#mr undisclosed

[sicklyjelly]

Salt n' Vinegar: a comic commission for @Mr_Undisclosed! ft. his OCs Abby and Dennis trying to negotiate over the specifics of seasoning fish and chips 👻🍟😱

[little-tangerines]

he felt so proud of himself he had to brag to someone

[next]

[prev]

[melanodis]

some more college henry and adelaide

[odinsblog]

People are pointing out that it appears someone is juicing the views anyway, by promoting the video post as an ad… but without the (required by law) disclosure that it’s an ad. This certainly suggests that it’s being done by ExTwitter itself, rather than MrBeast directly. If it were being done by MrBeast or someone else, then it would say that it was a promoted/advertised slot. The fact that it’s hidden suggests the call is coming from inside the house.

The evidence that it’s an undisclosed ad is pretty strong. People are seeing it show up in their feeds without the time/date of the post, which is something that only happens with ads. Other tweets show that info.

Even stronger proof? If you click on the three dots next to the tweet… it says “Report ad” and “Why this ad?” which, um, is pretty damning.

Cody Johnston notes that he has refused to update his Twitter app in ages, and on the old app, it is properly designated as a “Promoted” tweet, which is how ads were normally disclosed.

Elon is denying that he’s done anything to goose the numbers, but the evidence suggests someone at the company is doing so, whether or not Elon knows about it.

Of course, the evidence still suggests otherwise. Meanwhile, Ryan Broderick was told by an ExTwitter employee that they don’t have to label promoted tweets that have videos because there’s also a pre-roll video and that is disclosed. Of course, that… makes no sense at all. Those are two totally separate things, and not labeling the promoted tweet is a likely FTC violation (and potentially fraudulent in misrepresenting to people how much they might make from videos posted to the platform).

(continue reading)

[mr-ladystardust]

this was supposed to be my all the young dudes summer and I've done nothing </3

[ellecdc]

No Wine, Then

Sirius Black x fem!reader who thinks she's pregnant again [610 words]

A/N: one of the many talented artists I follow on IG posted a few sketches of this conversation between Ginny and Harry and it's been stuck in my head ever since so I just had to write it for Sirius <3

CW: reader + Sirius have an undisclosed number of kids already, at least one of them is a son, fluff

You’re not sure how long you’d been sitting in the tub of fragrant, bubbly water - sinking so deep that the only part of you not submerged was your face from your nose up - when you realised the house had finally fallen quiet. 

Sirius had taken charge of everything tonight; dinner, cleaning up, and getting the kids to bed. You’re not sure what prompted it, seeing as the two of you worked as a pretty solid unit most nights, but when he was patting your hip and pressing a kiss to your temple telling you to go run a bath and that he’d take care of the rest, well…who were you to argue? 

The door to your bathroom opened and exposed Sirius, still adorned in the white button up and pressed trousers he had worn to work this morning, though the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, the top five buttons were undone, and you’re pretty sure you could see a cheeky sauce shaped handprint slapped onto his arm. 

He looked beautiful.

“I look like shite.” He argued when you said as much, though he was smiling as he moved to the sink and washed his hands.

“You look loved.” You countered, earning you a hum of acknowledgment from your husband. 

“Well, that I am.” He agreed as he kneeled by the side of the tub, leaning over the edge to press a kiss to your lips, pressing ‘one more for the road’ before he was pulling back to look at you with soft eyes. “I was too lazy to check but I’m pretty sure I have a note taped to my back that says kick me, and I’m going to ask you not to.” 

You let out a laugh as you lifted one of your hands to card through Sirius’ hair, having mostly fallen out of whatever bun he’d thrown it in. He closed his eyes with a pleased hum and leaned into your touch. 

“Do I have to ask where your son learned that from?” You chuckled, causing Sirius to let out a groan as his brows furrowed. 

“We need to find him new cousins; he’s not allowed to hang out with Harry anymore.” He offered simply. 

You hummed noncommittally. “Do I have to ask where Harry learned that from?” 

Sirius’ eyes opened as he scowled at you. “It was funnier when it was happening to James.” He complained, circling his hand around your wrist and pressing a kiss to your palm.

“What about you, Mrs. Black. Hm?” He digressed, though the both of you grimaced when you realised exactly who that name made you think of. “Can I get you anything? Some wine, perhaps?” 

And you’re not exactly proud of the way it just came spilling out of you, but you would later blame it on the way you were sort of drunk off the warmth of the tub, the handsomeness of your husband, and the love you felt for the life you were living. 

And maybe also on the fact that you had sort of lost count of how many times you've had this conversation with him at this point.  

“I think I’m pregnant again.”

And Sirius - god love him - only let you know he’d heard you by the way his eyebrows jumped higher on his head in surprise. 

“So, no wine, then.” 

“I’d settle for a kiss, though.” You offered coyly, and Sirius didn’t hesitate reaching into the tub, wrapping his arms around your middle and pressing as good a kiss to your lips as he could around his megawatt smile. 

“That I can do for you, love.” He murmured before pressing another kiss to a smile of your own.

[rafescvntyclubgf]

“𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥” - 𝐀 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 𝐨𝐟 𝟑

+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘

𝙱𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚝!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚂𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐆𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐏𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞 | 𝐒𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤

*total fic is 15K - dropping daily

6.8K <- the first chapter is the longest 🩷

𝓇𝒶𝒻𝑒𝓎𝓈𝒸𝓊𝓇𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝒷𝒶𝓃𝑔𝓈 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓉𝑜𝒷𝑒𝓇 - 𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓀 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑒𝑒

𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙/𝖘𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖉𝖚𝖑𝖊

⚠️warnings contain spoilers⚠️

Mean!Rafe, Bully!Rafe, bulling, Rafe is an ass, name calling, degredation, swearing, drinking, smoking, drug usage, kissing, praise, size kink, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), oral (male receiving), rough oral, multiple orgasms, spanking, violence, fighting, ownership kink, pet names, multiple POVs, violence, gore, horror, stalking, blood mentioned, gaslighting, lovers to enemies to lovers, reader is quick to forgive, mentions of mutual masterbation, teasing, cheating, possessive Rafe, jealousy

*grammatical errors in the text chain are intentional

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓑𝓪𝓬𝓴𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂: Sweetheart!Reader isn’t from the OB. She met Kiara (roomate) at college and quickly became friends with the Pogues. The group decided to join the reader, working at Camp Salem which she attended every summer since she was little. After junior high she became a camp counselor herself. Sweetheart!Reader is just that, a sweetheart. She’s a lover-girl and quick to forgive. She’s hard to read regarding her sexual experience—her sweetness is irresistible to Rafe. He fantasizes about corrupting her and stripping her of that. Sweetheart!Reader wears her heart on her sleeve, making her the perfect target for her bully, Rafe Cameron.

𝓡𝓪𝓯𝓮’𝓼 𝓑𝓪𝓬𝓴𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂: Canon-wise this Rafe is the closest to Season 1 Rafe. He is the definition of touch starved, touched but untouched, craving intimacy because it makes him feel better, even if it's just for a few moments. The only awful thing he did in his past in this AU is to be an asshole to the Pogues. He and the Kook trio are serving community service hours assigned from the university at Camp Salem after getting in trouble for something at the end of the last school year (undisclosed drinking violation). This being something they couldn’t pay their way out of.

Reader’s POV:

“I thought he was on archery duty,” Kie mumbles as you look down from the lifeguard tower on the 6’2” nightmare of a man strutting toward the water. He sets the whistle in his mouth, hands resting on his toned hips, his stupid backward cap on his perfectly quaffed head of hair. Rafe motherfucking Cameron.

“Him and JJ wouldn't stop arguing… Mrs. Mazie was worried one of them would…” You let your voice trail away as you mimic drawing the bow back, shooting and arrow straight at Rafe.

“Fair. That tracks,” Kiara laughs weakly—nothing surprising either of you anymore.

This is where I go to find peace. Where I go to make a little extra cash for the summer. Camp Salem is mine, and it always has been. Rafe’s whistle screams through the noise, making all heads turn to him just like he likes. Always and forever the center of attention. “No roughhousin’. Aight? I’m not gonna rescue your ass. If you drown, you drown,” he barks, fishing a fresh spliff out from behind his ear, replacing it with his whistle.

“What the hell is he doing?” You scoff in disbelief as he lights up a smoke in front of the kids. You hear a wolf whistle come from the woods. Rafe turns over his shoulder with a smile, ignoring the swimmers as he watches Kelce and Topper hike toward the shore with a cooler.

“What do you think’s in there?” Kiara groans, but you both know the answer. Beer.

“Rafe, are you kiddin-”

”Shut the fuck up,” he stops you before you can even start chewing him out, pointing his big fingers and lit joint up at you before taking another drag. “M’fuckin’ thirsty. Okay? It’s 100 fuckin’ degrees, princess. Have some goddamn compassion,” he taunts through a thick cloud of smoke, catching a beer as Kelce lofts it in the air, the brunette quickly cracking it open.

“Isn’t this the kinda shit that got him in trouble in the first place?” You backchat to Kie, catching Rafe’s ears as well.

“The fuck you talkin’ out of your ass for like you know me. Huh?” He spits.

“I was talkin’ to Kie.”

“If you've got shit to say, you can say it to my face... Ya know, scratch that. I vividly remember tellin’ you to shut the fuck up.” Your mouth falls open in disgust, the sour expression on your face making him smile smugly. “You hear me that time, or are you hard of hearin’, sweet cheeks?”

“Loud n’ clear,” you sigh and roll your eyes away, returning your attention to the water to do his job.

“Rafe,” Kelce calls out, taking a few steps back with the football. Rafe runs closer to shore, right in your line of sight, slamming the rest of his beer as he runs. He crushes the can in his fist before catching the ball, making the two boys whistle and cheer.

“Your can, Rafe,” Kiara scolds pointing to the litter wedged in the sand.

“Think you got it, Kie,” he taunts, leaving it behind for Kiara to clean up out of spite. She flips him the bird, crossing her arms tightly over her chest, grumbling something about him being a useless asshole.

Why is he so fucking awful?

𝐹𝓁𝒶𝓈𝒽𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀…

"Do you know where you're going?" You whisper out of the corner of your mouth, grabbing the door for Kiara. The two of you press through the university doors, walking with the flow of traffic.

"No fuckin' clue," she chuckles. "I don't remember shit from orientation."

"Neither do I," you sigh, adjusting your book bag strap nervously.

"Hi, y/n." The sound of his voice sends you into a tailspin. Your breath hitches; heart, racing wildly.

Holy shit. Holy shit. Relax. Just relax. "Hi, Rafe," you smile, looking toward his deep voice, but he’s already down the hall, lost in a crowd of frat boys, vanishing behind the lecture hall doors.

"That was... Well... Umm-" Your roommate teases.

"Shut up-”

"Hard to watch," Kie continues mockingly. "You know… I know Rafe all too well. That's Sarah’s older brother. He’s a mess, y/n. A literal walking red flag: drug dealer, cliché frat boy douchebag, daddy issues up the ass, sex addict… A fuck boy, at the very least. Are you sure you even wanna mess with that?” She looks back at you in disdain that you even showed the slightest bit of attraction in the first place.

“All I said was ‘he was cute,’” you correct her, ambling toward the same lecture hall as Rafe, feeling your excitement rise.

"Yeah… Sure”

“What does that mean?” You scoff.

“You gave him “the eyes���,” she knocks. “You like him, which is fine, I guess… He’s just gonna be a fuckin’ problem for you. A big problem. HUGE. Mark my words. You did not choose an easy one.”

“I didn’t choose anyone…”

“Yeah? Well he chose you,” she adds cautiously as you walk through the doors, the two of you matching Rafe’s baby blues—the man clearly waiting to catch your eye again. The two of you walk toward the group of frat boys sprawled out in the back. Rafe slaps the guys next to him, whispering something that has them pushing down a couple seats.

Rafe’s gaze trails up your body as smirk rolls across his lips. Holy shit. You swallow hard, feeling your cheeks warm up. “Hi, Rafe," you breathe.

"Hey, Y/n," he welcomes you warmly.

"Can I sit here?"

”’Course you can,” Topper jumps into your conversation, speaking before Rafe can. Rafe furrows his brows, his glare cutting over to his friend. Jealousy? Maybe he’s interested. You take a seat in a desk, Rafe quickly adjusts to move a little closer, his muscular arm skimming yours.

“You settling in, sweetheart?” Sweetheart? Sweetheart. Me? Rafe gives you a sinful smile before wetting his plump bottom lip. He shifts slightly, letting his knee-graze yours as well. You hadn't seen him in a week. He was on campus helping his sister move into the dorms, sweetly offering to help you carry in your largest box when he saw you struggling in the stairwell. It was a small gesture, but honestly you've thought about it ever since.

“I am. Thank you,” you smile, going to speak again but you’re cut off by your professor's voice booming through the room.

"Oh, hey," Rafe whispers, not the least bit concerned about class starting. You look over at him, catching his flirty smile as he fishes his phone out of his pocket. “Before I forget again. Can I get your number?”

“Mhmm.” is all you can manage as you fumble for your phone and your words.

"You comin’ by the frat on Friday?"

“Friday? Yeah. Sure… Is there a party?”

“Yeah. First week of school. Of course, there’s a party. We should get together before then, though. What are you doin’ tonight?"

Tonight? "Oh. I-”

"I can stop by your dorm?" You feel his touch again as his rough finger brushes your thigh ever so slightly. “Just to hang out. We can relax, watch a movie, get to know each other better," he rasps. “Nothin’ more. Aight? I can tell you’re nervous, princess. I don’t wanna make you nervous,” he assures. Damn, that sounds like a lie, leaving his lips. His perfect fucking lips.

Damn… I'm in trouble.

“I’d love that.”

Rafe’s POV:

Atta girl.

Fuck, she’s hot. And she knows it, too. Those legs, that dress, those fuckin' tits… She sneaks little glances at me out of the corner of her eye, positioning her body to get even closer. She’s a good girl. So damn good. I can tell she's a sweetheart. She’s gotta be a virgin… Or is she? Either way, I can’t wait to show her a thing or two. I’m gonna ruin this girl. It’s been a week since I saw her last. I was hopin’ I’d see her on campus, get her number, set somethin’ up. Shit… This is the best case scenario.

Finally… I look up at the clock as it ticks to the top of the hour. I watch as she stands up from her seat, her little dress catching on her upper thighs. “I’ll see you later, Rafe,” she coos. “Nice to meet you, Topper.” She brushes her dress down, skirt shifting over her ass as she walks. Ugh, she's fuckin’ mine.

“Nice meetin’ you too, sweetheart.” Topper calls and I roll my eyes.

“Can you not read the room, Thornton. She’s taken,” I gloat as I watch her and Kie walk toward the steps. She glances back at me, giving me a wordless invitation. You want me to chase you, princess. I can do that.

“Taken? By who?”

“By who?” I mock him, scowling in disgust. “You that dumb?”

“Damn, she’s sexy,” Topper sighs blissfully, ignoring me completely, just provoking me. I throw my elbow at him, catching him in the gut.

“The fuck did I say?” I snap through a raspy laugh letting only a fraction of my annoyance bleed through. “Stop pushin’ me, Top.”

“M’just sayin’,” he laughs as he gathers his things too.

“No shit she's hot.” I scoff as I stand up, heading out before any of the boys can catch up with me. “Stay in your fuckin’ lane, bitch.”

"Where are you off to, Cameron?" Topper yells through the lecture hall.

"Guess, buddy,” I smirk at him before passing through the doors. Y/n seperates from Kiara. Thank, god. She looks from the left to the right, settling on the right. "Wrong way, sweetheart," I call. Y/n turns on her heels, the corners of her pouty lips curling into a smile. "You're looking for your next class. Yeah? Freshman math?”

"Mhmm. Yeah... Will you help me?" She questions. "I don't remember anything from orientation."

"Of course," I smile warmly as she looks up at me. "You know the professor’s name?”

“Shell-Shell something….”

“Shellenberger.”

“I think so.”

“Well, sweetheart. I think you're right. Stupid fuckin’ name. How are you supposed to remember that shit? Huh?” I laugh lightly, making her return a giddy, nervous giggle in agreement. She pulls out her schedule and I bite back a smile as I watch the paper quiver slightly in her trembling hand. “Mhmm… Over here." I rest my hand on the small of her back, guiding her in the right direction.

"Shit," she grumbles, tossing her gaze down in defeat. "I'm such a freshman.”

"Nothin’ wrong with that. You’ll figure it out," I breathe, brushing my hand lightly over the top of hers. Y/n takes a little breath, biting her glossy bottom lip between her teeth at the slightest bit of contact between the two of us. Shit. She’s stunning…

We round the corner, stepping toward her next class. “Well thank you, Rafe,” she smiles as she steps away again but I reach out for her hand, leading her back to me.

“You got a few minutes?” I ask, my question making her beautiful eyes sparkle as her body pulls closer and closer as I take the opportunity to lead her away from the crowd. "It’s been like, what, a week? I’ve been thinkin’ about you a lot,” I mumble. She takes a little breath, trying to think of something to say but she’s a little too flustered. “You're beautiful.” I lose her completely as she glances away bashfully before returning her eyes to mine.

"Thank you, Rafe," she murmurs. Shit. I can get used to that... My name sounds so good on her lips.

"So, am I gonna get you alone tonight?" I ask, making her eyes widen and flutter.

“Oh. Umm… Yeah. I think I can talk Kie into leaving,” she whispers delightedly.

"That’s great news, sweetheart. Just perfect," I smile as I rest my hand against the wall, moving nearer, giving us a little more privacy. “I’d ask you to come to the frat house but it’s pretty crazy right now. And I think Top has a crush on you too. Can’t have that...”

She scrunches her cute nose, clearly uninterested in him, still playing sweet regardless. “I think he was just bein’ nice.”

“Nah… You shoulda heard him talkin’ about you when you left. I mean he’s my buddy, but the guy’s a dog. Ya know?”

”Really?”

”Mhmm… Don’t worry. I had your back. Thornton’s a dick… I set him straight.”

”Thank you,” she smiles sweetly.

“‘Course. Well, I’ll see you tonight. Hmm?” I ask, watching as her smile creeps a little wider as she hugs her books a little tighter.

“See you tonight.”

Reader’s POV:

Your mind starts to race as the movie continues, each passing minute drawing the two of you closer and closer. Rafe smirks down at you, watching your cozy shorts ride up on your thigh as you move your leg just over the top of his. His large, ringed hand traces over your skin, gripping you tight.

The night’s played out like a game of checkers; Rafe, waiting on you to make your move before he made his next, careful to not skip ahead or go too far. He’s been nothing but a gentleman, but that hunger inside you wishes he would just push all that aside. Should I just go for it? I can’t help but get caught up staring at his lips. Kissing on the first night… Is that too forward? Damn. I don’t think I’ve focused on a second of this movie.

The scenes blur together, your thoughts flurry your mind as your heart pounds louder than the sound of the movie. The rapid beating thumps in your ears, embarrassingly so. You look up at him, wondering if he hears it as well, but he smiles at you sweetly. “You alright, princess,” Rafe asks, his voice deep and husky, making your stomach flutter at the sound. Just go for it... If you don’t do it now, you'll regret it. I’ve heard the way the girls on campus talk about him—seen the way they look at him. If I sit here and do nothing, he’s gonna find someone who will…

You sling your leg over fully, taking a seat on Rafe’s lap as your sexual tension boils over. It’s like he was already waiting, his large arm quickly wraps around your waist, pulling you even closer, his other hand drifts into your hair, twisting in your strands, taking you by surprise when his lip crash into yours. You gasp; lips parting slightly, letting Rafe’s tongue slips between, making all your tension melt away.

You match his pace, slowing down with him, savoring the feeling of his soft lips against yours. A low groan escapes him, landing on yours lips, sending chills down to your spine, straight to your throbbing core. Rafe pulls back slightly, leaving you panting, searching for him. “Fuck, Rafe," you breathe in a voice you've never used before as he latches onto your neck; sucking, licking, bitting, making you tilt your head back. He chuckles sinfully against your skin, lighting you on fire before softening his touch completely, working his way back up to your mouth. His kiss-swollen lips ghost over the top of yours, brushing softly.

"I really like you," he hums. “Fuck. I like you a lot, princess.”

"I like you too, Rafe."

”You do?” He croons, the timbre of his voice torturing you.

”I do,” you whisper as you fingers scratch into the hair at the nape of his neck, subtly pulling him in but he hangs back.

"It’s late. What is it? 2 am?" Rafe smiles against your mouth, teasing you shamelessly. He knows exactly what you want but he’s holding true to most of his word from the earlier in the day. “I said we were just hangin’ out, baby. We already went too far…”

“You’re teasing me,” you whisper.

“What? Did you want more?” He asks as his big hand slips under your sweatshirt, tracing your lower back.

“I do,” you whisper needily.

“Mmm’guess, we’re just gonna have to get together tomorrow. Huh?”

“No. I-” You answer quickly. “No…”

“No?” He bullies you, giving you that old money laugh. “You don’t wanna hang out with me, sweetheart?” Rafe whispers warmly against your hot skin.

“You know what I mean,” you sigh, finding yourself at the crossroads between frustration and lust, completely dizzy with the thought of him. Fully consumed in Rafe Cameron. Every part of you wanting every piece of him.

“Tomorrow?”

"Tomorrow," you sigh.

It’s only been a month but, fuck, it feels like longer. I’ve gotten to see him interact with his frat brothers and other girls and it just feels different. He’s so cold and gruff but when he’s around me it’s like that icy exterior melts away. It’s addicting getting to see this side of him— like it’s reserved for me and only me.

There are moments, though… moments where I question if I’m all he wants. I mean, I can tell he likes me, but it’s almost like he’s keeping other girls on standby just in case. Whenever I see him in the hall, he’s always stepping away from a conversation with a different girl or setting his phone face down on the desk before I take a seat… And, it’s moments like that where I get more and more unsure…

Rafe can see it too. I swear he can hear what I’m thinking because he’s quick to assure me I'm way off the mark. He says all the right things, swearing up and down that he’s only interested in me. It’s hard to deny that way he looks at me—the way he touches me: tender and rough, ebbing and flowing between the two leaving me like putty in hands. It’s hard to deny that fact when our talks get deeper and deeper. He confides in me. He tells me things I have to promise not to tell anyone else. I can see him letting his guard down. He’s a very different Rafe than the world knows. He’s my Rafe.

I don't want to be casual. I don't want to be one of “his girls”. Kie said he has daddy issues… Maybe that's why he’s too afraid to commit to us—to me.

Every night I’m pulling myself away right before I take it any further just waiting for his actions to match his words. But it’s getting harder… It’s next to impossible to push aside my urges. I've touched his body; felt the deep ridges of his abs under his shirt, the muscles of his broad chest pressed against the palms of my hands. I've stroked his thick cock over his grey sweats, sucking his tip through the fabric, getting us both off just grinding on his lap alone.

Maybe that next level of intamacy is the connection we need. Maybe sex is all it’ll take. I'm not a virgin. What am I holding out for anyways? Maybe if I give him what I know he wants he’ll be all in. I want him—but I want to feel secure. I want his eyes to stop wandering. I want to be everything he wants. I just don't think I am.

BEEP. BEEP.

You look out your dorm room window as Rafe leans out of his truck with a smile, beckoning you to come outside. You gather your things, running down the stairwell, before making your way out the front door. Rafe’s eyes rake over your body, taking in the view as you walk toward his ride.

He hops out just before you make your way there, pulling you into his arms, looking down at you with a smile. “Damn, you look so fuckin’ pretty,” he praises breathlessly, leaning in for a kiss, claiming your lips. Butterflies swirl in your stomach, tummy fluttering with excitement. You smile against his lips, breathing a similar sentiment against his, praising how handsome he looks in his crisp white shirt and jeans. “Thank you, princess. You ready to get outta here?” He asks, popping open his passenger’s door, taking your overnight bag off your hands, helping you inside.

His smile widens a little more as you silently set the plans, you, having no intentions of going home as you usually do. He trots around to the driver’s side, a little more pep in his step, tossing your bag in the back before turning the key. “You stayin’ with me tonight, princess?” Rafe asks, through a boyish smile he’s trying his best to contain. Your heart sings seeing him this excited. Maybe I was right.

You roll up to the frat. The large mini mansion flooded with people inside and out, music pouring from the windows and open doors. It’s a madhouse. Rafe chuckles, looking out onto the mess. Just another weekend… “You ready?” He asks as he turns his head to the side, tilting it slightly as his smiles.

“M’ready.”

Rafe helps you out of the car, walking hand-and-hand with you inside the space. Cigarette and weed smoke hangs heavy in the air, mixing with the sticky sweetness of cheap liquor. Rafe walks through the party, greeting the masses as he passes brother after brother, the two of you moving deeper and deeper into the party. He lifts your bag by the strap, gesturing to ask if you want to put this in his room. You nod and smile knowing that there’s no chance you’re leaving if he gets his way.

The two of you walk up the stairs, stepping down the hall, excitement rising as you get closer and closer until he pushes through his bedroom door. As soon as it opens, it shuts again; Rafe backing you against the entry, slamming his lips against yours, wanting nothing more than his mouth on yours. He lifts you into his strong arms, deepening the kiss; the two of you quickly finding your tempo.

Rafe pulls you off the wall, walking with you to his bed, laying you down on top. He grabs the back of his baseball cap, pulling it off his head before tossing it to the side, quickly tearing his shirt away. Your eyes widen at the sight of his broad, bare chest, fully exposed. His gold chain glints with his quickened breathing—his toned abs, and deep v-lines kiss the band of his Calvin Klein boxer, poking out of his jeans. He crawls toward you, rolling his big body into yours, crushing you under his weight as he kisses you again, grinding at the perfect cadence. You whimper into your kiss, making him moan into your parted mouth.

DING.

Rafe pulls away from your kiss, grabbing his phone out of his back pocket, eyeing the screen before setting it down on his nightstand. You look back up at him, Rafe not missing a beat, his lips quickly greeting yours again. His tongue slides between your lips, reeling with yours, making you feel like you could float away.

DING. DING. DING.

You're pulled back to reality, stomach plunging as Rafe gets back-to-back notifications. He starts to kiss you a little deeper, your attention obviously getting pulled elsewhere, going out of his to bring your focus back to him, biting your lip and squeezing your hip, whispering sweet-nothings to cloud your thoughts.

DING.

“Rafe…” You sigh, unable to concentrate.

“Just frat stuff, princess. M’sorry,” he mutters. “Just focus on us. Yeah?”

DING.

“Can you at least put it on silent?” You clip as you grab for his phone, catching a name.

Jilly Tate

Jillian? As in Delta Gamma Jillian? You look up at Rafe uneasily. He takes his phone back, flicking the device on silent before returning to your lips.

“Stop,” you whisper.

“What? Why?” He asks dumbly, like he doesn’t already know you know something’s up, continuing to kiss the corner of your lips and cheek as he reaches over, setting his phone down. Without thinking you reach for it, snagging it off the nightstand before opening up his messages. “What are you doin’?” He huffs like he’s got something to hide.

And he does.

Jilly Tate: Rafey

Jilly Tate: Are you partying tonight?

Jilly Tate: Rafe Cameron??

Jilly Tate: you better not be busy again

Jilly Tate: I’m gonna need you to convince me to get out of bed

Jilly Tate: you better make it worth my while?

Jilly Tate: Maybe you need some motivation.

You look up at him as he looks down at you uneasily, not knowing what you’re reading, just knowing who it’s from. He can see the sadness in your eyes, letting him know that it’s most likely not something you weren’t meant to see. You flick your franic finger fast scrolling a little higher, catching pages and pages of messages populating from this week and last

"So, are you… Are you hanging out with Jillian too?" You force the words past your lips, trying to remain as unbothered as possible.

"Yeah, Y/n. Nothing there. Just friends. I swear." Just friends... That doesn’t look like just friends. "Y/n... you okay, baby?" He asks, knowing full-well you aren’t.

"Uh, yeah-yeah. I'm alright," you lie as you look at his phone, watching as three little dots appear, a new message forming from Jillian.

Goddamit, Rafe. You shut your eyes softly, doing your best not to cry as you see the image: blonde curls, piled in a messy bun, pouted lips, and bedroom eyes. A mirror selfie on her bed. Just Rafe’s oversized frat T-shift and a barely-there thong swallowed up by her perfect ass. "Sweetheart?" He asks again, his voice a little more unsure than the first time.

"Yeah."

"You okay?"

Fuck off... Absolutely not. Yet another message rolls in. Rafe’s eyes tighten to yours. "Calm down, Rafe. It’s Topper," you mutter.

"He’s probably just wonderin’ where I’m at, baby.”

Fuck that. You open the message, typing a ‘call me’ reply before taking it off silent, setting it down on the bed before looking up at Rafe; your frusterstion peaked. The tears you’re trying to contain haze your eyes. Rafe clearly has something going on with Jillian. Even if I'm somehow mistaken, he's still getting text— still getting together with her, still getting sexts.

RING. RING. RING.

"Take it,” you whisper.

"I'll talk to him later, princess."

"Take. It."

"Y/n. I-"

CLICK.

Rafe’s eyes double as you make the decision for him, hitting the accept button, putting it on speaker as well. You lift an eyebrow in his direction, challenging him to speak.

"Uh... Umm. Hey, Top."

"Yo. You comin’ or what? Where are you?" He yells over the party downstairs.

"M’up in my room. I’ll be down in a few minutes. I gotta go, man."

"Wait a second... Are you with Jillian?"

"Holy shit," you respire, pinching your eyes shut. A few stray tears fall. You lift your finger fast, brushing them away before he can see.

“No.”

"Bullshit, man. I hear her. Hi, Jilly." You reach up, shoving Rafe off you before crawling off the bed, gathering your things on the floor before bounding toward the door as those same tears stream down your cheeks. Goddammit. Rafe reaches out for you, hauling you back in; his cheeks, flushed; eyes darting frantically.

"Let me go, Rafe.”

"Y/n, please. I can explain.”

"I'm so fuckin' done, Rafe. Just - Fuck! Just leave me alone!" You hiss.

“Shit, y/n. She’s - She's just a friend, baby. Yeah, we fuck. But, she means nothing to me. Nothing. And, I mean nothing to her I swear. C’mon. You're my girl. Just stop.”

"All you do is fuck? Like you’re fucking her still?" You ask as you step toe to toe with him, looking up at his flustered face, silently pleading he isn't doing just that.

"Y/n..." He is… Oh my god. “Baby, please.”

"I'm not your fuckin' baby, Rafe."

"It’s nothing.”

“Nothing? You're joking… What are you doing? Why are you playing me?”

”I’m not playing you?”

”Yes you are!”

”Fucking how? How the hell am I playin’ you. Huh? Been hanging out with you all month. Asked you to come here didn’t I? I’m in here with you right now. Not her. Didn’t even tell her we were havin’ a fuckin’ party. Alright? How am I possibly playin’ you?”

“Why are you gaslighting me? You’re acting like I didn’t just read those fucking texts, Rafe? You said I was the only one you wanted but you were obviously still talking to her; fucking her. If I couldn’t come to this fuckin’ party would you be doing this same shit with her?”

“No! The fuck are you even sayin’ that for? Fake-ass scenarios. Throwing a bitch fit about ‘what ifs’. I'm here with you. I only want you-”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit,” he booms. “I like you. Okay? Tate and I haven’t fucked in days. You and I finally started gettin’ serious. I told her I was done. I suppose you read that too though. Right?”

“Days? Days, Rafe? How many?”

“I don’t know…” He mumbles. You roll your eyes, stepping away but he tugs you back in again.

“Finally started getting serious? Did you actually say that, Rafe?” You soften your voice in sadness. Rafe looks back at you dumbfounded as tears of frustration pool in his eyes too.

“I’m sorry for saying that. I know we're serious, baby.”

“I don't think you do, Rafe...” Rafe puffs out a deep, vexed breath as he runs his fingers through his hair, brushing his bangs off his sweaty forehead, either stalling or trying to calm himself down but regardless he's at a complete loss for words. “Nothing? Seriously…”

“Don’tchu think you're overreacting a little bit?” He drawls. His question setting you off further.

“Overracting? Because if roles were reversed and I was fucking Top it would be “nothing”?”

“That’s not the same and you know it, y/n.”

“So after you left my dorm you were just going and getting pussy from her because you weren’t getting any from me?”

”What?” His voice comes out breathy and hoarse at your accusations. He lifts the collar of his shirt, wiping the tears from his eyes.

”Did you leave my dorm and come back here and fuck her?” You speak slowly, asking him a simple question there was no way he couldn’t understand. He hangs his head, sniffling pitifully. “I can’t believe I wanted to be with you. I can’t believe I wanted to fuck you. Jesus, Rafe. I’m a goddamn idiot.” Rafe’s eyes snap to yours, his gaze wild as he takes in your words.

"Please. Fuck. I'm sorry. I'll change. I swear. I-"

"I’m done, Rafe. I don’t trust you. How can I trust you. You said ‘you liked me’, you said ‘I was the only one’. You lied about Jillian… You couldn’t even tell Topper that you were in here with me. That’s so fucking embarrassing.”

"Shit! Fuck. Just stop. It’s not all my fault. Okay? You - You can’t keep acting like you’re acting either. I had no clue if you really liked me or not. I didn’t think you were actually gonna fuck me. You’re teasing me, you're a fuckin’ tease, y/n. Always keeping me on the edge. I have needs-”

“What? I’m not teasing you, Rafe. And needs? We’ve only been talking for a month. A MONTH! I know you have needs. So do I. But it’s hard to let myself go around you and take it to the next level when you’re always looking around for the next best thing. Because if you were all in, Rafe, your needs would have been met week one.”

“I am all in!"

“You’re not. You just want me ‘cause I said I wanted to fuck, Rafe. I’m not dumb,” you grumble. “You’re just a fuckin’ douchebag,” you spit yanking your arm away before starting down the hall. His heavy feet tromp after you, following you close.

“You’re not listening to me, Y/n. Do you even hear what you’re sayin’ to me. You’re actin’ like such a victim but you were feelin’ insecure all fuckin’ month and you weren’t tellin’ me. Just holdin’ out on me because you thought I wanted other people; ‘always looking for the next best thing’ or whatever the fuck. You’re takin’ your insecurities out on me.”

You turn around fast, pushing your finger into his chest roughly. Looking up into his pathetic, tear-stained eyes. “Was I wrong, Rafe? You gave me reason to worry and I was fuckin’ right,” you scold as you jab your finger into his heart, punctuating each word. “How do you think that feels? Huh? Then you stand here trying to turn the blame on me. You’re not a fuckin’ man… You’re a boy.”

“Yeah? Well, you're actin’ like a fuckin’ bitch.”

“I’m acting like a bitch?” You ask weakly, watching as Rafe’s bottom lip trembles. “Fuck you, Rafe.”

You move to the staircase, pushing through the party as adrenaline and fever courses through your veins, your tears making it impossible to see. Fuck this whole month. Fuck this night. Fuck Rafe. You run your hand across your eyes, collecting tears as you pull out your phone, scouring for an UBER. I just need to get home. I just want to forget this ever fucking happened. But how am I going to forget about him?

I fuckin’ can’t.

Rafe’s POV:

”You were up there with, Y/n?” Topper asks in disbelief. “You two together?”

"Nah. Not anymore." I lift my beer to my lips as I scan the thick crowd gathered in the frat house.

"Not anymore?"

I can hear the judgment laced in Topper’s voice. I roll my eyes in annoyance. "What’s it matter to you"

"Y/n is a dream. I know you're incapable of playin’ the long game, but Jesus Christ,” he snickers drunkenly.

"She's not doing shit with anyone... anytime soon. She said she was ready, but she was lyin’. I know she was fuckin’ lyin’. Just putting me on a guilt trip. Just sayin’ that shit to make me feel bad. She’s a fuckin’ tease.”

"You don't know that."

"Fairly fucking sure." I plop a joint between my lips, lighting it up. "She's fair game, Thornton. Have at it. Good luck gettin’ your dick wet in this century."

"You're unreal, Cameron," he scoffs and laughs. "But, yeah… Shit. I think I'm gonna take you up on that offer."

"Fuck you. You won't."

"Why do you care? You said ‘she fair fuckin’ game’, asshole."

I chuckle with annoyance, shaking my head in disbelief. "Where's the loyalty. Huh? Have my sloppy seconds, Top. It suites you.”

"Not really sloppy if you didn't fuck."

"I fucking tried."

"I've known you too long for you to bullshit me, man." He bullies before draining the rest of his White Claw. "You didn't. I can tell you what you did do… Hang out with her, fuck Jillian on the side cause you weren’t getting any pussy yet. Yet!” He puts an emphasis on that point, twisting the knife in my heart. “And you got caught.”

“Nah.”

”Yeah,” he laughs. “I’d bet my life on it.”

“You’re just yappin’, bitch. Shut the fuck up.”

“She's the prettiest girl here, hands-down; funny, sweet, smart, loyal. You didn't even give her a chance."

I swallow thickly, taking in every word, all of which couldn’t be more true. I did exactly what he said… I messed up. I lost her. I’m a goddamn mess. I crack open a beer, draining it fast enough to drown a thought or two, quickly grabbing another, trying my best to forget. It’s so much deeper than just messing up. Y/n didn't feel safe around me... I made her feel unsure. She made me feel safe. Me… ‘You’re always looking for the next best thing’. She is the best thing… She made me feel something for once. She cares about me. Well, cared… "I mean I could still try and apologize or whatever," I mumble.

"She's too smart, Rafe. She's done with you."

"Fuck you, Top."

"Nah, fuck you."

"You're a dumbass, Rafey. Like painfully dumb,” Kelce pipes in for the first time.

"Yeah? N’what should I have done? Huh?" I spit.

"Literally, the opposite of that,” he laughs, making Topper do the same. “I agree with everything Top said, bud. You ruined a good thing. N’for who?” He adds in a condescending tone, referencing the girls I usually bag—a direct shot at Jillian Tate.

"So it's done then. No hope? Is that what you're telling me?" I scoff, my eyes cutting between the two of them.

"That is exactly what we’re tellin’ you,” Topper adds.

"Screw you, Thornton... That's just because you want her."

"Obviously."

I let out a loud, frustrated growl, popping open the beer bottle with my ringed finger. "You're a dick."

"I'm just speaking as your friend. I'm being honest. And, honestly, I'm going after her the first chance I get. Just lettin’ you know. So we are both clear." He taunts through a thick cloud of smoke. “And you better stop drinkin’, Cameron. Whiskey dick’s gonna getcha. I'm sure you're gonna fuck the first thing you see with a pulse, Rafey. You're a fuckin’ dog. We all know it,” he stammers, his voice barely audible as his words slur together. “Guessin’ you got Big Titty Tate on speed dial.”

"Fuck you, Top.” I steal an extra beer off Kelce’s hands for myself. “You better stop drinkin’. Turns you into a fuckin’ asshole with an actual spine. Keep runnin’ your mouth. I'll gladly put you in your place,” I laugh, only half-kidding, glaring at him, challenging him to keep going. He puts his hands up as a truce— his heavy-lidded eyes letting me know he’s seconds away from a blackout.

Fuck this fucking night.

It’s done… She’s done with me. I lived up to every one of her assumptions. I was the man Kiara warned her about, I'm sure. I’m fucked. I look up from my beer, watching as a beautiful blonde struts across the party— legs for days, fake tits, a deep spray tan that I'm forever bleaching out of sheets after rough night. Her bleach blonde curls bounce with each steps she takes, walking up to my room no less. Jillian Tate…

I got nothin’ to lose anymore. Got no self-respect anyways. The fuck does it matter?

I don't deserve y/n, and I never have. I fuckin’ hate myself.

Reader’s POV:

You take the quizzes in your hands, passing the remainder to Rafe, keeping your eyes glued on the front of the lecture hall.

"Thanks, sweetheart," he whispers, turning your stomach. You feel his leg graze against yours as he slides a little closer. Seriously… A set of two eyes catch yours, not looking at you, their attention given to Rafe.

"Hi, Rafey,” Jillian mouths the words from a few desks ahead. He lowers his gaze to his test, scribbling his name on the side of his scan-tron messily.

BUZZ.

Rafe slips up, leaving his phone face up. You sneak a glance at the message on the screen.

Notification: Jilly Tate - You ignoring me?

Rafe opens his messages, glancing at the screen before fumbling to lock it; just another glimpse of her, her blonde curls laying on his plaid pillow, Rafe’s large hand wrapped around her slight throat. His signature gold ring hugs his pointer finger—that same stupid, pink entrance bracelet looped around his wrist from the dive bar the night before. He catches your focus, putting the pieces together that you saw the exchange, further piling on his guilty conscience. "Y/n?" You hear Rafe’s gravelly voice in your ear. "I can explain."

Seriously… More tears. Fuck. You snatch your stuff, forgoing the test all together, quickly moving to your feet, pressing toward the door, pushing out fast, before weaving through the hallway gridlock.

"Y/n? Hey... Wait." You hear Rafe calling from behind you, the pounding of his steps, nears. "Hey, bab-"

"Stop, Rafe," you weep.

"C'mon. It's just I-"

"Honestly, Rafe. Just stop!"

"Let me explain."

"Explain what? We broke things off and an hour later you were with Jillian."

"Yeah. But we didn't do anything."

"'I saw the picture, Rafe? Are you that dumb?"

”That’s an old picture-”

“Stop lying… I saw your bracelet. Show me some fuckin’ respect and save your excuses for someone else.”

“I was angry. She was just there. I'm sorry. I-”

"Just there… Just there? Why her Rafe? Why Jillian? You ruined everything. You're a fucking trainwreck, Rafe.”

"We weren't together, Y/n," he adds in frustration. “You left me. Remember?”

"Yeah... And, you didn’t even try to get me back. You didn't even come after me. You just went for the next best thing.” You emphasize your words, making his features sharpen.

"That's not fair."

"For who?”

"I was going to try… I was gonna try to make things right today. I just needed you to calm down. Jesus. You’re not even givin’ me a chance"

"Was that your plan that night, Rafe? To let me storm off and calm down so you didn't have to deal with me and my drama, fuck Jillian, and make up with me on Monday, and act like nothing happened. Just act like you didn't bang the girl in the same bed we were kissing in. Like you didn't just fuck the girl that you said I didn't need to worry about.“

"You’re bein’ dramatic"

"Bye,” you scoff annoyedly. “Just, Bye Rafe." You spit, pressing through him, checking his shoulder as you walk past, heading back toward the lecture hall to finish your test. How could I be so stupid?

His hand wraps around you arm a little tighter, pulling you back. “Just stop. Please,” he begs. “I wanna fight for you. Please. I like you, y/n. I like you a lot. More even-”

“More? What the hell, Rafe? How can you sit here and tell me that when you clearly don't? You didn't call or text me to see if I made it home that night. That's the bare minimum, Rafe."

"You're right."

"Jillian... still?" Your voice comes out smaller than before, breaking with emotion as he moves closer, backing you into the wall that he had you on on the first day on class. Now everything’s different… Those same thoughts you had about how sweet he was tarnished completely.

"She means nothing to me, y/n," he assures, soft and slow.

"Rafe… You and I, that meant everything to me. I really liked you. I didn't want anyone else.”

"Me too. I promise. I swear. Alright?”

"Then how could you ruin this over someone who means nothing to you? How?" You ask as you look up at him, watching his eyes shift a lighter shade of blue, tears glistenen and gather on his lashes. He lifts up the sleeve of his sweatshirt, rubbing them away.

"I don't know, y/n. I don't know what's wrong with me."

Even after everything, your heart breaks seeing him this way. His cheeks flush with embarrassment for his actions and his blatant vulnerability. He looks around, letting out a shaky breath, checking to see who’s watching, but the coast is clear. He hangs his head, letting a few stray tears fall to the floor. “Let's just finish the test. We can talk later. Okay?” Rafe looks up at you, his beautiful eyes glinting with a sliver of hope.

“Thank you.”

You reach for the door handle, giving it a twist.

BUZZ.

You step back, pulling your phone out of the book bag instead. Rafe glances at your phone, catching the name of the sender as well—watching the final nail lodge in his coffin.

Messages; Maybe: Jillian Tate; iMessage

The phone trembles in your hand as you open the message. A video? You click onto the little screen watching the scene play out right in front of you. Rafe wraps his large hand around Jilly’s throat, thrusting into her again and again. Just a short video from just above her tits, letting you watch the pleasure on her face as her eyes roll back. The clapping of his skin against her fills his room. Three little dots form below the video, followed by a new message from her.

Jillian: I’m coming to you as a women.

You look up from your phone, the end of the two of you crystal fucking clear.

“Y/n, I’m sorry.”

𝐹𝓁𝒶𝓈𝒽𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝑒𝓃𝒹𝑒𝒹…

Damn, he's infuriating... But, fuck, is he's handsome. Rafe holds the football in his hands, falling back, his big biceps flex, sending the ball spiraling to Top. Your eyes fall down his perfect body: a loose cropped frat tee showing off his toned abs and deep v-lines. His thick thighs hugged with short Champion shorts. He takes off his hat, running his fingers through his carmel-coloured locks before tugging it on again. His sun-kissed skin glistens under the high-noon rays, highlighting his muscles perfectly.

He smiles at you sweetly, making you turn toward Kie with unease. Rafe grabs the bottom of his shirt, lifting it to wipe off the sweat on his face as he walks closer, his shorts hang dangerously low making you hurt with need. His smile morphs into a smug smirk. Your body tenses up as you just wait for his mocking comments to stab you right through the heart.

"Still staring. Huh?" He taunts, causing Kelce and Topper to laugh in agreement, feeding his ever-growing ego. He catches the football from Top, twirling it between his large fingers as he looks up at you from the sand below. "Kie's in her swimsuit, honey. M'sure you got some tits and ass under there to show the boys. When are you gonna stop dressing like a teenage boy?" His voice oozes with condescension, just quiet enough that you're unsure if Kelce and Topper heard or not. You look at the two, none the wiser; your decision is obviously the wrong move, giving Rafe more ammo. "Scared they heard? Aww... M'Sorry, sweetheart. Did I strike a nerve? C'mon, pretty. It's my last day. Leave Daddy with something to keep in the spank bank. Huh?" He rasps.

"Jesus Christ, Rafe. Can you stop being such a dick?" Kiara snaps, looking down at him in repulsion.

"I can," he breathes as his eyes move from her to you. "But, why would I do that? Hmm?" You turn your eyes away, focusing on the water ahead, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of your attention he so desperately craves. "Here," he smiles cruelly as he balls up his shirt, lofting it to the lifeguard tower, landing damp on your chest, cotton mixing with hot sweat. "I'll give you somethin' to put around your pillow when you're humpin' it later." Kelce and Topper laugh louder, catching that part of his dig. Rafe shuts his eyes, letting out his own name in a raspy whine. "Oh, Rafe. Fuck. Just like that, baby."

"Pass it here, Daddy," Kelce piles on, making your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

"You're such a fucking ass, Rafe," you mumble through gritted teeth.

"What's that now?" He gasps dramatically, turning on his heels fast, looking at you wide-eyed. "You want me to fuck your ass, princess?" His sleazy frat boy laugh fills your ears. "Didn't see that comin'. Did you, Kelce?”

"Nah," Kelce chuckles as he catches the football.

"Nasty little thing, aren't you?" His tongue pokes through his perfect teeth, pleased with himself as you flutter your lashes, trying your best not to cry with frustration. "Aww, don't cry, angel. M'sorry. Boys will be boys."

[creativeashproductions]

Constellations // Wally Clark

IN WHICH: reader is a secret ghost at Split River High School attached to the roof where Wally stumbles onto for solitude. With the new arrival of Maddie Nears a year later a secret comes out.

Warnings: Swearing, talk of a undisclosed medical condition, divorce, angst, and fluff

Words: 2.4k

A/N: Of course it’s a ghost show that revives this blog of writing. Am I surprised? No. Is Julie? Definitely not.

Masterlist

You’d have never anticipated the sound of Luke Bryan’s Country Girl being an okay soundtrack to watching the stars. But you’d also never expected discovering the afterlife so soon. Occasionally, you would hear a mixture of the living and the dead on the ground or through an open window, but you typically stayed on the roof.

It had been the hangout spot for the volleyball team when you were alive. The championship game had been the last time a living foot, other than maintenance, had stepped on this roof.

Most of the team had graduated, and the broken doors that couldn’t hold up against the wind were changed. So now it was only you. Reliving the excitement and stupid teenage decisions. And avoiding Mr. Martin and his afterlife support group because he was unsettling, to say the least.

 “This spot taken?” Your head lolled to the side, finding a fellow dead jock standing above you.

Wally Clark had discovered you on the fifteenth anniversary of his father’s not coming to the Homecoming game. He’d wanted a quiet place and one where Janet wouldn’t follow.

2022 Day After Homecoming Game

The door slammed from the stairwell slammed open, and the muffled sound of sniffling could be heard. Then, the shuffling of sneakers came to an abrupt stop.

“Oh. Sorry.”

Your eyes left the book in your hands to the tall teen towering over you. One of the longer-term ghosts residing at Split River High School.

 “I-I didn’t know anyone used the roof. Are you new?” 

“Nope. Been residing in the afterlife awhile now.” You responded, leaning against the roof’s edge, “Proceed for whatever you were here for.”

Whatever emotional breakdown he was about to have ceased in favour of plopping right down beside you. His head shifting more in your peripheral. He froze when your fingers stopped moving in page-turning.

“Oh, sorry.” He leaned away sheepishly, “Am I annoying you?”

Your brows furrowed, “I’ve read the book a few times. So what brings you to my humble death place.”

“You died up here? Wouldn’t we have heard about-?”

“I didn’t die up here.” You interrupted him to shift to face him fully, “You’re the guy the stadium is named after, right?”

“Wally Clark.” The ghost said, holding his hand out. You exchanged your name in response. Wally slowly repeated your name as if savouring it.

“So seriously, are you okay? You were crying-“

“I died on the football field in 1984. Last night was the first time my dad wasn’t there.” Wally breathed, tilting his head to stare at the sky, “It really hits home that time is going by, and I’m standing still.”

You nudged his knee with your own, “I’m sorry about that. You’re welcome to hang out here to get away.”

“That’d be nice. I feel like all the ghosts expect me to be the outgoing, always happy guy.”

“How was the dance?” You asked as Wally settled on the ground beside you. The ends of his white bowtie hung loosely, and his suit jacket draped across his lap.

“It’s alright. Could have been better.” He spoke, dropping his arm around your shoulders to tug you into his side, “Simon persuaded the DJ to play a couple real hits. One day I’m gonna convince you to go with me.”

Your lips twitched. It was a pastime of Wally’s trying to get you to join in with everyone, especially with the whole drama with the new girl. Thankfully he understood and respected your decision to keep away.

You hadn’t spent years in secret from the support group for no reason. Instead, you existed peacefully in their obliviousness on the roof.

“Nah, I much prefer spending time up here.” You grinned, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “Maddie settling in?”

“She’s adjusting as well as she can. Rhonda’s warming up to her. The whole thing she had with Simon is nuts still.”

Maddie Nears, aka the newbie, had shown up suddenly in the afterlife with no memory of her death. Or the events leading up. The pool of suspects is deep, and the desperation to be found alive is strong. 

As he relayed the new development, you tried to think of anything but what you had done today. How do you tell your dead boyfriend something that makes Maddie and Simon’s communication seems like child’s play?

“-What about your day?” Wally questioned, moving so you’re leaning your back against his chest. 

You sighed happily when his arms came to wrap around your shoulders and press his lips to your head. 

“I snuck down to the lost and found for a new book. Mina left a couple things for me too.” 

The friendship you had with the ghost of the stagehand mind boggled Wally. Mina hadn’t left the theatre since the stage light fell on her in the late ’80s. She was eccentric, to say the least, but the only ghost other than Wally that knew about you.

“How? She always screams at us.” Wally chuckled, “Maddie’s the first that cracked through.”

“I got her a script for a production she loves and let her direct me on her birthday.” You hummed, crossing your ankles. Your eyes flinched open in perfect sync with Wally’s tensing up.

“How did you get a script-“Wally trailed off, staring at the stars twinkling under the night sky, “Whoa, wait.”

Wally’s mind flickered to the conversation with Maddie after talking with Mina.

“There’s another ghost. Mina mentioned something about me not being the first ghost outlier. That me talking to Simon isn’t earth shattering.”

Wally’s eyes swept from Ursa Major to your e/c eyes, refusing to lock with his dark brown.

“Can you talk to the living?” Wally demanded, shifting away. The space he created cracks your heart more.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Maddie’s the only one. I can just…sorta leave the school grounds?” You trailed off with a wince. The betrayal is a wicked shattering force to your bubble with the former football player.

“…you can leave the school? And not be slammed back to where you died?!” Wally’s fists went straight into his dark strands. The hair being tugged under his stress.

“Because I didn’t technically die here. I had a health condition and was declared clinically dead a few times. So, wherever my heart stopped, and I escaped, that death destination is a place where I could go. It hurts.”

Wally scoffed, blinking, “We spent the last year, and you kept that a secret. You never told me anything about how you died or this huge thing for over a year. I’ve told you everything.”

Your lips parted to respond, but the door was already slamming behind Wally on his descent back into the building. His long legs eating up half the stairwell by the time you’d opened the door.

“Wally! Wally, wait!” You shouted, sprinting down the stairs, “I swear I was going to tell you!”

The expression on his face was enough to freeze you on the last step, “Don’t you have another place to haunt.”

Your mouth dropped open, watching him disappear in the sea of living students still on school grounds. Your eyes find the blue irises of Maddie Nears. Surprise lighting up in her gaze. Your expression twisted before turning on your heel to flee the area.

The last thing you wanted was to talk with the girl you were assigned to show around on her first day. Stupid school tradition pairing a senior with a freshman.

“Hey!”

Maddie popped around the corner to a dead end where you were nowhere to be found. Instead, you’d slipped into a space where you popped up in a different area of Split River with a sheer scream at the pain.

The fight with Wally kept you from returning to the school grounds. You didn’t know a particular ghost was spending hours on the roof anxiously waiting for you. Instead, you were watching your half-sister playing with her Barbie doll in the backyard of your childhood home.

Your arms tugged your legs to your chest. You rarely visited your family home since you watched the paramedics had arrived at 3am four years ago to remove your corpse from the house. 

“Ava!” 

Your head watched the little girl with piggy tails perk up, hearing your shared father’s voice. Your eyes take in the person you miss most in the world. It always hurt seeing the dimness your death had caused in his eyes.

The streaks of grey in his hair and beard showed the grief of losing you had caused. The guilt he barely masked from your sister. 

“Daddy!” Ava beamed, diving into his arms, “Are we taking Sissy flowers?”

Your lip quivered, hearing the adoration coating each word Ava spoke with that lisp. Speech therapy and growing up making the lisp less pronounced. Ava had barely been two when you died. 

The product of your father finding love again with a wonderful person who loved you and happily stepped into a parent role. You’d lucked out with getting a really great step-parent and a half-sister but a shitty hand for health.

“Absolutely. Do you think Sissy would like daisies this time?” Your grin grew, listening to Ava burst into excitement. 

You watched as the car disappeared around the corner before entering the house. Your room barely had any dust from Riley’s insistence on keeping it clean. Sometimes Ava would toddle in with a toy and curl in your bed to sleep.

Your clothing is still hung in the closet, your computer on your desk and all your pictures on the corkboard. Your phone was already safely tucked in your pocket with the charging cord in your backpack from the first visit back to the house.

The last time you visited your home was Ava’s birthday a few months ago. Long enough, the air freshener in your room had changed to the scent you loved during springtime. So it was time to rotate out a few items of clothing you wore. 

Your eyes lingered on the picture of your volleyball team wearing matching homemade t-shirts. A year after you died, they got together for a volleyball charity event in your name. Last you heard, two of them had become nurses, and one was on the career path to research your condition.

The following photo was of your mom holding you in her arms with a beaming grin matching yours. You hoped the move to Hawaii brought that smile back. You hoped Matthew was everything she deserved. You hoped she learnt how to live life again. 

“I miss you.” You murmured, pressing your fingers against her smiling face. 

The tears obscured your vision and the pacing form of your boyfriend when you opened the rooftop door. Your breathing gasping when his arms wrapped tight around your body.

“I am so sorry.” Wally mumbled in the crook of your neck, “Where were you? I’ve been up here for the last three days.”

“I went home.” You whispered, pressing your forehead to his chest, “I-I don’t leave often. It hurts when I leave a place I died, like the universe or some bullshit forgets this isn’t the only place I died. So it’s like I’m gonna be spit out back in my death place here before I’m in my destination.”

You barely noticed when Wally tugged you to sit in the same spot he first met and talked to you. The roof’s gravel gives the feeling of digging in your jeans; you gave up trying to explain the metaphysical world a year after your death. Instead, Wally listened as you opened up the pieces of yourself you had kept to yourself.

“I was born healthy and lived healthily for a few years before I started getting sick. It broke my parents’ hearts. By the time I was sixteen, I had spent half my life in hospitals and doctors’ offices. Promises of working treatments and possibly experimental trials.” Your gaze stared off into the distance, “It was just noise by the time I graduated. I knew my body had a couple more miles before it would give out.”

“How are you….”

“I collapsed in the gym. I was clinically dead for a minute, but it was enough for this school to be a death destination. The mall once, the hospital twice, and the talk of transplants came around. Finally, I died in my backyard. It was late, and I was alone outside.”

You vividly remembered screaming beside your corpse. Sobbing when you heard your dad break down, cradling you in his arms. Him calling you your childhood nickname and the one you heard in home videos of ‘baby girl’.

“That’s why you love the roof so much. You died watching the stars.” Wally whispered, tilting his head to kiss your temple. His fingers toying with the sweater with the volleyball team logo.

“I did.” You chuckled, “I have a little sister named Ava. She’s five now. She has minimal memories of me, but her favourite thing is bringing flowers to my grave. This past visit was daisies. My dad remarried when I was in middle school, and my mom a couple years before I died.”

“Your parents still live in Split River?”

“My dad and Riley live in my childhood home with Ava. I think they’re talking about maybe having another baby. My mom took my death the worst. Her older brother died in 1995 with his band members. My mom moved to Hawaii with her husband. Split River had too many memories for her. So when Matt was offered a job there, they left.”

“Ava.” Wally hummed, “I like that name.”

“Maddie knew me.” You offered after laying with Wally for a while in comfortable silence. His fingers draw shapes on your bare back under the sweater. His fingers briefly halted before moving again, “When you were alive, did Split River do this thing where a senior was paired with a freshman?”

“Oh yeah. I got paired up with this insanely smart guy. He went on to found this hugely popular website like that Facebook you showed me.”

“Myspace? You got paired with one of the founders?” You spoke, blinking at his grin, “Well, when I was a senior, I got paired with Maddie. Before her dad died, he worked with mine. So, I knew her at work BBQs.”

“Speaking about Maddie…do you want to re-meet her and meet my friends?”

Your eyes narrowed, “This is dues for keeping the secret.”

“Oh, 100%. Secret stays between us, but yeah, you’re definitely meeting my friends. You should check out the support group, Mr. M isn't too bad.”

Tag List:

@websterssrss

[buttl0rd]

I'm watching like a hawk for that new kid 🤲 THE BABY

ALRIGHT HERE HE IS!! lemme introduce you to the new kid 👉👉

this is carroway - he's the best 😎👽

this is gonna be a long post cause i have so much art and content to gush about. i love this kid 👇

Some fun character details:

he was originally supposed to be like the 90's movie tough bully kid but he's ended up just being a stupid asshole. he probably likes to think he's really cool and tough 💪

has 3 younger sisters, hates being outnumbered by girls

huge foodie and finishes whatever you don't eat. not fussy at all

always leaving his mittens outside. they get all wet and gross in the snow

affectionately ripping on everyone he loves. he's a total asshole but most people know he doesn't mean half the shit he says. the real ones tolerate him 😔🤙

he doesn’t know he’s bisexual (don’t tell him, he’ll find out on his own)

Hobbies & Interests

Aliens. Carroway is a firm believer in alien life and has an immense interest in UFO sightings, alien communication and all things outer-space. He often brags to his classmates that he has been abducted and probed, and is friends with the Martians that visit South Park sometimes (do any of them believe him?). He has a telescope that he set up in his friend Dante’s treehouse which he uses to spot UFOs in the night.

FUN FACT: His probe is linked with Cartman's. It's the connection that makes it possible for OCs to exist in the same universe as canon characters.

Drums. He has a drum set in his garage on which he practices every day after school. He has exceptional rhythm and is very talented. He keeps drumsticks in his backpack just in case he encounters a drumset or anything he can make a beat with (tables, benches, trashcans, etc.) Neighbors complain to his parents about the noise, so his garage is sound-proofed to the best of Mr. Carroway’s ability. 

Snowboarding. Carroway goes snowboarding every few weeks. His family do snowboarding trips and he LOVES it. He also skateboards and rides his bike when he’s not up in the mountains, kid just likes to go fast. He dreams of being a professional snowboarder when he’s older.

TFBW: Boarderline

Boarder is a special flying support unit, part of Coon & Friends. He delivers high-impact quick attacks with his hoverboard and can heal/cure status conditions with his awesome space beams. As a speedster he utilizes the whole battlefield and is constantly moving, making him difficult to hit.

Origins:

He was a human that got abducted and genetically modified by Martians to serve and protect the alien race. After battling in many galactic wars he returned to his home in Colorado. His abilities were noticed by the superhero organization, Coon & Friends and Boarder was recruited to join their alliance. He provides support to Coon & Friends in battle.

Design:

Inspired by the gear he wears when he goes snowboarding.

His superhero costume consists of a white bodysuit with black tape accents and a big old metal zip. There's reflective blue strips on the gloves, boots and around the edge of his signature spaceboard. He's got these iconic space goggles that protect his face when he’s flying at the speed of light.

His name is a play on words - board (from his hoverboard) and borderline (being only just good enough for Coon & Friends). Allies call him Boarder for short.

SOT: Skullrogue

Skullrogue is Carroway’s Stick of Truth character.

He is a rogue-class unit and is quick and sneaky on the battlefield. He has a long black hooded cloak and a skull mask. His main weapon is a pair of daggers that are enchanted with flame magic. He cannot use magic himself but he is proficient with weapons, especially the daggers. He throws them and uses them to stab enemies in the back.

Skullrogue has an undisclosed edgy backstory, like any rogue player. He is mysterious and broody and so cool. He is loyal to the Wizard King and thinks Princess Kenny is hot.

Post-COVID

As a young adult, Carroway becomes a professional snowboarder and competes nationally in competitions. He becomes famous and earns a lot of money from his career, travelling the world for competitions. He makes it all the way to the Winter Olympics, representing the USA in the snowboarding category

After a career-ending injury in his mid-30's, he had to retire from snowboarding early and now lives off his sponsors and used-to-be-a-big-shot money. Despite being wealthy, he moved back to South Park and lives in a trailer (it’s easier than having a huge house). 

He sometimes needs a walking aid to get around and is medicated for chronic back pain.

He was too busy with his career to find love when he was younger, so he stays single and lonely in his 40s. He still goes out and does sport events, commentaries and sponsorships - he remains famous even though he cannot compete anymore. He’s like a living legend in the winter sports community. 

I'm still working on a PCOV design for him so stay tuned for that...

Anyway that's it for now!! I hope you love him 😘

[chacerider]

due to undisclosed reasons i was legally obligated to draw mr. dentman's archnemesis as well

[tedwardremus]

Love in Secret: The Secret Wedding Everyone's Talking About

By Rita Skeeter

The Vanquisher of Voldemort, Harry Potter, and his Hogwarts sweetheart, Ginny Weasley, have secretly eloped!

Mr Potter, hero of the Second Wizarding War now a celebrated Auror, and Ms Weasley, a star Quidditch player for the Holyhead Harpies, have long been a favorite couple among fans. Their popularity endured even through persistent rumors that Ms Weasley used love potions to secure her longtime relationship to the famous wizard.

Ginny Weasley, the youngest daughter of the famously large and somewhat eccentric Weasley family, has always had her eyes set on Harry Potter. Friends from their Hogwarts days recall a shy young girl with a crush that bordered on obsessive. But could this infatuation have driven her to take more sinister measures?

Anonymous sources from the Ministry of Magic have hinted at an investigation into the matter. “It’s not uncommon for witches to resort to such measures when their affections are unreturned,” said one insider. “And with Harry Potter’s fame and fortune, who could blame her?”

When reached for comment, Ron Weasley, Ms Weasley's brother and Mr. Potter’s wartime sidekick, told this reporter to perform a vulgar sexual act on oneself that is too crude to write in this prestigious paper.

Despite their high-profile lives, the couple has always sought to keep certain aspects of their relationship private. Their decision to elope reflects their desire to cherish their love away from the prying eyes of the public.

The newlyweds have yet to make an official statement, but sources indicate they are currently enjoying a romantic honeymoon at an undisclosed location.

[darlingshane]

Professor Castle III

Frank Castle x F!Reader

Summary: You wear Frank down until he lets you give him a BJ.

CW: 18+. Explicit, Smut, Undisclosed Age Gap (reader is 20+), Professor/Student relationship, BJ, crack, established relationship.

Word Count: 2.1k

— Links: First Part // Second Part // Frank Masterlist // AO3

When your eyes grow tired from staring at your laptop's screen, you peek above the edge of the monitor to get a glimpse of Frank. He's working on his desk, tucked in the corner of his living room by the window, while you lounge on his couch going over your assignment once more.

Frank doesn’t usually invite you home during week days, but today he’s made an exception. You don’t get to see each other as often now that the end of the final semester approaches, so he’s agreed to have you over a couple of nights a week out of your usual weekend visits. It’s nice to see him like this, even though you have to get up earlier to get to campus in the morning, it’s worth it. You’re not sure yet how much you’ll be able to see him during summer so you have to take any chance you can get to be with him for a little longer.

His sharp focus is on the stack of papers he's grading. There's nothing that can disrupt his concentration. Not even the loud noises from the construction site across the street bothers him. That kind of discipline must be something he took from his marine days, you’ve gathered. There’s only one thing that could make him lose that determination and that weapon is you. You’ve learned to wield it wisely, though he still tries to resist it sometimes.

Unlike him, you're easily distracted and find yourself half the time watching him instead of working on your paper. Your mind is quick to forget about anything that doesn't involve picturing Frank bending you over his desk and giving you a good pounding. Not even Mr. Clean could get rid of the filthiest thoughts that rouse when he rolls his sleeve, baring the tout veins of his forearms. This is probably the only downside of being near him, all you want to do is fuck, cause you barely get the chance anymore. But you're trying to control that impulse cause you want him to see that this relationship is more than fucking for you, which is it. That doesn't mean that you desire him less. Au contraire. Ever since you told each other I love you, it's made you want him even more. And the secrecy of it all makes it a hundred times hotter.

It’s a miracle you've made it past the two-hour mark without touching him when all you’ve been thinking about since you got here is jumping his bones since you got here.

You quickly go over your paper one last time and when your eyes finally refuse to go back to it, like a moth to a flame, you quietly bat your wings and stand up from the couch.

You try to pad quietly in his direction but one of the floorboards creaks, giving you away.

“Sh, don’t even think about it. Sit back down.” He warns without looking at you. “I told you I had a lot of work to do today.”

“What? I was just going to get a soda.” Changing the course of your steps to mask your intentions, you head to the kitchen to grab a drink from the fridge.

Well-aware of your tactics, Frank scoffs and briefly gazes at you as you take a long sip of your coke. He fixes his glasses on the bridge of his nose, and twirls the pen between his fingers before bringing his mind back to his task.

“I thought your TA was supposed to help you with those.” You lean on the arm of the couch.

“He’s sick.”

“C’mon. Take a break. It’s not like they’re due tomorrow, are they?”

“No, but I like having a head start. And it’s Tuesday, this is what I do on Tuesdays.”

He's a creature of habit, and you love that about him. But sometimes it's fun to mess with him and see if you can get him to lower his defenses enough to break his patterns. You usually get your way in the morning when his alarm goes off. You just wrap yourself around him and beg him to stay a few more minutes cuddling with you. Being the weakness of a man of his magnitude is something to be proud of.

“It's good to change your habits once in a while, you know?”

“You being here is already a pretty significant change in my habits, don't you think?”

“I guess it is.”

“So what's the problem, sweetheart?”

“Nothing. I just… I can't concentrate anymore.” You rub your thumb and index on your eyes. “I think I’m getting a tension headache.”

“Well, you should go see a doctor.”

You take another swallow of your drink and place the can down. Then, you bite your lip and go back to your initial plan. You get down to your knees and crawl the short distance to Frank's desk and place your head on his thigh, staring up at him.

“Please. I wanna play, Professor.” Your begging is only mildly annoying to him.

“You're being a fucking brat today, you know that?”

You can see his brow knitting behind the frame of his glasses, but you don’t back down.

“What are you gonna do about it?”

“I'm gonna let you sit there on your knees. See how long you can last once they start hurting.”

“So you do have a thing for punishment. Is that why they called you the punisher in the marines?”

“You don’t wanna find out.” His lips curve up ever so playfully into a grin.

Oh, but I do wanna find out.

Instead of saying that, you open your mouth and take a bite of his thigh over his pants.

“Jesus Christ, what's gotten into you today? Why are you so needy?” He almost jumps out of his chair when you clamp your teeth harder over the fabric.

“I'm needy cause I want you, Frank. Don't you want me back?” Your palm slides up his thigh, but Frank quickly catches it before it goes up too far up his groin.

“Of course I want you, sweetheart. More than anything in the world. But I gotta finish here first. Can you wait until I'm done?”

“You just want me to beg, don't you? Please? I'll do whatever you want. Would you let me?”

Your relentless pleads drag your lips farther up his leg. You're aware you're pushing his buttons more than you should, but there are times that you can't really help yourself, like now.

“Sweetheart…”

Frank huffs low, losing energy by the second to deny you. His chair finally swivels a few degrees so he’s facing. He puts his pen down and stares at you, letting you supplicate some more.

“Please. Let me be your DA.”

“You wanna be my TA?”

“No. I said D—A,” you accentuate the D. “As in your dick assistant.”

“You're out of your mind.” He laughs, shaking his head.

“I'm just crazy for you,” you sigh, pillowing your cheek on his thigh again.

“God, don't look at me like that. You know I can't say no to that face.”

“Please,” you repeat, batting your lashes. “Let me take care of you, Professor.”

“You're going to be the end of me,” Frank says, defeated by your perseverance.

“I know.”

“Have you finished your paper?”

“I have.”

He drags a hand down his chin, accepting that he cannot ever resist you or say no to you for that matter.

“Okay, go ahead, sweetheart.”

As he hangs his head back for a beat, you straighten up and sit on your haunches, sending both your hands to undo his belt and fly.

Frank takes off his glasses, puts them down on the desk, and rubs his fingers on his eyes as you palm his crotch over his underwear.

His focus is now solely on you and your adamant hand that takes only a few seconds to incite his erection. He extends his fingers to hold your chin as his head dips forward to press a handful of kisses on your lips while he grows harder in the curl of your fist.

“Relax, baby. I got you,” you purr as you peel back his boxers to take a good look at his beautiful cock in all its hard perfection.

Frank stares at you as his eyes grow a shade darker when you stick out your tongue and slowly draw a line from the base of his cock up his shaft. His hardness automatically flexes on your palm as you reach that swollen, pink helmet adorning his erection. The tip of your tongue swirls around the flare of his glans, wetting it with your spit. You gather some more saliva in your mouth and let a dollop drop between your lips to have some more lubrication. It mixes with the sudden drops of precum that come out of his slit.

Staring right back up at him, you take a firm grip at the base and wrap your lips around the tip. You give a little suction, smacking your lips against his skin, making him squirm in his chair. You draw a smile before bowing your head forward to take a mouthful of him. It doesn’t fully fit without you gagging so you mind your eagerness as you move your head back and forth. Your hand tightens at the base, giving him that sweet pressure that earns you a good grunt out of him.

“Fuck,” Frank's eyes flutter shut as you up the pace going up and down his shaft, sucking harder and faster around his now-raging erection, providing those obscene sounds of your vicious blowing. Growing hungry for more, you take him a little further inside until his tip touches the back of your throat.

You hum, moan and eagerly devour him, basking in his arousal that stirs your own. The bitter taste of him makes you wet all the same. You press your thighs together, feeling the dampness of your folds, as one of Frank’s hands lands at the back of your head. He doesn’t push your head down but only grips your hair, letting you take him near the edge at your own rhythm.

Wrapped around your lips, he loses the ability to breathe properly or talk in anything other than curse words. You can tell he's about to pop like a cork on a champagne bottle by the way he throbs on your tongue while his hips start thrusting against your mouth.

Sealing your lips tighter around the head, you grip a little harder on the base and pump with passion until he inevitably explodes, forcing his essence to coat the depths of your mouth. It’s hot and messy, but you swallow every drop of it.

“Goddamn, sweetheart,” he barely mumbles under his breath as you pull your head back and clean your lips.

His head lolls back as you carefully climb onto his lap, watching proudly the mess you’ve made of him.

Cupping his jaw in one palm, you pepper his cheek with kisses as he comes back to his senses under your sweet care. His breathing slowly evens out as your fingers slide over his neck and around his nape to comb his hair.

“How did I do, Professor?” You ask against his ear before lightly sucking his lobe.

Frank clears his throat, planting one hand on your thigh as his opposite arm curls around you.

“Hm.” His eyes tiredly open to look at you. “Think that was a solid B work.”

“What? Are you fucking with me?” You feign offense. “That was clearly an A+ work.”

“Tsk, it was kinda sloppy.”

“It's a blow job. It's supposed to be sloppy.”

You both break into laughter for a moment as Frank regains enough energy to hold your face.

“C'mere, baby.” Reveling in that afterglow, he pulls your head closer so he can capture your lips. His lips bounce gently a few times against yours before swiping a thumb across your bottom lip.

“See? I knew you needed a little break.”

“You always know what's best for me, sweetheart. I might take your offer and hire you as my new D—A.” He snorts, echoing your joke.

“Yeah? What would I get in return?”

“Anything that you want.”

Your forehead touches his as you say under a breath, “I just want you, Frank.”

He smiles softly, licking his lips and smoothing his hand on your denim-clad thigh before gently giving it a squeeze.

“I'm all yours,” he utters intensely before melding his lips with yours in a passionate kiss that fills you with warmth and love.

[rwby-encrusted-blog]

Upper Crust

"Miss Nikos, I would assume you'd know how to wield a knife better."

Pyrrha was straight up not having a good time.

Learning Who the Arcs were was terrifying. Being in their house nearly made her heart stop.

Having Prismeya Arc, Mama Arc, the Mother of Malfortune, The Matri-Arc stand over her as she tried and failed to slice onions to caramelize them almost made her forget her own name.

"Although ... If all goes well you won't need to worry~ Jaune is quite the cook if you give him time to prepare~"

Pyrrha couldn't tell what was and wasn't a threat. She was shaking so bad she nearly cut herself with the knife three times over.

If she hadn't use the bathroom before this she likely would have peed herself.

And Prismeya simply sat there, watching. Judging. Calculating. Eyes half shut, a sharp smile other lips, swirling a rich, dark red wine in a beautiful glass.

Like a cat playing with a mouse, though Pyrrha would more liken it to a Lioness and the runt of a litter of mice.

One wrong move and her life would be over. Was the Prosthetic-Gun Rumor true? Or the Retractable Claw in place of her nails? DID SHE TRULY CONSUME THE SOULS OF THOSE SHE ENDED?

But Prismeya was simply ... Putting unneeded pressure on her. Pyrrha had wanted to kill Jaune at one point so ... Scare for a scare. Just a little bit of Schadenfreude.

The oven tim-

"AH!"

*Ahem*

The oven timer dinged, startling Pyrrha.

"Ah! The Pie is ready, I'll get that Dear~" Mama Arc lilted as she grabbed a set of Pot holders from a lovely wicker basket on a counter.

Then the Doorbe-

"AAAH!"

*A-HEM*

The Doorbell rang, startling Pyrrha greatly. Truly, there was little that could shoot her nerves any more than they already had been.

"Pyrrha, be dear and get the door~"

Mama Arc's sang out to the poor girl, who hopped straight into action and any reason to escape the kitchen. She raced to the foyer and threw the door open to reveal the new guest.

In the doorway stood a middle aged man, tired, red eyes piercing into her. His feathery salt-and-pepper hair stuck out in sloppy, odd ways, and a red cape hung off his back.

Pyrrha froze, her blood curdling in her veins.

No one made it alone in this life, and no one got to stab someone in the back without finding a knife in theirs at some point, I less you well and truly disappeared.

And the man before her was near godly at doing so.

If it weren't for the sound of her heartbeat skyrocketing in her ears, Pyrrha would've thought she was dreaming.

A hitman, a hunter, an intelligence broker, a heartbreaker, a bandit, a government officer, a cleaner, A Legend.

An Omen.

"Hey you " The smell of alcohol was strong on his breath. "Is Prismeya Arc home? I got some stuff to talk to her about."

Pyrrha hit the ground with a solid 'thunk.'

~~~~~

Jaune replaced the ice-pack on Pyrrha's head, the poor girl running a fever. She conked out when Mr. Branwen had come over, leaving his sisters to finish dinner while Jaune handled his bodyguard.

The news played in the background, Jaune listening in on some very important information.

"This is Lisa Lavender being you the biggest news of the night! Jacques and Willow Schnee have both been arrested on the grounds of Ties to Organized crime, including Gang Violence, Drug Trafficking, and Faunus Trafficking. While there is strong evidence, a deeper investigation will take place. Their children are being moved to an undisclosed, safe location for the time being. We here at the Vale News Network will do our best to keep you Updated as the story develops and information comes to light."

@novankenn for archiving.

[melanodis]

she just woke up and william is yapping to her already about to give her their first anniversary gift

[silvertongues-emeraldlies]

Let's Play Pretend [Bucky Barnes x Avengers!Reader]

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Mentions of blood, fighting, weapons (Imk if I missed any)

Summary: A mission entitles you and Bucky to act as a married couple. Maybe you should've said no to Steve when he assigned you to this mission...But what if a mission gone wrong has a happy ending?

———

The Quinjet hummed steadily as it cut through the evening sky, heading towards an undisclosed location deep in Eastern Europe. You were seated beside Bucky Barnes, the man who had once been your everything. His gaze was fixed on the window, staring out at the endless stretch of clouds, while you pretended to study the mission files on your lap. But no matter how much you tried to focus, your thoughts kept drifting to him.

Bucky had changed so much since the last time you’d seen him. His long hair had been cut short, reminiscent of how it looked back in the 1940s. He was more at ease now with his metal arm, no longer flinching away when people noticed it. But there were still shadows in his eyes, remnants of the man he used to be and the horrors he had endured as the Winter Soldier.

It was hard not to fall for him all over again, especially when memories of your time together kept resurfacing. You and Bucky had been inseparable once, partners in life and in battle. He had proposed to you just a month before everything went to hell. You still remembered that day vividly—the ring, the garden, the way the sun had glinted off the roses as he’d knelt before you with a nervous smile.

But 1945 had shattered your world. Just weeks after his proposal, you received the devastating news of Bucky’s fall from the train during a mission. For years, you had believed him to be dead, mourning the life you never got to share with him. But fate had brought him back, though not in the way you had hoped. The man who had returned was not the Bucky you had known, but a shadow of himself—haunted, broken, and with no memory of the life you had once shared. Now, Steve had asked you to go on this mission with Bucky, posing as a married couple to infiltrate a high-profile gala. It was supposed to be just another assignment, but the thought of pretending to be Bucky’s wife, even for a mission, felt like playing with fire. You weren’t sure if your heart could handle it.

The sound of Bucky’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “You okay?” he asked, his eyes flicking over to you.

You forced a smile and nodded. “Yeah, just going over the mission details.”

He didn’t press further, though you could tell he wasn’t entirely convinced. Bucky had always been perceptive, even back then. You wondered if some part of him still recognized you, still remembered the connection you once had. But as he turned back to the window, his expression unreadable, you knew that whatever memories he had were buried deep, locked away by the trauma of his past.

You sighed, turning your attention back to the mission file. Your cover story was simple enough: Mr. and Mrs. Jameson, a wealthy couple interested in investing in arms deals. Your target was a notorious arms dealer named Viktor Ivanov, who was suspected of selling advanced weaponry to terrorist organizations. Your mission was to gather intel and extract Ivanov without blowing your cover. But as you skimmed through the details, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this mission was going to be more complicated than it seemed. Pretending to be Bucky’s wife was one thing, but the emotions it stirred up within you were something else entirely.

As the Quinjet began its descent, you took a deep breath and steeled yourself for what was to come. This was just a mission, you reminded yourself. Just another undercover operation. But as you glanced over at Bucky one last time, you couldn’t help but wonder if it would turn out to be much more than that.

The mansion where the gala was being held was an opulent estate nestled in the heart of a secluded valley. It was the kind of place where the rich and powerful gathered to make deals, exchange secrets, and flaunt their wealth. The grand entrance was flanked by stone pillars, and the sounds of classical music drifted out from the open doors as you and Bucky approached. You adjusted the strap of your dress, reminding yourself to stay in character. This wasn’t the first time you had gone undercover, but it was the first time you had to pretend to be married to the man you had once loved. The man who no longer remembered you.

As you reached the entrance, Bucky offered you his arm, and you looped yours through it, your heart skipping a beat at the contact. He was warm, solid, and for a brief moment, it felt like old times. But then the reality of the situation hit you, and you forced yourself to stay focused. The grand ballroom was already filled with guests, all dressed in their finest attire. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the room, while waiters moved gracefully between the guests, offering champagne and hors d'oeuvres. You and Bucky blended in seamlessly, smiling and nodding at the right people, making small talk as you maneuvered through the crowd.

“I’ll handle the extraction,” Bucky murmured in your ear, his voice low and steady. “You focus on getting close to Ivanov.”

You nodded, grateful for his calm demeanor. No matter what had happened to him, Bucky was still a soldier at heart, always focused on the mission. It was one of the things you had admired most about him.

As you scanned the room, your eyes landed on Viktor Ivanov, standing near the back of the ballroom, surrounded by a small group of people. He was a tall man with a stern expression, his graying hair slicked back neatly. He exuded an air of authority, and you could see why he was considered one of the most dangerous arms dealers in the world. Taking a deep breath, you slipped away from Bucky and made your way towards Ivanov, ready to play your part. But as you approached him, you couldn’t help but glance back at Bucky. He was watching you, his blue eyes intense as he gave you a small nod of encouragement.

You turned your attention back to Ivanov, plastering on a charming smile as you introduced yourself. “Mr. Ivanov, I’ve heard so much about you. My husband and I are very interested in your work.”

Ivanov raised an eyebrow, his gaze sweeping over you with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. “Is that so? And what exactly is it that interests you?”

You took a sip of your champagne, leaning in slightly as you lowered your voice. “We’ve been looking to expand our investments, particularly in the field of advanced weaponry. We’ve heard that you’re the man to talk to if we want to get in on the ground floor.”

Ivanov’s expression remained guarded, but you could see a flicker of interest in his eyes. “Perhaps we can discuss this further,” he said, gesturing towards a quieter corner of the room.

You followed him, keeping your smile in place as you began to weave the tale you and Bucky had rehearsed earlier. It was all going smoothly until Ivanov suddenly paused, his eyes narrowing as he looked over your shoulder.

“Is that your husband?” he asked, nodding towards Bucky, who was standing near the bar, casually watching the room.

You felt a pang of anxiety, but you kept your composure, nodding with a smile. “Yes, that’s him. Why do you ask?”

Ivanov’s gaze lingered on Bucky for a moment longer before he turned back to you. “I recognize him,” he said slowly, his tone laced with suspicion. “He looks familiar.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you forced yourself to stay calm. “He’s a well-known investor,” you said smoothly, trying to steer the conversation away from Bucky. “Perhaps you’ve seen him at another event.”

Ivanov didn’t seem convinced, but before he could press further, one of his associates approached, whispering something in his ear. Ivanov nodded, then turned back to you with a polite smile. “If you’ll excuse me, Mrs. Jameson, I have some business to attend to. Perhaps we can continue our conversation later.”

You returned his smile, nodding as you watched him walk away. Once he was out of sight, you made your way back to Bucky, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Ivanov recognized you,” you whispered as you reached his side. “He didn’t say anything outright, but I think he’s suspicious.”

Bucky’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening. “We need to move fast,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “If he figures out who I am, the mission could be compromised.”

You nodded, your mind racing as you tried to come up with a plan. The mission was quickly becoming more complicated than you had anticipated, and you couldn’t afford to make any mistakes. Not when so much was at stake.

As you and Bucky strategized, the tension between you began to build. The close proximity, the shared mission, the memories of the past—it was all becoming too much to handle. But there was no time to dwell on it. You had a job to do, and you needed to stay focused. But even as you tried to push your feelings aside, you couldn’t help but hope that this mission might be the catalyst that would help Bucky remember the past—and the love you had once shared.

The extraction point was a secluded terrace on the east side of the mansion, far from the prying eyes of the other guests. The night air was cool, a stark contrast to the warmth and noise of the ballroom. The terrace was adorned with twinkling fairy lights, casting a soft glow over the stone floor. It would have been romantic under different circumstances, but tonight, it was simply another part of the mission.

As you and Bucky made your way to the terrace, the tension between you was palpable. The weight of the mission, the memories, and the unresolved emotions between you felt like a ticking time bomb, ready to explode at any moment. Bucky immediately began scanning the area for threats, his soldier instincts kicking in as he assessed the situation. You stayed close to him, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to stay focused on the task at hand. But as the minutes ticked by, it became harder and harder to ignore the emotions bubbling just beneath the surface.

The memories of your time together, the love you had shared, and the pain of losing him—it was all coming back to you with a force you hadn’t expected. You had spent so long trying to bury those memories, to move on with your life, but being this close to him again was bringing everything to the surface.

“Bucky,” you said quietly, your voice trembling slightly as you looked at him. He was standing a few feet away, his eyes scanning the horizon, but at the sound of your voice, he turned to you, his expression softening.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice low and filled with that familiar warmth you had missed so much.

“Do you ever wonder what things could have been like?” you asked, unable to keep the words from spilling out.

He frowned slightly, not quite understanding what you were getting at. “What do you mean?”

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you were about to say. “If things had been different. If you hadn’t... if you hadn’t fallen. If you hadn’t become the Winter Soldier.”

Bucky’s expression darkened, and you could see the pain and regret in his eyes. “I try not to think about it,” he admitted, his voice heavy with emotion. “It doesn’t do any good. What’s done is done.”

You nodded, though your heart ached at his words. “But what if you could remember? What if you could have that life back?”

He shook his head, his gaze dropping to the ground. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I even want to remember.” The silence between you was deafening, filled with all the things that had been left unsaid for so long. You wanted to tell him the truth, to remind him of the life you had once shared, but you were afraid—afraid of how he would react, afraid that it would only cause him more pain.

Before you could say anything else, Bucky’s comm unit crackled to life, and Steve’s voice came through, tense and urgent. “Barnes, Y/N, we’ve got a problem. Ivanov’s men are on to you. Get out of there, now.”

Bucky’s demeanor instantly shifted, his soldier instincts taking over. “Copy that,” he replied, his voice steady as he turned to you. “We need to move. Now.”

You nodded, your heart racing as you prepared to follow him. But as you turned to leave the terrace, something caught your eye—Volkov, standing at the edge of the terrace, watching you with a cold, calculating gaze.

Your blood ran cold as you realized he had been listening to your conversation. He knew who you were—who Bucky was.

Without thinking, you grabbed Bucky’s arm, pulling him back just as a gunshot rang out, the bullet narrowly missing him and hitting the wall behind him instead.

“Volkov!” Bucky snarled, his metal arm snapping up to deflect another shot as he pushed you behind him.

You drew your own weapon, your heart pounding as you prepared to defend yourself. Volkov’s men appeared from the shadows, surrounding you both. It was clear that they had planned this ambush, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

“Stay behind me,” Bucky ordered, his voice firm as he prepared to take on the attackers.

But you weren’t about to let him face them alone. You were a super soldier too, after all. You stepped up beside him, your eyes locking with his for a brief moment. There was no time for explanations—only action.

The fight that followed was brutal and chaotic, with bullets flying and fists clashing. You and Bucky moved in perfect sync, years of training and instinct guiding your every move. But as you fought, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to go terribly wrong. And then, just as you took down one of the attackers, you heard a cry of pain. You turned to see Bucky stumble, a knife buried in his side. Your heart dropped as you watched him fall to his knees, blood pouring from the wound.

“Bucky!” you screamed, rushing to his side as you took out the last of the attackers. Your hands shook as you tried to stem the bleeding, panic setting in as you realized how serious the wound was.

“Doll...” Bucky gasped, his eyes glazed with pain. “Get out of here…leave me…”

“Don’t you dare let go right now.” you said, your voice trembling as you pressed harder on the wound. “You’re going to be okay. We’re getting out of here. I’m not leaving you.” But even as you said the words, you knew they were a lie. The wound was too deep, the blood loss too severe. Bucky was fading, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

“Steve, we need immediate extraction!” you shouted into your comm unit, your voice choked with desperation.

Within moments, the Quinjet landed on the terrace, and medics rushed out to assist. Bucky was carefully lifted onto a stretcher and loaded onto the aircraft. You followed closely, your heart pounding as you watched the medics work on him.

JARVIS took over the medical procedures with clinical efficiency. “Initiating emergency medical protocols,” JARVIS announced, his voice calm and reassuring. “Beginning first aid.”

You watched anxiously as JARVIS administered pain relief and stabilized Bucky’s condition. The journey back to the Avengers Tower was a blur, filled with the hum of the jet and the steady beeping of the medical equipment. You sat by Bucky’s side, your hand clutching his, willing him to hold on.

When the Quinjet finally touched down at Avengers Tower, the medical team was ready and waiting. Bucky was swiftly transferred to the on-site medical bay, where he was placed under the care of the best doctors and advanced technology available. Almost a whole night he was in surgery and Steve had to basically drag you away to take a shower and rest before he woke. As soon as you woke, you were by his side, barely moving from the chair next to his bed. You had been told that the anesthesia might trigger something in him but it was necessary during the surgery. The hours turned into days, and gradually, Bucky’s condition improved. The doctors were optimistic, though they warned that his recovery would be long, but every small sign of progress brought hope, and you clung to that hope with everything you had.

During his coma, Bucky’s memory slowly began to return. He would have brief flashes of the past in his dreams, moments that seemed familiar but elusive. You remained by his side, understanding that it would take time for him to come to and even longer for him to piece together his memories but it was alright. One evening, as you returned from getting some food, to please Steve, Bucky had awakened.

“James,” You froze at the door, breath catching in your throat as you rush to his side. “You’re…you’re awake.” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you scanned his face.

“Hey.” He softly responded, eyes fluttering at your touch. There was something in his eyes that you couldn’t quite explain.

“How do you feel?”

“Better…” Bucky looks away for a moment. “Only my fiancée called me that.”

Your breath hitches, mouth falling open slightly as you pull away from him. “You remember?”

“Bits and pieces…I’m so sorry.” He breathes out, taking your hand in his. “I’m so sorry I can’t remember it all. I just- I know I love you.”

You softly smile, tears pricking at your eyes. “It’s okay. We’ll get through this together. One step at a time. I love you too, James.”

His gaze met yours, and for the first time since the mission, you saw a glimmer of the man you had once loved. The connection between you was undeniable, even if the full memories were still out of reach.

Over the following weeks, Bucky’s recovery continued, and with it, his memories started to fall into place. There were moments of clarity, where he would recall shared memories with you, and moments of frustration, where he struggled to piece together the gaps. But through it all, he was determined to rediscover the life he had lost. As Bucky’s memories continued to return, so did the bond between you. The journey wasn’t easy, but the love you had shared was worth fighting for. And as Bucky took each step towards healing, you were there with him, supporting him every step of the way. In time, the pain of the past began to fade, replaced by the promise of a future together. Bucky and you had been given a second chance, and this time, you were determined to make the most of it.

[gethesemane]

Happy late Halloween from the Amazing Mr. Fell And Harry the Rabbit! Aziraphale got his costume in a undisclosed shop in Soho. While he couldn't possibly comment on the name of the establishment, he CAN tell you that he had a lovely chat with Ms. Sandwich while they were both waiting to pick up their orders.