when he came back even if you were tired. He did feel bad considering he hadn’t been around and left you to do all the work around the house. He gave you another kiss before grabbing his things off the floor and walking up to the bedroom. 

It wasn’t long until you heard him coming back down the stairs while you grabbed a plate out of the cabinet. You turned your head to find Phil walking towards you, his hair was damp from the shower. He walked up behind you, placing his hands on your hips and leaning in to place a few kisses on your neck. 

“You’re amazing, you know that?” he mumbled into your neck. You let out a small laugh as you plated his dinner.

You grabbed the plate and turned around making Phil lift his head from your neck. He could only stare at you with love. “You tell me every time you see me. Come on, eat.”

Phil grabbed the plate from you and went to sit down at the dining table. To say he was hungry was an understatement, he was starving. The meals he had on base weren’t as good as your cooking. If he could, he would just eat whatever you made for the rest of his life. Although he probably wouldn’t share with his Shadows, he knew he’d lose your cooking to them.

As you watched him eat, a part of you couldn’t help but think that this was all a dream and he would be gone when you woke up the next morning. A selfish part of you wanted to keep him from ever going back to the military. You wanted him here to yourself, knowing he would be safe from any harm. However, you knew nothing would keep him from that life, he saw the Shadow Company as his brothers, a second family, but of course, he saw you as his first.

“How long are you staying?” You were scared of his answer. Knowing his line of work, he could leave at any time.

Phil looked up at you, putting his fork down. “Not for a month at least. I’ve got some people handling things so I have more time with you.”

You smiled. A whole month. It’s shorter than you liked, but a month was a month. You weren’t going to take any of it for granted. Phil stood up from his seat, grabbed his plate, and walked over to the sink. You heard the clink of the plate being set down. 

“I’ll do the dishes tomorrow, let's get to bed,” Phil said, walking back over to you and holding his hand out. “I’ve kept you up long enough.”

You grabbed his hand and Phil led you up the stairs and into the bedroom. You saw the bags and vest he had haphazardly thrown in the corner of the room. You decided that it was tomorrow's problem, you just wanted to get into bed and sleep. The two of you crawled into bed, immediately wrapping your arms around each other. 

“How about I take you on a date tomorrow, darling?” Phil asked. His southern accent was a little stronger because of how tired he was. He knew it’s been a while since he’s taken you anywhere and he wanted to make sure you knew just how loved you were.

It seems like you had a smile permanently etched onto your face. You haven’t stopped since he’d gotten home. “That sounds great.”

[illbegottenfaith]

handwritten - theo nott x reader

yours and theo’s story as told through notes passed in class

a/n - came up with this quick idea to release some pent up creative energy while mulling over lucky pt 3. will prob make this an ongoing series for small ideas I can’t get fully fledged fics out of. easy to write, easy to read, enjoy!

tropes/warnings - fluff, a minor hinting at angst, newstudent!theo, estranged friends to lovers

word count - 1.5k

Monday, 10.07 am, Charms

Hey. You might want to pull your nose out of that disgusting textbook for once.

We’ve been over this. Just because you don’t understand something it doesn’t mean it’s disgusting. It’s very disrespectful.

What is disrespectful is you not paying attention to our year’s hottest new commodity - emphasis on the hot. I must say, he fills out that uniform quite nicely.

I’m sure he does.

C’mon, you’re not even a little bit curious? Just a peek?

Y/N? Hellooooooo? 

Oh my god. I know the guy.

???

What is he doing here? Last I heard he was being homeschooled.

Know him how??

We went to the same primary school. We were…friends.

Riiiight.

Don’t get any ideas. I haven’t seen him since I was ten. And he looked very, very different back then. Had a ratty sort of face. I can still kind of see it, actually.

Oh, Y/N, how could you say such awful things about his beautiful face! Oh dear, that bone structure…

Quiet, you. He’s really…grown. He’s so much taller now.

You know what you should do? You should offer to help him catch up.

On five years of school?

Oh, please, he was homeschooled. He had to have learnt some things. Who is he, anyway?

Theodore Nott.

Now that’s an Old Money name if I ever heard one.

Ivy. Be nice.

So? Is he? Old money, that is.

I…suppose so.

Are you sure you two were friends?

Yes. It’s been a while, that’s all. I just…wow. I can’t believe he’s here. Like, right there. I didn’t know if I’d ever see him again.

What happened?

He moved. I was starting at Hogwarts. We lost touch, it happens.

But now he’s back! Yay! Did you see those sinfully blue eyes of his?

Ivy, you have a boyfriend.

I know. Ivan agrees, by the way.

That he’s hot?

Yes.

He’s sitting on the other side of the room. When did you have time to discuss this??

Just now. Right in front of you. What did you think all that eyebrow-waggling was about?

I thought you were having a stroke. Merlin, the two of you are perfect for each other.

Don’t change the subject. He’s not gay, is he? Your friend? All the hot ones usually are.

I wouldn’t know, now, would I? I haven’t heard anything about him in years. Ivy, leave him alone. Please don’t harass the poor guy, sexually or otherwise. And quit it with the notes. He’ll notice.

How??? Has he got eyes on the back of his very nicely shaped head? He’s busy with Flitwick anyway.

Trust me, he’ll see. Nothing gets past Theodore Nott.

Monday, 2.15 pm, Potions

Well?????

Well, what?

The chat!!! Your chat!!!!!! With Mr. Theodore Nott!!!!!!!!

You have to quit it with the caffeine. You’re far too excitable after lunch.

The chat!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It was fine. It was…nice.

Uh-huh.

He goes by Theo now.

Okay. I’ll pretend I care about that.

It was all very casual, very superficial. It was really just us exchanging pleasantries. Oh, right. He asked me to accompany him to Quidditch tryouts.

You??? But you hate Quidditch.

I know.

Please tell me you didn’t say that.

I didn't. I just said I didn’t know much about it.

And?

He said that didn’t matter. He just wanted me there for moral support.

Then what was with all the turning red halfway through? You looked like you were going to combust.

Was it that obvious?

Ivan had some pumpkin juice ready, just in case.

It was nothing. I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all. He called me his good luck charm.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You’re going to rip a hole through the parchment.

AWWWWW

So?? Did you say yes??

I said I’d think about it.

BOOOOOOOO

Come on, Vee. He’s been flying since before he could walk. He always talked about joining the big leagues, you know. He knows everything there is to know about Quidditch, so of course he’ll make the team. And it’ll have nothing to do with me.

But he doesn’t even have any friends yet :(

That’s because he hasn’t talked to anyone yet.

Y’know, Romilda Vane wanted to know why he was talking to you of all people.

What’s that supposed to mean??

Eh, you know. You can be a little…snippy.

I am NOT snippy.

There it is. The snippiness.

Whatever. It’s all so pointless. Come Thursday evening, he’ll have joined the Quidditch team and he’ll be hanging out with, y’know, those people, and we’ll be ancient history. He’ll make plenty of friends. He just doesn’t know it yet.

Okay. If you say so. Also, at lunch, I finally tried that thing you’re always talking about, “applying myself,” and I found this article on his dad in the library. From 6 years ago.

Don’t you want to know what the article said?

You could have mentioned he was a death eater, you know.

I don’t care about that, by the way. You used to be friends and that’s good enough for me. But, Y/N, he was arrested six years ago. And you haven’t talked to Theo in six years. But there isn’t any kind of connection between those, is there?

Y/N?

Do not make me throw this at you. I know how you feel about paper cuts.

Tuesday, 3.03 pm, Defence Against the Dark Arts

Where’s your friend?

?

You know. Who you’re always passing notes with in class?

You noticed?

Hard not to. It makes you all fidgety and annoyed.

Yeah, well, Ivy’s an annoying person.

I’ll take your word for it. What do you have after this?

Transfiguration.

Wow. That’s one of the harder ones, isn’t it?

Er, depends on who you ask, I think.

Still brilliant as ever, then.

Shut up. I’m not half the swot I was in primary school. 

I never thought you were a swot. You were just…enthusiastic.

That’s sweet of you to say, Theo.

Huh. I thought I’d always be Teddy to you.

We’re not ten anymore, Theo. I can say your name perfectly now.

That’s good. So, have you thought about it?

Thought about what?

The Quidditch tryouts. You’re the only person I know here so you have to say yes.

I don’t know. Some of the girls look pretty interested in getting to know you.

What?

Nothing. I guess I could swing by for a short while.

That’s my girl.

Thursday, 8.37 pm, Common Room

SO?????

He got in. Obviously. Was there ever any doubt?

Did he run up to you? Did he hug you? Did he pick you up and spin you around???

Witch Weekly is a bad influence on you.

Details, please.

He hugged me. Kind of. Nearly tackled me, he was so excited.

you are SO his good luck charm!!!!!!

Friday, 11.17 am, Defence Against the Dark Arts

Witch Weekly?

It’s not mine. I’m holding it for a friend.

Right.

Really, I am. Ivy’s a fiend for these but she has this Charms test coming up that she absolutely cannot fail.

I believe you. ‘Top 6 Magical Contraceptives for the Modern Witch’ doesn’t sound like your kind of reading material.

I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I was only having a little fun.

I’m not embarrassed. Are you embarrassed?

Erm, no, but you’re very red. Do you need to see the Healer?

I’m fine. It’s just hot. And no one calls Madam Pomfrey ‘the Healer,’ by the way.

Ah. I see.

Is there a point to all this? Did you need to ask something?

Oh, right. What are you up to on Saturday night?

Saturday? Dunno…wanted to take a crack at that Transfiguration essay.

Excellent. I’ll pick you up at 8.

Oh?

It’s nothing. A couple of the guys on the team wanted to celebrate with drinks at Hogsmeade. Everyone’s bringing someone, and I thought it would be nice if you came. Being my good luck charm, and all.

Oh, Theo, you probably don’t know this since you’re new and all, but going down to Hogsmeade is only permissible on certain weekends. And only start a couple of weeks into the term, so not yet.

Did you just -? Oh my god, you did. You laughed at me. You laughed at my note. Out loud. You’re lucky you’re in Slytherin, you know. Snape usually goes absolutely ballistic if anyone interrupts his lesson.

I’m sorry, I forgot what a stickler you were. I just - I didn’t think I’d miss it.

Please, Theo, forget the drinks. I cannot in good conscience stand by and let you break so many rules. You’ve been here less than a week!

Guess you’ll have to keep an eye on me. Make sure I stay out of trouble.

Exactly.

Great. See you Saturday at 8.

[lie-lacdreams]

Thermodynamics and Turmoil (Curly x Reader pt. 4)

I am back !! Thank you for bearing with me as I try and figure out where I want to take this :)

Last

Engineer! Reader x Curly TW: J*mmy being a creep Word Count ~ 1.7k

A few days passed since the incident in the utility room, and (Y/N) saw very little of Curly. It was almost as if he was now the one avoiding her. The only thing keeping her from believing so was Jimmy telling the crew that they were steering through a chaotic bit of space debris and bragging about his contribution.

“Well if you’re so much of a help, why aren’t you in the cockpit with the captain instead of sitting down and eating dinner with us, huh?” Swansea glared, annoyed with his gloating. That shut Jimmy up quickly as he murmured something about working really hard today. 

Nightly routines went on as usual, and (Y/N) sat on the couch to read. Before she could open her book, she glanced over at the coffee machine. Given that she hadn’t seen much of Curly in the past few days, it was likely he was still in the cockpit, looking over the steering of the ship. She got up, pressed a few buttons to dispense coffee and started making her way out of the lounge. He seemed like the kind of person to like his coffee black.

Opening the door to exit, she almost bumped into Jimmy and withered slightly under the intensity of his gaze.

“I was just looking for you,” he said, voice low and breathy. Something didn’t feel quite right to her about this. 

“Oh? What do you need me for?” She asked cautiously as he walked into the room, making her backpedal into the lounge. 

“I just wanna talk, that’s all. Can we do that?” He started reaching for her shoulder and she quickly stepped a bit further from his reach. A sinking feeling in her gut told her that talking to him wouldn’t end well. 

“A-Actually I’m on my way to take this cup of coffee to the captain. He should be expecting me any minute now. Maybe we can talk another time?” She diverted and lied. He grumbled and skulked past her, making his way over to the kitchen as she made her escape. Closing the door behind her and now heading to the cockpit, her heart beat against her ribcage and she felt a rush of relief. Talking to him was always so uncomfortable, but this was the first time that she felt like he was hunting her with his eyes. If she hadn’t lied about Curly expecting her, she didn’t want to think about what Jimmy wanted to talk to her about. 

In the cockpit, Curly sat, exhausted and a little frustrated. He had heard enough of his co-pilot’s complaints of having to stay shut in there all day and couldn’t blame him for his cabin fever induced by the cramped and overstimulating room, so he sent him to bed, not taking too much effort to assure him that he could take care of the steering for the night. A small knock on the door snapped him out of his fatigue only slightly, and he cautiously put on autopilot to get up and open the door. He opened the door to find (Y/N), the object of his thoughts when he needed some comfort from this hellish leg of their journey. 

“Hey,” she said shyly. “Figured you might still be up and over here. How are you?” He slowly moved his arms around her, engulfing her in a hug and letting out a tired sigh. 

“We’re in a bit of a rough patch of our journey, but we’ll make it through.” He looked down at the mug of coffee she held in her hands. “Is that for me?” He asked. She nodded, bringing the cup closer for him to take it. Tenderness filled his expression as he took the cup and moved his other hand to place his palm against her cheek. “Thank you. Can I…” He trailed off, hesitant as he darted his eyes to her lips, unsure of where things were where they left it a few days ago. She nodded, closing the gap herself, conveying as much care as she could through the kiss. Breaking away, she looked over at the multitude of screens. 

“So, what are we up to tonight?” she asked. 

Curly raised an eyebrow. “We?” 

“Uh, yeah. Seems like you decided to throw a slumber party in the cockpit and didn’t think to invite me, so I’m inviting myself,” she stated simply, moving towards the chairs. 

He looked at her in disbelief, amused by her antics. “Okay, very well then.” He sat down back in his seat before patting his lap. “Want to join me here?”

(Y/N) felt shy with this new level of intimacy with the man she had only gotten to know and catch feelings for within the past few weeks. She was a grown woman with independence to do whatever she liked back on Earth but it had been a while since her last romantic encounter, and this level of vulnerability was uncomfortable to her but not unwelcome.

Lowering herself down into the chair to sit on one of his thighs, her shoulders lay perpendicular to his, resting against his chest as he wrapped an arm around her waist and a hand on her thigh. Concerned, she broke the silence. “Are you sure you’re okay steering like this if I’m sitting on you?”

“Of course. Most of the steering is done by autopilot anyway. All I’m doing is making minor adjustments to the course every fifteen to twenty minutes or so.” His hand moved to her knee, rubbing his thumb against the material of her pants. 

She rested her head on his chest, trying to see if she could hear his heart beating when she yawned. “Oh, there it is.”

“Hmm?” he looked down at her, amused by how comfortable she had already gotten, and so quickly too. Space had a way of making people feel lonely in a way they never experienced before. After so many years of flying with Pony Express, Curly thought he had gotten used to it, but in that moment when the two of them sought comfort from each other, he realised how wrong his assumption was. With her, things were moving quickly, but in a place as lonely and isolating as space, he thanked his lucky stars for such an easy person to talk to, someone understanding of his ambitions and desires and wouldn’t fault him for them like his friends did. It made sense how fast these feelings approached and manifested into what they were now – her, curled up on his lap with her head on his chest, trying her best to force herself to stay awake with struggling success. 

“Curly?” She looked up at him. He smiled, hearing her drop the title and nodded for her to continue. “This feels like it’s moving so fast.”

“Us?” he questioned. 

“Yeah…” She trailed off, mentally kicking herself for not knowing what exactly she was trying to say.

Curly moved forward a bit to adjust the position of the ship with manual steering before leaning back in the chair and sucking in a breath. He watched as the ship coordinates blipped forward on the screen, moving frame by frame. “I’ve been doing this with Pony Express for nearly a decade now. Every time I leave, every time I return, I always have a routine I never break. I’ll have drinks with Jimmy and a few of our other friends to catch up on what we missed back home at the same dive bar we always go to. I’ll spend some time with my widowed aunt who lives alone and has no children, just to make sure her insurance is up to date and to keep her company as much as I can. The family-owned Chinese restaurant that’s only a few blocks away from where I live will be waiting for me so that the owner could complain that I got thinner returning from space and encourage me to stuff myself with char kway teow and collard greens while sitting with his younger son, telling him to study hard so he could someday become a captain like me and make a lot of money. I feel like I come back as the same Curly, year after year, and even though my routine stays the same, everything around me changes. Friends get married and have children, my aunt gets older, heck, that little boy from the Chinese restaurant just started high school, I think.” 

He stared at (Y/N) with what she read as sadness in his eyes. “There isn’t really such a thing as time out here. I lose track of it so easily. Whenever we return to Earth it feels like everything around me goes by so quickly and I feel like I’m always missing out, so I’m glad you’re here,” he said, brushing a few strands of hair out of her face before tucking them behind her ear. “I’m glad that you joined us so that we could get close so quickly. It makes me feel like I’m back on Earth, going the same pace as everybody else is. Every time we talk, every time I see you, I feel grounded. I feel normal.” 

He buried his fingers into her hair as he pulled her in for another kiss, trying to convey all of the want he had for her through the shared contact of their lips. Her hands were splayed across his chest, and she dragged them up to his shoulders, gripping the collar of his coveralls. 

Breaking away, his hands dropped back down to loop around her waist as he gave her a look that ached with so much longing. 

She broke his gaze trying to stifle a yawn, making him chuckle. Placing his hand on her head, he brought it down to lay on his chest. 

“Rest, hun. There’s no need to torture yourself to stay up with me.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. 

“But you’re going to be up all night trying to make sure things are fine.” She frowned. 

“It’s okay. A pretty lady came by earlier to bring me a cup of coffee, see?” He raised the mug up to his lips to take a drink and she scoffed. 

(Y/N) kept her eyes open, not moving from her position on Curly’s lap, straining her eyes staring at the screens before her eyelids lost the battle of staying open.

ugh. Be still, my heart. I love a good monologue, if you couldn't already tell. I also cannot stop thinking about Curly's thighs. Thank you for all the support so far :D

[hollowed-theory-hall]

i remember you mentioned Harry loves spending time with Diary bc of his connection with Voldemort (or i think so) but what about Voldemort in his head? does he loves it or not? i also think after death-and-rebirth he kinda feel more lighter and even sad about it

Like, it's canon Harry likes to just hold the diary becouse he feels drawn to it, even before knowing how it works:

Harry couldn’t explain, even to himself, why he didn’t just throw Riddle’s diary away. The fact was that even though he knew the diary was blank, he kept absentmindedly picking it up and turning the pages, as though it were a story he wanted to finish. And while Harry was sure he had never heard the name T. M. Riddle before, it still seemed to mean something to him, almost as though Riddle was a friend he’d had when he was very small, and had half-forgotten. But this was absurd. He’d never had friends before Hogwarts, Dudley had made sure of that.

(CoS, Ch13)

That's an actual quote from the book.

Also, later on, Tom has to literally spell out that he's Voldemort because Harry was just completely unwilling to accept that his new BFF Tom who he might have a baby crush on is evil:

“Tom — Tom Riddle?” Riddle nodded, not taking his eyes off Harry’s face. “What d’you mean, she won’t wake?” Harry said desperately. “She’s not — she’s not — ?” “She’s still alive,” said Riddle. “But only just.” [...] “Are you a ghost?” Harry said uncertainly. “A memory,” said Riddle quietly. “Preserved in a diary for fifty years.” He pointed toward the floor near the statue’s giant toes. Lying open there was the little black diary Harry [...] For a second, Harry wondered how it had got there — but there were more pressing matters to deal with. “You’ve got to help me, Tom,” Harry said, raising Ginny’s head again. “We’ve got to get her out of here. There’s a basilisk . . . I don’t know where it is, but it could be along any moment. . . . Please, help me —” Riddle didn’t move. [...] But his wand had gone. “Did you see — ?” He looked up. Riddle was still watching him — twirling Harry’s wand between his long fingers. “Thanks,” said Harry, stretching out his hand for it. A smile curled the corners of Riddle’s mouth. He continued to stare at Harry, twirling the wand idly. “Listen,” said Harry urgently, his knees sagging with Ginny’s dead weight. “We’ve got to go! If the basilisk comes —” “It won’t come until it is called,” said Riddle calmly. [...] “What d’you mean?” he said. “Look, give me my wand, I might need it —” Riddle’s smile broadened. “You won’t be needing it,” he said. Harry stared at him. “What d’you mean, I won’t be — ?” “I’ve waited a long time for this, Harry Potter,” said Riddle. “For the chance to see you. To speak to you.” “Look,” said Harry, losing patience, “I don’t think you get it. We’re in the Chamber of Secrets. We can talk later —” “We’re going to talk now,” said Riddle, still smiling broadly, and he pocketed Harry’s wand. Harry stared at him. There was something very funny going on here. . . .

(CoS, Ch17)

Like, it takes Harry forever to get to the realization something is wrong even though Tom steals his wand and says mysterious evil shit because Harry was so desperate to keep Tom as his friend.

I mentioned here, how Harry does like his mental connection to Voldemort in DH in a way because it gives him a sense of purpose.

Harry is the one to decide they should be wearing the locket after he sensed life from it:

“Can you feel it, though?” Ron asked in a hushed voice, as he held it tight in his clenched fist. “What d’you mean?” Ron passed the Horcrux to Harry. After a moment or two, Harry thought he knew what Ron meant. Was it his own blood pulsing through his veins that he could feel, or was it something beating inside the locket, like a tiny metal heart? “What are we going to do with it?” Hermione asked. “Keep it safe till we work out how to destroy it,” Harry replied, and, little though he wanted to, he hung the chain around his own neck, dropping the locket out of sight beneath his robes, where it rested against his chest beside the pouch Hagrid had given him.

(DH, Ch14)

He's also the one of the trio that insists they should be wearing the locket even after they learn of it's effects, while Hermione suggests that maybe they really shouldn't:

“Hmm,” said Hermione, looking down at the heavy gold locket. “Well, maybe we ought not to wear it. We can just keep it in the tent.” “We are not leaving that Horcrux lying around,” Harry stated firmly. “If we lose it, if it gets stolen — ”

(DH, Ch15)

Ron is also against wearing Horcruxes, while Harry didn't seem to mind keeping the cup in his pocket:

Harry pulled the Horcrux from the pocket of the wet jacket he had just taken off and set it down on the grass in front of them. Glinting in the sun, it drew their eyes as they swigged their bottles of juice. “At least we can’t wear it this time, that’d look a bit weird hanging around our necks,” said Ron, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

(DH, Ch27)

So, yeah, I think Harry definitely could feel his connection to Tom and the various Horcruxes.

I do think, once he comes back to life, he feels emptier, like a part of him is gone in a way. He'd feel lighter like a weight was taken off his shoulders, but I think he'd also feel off and aimless. I talked about it more here.

It's why I think Harry should've gone back for 8th year, I think getting his NEWTs and the familiar environment at Hogwarts would do him good after everything. Give my boy a break.

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 51

ao3 link| part 1 . . . part 48, part 49, part 50

“What if we let him stay with us,” Eddie says out of the blue, sitting on one of their new kitchen chairs.

Wayne stops unpacking glasses, turning to look at him. “What?”

“Steve, what if we let him stay with us. Just while he tries to find a place.” He fidgets with his hands, avoiding Wayne’s eye contact. “We’ve, uh, been talking, and he’s put off trying to find a place. Now that he knows the end date, he’s started looking but can’t afford any of places that are open right now.”

Wayne pushes the box back onto the counter, he can finish it later. He turns fully toward Eddie, leaning back on the counter and crossing his arms. “So, you want us to let him stay here.”

“Yeah, and it could be like paying him back, you know. For letting us stay with him. Return the favor, and everything.”

He sighs, wiping a hand down his face. “We don’t exactly have the space for that. Unless you’re planning on him sleeping on the couch.”

Eddie stutters, further ignoring Wayne’s gaze. Mouth opening with no sound coming out.

“Or is this the part where you finally tell me you two are seeing each other?”

Eddie freezes. “How did you know?”

Wayne shakes his head. “Cause I’m not an idiot. You two go from chewing each other’s head off to being super close and touchy. And I saw Steve try to sneak out of your room when I got back from a shift. He thought he played it off, but I knew.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Wanted to see how long it took you to tell me yourself. It’s been almost three weeks, and we all live together. You really thought I didn’t know?”

Eddie shrugs. “I don’t know. We were just feeling it out, didn’t want to tell anyone in case it blew up fast.”

“And now you want him to move in with us? Sleep in your room, in your bed. You really think that’s a good idea?”

“I thought you would be cooler about this. Steve’s a good guy, you know that.”

He does know that. But he knows a lot of things that leave him questioning. Even if it’s just from passing comments. Ammunition that could have been meaningless, but there was history behind it. History Wayne doesn’t know but can assume what it means.

Maybe he’s an ass for assuming. Maybe he’s just being overprotective. But when it comes to matters of the heart, people can be reckless. They can jump without looking just to get hurt in the end.

Steve might be a good guy for letting them stay in his house. He might be a good friend, a good role model for the kids. But a good boyfriend, for Wayne’s boy, he’ll never be good enough. No one will.

“I know. I’m just worried that letting him stay here would make a jump you’re not quite ready yet.”

Eddie nods, looking down at his hands. “It’s early, I know. And it’d be temporary. I just—I don’t want to leave him high and dry. He helped us when we had nowhere else to go, I thought we might be able to so the same.”

Wayne gets where his head’s at. He gets wanting to do something to thank Steve that would be anywhere near the way he’s helped them. Hell, Wayne does too. There are just so many reservations in his head. So many ways that this could go wrong.

“I’ll think about it,” Wayne concedes. “On a few conditions, it is actually temporary, and I’m the one who talks to him about it. You say nothing until I do, got it.”

“Got it.” Eddie smiles brighter than he has in a long time. “Thank you, it means a lot, even you just thinking about it.”

He sighs. “Yeah well, you have a point.”

“You’re not going to get, like, super weird and protective now that you know right?”

Wayne scoffs, going back to the box that needs unpacking. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Steve told me what happened while I was still in the coma. I know you didn’t like him around me. I know that has changed, but it’s different now. And don’t you remember back in my freshman year where I told you about that guy in my English class and you threatened to kill him if he looked at me wrong?”

He shrugs. “That’s just part of being a parent, can’t turn it off.”

That kid would have deserved what came to him if Wayne actually followed through. After the first few months of peace, he made Eddie’s life a living hell.

“Well, Steve’s a good guy, and he’s good to me, so just, tone it down a little bit.”

Wayne turns to look at Eddie again. He’s honestly surprised that this conversation is happening, but also glad that it is. Eddie’s hasn’t exactly seen that many people. Not in the town that threatens to crucify you for walking on the wrong side of the road. As far as Wayne was supposed to know, this was Eddie’s first time seeing someone. But he knew that on some of the weekends where Eddie would disappear for a night, it was to sneak into one of those bars down in Indy.

That was dangerous, this was less so. As far as Wayne knows, Steve’s romantic life is a mixed bag. Short term relationships and one long one that ended semi-badly. Sue him for being cautious. Sue him for looking out for his kid. After all the pain they went through in the past year, he could at least try to make sure heartbreak wasn’t added to the mix.

“You happy?” Wayne asks, watching as Eddie’s face softens.

“Yeah.”

“You being safe?”

“We haven’t gotten that far yet, but when we do, we will.”

Wayne nods. “Then I’ll tone it down a little. Just a little. Don’t go expecting miracles.”

The rest of the box gets unpacked, the glasses and other dishware slowly filling the cabinets. The home starting to really look like a home.

“Thank you,” Eddie says quietly.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Steve gets back from work late. Wayne wasn’t exactly waiting for him, but he wasn’t exactly not waiting for him. He was just in the kitchen, putting something together for a late dinner, knowing that Steve was going to be home soon. If it felt like a good time, he was going to bring it up. If it didn’t, he was going to give it a day.

But he can feel that protective burn bubbling up and can’t snuff it out. He needed to know.

“I know about you two,” Wayne says. More menacingly than he meant to, but doesn’t know how else to start this.

Steve freezes, hand on the fridge’s handle. Holding it open. “What?”

“You and Eddie, I know.”

He nods, closing the door and clearing his throat. “For how long?”

“Few weeks. You’re really not a slick as you think you are.”

Steve leans on the counter, crossing his arms. Ready for a lecture. “We were going to tell you, just wanted to make sure we weren’t making a mistake first.”

“Interesting word there, mistake.” Wayne’s pressing, trying to lure out what he needs to see. Make sure that this isn’t something he needs to worry about.

“I just didn’t want to lose another friend because of a relationship. It took me years to be able to be friends with Nancy. I didn’t want the same to happen with Eddie.”

Wayne nods. Satisfied with the answer.

“What you said a few weeks ago, that you saw the way I acted around him. And you wanted to stop the hurt before it started. I’m not planning on hurting him. I can’t promise I won’t mess up; I tend to do that a lot. But I always try to make up for it, to learn. I’ve gotten really good at apologizing.”

The protectiveness dies down, Steve hitting everything he wanted to hear. And Eddie’s right, Wayne knows that he’s a good guy. He’s made mistakes, but he’s grown. He’s changed. It’s as much as Wayne can ask for.

“You know, earlier today, Eddie brought up this idea of letting you stay with us until you find a place on your own.”

Steve’s face fills with shock. “He did?”

Wayne nods. “Yeah. As you can imagine, I had my hesitations. We don’t exactly have spare rooms like you do. But,” Wayne can’t believe he’s really saying this, but it feels right, “if you wanted, you could stay with us. With the promise that you find a place on your own, and that this won’t put an unnecessary strain on your new relationship.”

“I—” Steve tries to get out. “Thank you.”

Before Wayne can register what’s happening, Steve’s hugging him.

“Thank you,” he repeats. The words heavy with relief.

“Yeah, well. After all you did for me, it’s only fair that I return the favor.”

Steve lets go, taking a step back. “But you didn’t, a lot of people don’t. So, thank you.”

He realizes that there is so much story of Steve that he still doesn’t know. Hurt and pain that he keeps hidden away. Not for other people to see. Steve walks away before he can ask, or even question. Hesitating before walking down the hall to Eddie’s room.

This was going to be interesting.

apologies for the late post, I was at work and then driving home from break, and forgot to post before I left (like I planned to). And posting tag lists from mobile sucks ass.

tag list (closed): @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar,

@tinyplanet95, @steddie-as-they-go, @slv-333, @littlecelestialmoth, @thatonebadideapanda,

@fandomsanddeath, @marismorar, @wonderland-girl143-blog, @glass-bottle03, @gutterflower77,

@here4thetrama, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @jaytriesstuff, @cryptid-system, @manda-panda-monium,

@resident-gay-bitch, @anaibis, @xxsutherlandxx, @forevermineliv, @mugloversonly,

@gregre369, @n0-1-important, @different-tale-student, @spectrum-spectre, @tartarusknight,

@devondespresso, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @cheertain, @anti-ozzie, @autumncrocusandladybug,

@greeniebean911, @cr0w-culture, @stillfullofshit, @connected-dots, @daisynotquake,

@morgannotlefay, @a-little-unsteddie, @dolphincliffs, @maskofmirrors, @me-and-my-sloth,

@papergrenade, @waelkyring, @sweetheartprincess28, @katouasobj, @astercomoasflores

[nadvs]

the act of unravelling (part two)

pairing rafe cameron x pogue! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary you never expected you’d get tangled up with a kook, least of all, rafe cameron. one night, you make a life-altering decision to get revenge on someone you both despise. after you vow to keep what happened a secret, your relationship begins to twist into something more.

tags very dark! violence, homicide, drug and alcohol use, parental neglect, mental illness, s/a, trauma. no smut.

< prev

Rafe stands and looks down at the body, his fists clenched tightly. Reality is setting in now. He could go to prison. His future could be ruined.

He’s perpetually at the mercy of his impulsivity, thinking only of the minute he’s living in, burdened with the consequences later. But still, even with his head a little clearer, he doesn’t regret this.

Ripping away the life of a man who wronged him was a thrill. He spends every day feeling like he’s losing and the power he had in his hands tonight felt so fucking good. He won for once.

You feel heavy as you push yourself up off the floor. You wish you could curl up in your bathtub under hot, gushing water, washing away everything that happened tonight.

The corpse is harder to look at with every second that passes. You glance up at Rafe, blood splattered on his face as he stares down at what he’d done, at what you’d done, chillingly unfazed.

“We can’t leave anything that’ll point back to me,” he mumbles, his voice low over the fireworks still crackling outside.

“Or me,” you have to remind him tensely.

His eyes land on yours. He’s always only looking out for himself. He doesn’t know what it’s like to have to worry about someone else.

“I’m serious,” you urge. Your survival instinct rushes through you for the second time tonight. You refuse to let Rafe throw you to the wolves. “I saved your life. You owe me. I won’t take the fall for this.”

“Well, neither will I,” he snaps.

“You shot him.”

“I could say you did,” Rafe replies. “And it’d be your word against mine. What then?”

You scoff, in disbelief of his selfishness.

“I saved your life,” you repeat. “Does that mean nothing to you?”

Rafe swallows hard. He’s not sure many people would do what you did for him tonight. They’d watch. They’d let him die. The possibility that you might feel something for him makes his chest twist with an unfamiliar warmth.

“We’ll look out for each other, alright?” he relents, letting his guard down for a moment. “Let’s just clean this up.”

Your phone buzzes in your pocket again. You pull it out, seeing Pope’s name. Twelve missed calls.

You hope your friends don’t get so worried that they come up here, ignoring the Off Limits sign Porter had put up across the stairs. But they don’t know where you went. You’re almost certain.

“My friends keep calling me,” you whisper.

Rafe’s jaw tightens. His friends aren’t worrying about him.

“You can’t answer them,” he snaps.

“I know.” You let out a shaky sigh, tucking your phone back into your pocket. “We have to be fast. What do we do? Do we bury him?”

Rafe takes a beat to think.

“We dump him in the ocean,” he finally says. “We go to the marina and drive my boat out far enough where nobody will find him.”

“How do we move him so nobody sees? We can’t go through the house. We might run into someone.”

Rafe looks to the glass door on the other end of the room, the balcony offering a view of the inky night sky.

“There,” he says. “We’ll push him off and put him in the back of my truck.”

You consider it. Of the limited options you have, it seems like the only one worth trying.

“Okay. We have to clean the blood off the floor,” you say. “And everything we touch needs to be wiped. Maybe there’s something with bleach in it around here?”

For the first time since you entered this room, you feel hope. There’s a chance, a real chance, you could get away with this. You look back at the desk Rafe ransacked.

“Pick that stuff up,” you say. Frustration rolls through him. He never liked being bossed around. “I’ll try to find something to clean with.”

“Don’t let anyone see you,” Rafe mutters.

“How stupid do you think I am?” you huff before you turn towards the door.

You tiptoe through the second story, peeking into a bathroom cupboard. When you find a spray bottle that reads Cleaner and Bleach on the packaging, you grab it and head back to the room.

You and Rafe move quickly and quietly, using clothes you found in the closet to wipe everything with bleach. After a loud, consonant cracking of fireworks that you assume is the grand finale, the show ends. And you know people are on their way back to the house.

The neighbor’s private beach can’t be that far away. You have a minute. Maybe two.

You’re glad Rafe thinks to find the shell of the bullet. He puts it in his pocket. You spray the bleach over the floor again, cleaning every drop of blood you can see.

“Tuck this stuff under his shirt,” you say breathlessly, handing Rafe the bottle and the blood-soaked clothes.

You can’t do it. You know you’ll need to touch him when you move him, but you’d rather limit the contact you have with his body. Even dead, when he can’t hurt you, touching him is terrifying.

You pick the gun up off the floor, then open the balcony, relieved you can’t hear any voices yet. You peer over the edge to see the sandy ground. The balcony overlooks the side of the house, dark and secluded.

Rafe grunts as he drags the corpse out onto the balcony. You have to muster up every bit of strength you have as you help heave Porter’s body over the railing. He falls with a hard thud, facedown in the sand.

You have to jump the balcony. You can’t risk going downstairs. Rafe is wide-eyed as you hitch your leg over the railing, looking down with shaky breaths.

“Wait,” he whispers. “Let me go first. If you break something, we’re fucked.”

He shifts down as low as he can before letting his feet hang over the edge. He lets go, dropping hard, his ankles pinching with pain from the impact.

“Okay,” he says. “Go.”

You feel a splinter dig into your palm as you clutch onto the wooden railing with one hand while the other holds the gun. You make the split-second decision to keep the balcony door open to air out the smell of bleach.

You hope you cleaned away every drop of blood in the room. There’s no going back to it now.

You sink, hanging as low as you can, looking over your shoulder before you drop. Rafe’s arms wrap around you as your feet hit the ground, his chest hard against your back, breaking your fall.

“If someone comes,” he whispers in your ear, “run.”

Waiting for him to get his truck is torture. The humid night air presses against your face and you can’t bear to look down at the body on the ground.

Rafe returns and you move quickly, straining as you carry the body over the uneven terrain, the soles of your shoes slipping on the sand.

Once the body is in the trunk and Rafe unfolds the cover, blanketing the cab and concealing the evidence, you feel a shred less frightened.

You glance back into the darkness just in case. A glow of a phone screen is in the sand. Rafe is already behind the wheel, demanding that you get in, his voice carrying through the open rear window.

You feel for your phone. It’s still in your pocket.

“Do you have your phone?” you whisper.

He responds after a moment, “Yes. Get in.”

“I think his phone fell on the ground when we were carrying him,” you say. “We should–”

Faint laughs in the distance interrupt you. There’s no time to run back and get the phone without being seen.

“Get the hell in,” Rafe mutters angrily.

You obey, swinging open the door, barely closing it in time as Rafe peels away. Your muscles prick from the weight you’d just carried as you drive past the partygoers coming back from watching fireworks.

“Holy shit,” Rafe chuckles, near elated. “We did it.”

You stare ahead, your head foggy.

This will haunt you for the rest of your life. The thought forces a torrent of dread through you worse than you’ve ever felt before.

What if you’d run out of the room when Rafe and Porter came in? What if you’d left Rafe to deal with the body on his own?

What if you’d never gone upstairs?

You’re destined to agonize over the what if’s of tonight forever.

You gaze down at the gun in your lap and hold your hands out in front of you, skin stinging from the bleach. You’d wiped away the blood, but you think you’ll always see it on your hands.

You figure out that it’s a good thing you left Porter’s phone. If he was sharing his location, you’re sure the police could track where it was last before you threw it into the sea with him. They’d know exactly where to look for his body.

“We should shut off our phones,” you realize. “I think they can track GPS history from cell towers.”

Rafe digs into his pocket, glancing down to watch the screen go black.

“How’d you think of that?” he mumbles with a laugh. “Is this not your first time doing this, Pogue?”

“Nothing about this is funny,” you reply.

“Relax,” he says. “We got away with it.”

“You can’t be so sure,” you say. “One fingerprint in that room and…”

You can’t think about it.

In the paroxysm of emotions you’re already feeling, guilt digs a hole into your stomach when you see Pope’s most recent text before you power off your phone.

Answer the phone. We’re worried.

·········

The clock on Rafe’s dashboard reads 10:44 when you reach the marina. He parks right by the main dock. The place seems quiet, the water crowded with seemingly unoccupied boats.

“I’ll take a walk around to make sure we’re alone,” he says, pulling his key out of the ignition.

The car door slams shut and you’re left with a gun in your lap, a body in the trunk, and your tormenting thoughts.

Maybe you missed something back in that room.

You picture Porter’s phone lighting up in the sand. His last text to you said to come upstairs. When the cops inevitably start searching for answers, you’ll be questioned.

A minute later, Rafe swings open your door, pulling you out of your daze. You meet his glare, his hair tousled and sweaty.

“We’re good,” he says. “Move.”

Having to haul the body over the dock past darkened, quiet boats is unnerving. Ater you leave it at the back of Rafe’s boat, you stand behind him at the helm.

Your arms are crossed and the gun is tucked by your elbow, because if you learned anything tonight, it’s that you can’t trust anyone.

Rafe’s still a man. A man who takes what he wants when he wants it. A man who killed someone because he didn’t obey him. He could hurt you if he wanted to. It’s best not to be alone with him.

“I should wait in the car,” you mumble. Rafe shakes his head in frustration, driving the boat forward. The boat’s motor hums as you rock with its movements.

“No,” he mutters condescendingly. It reminds you of why underneath the stubborn pull you’ve always felt towards him, you’ve also harbored a quiet fear. Rafe is violent. Possibly enough to hurt you the same way Porter did.

You feel for the gun again. If two men have to die tonight, so be it. The fact that your mind went there chills you.

Rafe looks over at you, lips twisting in annoyance.

“Don’t feel bad for that asshole,” he mutters. “He asked for it.”

It’s the worst possible thing he could’ve said. Your throat is raw with the threat of tears. Asked for it. Would he say the same about what happened to you?

“I don’t regret it,” you tell him, sure that he’s assuming that that’s why you’re so tense. “I’m just worried we missed something.”

“If we did, nothin’ we can do about it now,” he says. You look ahead at the dark sea, moonlight shining over the water’s ripples.

“We need to figure our story out,” you say. “How’d you end up upstairs? Did anyone see you?”

“I stopped him while everyone was going outside to watch the show,” he recalls. “Told him to show me where he was keeping his coke because I heard he was selling again. It was loud. I don’t think anyone heard, but maybe someone saw. I don’t know.”

“Why do you sell?” you ask, face pinched in confusion. “Why did you even care that he was selling, too? You don't have enough money already?”

“I gotta keep your tips coming, don’t I?” he says smugly. You scoff, jarred by his blasé attitude, despising his cold arrogance.

He notices the angry scowl on your face. He’s convinced he’ll never break through the hatred you have for him.

“I want to make my own money. That’s why,” he admits. It’s half the truth, but it’s good enough.

It’s surprising to hear that Rafe, a man you thought coasted on the wealth he was born into, possesses a work ethic. Even though he uses it to deal drugs.

“Did anyone see you go upstairs?” he asks.

“I don’t think so,” you say.

“Why were you there?”

You chew on your lip, the truth sitting on your chest like a ton of bricks. There’s no point in telling him. He thinks your motive was the same as his. Money. And you’ll let him believe it.

Besides, talking about it now, merely an hour afterwards, will only make you cry again and your head is pounding from how much you’ve already wept tonight. How could you possibly say it out loud?

“To buy pot. Then I smoked too much and passed out.” You keep talking before he can ask anything else. “Are we far out enough?”

Rafe looks back to make sure the marina is out of sight before he kills the engine.

Pushing Porter’s body over the guardrail is harder than the other times you’d carried him tonight. The water is rocking the boat so much now that you’re far into the ocean. Your breath is strained as you heave him over the metal, his body hitting the water with a loud splash under the bright moon.

Rafe pulls out the bullet shell in his pocket and tosses it in the water. You know you have to throw the gun in, too. It’s hard to. But you do it.

Rafe looks over the edge now that everything is sinking to the bottom, his forearm brushing against yours. He notices how quickly you jerk away, refusing to let him touch you. The pull he feels towards you is obviously one-sided. Your eyes flit away when you look at him.

“You have blood on your face,” you tell him soberly. His temper flares, feeling stupid for thinking a girl could feel anything but afraid of him after he shot someone right in front of her. Even though she was the one who told him to do it.

You might have a deadly thirst for revenge in common, but that’s where the similarities end. He stalks past you to wash himself off in the bathroom below the deck.

You let out a shaky breath. The unexpected contact with Rafe startled you. After tonight, you’re sure you’ll always be scared to be around men you don’t know all that well. Even the ones that seem decent are just lions in sheep’s clothing. The monster that proved that to you is below the ocean’s surface now.

You look into the murky water, and despite the fear and the anxiety and dread weighing on your heart, you’re glad that this is how it ended. Porter paid the ultimate price for what he did to you. He doesn’t deserve to live, to smile, to feel anything ever again.

·········

You and Rafe sit behind the hull, the boat swaying with the tide. You start to piece together an alibi and decide to admit you were upstairs together. If even one person says they saw either one of you go up there, you won’t be caught in a lie.

As you talk, Rafe can’t take his eyes off of you. You’re clearly scared, but trying to stay level-headed. He doesn’t get how you do it. He’s always been bad at keeping his mind steady. He never had a reason to even try.

“So, I went up first after he texted me to come buy from him,” you say, hoping your voice doesn’t shake. “I got high and passed out. Then you came up with him to find his stash. We’re obviously going to have to come clean about the drugs.”

“What do you mean obviously?”

“You’re going to be a suspect the second the police start talking to people,” you tell him. “Everyone knows you had an issue with him. And why. You can’t lie about the coke. And they’ll have evidence that I was buying weed from him. We have to be honest about it. They’ll find out anyway.”

Rafe sighs, knowing you’re right.

You hug yourself as a cool breeze carries over the water. The weakness in your gaze reminds Rafe of the way you’d cried on the floor earlier tonight. Before all this, he only ever saw you as strong-willed and sharp-tongued.

Even though calming a man like Rafe down when he’s angry sounds like it’d be impossible, you figure it’s the only direction your alibi can go.

“We’ll say I talked you down and…” You shake your head. “It doesn’t make sense that we’d stay up there. I think we say we left him in his room and sat on the beach alone in front of the house to watch the fireworks from there.”

You worry it’s not enough. You’re certain that no one who knows either one of you would buy that you voluntarily spent time together.

“Maybe the cops would believe we hung out,” you mumble, “but nobody else would.”

Rafe stills. His friends like to give him crap about how much time he spends talking to you when he supposedly hates Pogues. If he told them he was with you all night, they’d say they saw it coming.

“They could,” he says after a few seconds of silence.

“My friends would never believe it,” you scoff. He purses his lips, pissed off at your tone, at the clear implication that you talk shit about him with your friends.

“It’s our only option,” he mutters sharply.

“You’re right,” you give in. “Then what? We went home before people got back? I guess that way if anyone saw us leave together, we have it covered.”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “That’s the story.”

“Okay. It’s not great, but it’s the best we can do.” You check your phone for the time, only to remember it’s turned off. “Can you drive me home now? I’ll say my phone died. You should do the same when people ask where you’ve been.”

Rafe doesn’t admit to you that nobody was checking up on him, that nobody ever does. He only stands up to drive back to the dock.

·········

Your first priority when you get home is to text your friends, guilt consuming you now that it’s been over two hours since you last saw them and they have no idea what happened to you.

You turn on your phone to see a string of missed calls and texts from the guys. You open the group-chat and type: I’m so sorry. I’m okay. Got too high and lost track of time. Home now.

They video call you to be sure that you really made it home safe, drunkenly rambling on about how they assumed you went to see the fireworks early, leaving them to search the neighbor’s beach for you.

As you listen to them talk over each other on the phone, it’s the first time you see your reflection since you left the house, when you were oblivious to the fact that the impending hours would change you forever.

You can see it in your eyes that you’re not the same. You can only hope that they don’t catch on.

·········

It’s been three days. You haven’t been sleeping. You’ve hardly been eating. And no matter how many times you tell yourself there’s no use in thinking about how different the night could have turned out, it doesn’t stop your head from spinning into hypotheticals.

All you told your friends was that you were with a boy and that they didn’t need to know any more. Because they all see you as a sister, they were happy to be spared the details.

If only they knew. A few nights ago, you promised them you wouldn’t talk about Rafe ever again. You never would’ve thought the reason would be because you’d committed a crime together.

You’re back at work. Smiling and chatting and serving drinks and acting like everything is fine is harder than you expected.

The thought of seeing Rafe again is oddly comforting. No matter how twisted it is, you have a bond now, held together by secrecy and shared trauma. He’s the closest to knowing what you’re going through.

Even though you were afraid of him on the boat, when he dropped you off, he waited until you got into the house before he drove off. Maybe he sees you as someone he needs to protect, even if it is for his own selfish reasons.

No matter how unhinged he is, having someone like him in your corner is comforting after what you’d suffered through.

You spot Rafe sitting alone at the near empty club bar on your way out and your heart settles, but when you catch a glimpse of the flatscreen mounted on the wall a moment later, it drops. You knew it was inevitable, but it doesn’t make it any better.

Rafe swallows bitter whiskey, gazing up at the tv. Under a photo of Porter reads MISSING as his parents speak to the press. What if he went missing? Who’d care? What would his dad say – at least it wasn’t Sarah?

He looks down at the bartop. The thrill of what he did has faded. It’s not a surprise. His life is nothing but a cycle of short-lived highs.

When he sees the look on Porter’s parents’ faces on the tv, jealousy and loneliness screw a hole into his heart. He knows it’s fucked up to envy the man he killed. He doesn’t care.

His eyes drift over the bar to see you standing on the other end. You’re in shock as you stare up at the broadcast, looking guilty as hell. He glares at you until you finally meet his eyes.

Rafe curtly gestures to you to sit next to him. Even though he looks mad, you’re relieved to close the distance between you.

“You’re being obvious,” he says quietly once you sit next to him, an edge to his tone.

You look back to see only a few other people sitting in the restaurant area behind you, far from earshot. You won’t be heard, but you both know you have to speak vaguely just in case.

“Someone I know is missing,” you reply. “It’s normal to be worried about that.”

“What do you know about normal?” he scoffs.

You lock eyes, sure that you’re both replaying the night in your minds, sure that you’re both far from sane after what you did. His gaze is cold, a reflection of how angry he is that you’re not handling what happened as well as he is.

“Great talking to you,” you snip sarcastically, shifting to stand up.

“Wait,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looks at you again, this time with a bit of the hardness in his eyes gone. “We need to talk.”

(to be continued)

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