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slytherinslut0 · 1 day ago

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quiet reckoning. chapter one

summary: mattheo comes to visit. it’s strange, being twenty five and still seeing your childhood in his eyes.

warnings: just a ton of fucking angst. complicated, self destructive mattheo who’s finally coming to terms with how he pushed you away when you were younger simply because he couldn’t stand being second to tom in your eyes. the acceptance doesn’t make it hurt any less. get the tissues. cry with me please.

masterlist & other chapters.

Life these days holds a strange, silent kind of peace, interrupted only by the faint sound of water rushing over stone—the creek that runs quick along the forest edge. In your early summer afternoons, the trees form a leafy wall of emerald and ochre, and they sway with the breeze that brushes the hair back from your cheeks.

You sit cross-legged in the dirt, hands buried in soil as you pull vegetables out of your garden in prep for the approaching cold months. You love how earth has its own signature scent: damp, fertile, alive. Somehow it makes you think of Tom—his manor, with its towering windows overlooking manicured grounds, its own gardens sprawling wide. His manor with its grand, sweeping staircases, polished black floors.

Everything was pristine, almost oppressively so. Even the walls seemed haughty, disdainful of the cobwebs that clung to the corners.

Tom had never let you stay long enough to tend to those.

But his gardens—those had their own softness, a quiet beauty that only fully revealed itself after dusk when the moonlight cast everything in silver. I loved you there, you reminisce, and the ache has a name in memory—longing. I wish I could have loved you there longer.

And now you're here, a few years after Tom told you never to come back to him—here where the ache feels smaller, further away. Here where there’s no temptation, where the air smells of earth and moss and freedom, and the silence holds its own kind of comfort. Mattheo visits sometimes, wandering into the quiet when your absence grows too thick, when too many of his owls have gone unanswered.

"He'll visit soon." He always tells you. You start to hate how much he lies to you.

"Don't pretend," you said once, and his mouth stretched into a thin, humourless smile.

"Alright," he replied. "I won't."

So now, when he comes to visit, he doesn't say it—he just sits next to you. He doesn't talk much. Neither do you. Life here is quiet—few neighbours, even fewer visitors. A woman brings you pastries from time to time and the town grocer knows your name, but most days you pass unbothered. You tend the garden when the days are warm, work on the cottage when it's cold.

When it's raining you read books and pretend they're not the same kind Tom used to keep.

On a day in early October, Mattheo sits next to you on the porch and you hate that you notice how he doesn't look at you the same way Tom did. It's something lighter, something less cloying. Sometimes you think of how unfair it is that he can taunt you silently like this—how he can remind you of the chocolate streaks in Tom's inky hair, the depth in his dark eyes. How he can remind you that he holds all the same features as his brother, just without the weight.

As the sun sinks slowly through the trees, casting pink and orange across the sky, you turn your face to the creek, watching the water ripple over stones and rocks, and you think of how young you loved them—the way your love grew different when you weren't looking.

Mattheo was chaos, always had been. I could have helped him find himself. But that thought feels hollow, and it's always followed by another. If he would have let me.

"It's strange to think that this is your life." Mattheo speaks after a while of not. He lights a cigarette, and you reach for it when he passes it to you. "You could have done anything."

You inhale the smoke and close your eyes—thinking of how cigarettes taste like fire and ash and the last time Tom had taken your hand.

"Maybe this is all I ever wanted to be." You reply, spinning the cigarette between your fingers. "At peace."

He glances at you in the fading light—the way the sunset casts shadows in the hollows of your cheeks, makes the gold of your earrings look darker against your hair.

He frowns. "You don't look at peace."

No, you think, taking another drag. I never really have.

You pass the cigarette back to him, watching the smoke drift in the breeze. He doesn't say anything else, so you don't either.

Instead, you watch the dark start to close in, the sky turn into an endless stretch of indigo, stars winking to life somewhere above the trees. The fireflies come out eventually, when the night is quiet and heavy and the world turns a little sleepy. They flutter around in the trees and grass like faeries—like stars that've made their home on the ground—and Mattheo watches them with a furrow in his brow.

You wonder what he's thinking, then think better of it at the bitter twist of his mouth. He always thought they'd burn.

"Why do you still come here?" You question. He turns to you, and when his eyes meet yours that's when you realize you'd verbalized the thought. "To sit with me."

Mattheo shakes his head. "I'll need another smoke to answer that."

So he pulls out another cigarette and lights it. The first inhale is long, and the exhale makes you blink. You look away and pretend like his response doesn't make your stomach twist.

The stream moves a little darker in the moonlight and the pine trees shiver with a gentle breeze that smells like soil. You feel the comfort in it—in knowing that all of this has been here longer than you ever have, and that it'll be here long after you're gone.

Perhaps that's precisely what you chased. A home in something steady.

"I come to remind myself you're okay." He says after a long silence, staring at his hands. "Sometimes it feels like you're dead."

You blink again. He's more perceptive than you remember.

"I'm still here," you remind him, but he laughs without humour in it.

"Sure, you're there," he replies, before another pause. "But you're not really living."

He says the words casually, like they're a fact. You think they're meant to hurt. He's right—it's a thought that comes quietly, the way most unwanted thoughts do. You over look at the river, the fireflies, the dirt under your fingernails—you try to feel the chill in the October breeze, the soft moss under your feet. You try to be alive.

"Why do you think that?" You ask even when you know the answer.

He takes another drag of his cigarette, and then exhales—casting his hair grey when the smoke drifts over his face.

He looks older here, when the night stretches over him. It reminds you how much has changed.

"Sometimes I think you're here to punish yourself." He says, passing you the cigarette again. "You say you come here for peace, but this isn't peace like a person should have. It's just an absence. Silence, and isolation, and nothing else." You glance down at his hand resting on his knee beside you, shadows deepening in the lines of his palm. He watches you. "I wish you'd stop hating yourself for what he's become."

A lump forms in your throat—you remember Tom as a boy, the way he'd hold magic in his palms and make lights dance just to make you laugh. You remember the way he once looked at you, quietly and gently in a way that made you feel safe within crumbling walls offering cold stone decorum. You remember one of the last times at Hogwarts, once things took a turn, when he held more than just magic in his palms—when the lights danced only to burn you instead of make you laugh.

You wonder what it says about you, that you loved him in both.

"I don't hate myself, Matt." You mutter, more conviction than truth. "If I'm punishing myself at all, it's for giving him something to hurt."

He doesn't say anything for a while, so you think briefly that his silence is agreement. You and him both know that there is a lot to hurt about, when it comes to Tom.

"You didn't give him anything." He rebuttals with certainty. "He was who he was before you even knew his name."

It's easy to forget that sometimes, the way he had been all sharp edges even when you'd first met. The way he'd pulled you and his brother through crumbling, damp, narrow hallways with something far too assured for a six year old. Something that made you want to follow him forever—something that whispered; I'll never let anything hurt you.

You exhale a plume of smoke. The fireflies look like falling stars when you close your eyes.

"Sometimes, I think I made him human." You say, and immediately wish you didn't. It's a weird thought, but one that comes unbidden. "Others, I think I made him evil."

It tastes like acid the moment you say it aloud. I made him evil. You think back to all those nights in the quiet, the way you taught him how to confide in you, the way he looked at you as if you held some answer he couldn't find on his own. You remember the secrets he shared, the way he softened when no one else could see. You remember how long it took him to get there.

But you remember the darker moments, too—moments when you didn't pull away, even when you should have. Moments you whispered reassurances instead of warnings, when you offered comfort instead of caution. Maybe, in those silences, you fed a need that shouldn't have been nourished, let him believe his ambitions weren't dangerous, only misunderstood.

You wonder if, in being the one person who never condemned him, you gave him permission to be what he became.

"And me?" Mattheo turns to you. You glance at him, the hard line of his mouth and his eyes that look more black than brown in the night— "did you make me evil too?"

You're both quiet for a moment, the only sound is the stream, the only motion is the flutter of the fireflies.

"I don't believe I made you anything." You say finally, letting him take the cigarette back from you. "I suppose you only became who you wanted to be."

You think, quietly, that it's a kinder fate than the rest.

He huffs a laugh. "So you think I wanted to be an asshole."

He's joking, you think. Or he's bitter again, resentful. You're sure he wanted to be whatever Tom would accept him as—though you'd never say those words out loud.

"I think you wanted to be loved." Is what you settle on, and the words tear your throat apart as you speak them. "Just like I did."

He hums, noncommittally, and lights a third cigarette.

You wonder why you still know that he's bitter even when he's not saying the words—why you still know that he only hums that way when something hurts, or when it's a truth he can't bring himself to admit.

"You found it now, haven't you?" You fill his silence with another sentence you wish you didn't say. "You're engaged."

You watch the embers from the cigarette tip light up the hollows of his cheeks, the way it burns his eyes gold as he takes a drag on it.

"Yeah," he nods into the night. "I'm engaged."

Something selfish in you aches at that.

"Then why do you come here and look at me like you're lonely?" You try to ask it casually, but you don't think you manage it. You see him tense when he realizes how well you still read him. "What is it you're missing, Matt?"

"I don't know." He looks at you in the dark, his expression lost in the shadows of his hair. "Sometimes I think it's you."

It's an answer like a knife, because you've known all along that he feels the same way you do—that the loneliness stays and the regret never really dissipates—that the 'what-ifs' linger long after they shouldn't.

"I'm not your girl." You remind him.

It sounds empty when you say it, but he made it clear when you were younger that he wanted it this way.

"You never were."

He looks away after that, to the stream, and you wonder if it has ever felt hollow like this.

All the lights seem very small suddenly, the moon, the stars—you're not sure where his vulnerability is coming from, all these years in passing. You assume it’s the old saying—absence makes the heart grow fonder.

"But you wanted me to be." It's more of a question.

"For a time, when we were kids." He gives you honesty that surprises you. "Sometimes I think I still do."

Why?—you want to ask, suddenly, desperately—and wonder at the cruelty of the thought. Asking that would be the worst kind of question. Why do you want me?

You think you know all the answers already. They sit bitter at the back of your throat.

"So that's why you come here." You say instead, shivering with the wind that brushes over you. "To remind yourself of all the reasons you still feel empty."

There's a dark sort of humour to the sound he lets out, one that makes your chest ache. He turns to you again, and his hands shake when he lifts the cigarette.

"It's not you that makes me feel empty, princess." He whispers. "It's the absence of you."

You look at him, then—really look. There's something strange about being twenty five and still seeing your childhood in his eyes. Despite the nickname, he’s not joking. It’s the kind of confession that tastes like a fist, like a punch that breaks bones.

I know, you think. I wish it could have been different for us.

"You need to stop coming here." There's no spine in those words. They're putty between you. "Just like Tom told me to stop, I'm now telling you."

He's quiet, watching you as the embers of the cigarette flicker over his fingers.

"I'll stop," he pauses, and you see the pain in his throat as he swallows. "When he finally comes to you."

That, you think, will probably never happen.

"So you'll come here forever." You say, and his mouth twists in a silent, bitter smile.

"I guess I will."

You don't have a response to that. It's not a choice he makes so much as it is his reality, and you, of all people, could never fault him for that.

So instead of words, you lean to rest your head on his shoulder, same way you did when you were kids. You sit together, watching the moon and stars and the stream and the trees and everything else around you that reminds you you're alive, even if you don't feel it. You think of his fiancé, you know she'd never understand. This is childhood love in its most vulnerable form—and you thank him for it, silently, for reminding you that you're not alone. Even if you're sure you are.

He leans his head sideways, on top of yours—a gesture almost automatic.

"I still think of you in the summer." He mutters into your hair. You close your eyes and remember the sun, the way it once felt like it touched your bones. "The summer when we were nine. Swimming in the river at night. Those stupid bugs that I thought were made of fire." He pauses for a minute, looking around, and you think he's done talking, until he isn't. "I suppose I do understand why you chose this life."

You remember that summer, too. Small children swimming in a river that was all silver shadows under the moonlight, chasing fireflies like stars. No parents to call you home, no rules except the ones of your own.

Somehow, that's not your favourite memory of him.

"And I think of you in the fall." You say, listening to your own voice sounding distant. "The year just before Hogwarts. When the leaves turned red and orange and gold. When you raked them into a pile for us to jump in."

He hums. "I tried to kiss you that fall."

"And Tom fought you for it."

"And he won." Mattheo's voice sounds distant too, almost lost. "He always won."

It's strange, thinking of autumn when you think of Mattheo, but it fits—he's just as fleeting. Beautiful, easy to fall into, but always gone too soon, leaving a chill in his place.

"Sometimes I think it's because he knew he could." You build off his thoughts. "And sometimes I think it's because he just wanted to prove it."

He shrugs. "Either way, I still lost."

It's such a mournful way to reminisce, you think, for the children you used to be.

"And what now?" You ask.

He exhales slowly, and the smoke looks like a mist in front of you. "I suppose now we both lose."

And that, is the most honest thing he's said all night.

You turn your face into his shoulder, the way you had when you were younger. You close your eyes, and for a moment you imagine being a child again—back in the days when love was simple and nights were endless. Back to a time when you didn't know things you should and all you had were each other's shoulders to lean on in an orphanage dirtier than the forest before you.

"We lose together, then." You offer, a half-whisper.

"Yeah," he answers, just as quiet, just as lost. "We lose together."

There's a bitter kind of contentment in that, you think. You're sure that's a terrible thing.

You take a few moments to brace yourself for the shift in conversation, and then—

"How is he?"

"He's fine." Mattheo understands what you aren't asking. "The leader he always wanted to be."

You close your eyes again and hear the stream running steady, moving around rocks that have been shaped by years of its presence. You ignore the ache in your chest.

"He's happy?"

You don't have to open your eyes to know that Mattheo smiles bitterly. "He's as happy as someone like Tom could be."

There are several beats of silence, the kind that holds too many unsaid things. You feel it in Mattheos exhale that there's something he isn't saying. You don't press him on it. You sit together like this for a while under the sky—watching the way the dark clouds move, the stars shift.

You think about childhoods that never last. About fireflies and streams and boys you loved.

"Tell me something true." You murmur as the midnight grog sets in. "Tell me something that'll warm me through winter."

Mattheo pauses, silent, and for a moment you think he's not going to answer.

"I've loved you most of my life." He mutters finally, into the top of your head. The words feel like a breath of summer, in a quiet, dark night. "That's the kind of truth that could melt an iceberg."

It's the sort of declaration you could only share in the cover of the night, in the silence of a forest. Not the sort of admission that would ever survive daylight. I've loved you most of mine, too.

"And a lie?" You reply.

His fingertips run through his hair, almost idly. You suppose he's looking back into memories of fleeting autumn's and summer sun, the time he tried to kiss you and the day he pushed you away. He doesn't answer the question for a while. You wonder if he doesn't have an answer, or if he just doesn't want to say it.

And then, finally, quietly— "I'm happy for him."

You close your eyes again. That, you think, is the cold truth of winter.

You turn your face again into his shoulder for a second time tonight, but you keep your eyes open. You can feel the weight of your childhood on your shoulders, the trees and the creek behind you, and the silence that follows his lie.

Suddenly, you're furious—a fire tearing through regret. You wish Mattheo hadn't chosen booze, fights, and empty escapes. You wish he'd let you love him properly before pushing you away. You wish he hadn't always resented Tom—hadn't always felt second best in a way no amount of reassurance could fix. Yet somehow, you just can't fault him for any of it.

He's always known you loved Tom first; he's carried that like a wound.

"Ask me to lie to you." You say as you swallow your anger.

There's an exhale. You're sure Mattheo's watching the trees, the wind as it runs quietly past.

"Lie to me."

You tilt your head up to the sky. You try to remember that fall, you try to feel what it was like to be a child again, and to believe in a future that wasn't shaped by the past. You think of his fiancé.

"I'm happy for you." You whisper.

From the corner of your eye, you know he smiles bitterly again, but he responds with nothing more than his unsteady breathing. You're both silent like this for the rest of his stay, together under the moon that's watched you both change.

"I'll be back in a month," he mutters, just loud enough for you to hear as time stretches thin.

He has to go before the sun rises, before dawn coaxes him into staying. You consider, if only for the flicker of a second, letting him.

"I'll see you then." You lean back and look up into his eyes, searching into the gold buried deep. If you look too long, you think you may see his broken heart. You make yourself smile anyway. "Write to me."

"Even if you don't write back." He replies with a nod.

The cold air makes your eyes water. For a moment he's still, like he may pull you into him and drown you in all the things he feels. Instead, he puts a cigarette into his mouth, lighting it with one of his hands. The lighter casts an orange glow over his face that makes him look pale and tired again, like the boy you'd met in an orphanage that was so much dirtier than the forest before you.

"Good night." He murmurs, and you feel his thumb brush your cheek before he apparates back to the life you left behind.

And now, alone under the black sky, you take a deep breath. Then, you exhale, go back into your cabin and you try not to think about all the things you've lost.

You try not to think of the boy you've loved for far too large a part of your life and how it changed the boy who's loved you for far too large a part of his. You try instead to focus on what you have—walls and peace and solitude, something certain that won't disappear when it rains.

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zarathelonewolf · 3 days ago

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Some people need to write in this absence of courage though, and purely because of it, and purely FOR it.

Not to say that I don't get your point: it is a good point and I would like to see more hopeful dark stories, stories similar to what you prefer. I would prefer them too, ideally.

However sometimes people really do not have the courage to "want something better, to know that it was wrong"... Because to THEM (and I say this as someone who is similar to them to an extent, though I fight everyday to be hopeful) it does not seem like an act of courage, it seems like an act of insolence.

Why insolence? Because of a lot of things.

"How dare you (general you, not you, OP) want something better? The result of what was done for you is a negative thing that pushes you to do negative things, how dare you think that you should want something better?"

This is the insolence I speak of. The insolence they think they are culpable of. Sometimes people really do need to show the trauma "bare". They need to write out the negative voice. It's what they know and they feel isolated because people keep telling them it'll get better but they are not there yet, so they want to show their frustration. They may want to reject the idea of not taking up space, alternatively, when they show their trauma: so they show it in a gritty manner and without solution to spite the people that tell them they should just keep it all in unless they have healed, or unless they have the intention of doing so.

It may not be hopeful dark art, that's true. But that's not what dark stories HAVE TO be in order to be "good art", either. They don't want to fix something. They just want to show it. They are "vent art".

And it is needed. By people that don't have the "courage" yet, that maybe won't ever have that courage. They need to see something other than their mind crumble... something other than their body, something other than their voice, something other than their memory while it's crumbling. They need to see a story that crumbles without getting back up. That way they feel less alone, perhaps. They feel that the suffering is real and that it does not need healing to be considered suffering. Especially when others interact with the story and cry alongside them while in a similar situation.

A weird broken sort of solace so to speak.

Is it nice? No, not really. But in certain moments of people's lives it's what they need. In a twisted sense, for some people, all they will ever want to experience. It's not just insolence after all. For certain people, darkness itself is the refuge, because the world outside is too bright and a lot people want to be rid of their dark thoughts and want the victims themselves to be rid of the dark thoughts and find a solution for them, whereas these victims just CAN'T, they can't manage yet and they feel inadequate so they produce something that makes them feel like they matter for something.

Something dark and gritty and hopeless.

Art isn't good due to the fact that it expresses correct values. Art is good because it makes you feel, or merely because you feel drawn to interacting with it. Same goes for dark art. It is good dark art when it makes you feel dark stuff, whether or not it heads towards a good or bad ending.

I say this as someone who is hopeless about herself and himself and hopeful for others. Weird right? But it's how I exist. People's comfort sometimes makes me feel even lonelier. I would prefer silence and reading dark content AND hurt/comfort most of the time.

I come from a place of being pressured into healing. I want to heal on my own now, I don't trust therapists for shit. I will find my hope but not now. And dark content with hopelessness, vent art done purely for the vent and not for the healing helps me immensely because I feel my resistance to healing seen without someone telling me that I can heal because I know I CAN, I just don't want to because people have all sorts of expectations about how my healing should be, but while people can object to my healing not really being healing, they can hardly disagree that the dark stuff I write isn't dark. At least in my experience.

People have differing types of sensitivity, and not all people who are lovers love themselves. Love doesn't have to be total, not all people experience it like that. Sensitivity does not have to make you like dark hopeless stories, but it does not mean you are sensitive only if you prefer hopeful stories OR when you reject completely dark stories. People can be "lovers" and sensitive in all three of cases. So I agree about being frustrated for people saying "you're not sensitive enough" because that's not true, your sensitivity simply differs from theirs.

Vent art can be self care just as much as hopeful art. And dark content does not have to be vent art, it can also just want to make people witness gross stuff because they enjoy gross stuff being depicted for the sake of it (to make an example: people with certain laraphilias that cannot be explored safely in real life).

I am merely playing devil's advocate, with the devil being something I love: my only chance at venting without feeling pressured into a reaction. So I will concede this exposition may seem personal, almost too personal, and angry, but I tend to be passionate about the things I love.

I hope I didn't anger people with my response to this. But then again, I should take up space more often...

too much to say in a post but i re-read (partly skimmed) my manuscript of my book from a year and a half ago and it's so fucking good and also feels like a hemisphere of my brain has been returned to me. like oh yeah. my creative self. the fullness of my being. i missed you

i need to fucking talk about it but it's intimidating

#writing #dark content

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loveesiren · 22 hours ago

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Doing It All For Us (Pt. 10)

Masterlist

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: Rafe is safe for now, and their crazy kinks come out once again

Warnings: Language, fighting, smut, blood kink, pregnancy

Word Count: 4.4k+

And just like that, your world came crashing down around you.

You swallow hard, trying to comprehend what Rafe has just said to you. He's staring at you, waiting for you to say something but the words just wouldn't come.

Rafe tried to hold back tears. This was it. You were going to leave him. He was going to prison and he would lose you and his baby and everything that brought him any ounce of happiness in his life.

"Y-you...shot..."You muttered. "I-is she dead?"

"I don't know," His voice was barely above a whisper.

You squeeze your eyes shut and take a deep breath. "What happened, exactly, Rafe?" You finally managed.

"She was going to arrest my dad. S-she had the gun pointed at him. I-I had to save him, Y/N." He was crying again.

"What? Why was she arresting your dad?"

"John B said Ward killed his dad."

"What the fuck?" You whisper to yourself as you lean back against the frame of Rafe's bed, leaning your head in your hands.

You knew something had happened when Ward took John B fishing. He had come back with a gaff hook wound on his arm claiming John B attacked him. You really didn't stick around to listen to what happened. You were trying to keep your stress levels down but that obviously wasn't happening anymore.

"Where's your dad?"

"He was still at the tarmac. He told me to bring Sarah home. She saw everything..."

"Shit."

"I'm so sorry, Y/N. I fucked up. I panicked, I didn't want my dad to get hurt and I-"

"Shh, baby. I know." You tell him, pulling his face to yours. "I know."

"A-are gonna leave me?" His voice was so pitiful, cracking as he spoke. The sound broke your heart.

"No. I told you, Rafe. Forever. You and me against the world." You told him before pressing your lips to his.

He brought his hands up, tangling his fingers in your hair as he pulled you deeper into the kiss. He couldn't believe it. The fact that you were still here. Still here after he just made the biggest mistake of his life. One that could land him in a jail cell forever.

"Listen to me," You told him as you pulled away. You were way more calm than you should have been, but seeing Rafe freak out somehow helped you to keep your head on straight. "We need to talk to Ward. Find out what happened after you left the tarmac."

Rafe nods between your hands. "Okay."

"We'll figure something out, okay?"

"I-I can't lose you and our baby."

"You won't. I promise you you won't."

You and Rafe sat silently in Ward's office as you waited for him to return home. Rafe looked over old photos and awards hung up on the walls, smiling as he ran his fingers over a photo of him and his father.

You watch him sadly. The hold Ward had over him. Rafe just wanted to be accepted and the lack of love Ward had given him has now landed him in the worst possible situation.

Rafe sat down beside you with the picture.

"You look so handsome," You tell him, resting your chin on his shoulder.

He smiles at you. He always blushed when you called him handsome.

Ward walks in the room and your stomach drops. He stares at you both for a moment before sighing and closing the door. You're trying your best to remain calm but your head was flooded with anxiety. Flooded with thoughts of all the worst possible outcomes.

"Is...she alive?" Rafe asks.

Ward shakes his head.

"No?"

"No."

You clench your jaw and take in a deep breath.

"Okay," Rafe said, trying to calm himself as he could feel the anxiety return to his body. "Okay."

You place a hand on Rafe's bicep, rubbing his skin lightly to try and calm him down.

"What did you tell the cops? Are they coming here?" Rafe asks.

Ward walks to his desk, pouring himself a glass of whiskey before responding. "I told them John B did it."

"Told 'em John B did it..." Rafe repeated his father's words, pondering the idea. "That's good. Yes, that could work!"

You bit your lip as you watched Rafe start to get manic.

"Rafe. I need you to go to your room. Take a shower okay? Get cleaned up. If anyone asks, you were here all day okay? You were doing maintenance on The Druthers." Ward says, glancing to you. You nod your head in agreement.

"No. No, Rose knows I wasn't here." Rafe argued.

"I will talk to Rose."

"What-what about Sarah?" Rafe asks, standing up now.

"What about Sarah?" Ward asks.

"Sarah, listen, Sarah has a big mouth okay?"

"You're sister isn't going to do anything to hurt us."

"No, no, no you didn't see her in the car okay? She was freaking out!" Rafe argues back. You could hear the stress in his voice. "I have a suggestion-"

"Rafe! Stop it! I don't need your help. I didn't need it then and I don't need it now. I just need to think! So please, go clean up!" Ward was yelling now. You could see the pain on Rafe's face.

"You understand, right? Rafe said sadly. "You understand?"

"Understand what, Rafe?"

"Why I did it."

You sat silently, biting back tears. Ward turned to look at Rafe once again.

"You were in trouble and I was protecting you. Okay? Me, dad. Rafe. Not Sarah, okay? It was me!"

You couldn't help but cry now as you watched tears spill from his eyes. This wasn't his fault. You couldn't blame him for what he did. He was so broken.

Rafe backed away as Ward walked towards him. "Sorry," Rafe said softly, nervous of what his dad was going to do next.

Ward slowly pulled Rafe to him. "I know, come here. Come on, come on, bud."

You watched Rafe's face. He was shocked at the fact that his dad was hugging him. But he hugged him back tightly.

"Come on, bud, I'm sorry. I love you. I love you, Rafe. So much."

Rafe smiled at his dad's words. You couldn't help but watch them with sorrow in your eyes. The way his father's approval made him glow. How could Ward not see how special his son was?

"Listen, everything is going to be okay. We will figure it out." Ward promises.

You stand up and grab Rafe's hand. He wraps his arms around you tightly.

"Y/N-" Ward begins.

"Maintenance on The Druthers." You nod. "I'm all in."

Ward offers a sad smile. He's obviously upset that the three of you were now involved in this mess. But he was going to protect his son at all costs and make sure he gets the chance to be a father himself.

You and Rafe move in silence. The events of the day heavy on your mind. He pulls you into the shower with him and the two of you just stand there holding each other as you let the warm water wash away your worries.

The feeling of his skin on yours had you crying silently. You don't know what you'd do without him. He trailed the tips of his fingers over your spine and you drag your acrylics up and down his back.

Rafe moved a hand to your stomach, brushing over it softly. You didn't need to speak. Neither of you did. You could feel how much Rafe loved you and your unborn child. You clung to him tightly, reminding him you were still there. That you and Wolf were still there.

Rafe turned the shower off and wrapped you up in a towel, drying you off before he grabbed your favorite lotion and made sure he rubbed it over every inch of your body. You melted under his touch. The way his fingers traced the contours of your skin. The way he worshipped every part of your body, placing kisses all along your limbs.

He scooped you up and carried you to his bed. He went to his dresser and pulled out a shirt for you to wear. You slid it on, clutching the fabric tightly because it smelled like him.

He pulled on some boxers and climbed into bed beside you before grabbing his remote and flipping through the horror movie section.

He decided on Sinister, knowing it was one of your favorites. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. You snaked your legs between his and clung to him like a Boa Constrictor.

He ran his fingers through your wet hair as you concentrated on your movie. He never cared for horror, but he loved watching you get so focused. He worked on detangling each knot in your hair, silently praying that everything would turn out okay. He'd just murdered someone today. A cop. The Sheriff. And somehow, you were still here in his arms.

"You're with a murderer." Rafe whispered against your forehead. The guilt was starting to set in.

"I'm with Rafe Cameron." You responded. "A man that protects what he loves at all costs."

You could feel his tears fall on your face as he hugged your closer.

"Me and Wolf will always be safe with you." You reassured him. And it was true. Rafe loves with his whole heart. If he could get past your flaws you could get past his. He killed someone, yes, but to protect his father. You know he'd kill for you and his baby too.

You felt 100% safe wrapped up in Rafe's arms. Nothing would take you from him.

You woke up early. A lot earlier than Rafe. You crawled out of bed and pulled on your jeans. You placed a kiss on Rafe's forehead before sneaking out of his room, desperate for some food. The baby was hungry to say the least.

You could hear Ward and Sarah talking down the hall. You stood outside Sarah's room and listened.

"He shot her!"

"You have to pick between John B or your family!" Ward responded. "Nothing is going to happen to Rafe."

Ward walked out of her room, closing the door and locking it. He spotted you, giving you a look of concern.

"Let me out!" You could hear Sarah pound on the door.

"Why are you locking her in there?" Wheezie asked as she rounded the corner.

"Listen, there was an accident and your sister is very upset so we need to give her some time to calm down." Ward told her.

"Did something happen to the baby?" Wheezie asked, turning to you.

"No!" You told her. "The baby, is just fine, Wheeze." You smile at her. "Let's go have breakfast, yeah?" You ask her, leading her downstairs. You glance back at Ward with a warning look. Telling him he needs to get Sarah under control.

You and Wheezie sit at the kitchen table, nibbling on bacon and talking about the boys in her class.

Rafe rushes into the kitchen. He'd managed to put on sweats but no shirt. He lets out a sigh of relief when he sees you.

"Baby, where'd you go?"

"I'm having breakfast with Wheezie," You say, pulling him in for a kiss. "Baby was hungry."

He sits beside you, wrapping an arm around your stomach and the other around your neck. You offer him a piece of bacon and he takes it in one bite.

"Ew, do I have to be like you guys when I start dating?" Wheezie scoffs.

"You're not dating anyone, Wheeze." Rafe snaps.

You chuckle. "No. Never let a boy do something you're uncomfortable with."

Rafe was nuzzling into your neck now, placing wet kisses along your skin.

"Yuck," Wheezie scoffs. "I hope guys aren't like this."

"They are!" Rafe shouts as Wheezie gets up and walks away. "No boys!"

"You know, being all over me like this is gonna have her thinking all guys are like this." You scold.

"They are."

"Maybe at our age, but not at hers."

"No boys."

You roll your eyes as Rafe lays his head in your lap and wraps his arms around your waist, kissing your belly.

"Rafe, this is the kitchen," Rose scolds as she walks in the room.

Rafe groans and leans up. You laugh and go back to eating your breakfast, feeding Rafe some as well as he still keeps his hands on your stomach.

"They're looking for John B." Ward states as he walks in the kitchen. You and Rafe both look up. "There's a reward out for him. $25,000."

You smile. The island was buying it. John B killed Peterkin. Rafe was safe.

Rose knew. She knew Rafe had done it. But she'd never do anything to rat out this family. Especially since Rafe was going to be a father.

You and Rose had actually gotten quite close. She had a miscarriage at a young age. It was hard. But she was more than happy that you were pregnant and she was dead set on making sure you were eating good and taking care of yourself.

She loved her step children like her own. But Rafe was crazy, Sarah wanted to be a Pogue, and Wheezie spent a lot of time on TikTok. But you always gave Rose the time of day. You liked helping her water her flowers and discussing baby stuff and preparing dinner.

John B was almost caught the night prior when you, Rafe, and Kelce tried to smoke out the bell tower. But Topper chose to pick his undying love for Sarah and let John B and Sarah get away.

You had found Rafe outside in the morning, starting up his bike and talking to himself.

"Baby, what's going on?" You asked him, forcing him to calm down and look at you.

"Stay here, Y/N!" Rafe snapped at you before hopping on his bike and riding off.

Oh fuck no.

You ran inside and grabbed the keys to his truck. You hopped in, backing out of the driveway quickly. It wasn't long before you spotted Rafe. You slowed down, trailing behind a bit so he wouldn't notice you. You watched as he pulled into Barry's house.

"Goddammit." You muttered to yourself. You were not wanting to see Barry after what happened a month and a half ago. You were in your second trimester now. Pulling into this house gave you anxiety.

You park the truck and sigh. Finally pulling yourself out of the vehicle and heading inside.

"I'm 100% fucked man!" You heard Rafe yell.

"What the fuck is happening?" You ask as you swing open the screen door.

"Y/N," Rafe said. "Why the fuck are you here?!"

"Don't fucking snap at me, Rafe!"

Rafe shut his mouth. You scoffed and went and sat on Barry's couch.

"Look, how long do you think it's gonna take for them to find John B?" Barry asked. "And when they find him, he's gonna start snitchin'."

"You know it was John B that stole that 25k from you right?"

"Exactly my point, Country Club. The hammer's comin' down on them Pogues."

"Let's go get your fuckin' money then." You say, standing up from the couch.

"Y/N-" Rafe starts.

"Rafe, I swear to God, I will knock your ass out." Your hormones were making themselves known.

"I don't got time for you two to argue. Let's go!" Barry yells.

Rafe glances at you and you give him a stern look back before following him outside. He gives you his helmet as you climb on the back of his bike and wrap your arms tightly around him.

After riding around for a bit you stopped at an intersection as you watched a ton of cop cars drive by. "Shit, they're looking for him." You mutter.

"Yo, is that Kie?" Rafe asks as you see a familiar SUV drive past.

"There goes that lil bitch ass now!" Barry said and you all kicked off and followed Kie's car.

You all hopped off the bikes as you pulled up to an old garage. "Alright you two go around that way and I'll take 'em from over there." Barry says, directing you where to go. You nod and follow Rafe.

"Hey, there. What's goin' on? How you guys doing?" Rafe says as he enters the garage and walks towards Kiara. You stand off to the side and cross your arms, eyeing their movements as Barry holds a gun up to JJ.

God you wished you could fucking fight.

Barry took JJ down easily and you watched Rafe drag Kiara away. "It's not you we want, Kie, okay? Where's John B?"

"I don't know!" She screamed as she slapped him hard across the face.

You started forward, it took everything in you not to attack her.

"I know what you did! You murdered Peterkin!" Kiara yelled at him.

Shit. She knew. John B must have told her. You were too distracted by Kiara and Rafe to notice Pope sneak up behind you and hit you in the back of the knee with a tire iron.

You let out a loud cry as you feel to the floor, catching yourself just before your stomach made contact with the cement.

"Y/N!" Rafe yelled, but before he could get to you, Pope was hitting him.

JJ had tripped Barry, causing him to drop his gun and Kiara was quick to grab it, pointing it at you as you looked up at her from the ground.

You clenched your jaw angrily as you held your hands up in surrender.

"Don't touch her!" You could hear Rafe yell, trying to fight off Pope. "She's fucking pregnant, please! Please don't hurt her!"

Kiara's eyes went wide as she lowered the gun. "Pope, Pope! He's had enough dude!" JJ was yelling, trying to get Pope to release his grip on the cord wrapped around Rafe's neck.

"Rafe!" You cried, trying to get to your feet but the searing pain in your leg was preventing you from doing so.

"Pope, look at me!" Kiara screamed, finally getting Pope's attention as he let go of his hold on your boyfriend. "Come on, we gotta get out of here!"

You were crying now, crawling over to where Rafe was laying covered in blood. "Rafe, baby, are you okay?" You asked, holding his face in your hands.

He was breathing heavily and coughing, pulling you close to him. He clung to you, trying to catch his breath, placing a protective hand over your belly.

"I'm okay, Rafe. I promise." You tell him, cradling his head. "I'm okay."

After a few minutes, Rafe's finally able to sit up. "Where'd he hit you?" He asked.

"In the back of the leg. He didn't hit the baby. I promise." You reassure him.

"He's fucking dead."

"We'll get them, Rafe. Right now we gotta make a plan." You glance over to where Barry was picking himself up off the ground. "You good, Barry?"

"Yup!" Barry groans as he stands up and walks over to help Rafe up.

Rafe helped you up and wrapping his arm around your waist as you limped beside him, leading you out to the bikes. Rafe sat down and you wedged yourself between his legs as you looked over his injuries.

"Sheriff Peterkin, huh?" Barry laughed. "You're better than I thought, Country Club!"

You shoot daggers at Barry and he shuts up. You could tell he wanted to say some dumb shit but he bit it back.

"Look, we're gonna get John B, aight? I'll be in touch." Barry says before walking off towards his bike.

"Hey, baby, look at me." You say, taking Rafe's face between your hands and forcing him to make eye contact. You could tell he was on the verge of a break down.

"I let you get hurt. I put you in danger. I put our baby in danger." He said as he bit back tears.

"No you didn't Rafe. I'm the one who wanted to come. I was the one not paying attention."

"I'm supposed to protect you." He leans his head on your shoulder, pulling you closer by your belt loops.

"Rafey, you do. Shit happens sometimes."

He shakes his head.

"Hey, look at me!" You say again, forcing his head up. You bit your lip as you looked at him. The blood coating his skin did things to you. You wrapped your fingers through his hair at the base of his neck and pulled his head back. You ran your tongue up his neck to his chin, licking off the fresh blood that dripped from his wound.

You heard him groan at the sensation, tightening his grips on your hips as his shorts tightened.

You pressed your lips to his, letting your tongue slip into his mouth as you enjoyed the metallic taste that lingered there.

"Take me home, Rafe." You whispers against his lips.

Rafe pulled into your driveway and helped you off the bike. You'd been staying at the Cameron's for so long you were happy to be home.

You also didn't want to walk into Tannyhill bloody and limping, knowing there would be a plethora of questions about what happened.

You limped to your front door and fiddled with your keys.

"Baby, let me help you." Rafe says, taking your keys from you and helping you stand up.

Once you were inside Rafe picked you up and carried you to the couch. You both groaned in pain as you sat down.

"Do you feel okay?" Rafe asks.

"Yeah, baby. Are you okay?" You run your hand over the bruising on his face. He nods. "Take your shirt off."

He does as he's told and you examine the bruises forming on his back from where Pope had hit him with the tire iron. He winced in pain as you lightly pressed his skin.

"Sorry baby..." You said.

"It's okay," He mumbles. You bite your lip as your eyes scan his body. The bruising, the blood. You hated seeing him hurt but it fucking turned you on. "What?" He asks with a smirk.

You suddenly felt shy. You felt your cheeks blush as you smile up at your boyfriend. "Tell me what you need, princess," His voice was low as he smiled and moved on top of you, placing soft kisses on your neck.

Your breath hitched at the sensation. "You want my blood, huh, pretty girl?"

"Mhmm," You moan.

Rafe grabs your jaw, forcing your mouth open. You stick out your tongue as he lets his bloody saliva slip from his lips to yours. "Swallow." He demands and you happily oblige. You could feel the warmth at your core. "Good girl."

Rafe tugs at your shirt, pulling it off over your head, leaving you exposed to him. He brings his lips to your collar bone and sucks at your skin, surely leaving bruises.

"Fuck, Rafe..." You breathe.

He brings his hands to your breasts and massages roughly, flicking your nipple between his fingers and you could feel your need for him growing between your legs.

He left a trail of blood and bruises as he sucked and bit his way down your body. He stops at your stomach, placing a gentle kiss on the small bump starting to form. "You're so amazing," He whispers against your skin. "Carrying our baby."

You smile down at him lovingly, running your fingers through his shaggy hair. You watch as he unbuttons your shorts and slides them down your legs along with your panties. "I'm gonna make you feel so good, mama." He whispers, trailing bloody kisses up and down your thighs.

You gasp as he runs his tongue up the length of your core. He gets to work, circling your clit with his tongue. He pushes two fingers inside you and curls, hitting you in just the right spot as he pumps them in and out of you.

"Oh my - Rafe, fuck!" You cry, reaching your hands back to grip the top of the couch as you tried to steady yourself. Wrapping your legs around his head, you're sure he's suffocating but he just seems hungrier.

You could feel the knot form in the pit of your stomach as he flicked his tongue over your clit just right. He looked up and smiled as he watched you come undone. "Cum for me, baby girl."

The vibration of his words against your most sensitive area sent you over the edge. You couldn't control the way your legs shook as squirted in Rafe's mouth. He didn't stop, swallowing everything you offered him and licking you clean, sending you into overstimulation.

You laid speechless, trying to catch your breath. Rafe looked up at you with a shit eating grin, proud of himself for making you feel so good. Knowing he's the only one that's ever made you feel that good.

He crawled back on top of you, picking you up by they hips and laying you down on the couch beneath him. He sat up, quickly undoing his belt and shorts. You watched him, still trying to catch your breath from the intense orgasm you just experienced.

"You're my girl, you know that?" He asked you, grabbing your legs and pulling you towards him. He leaned over, lips hovering above yours as he lined himself up at your entrance. "My girl. Carrying my baby. Yeah?"

He was being possessive. Dominant. His eyes were crazy and you melted under his spell. "Yours." You promised.

He wrapped his fingers in your hair, cradling your head as he pressed his forehead to you. "My family..." He whispered, pushing into you slowly, allowing you to adjust to his size. "Mine."

You moaned, digging your nails into his shoulders. "I'm yours, Rafe. I'll always belong to you."

He groans into your neck as he pulls out and thrusts into you again. "Say it again,"

"I belong to you, Rafe Cameron."

He looks into your eyes as he thrusts into you harder. Small whimpers escape your lips as you stare back at him. The feeling of him inside you made you want to cry. Not in a way that it hurt, no. In the way that this was the closest you could possibly be and it still wasn't enough. The way he made your entire body tingle. The way the two of you fit together like a puzzle. It was the fact that you both knew you would absolutely die without each other. Like the world would simply stop turning if you were apart. And it was the way the love you had for one another created something new. The life growing inside you, belonged to you and Rafe and it was sacred. Something you would protect at all costs.

You didn't realize you actually were crying until Rafe's tears fell on your face. You were both crying silently as he continued to make love to you. The feeling of him sliding against your inner walls was pure ecstasy and you could feel yourself reaching your high once again.

You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist and pulled him into you. You felt his cock twitch as he spilled inside of you, your walls pulsating around him as you came too.

You both sat silently, trying to catch your breath and stop crying. Rafe cupped your cheek and placed a kiss gently on your lips before pulling out of you and rolling to your side, pulling you tightly against his chest. You were both overwhelmed with emotion. You laced your fingers between his and brought his hand to your lips, kissing his skin softly.

"I love you forever," You whisper before drifting off to sleep.

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged! :)

@outerbankspov @torturedtypewritersdept

#rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine #rafe smut #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe fic #rafe obx #rafe cameron obx #obx fanfiction #obx #obx fic #outer banks #euphoria aesthetic #euphoria #drew starkey #alexa demie #maddy perez

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restless-soulz · 3 days ago

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HOW THE HOUSEWARDENS ACT W/ A BABY (not their own, they're all still underage)

RIDDLE:

-man this guy is so bad with babies, but damn it if he isn't efficient

-he'll make sure that the physical needs are taken care of, but that's not entirely what a baby needs.

-but a baby can't tell you what exactly it needs so it'll just be stressful for both of them until he figures it out

-it might be a while

-doesn't do super well with physical affection (giving)

-he probably won't burn down the house to make a bottle for the baby but he will stress about the temperature and it'll go cold before he's satisfied and it'll repeat the process ad infinitum

LEONA:

-pls the baby he knew was cheka, and he was easy he's got this (NOT)

-lion man just wants to sleep and does not appreciate being woken up for feedings or changings or anything else

-doesn't care about bottle temp, milk is milk

-won't show but is a little stressed about having claws vs incredibly fragile baby skin

-genuinely confused to as why not all babies are not like Cheka

-after a while he'll get down the baby language and be so fast at it, just to maximize his sleep

-hey if it works it works

AZUL:

-another one not really fit for children

-would try to foist off the child to the leeches, and then realize that unfortunately he is the much better option (because morays eat their young)

-he will do his best tho and he will do an almost perfect job

-he just...overestimates human baby milestones

-it's ok, it can go one of two ways. either the parent is delighted by fast progress or Azul feels embarrassed

-like riddle, doesn't super love the whole physical contact thing

-also secretly i'd think he'd be great to talk to for anything involved in being recognized outside of your children or a body dysmorphia kind of depression cause same

KALIM:

-mans has 40 siblings or something

-i trust him, but he can be a little...cloud heavy

-he will make sure that baby is cuddled, and fed, and played, but sleeping is not his thing. adorable, but babies are AWAKE around him

-plus he's had servants that take care of the gross parts so he's clueless about how messy babies usually are

-jamil would lose his mind having two people to take care of, one infinitely more dependent than the other

-as much as i love him, don't give him a baby

VIL:

-he wouldn't try very hard

-babies are hard and he's not planning to babysit very long, he has more important things to do, but in the meantime

-this baby will be TAKEN CARE OF

-he bought a lot of...well...everything and all the excess goes to the parents.

-the cutest outfits you've ever seen

-detests changing and other gross parts but will do it

-does not like the not sleeping part, but he will admit they are very cute

IDIA:

-you're playing with fire here

-the only baby he's ever been around was Ortho, and that...ended terribly

-panicking every single second, and rapidly googling every time the baby breathes a little weird

-builds an automated bottle warmer and baby rockers so he has minimal contact with the baby as possible

-until Ortho says that skin to skin or physical contact is best for optimal health

-he'll whine and cry but do it, for a super short amount of time

-made an automatic changing station so he never does the gross parts

MALLEUS:

-adores children. they do not adore him.

-he can scare them a bit being all dark colors and rbf

-but he does theoretically know how to take care of a human baby

-i don't think silver should count since he's more of a changling

-will not put the baby down unless absolutely necessary (my kind of guy)

-the baby lives in a singular too big shirt or the most regal ensemble you've ever seen. no in between

-doesn't bother with changing since he can just magic it away

-also buys everything for the baby and keeps half for when he hopes to be asked to babysit again

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neverthatsirius-jo · 2 days ago

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[present jo note: read this last night with my notes app open so i could go annotating hope u don’t mind i wrote a lot :p]

if u couldn't tell it's very inspired by early 2000s romcoms

wooo, just as im in my romcom watching era. perfect 🥳🫶

James was nothing to fawn over.

?! ?! ?! ?!?!2€/ ?!;@/€:@

"Was it professional when I was your first kiss?" He stepped closer and you instinctively stepped back, feeling the plaster wall graze your back through your work blazer.

"It was spin the bottle and we were twelve, it's ancient history. And do you mind? I know you're some kind of god around here but I have a reputation to uphold,"

YOU WERENT FUCKING LYING THIS IS SO ROM COM GAAAAAH

"Not Lily! Have I missed my chance forever?"

this made me giggle teehEe

"She doesn't like beer, thinks it tastes like piss." You whipped your neck around at the familiar voice, mouth dropping open at the sight of James Potter.

i would murder him. my face would be so red

"Are you thick? I only said that because I fancied you!"

"What do you mean you said it because you fancied me? That is not normal!" You whirled around, accusatory finger pointed his way.

"I don't know! I thought I was supposed to! It wasn't cool to be a sap!" James argued back, running a hand through his already tousled curls.

ilovethemilovethemilovethem

thinking of u :P <3

GODDDD WHAT HAVE I DONE TO DESERVE JAMES POTTER NOT BEING REAL

"This photo was taken when we were twelve or thirteen years old at someone's party. That night, as you tend to do when you're young and bored, we played spin the bottle and ended up being each other's first kiss. I'm sure you're all wondering why I'm telling this story now, and it's because ever since that night as I have recently realised, almost a decade later, I have been embarrassingly, stupidly in love with her."

giggling and crying all at the same time

"And though I've done some incredibly dumb things over the years, somehow she's managed to like me back -- at least a little. So I'm setting the record straight right now, she is not 'sleeping to the top' or trying to get a secret scoop out of me because I'm the one who's been chasing after her for twelve years.

"I know I've been rambling on for far too long so I'll wrap it up here, but I just wanted to end this little conference with a warning that if I see any more disgusting, hateful articles about her, you won't be getting another comment from me again. So nice to see you all!"

😔😭🥳✨💗👹 i cant

11k WORDS? WERE BEING FED FOLKS. i feel like a squirrel with her supply of nuts for the winter HAHSH WHAT AM I SAYING SOMEONE SHUT ME UP (preferably james potter and with a kiss thanks)

summary: loved this, gia. it was very rom-com, very cutesy 💗🫶✨

our names in the paper - footballer!james potter x fem!sports journalist!reader

wc: 11,151

cw: swearing, fade to black but suggestive moments?, smoking, slut-shaming, kissing

info: r and james are about 24, set in 2007ish solely for the romcom vibes. james is the equivalent of like David Beckham in his prime, all pics are for vibes only, not reflective of r's appearance etc

me: i've been working on this for soooo long i am so happy it's finally done!! if u couldn't tell it's very inspired by early 2000s romcoms and i am honestly so proud of it so praying it doesn't flop LOL

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

"James, James! Over here! What's the defence strategy this season?"

If you had to hear James' name one more time you might scream. Unfortunately, you were locked in a room with nothing but that. Worse, you were part of the problem.

"Mister Potter, what do you think about your striker's goal-to-game ratio falling rapidly this season?" You called, begrudgingly hoping for a moment of the soccer star's attention. Fortunately (or unfortunately), his glittering eyes settled on you, singling you out from the room of hungry journalists.

"I think that you miss one hundred per cent of the shots you don't take," He said, smirk turning to something challenging, "And as long as my team is training and working together, I'm not gonna cry over a bit of spilt milk or missed goals. And, as far as I'm concerned we're still winning games, aren't we?" You rolled your eyes, scribbling down his answer nonetheless.

You continued the catfight of trying to get answers for your newest article, keeping the balance of vying for James' attention and showing him you didn't care for him personally, unlike the other journalists you were pushing against. The conference room was full of men and women who wanted to be James or be with him. Aside from the professional questions, there were certainly several invitations to the pub thrown around, and you were sure you saw one woman try and give him her cellphone number. You rolled your eyes again at that, James was nothing to fawn over.

He might be a big shot now, but you'd known him almost all your life. The two of you had gone to school together and had bickered through every interaction since then. James had always wanted to be a football star, and you a journalist. You'd never believed in him and vice versa, both of you taking every opportunity to tease the other or cut each other down. Maybe it was just clashing personalities, two people too ambitious to be friends. The rivalry had lasted past school, and unfortunately, the two of you often crossed paths in your respective careers.

The press conference wrapped up soon after your question, and you ended up lingering in the room trying to finish your notes. James was still over at his podium next to his coach, drinking out of a plastic water bottle and arduously texting on his flip phone. Seeing you hovering by the door he called your last name, sauntering up behind you. You rolled your eyes and braced yourself for the encounter.

"Potter." You smiled curtly, moving to leave.

"You don't have to call me 'Mr Potter' during the conferences, you know. James is perfectly fine, everyone else calls me that."

"Just trying to stay professional," You said through gritted teeth, aware his coach and a few others were still around you. It could cost you your job to snap at him.

"Was it professional when I was your first kiss?" He stepped closer and you instinctively stepped back, feeling the plaster wall graze your back through your work blazer.

"It was spin the bottle and we were twelve, it's ancient history. And do you mind? I know you're some kind of god around here but I have a reputation to uphold," You whispered, glancing around anxiously. James laughed at your distress which only annoyed you further. Maybe he could get away with anything, but you had to fight for your place in your field as a female sports journalist, you couldn't afford to take it lightly.

You couldn't help the physical reaction to being trapped between James and the wall though, your breathing shallow and quick, face tilted up slightly to look at him. You felt a bit like prey, caught in the predator's territory and resigned to imminent death.

"Let her go, will you? She's just doing her job," Remus Lupin said, entering the conference room with his nose crinkled from the smell. You couldn't blame him, sweaty players and hungry journalists didn't make any kind of utopia together.

"I wasn't doing anything!" James cried, hands up in surrender, "Come on love, I was just giving you the scoop, right?"

"First of all, if you were giving me 'the scoop' right now I'd certainly be accused of sleeping to the top by all the blokes waiting out there," You gestured to the group of other reporters still lingering in the hall waiting for any scraps of information, "And secondly, I work for the bloody Sunday People, not the BBC. I honestly think they'd rather I just write about your 'dashing good looks' or a drug scandal than your games," You complained, falling back into the ease of conversation now that Remus was there. He'd been at school with the both of you, growing up to be a physiotherapist, but was always much more palatable than James.

Both men laughed at your plight.

"If you ever need a more detailed look at my dashing good looks just ask, sweetheart. I'd be glad to show you, you know, for your articles." You rolled your eyes at James' attempt to be charming, snapping your notebook shut.

"Alright, I think that's my cue to go," You said curtly, smoothing out your work trousers. "Remus, I'll return Dracula next time I see you; I'm almost finished." You remembered you'd had his novel for quite a while, sparing him a smile on the way out.

"You lend her books?" James asked incredulously, hazel eyes curiously following your figure down the hall. Remus just shrugged, patting James on the shoulder and attending to his actual job, checking up on the players after the match.

James was still hung up on the fact when he returned to the apartment he shared with Remus and Sirius, flabbergasted as he hung his coat on the rack.

"Since when are you two close enough to be sharing books?" He cried as he paced through the kitchen, "Have we not all been in agreement that she is stubborn and hard-headed and annoying and has been since school?"

"No," Remus shook his head, "You decided that, and I daresay she feels the same about you. I've always rather liked her."

James was unexpectedly dumbfounded at the realisation that you weren’t the common enemy he thought you were. Even Sirius didn’t seem to dislike you, always stopping for a chat when you were around the stadium and giving you extra comments with a flirty wink.

James didn’t need to think about you for another few weeks; his team hadn’t played one week and you’d been assigned other matches for the others — he read your very amusing pieces on lawn bowls and chess-boxing, partly because he knew you’d hate the assignment.

You were blissfully apart until one Saturday night. You were out with your friends and a few coworkers and James was out with his. He’d started in the local pub while you were at a fancy cocktail restaurant for Lily’s bachelorette party, however, your groups crossed paths in the depths of a nightclub.

Maybe you were getting too old for them, waking up with sore backs and knees after nights of dancing, but it didn’t mean you wouldn’t give it a red hot go. And with a few cocktails in your system, nobody could convince you it wasn’t a good idea.

You'd been shaking what your mother gave you for the better part of an hour before it was your turn to get another round, telling the girls you'd be back before stumbling through a sea of sweaty bodies.

Some gross man who was definitely too old for you obstructed your path, grabbing your arms to make you dance with him. Your face crinkled in disgust of its own accord, trying to wiggle yourself free. He continued to encroach on your space, forcing you around despite your persistence. Finally, a man's hands landed on his shoulders, yanking him away and subsequently freeing you from his grasp. The momentum sent you tumbling in your strappy heels, right into something warm and solid. You cringed, having been there before. You turned slowly to meet your unwitting saviour, huffing when you realised it was James.

"Oh, fuck off," You grumbled, mostly to yourself, producing a quick apology to not seem totally impolite.

"Alright?" Sirius asked, revealing himself as the one who'd gotten you away from the creep. You shrugged, fixing your hair.

"Been better," You told him, preparing to leave before seemingly their whole team had surrounded you, all greeting you loudly. You weakly waved at them, feeling dreadfully underdressed and professional. You were used to seeing them in the stadium and press conferences where you were much more modestly dressed. The strapless mini dress wasn't giving you the same layer of protection.

"Right," You said when there didn't seem to be any more productive conversation happening, "I'm off to the bar then."

"Let me buy you a drink, to make up for the freak," One of the players, Frank, said. You smiled but shook your head.

"I'm buying for several, it wouldn't be fair. It's Lily's bachelorette." You directed the last sentence to those who knew her, the football and journalism professions having considerable overlap due to events and the never-ending scandals and interviews. James covered his face in mock-devastation.

"Not Lily! Have I missed my chance forever?" He moaned, earning some shoves from the rest of the group. You and Lily had been friends since uni, and you'd introduced her to the boys at one of the terrible house parties you'd endured over your three years studying. James had developed a thing for her right away (no one knew how much of it was serious and how much was for comedic value) and had been loudly pining for her ever since, despite her long-term relationship with Dirk Cresswell, an economist who worked in the building down the block from your office.

"I think you missed your chance the first time," You retorted with a snort, a little drunk to have any ferocity in your tone. You both made a face at each other, ignoring the laughter of those around you. You dismissed the group and danced away, shaking your arse over to the bar.

A few rounds later and you were not in your best shape. The girls had been absolute menaces, feeding you shots and deceiving colourful cocktails that actually held like seven standards in them, and you were certainly feeling the effects. You excused yourself from the group to find a loo, bile rising in your throat as you pushed past dancers, not even sparing a comment for James as you saw him.

That confused both James and his friends, becoming used to your insistent teasing over the years. He exchanged a look with Sirius, following you through the crowd and to the bathrooms.

He figured something was wrong when you burst into the gender-neutral bathrooms, not bothering to lock the door behind you. James and Sirius silently fought about who was going to follow you in and check on you; James found you insufferable, Sirius had severe emetophobia and would probably throw up himself if he had to be close to you vomiting. James rolled his eyes, it was his responsibility. Sirius clapped him on the back gratefully, leaving him to return to the others. James sighed, reciting some affirmations before he cracked the door open, calling out to you.

When you responded with a disgusting wretch, James slipped inside, gagging a little as he saw you leant over the toilet bowl, bare knees on the grimy tile floor.

"Alright?" He asked for lack of anything better, unsurprised when you replied with another gag.

"I feel ill," You said pathetically, head hung low in the bowl which James knew you would resent tomorrow. He laughed quietly, getting closer to you.

"No shit, idiot," His tone was light as he began to rub your back softly, making sure your hair was away from your mouth. You vomited a few more times, your body reacting in violent hurls as James tried to be both soothing and as far away as possible.

When your stomach was finally empty you slumped against the toilet, cheek pressed against the cool porcelain.

"Woah," James pulled you up to a sitting position, "That cannot be good for your skin. Let's get you home, okay?" You nodded petulantly, letting yourself be led out through the club, James telling Lily he'd make sure you got home (and congratulated her on the upcoming wedding).

"Can we get some gum or something? My throat tastes like vom." James looked down at you from where you were lodged into his side, legs shaky as you wobbled down the street. He sighed and steered you in the direction of a convenience store, picking out strawberry gum for you since it tasted better than mint, your words. Good you thought when he paid for it, the football star can shell out 2 pounds, makes more than you anyhow.

You chewed happily, stumbling down the pavement as James held onto you, keeping you upright.

"You're so muscly," You said, somewhat in a drunken haze.

"Thank you?" James laughed, patting you softly on the forearm he was holding. To be fair, you weren't quite sure if it was a compliment either. Your words were admittedly oddly nice but your tone made it confusing, drunk thoughts not completely translating to sober dynamics.

You meandered for a few oddly peaceful minutes, neither of you starting an argument or picking a fight. It was a nice break from normal, the two of you even sharing some peaceful small talk -- discussing a movie you'd both seen recently.

Of course, nothing good lasts.

"James!" A voice yelled from the other side of the street, a short man with mousy mannerisms. James groaned beside you.

"Peter Pettigrew," He whispered to you, trying to pull you along faster, "We used to be mates but turns out he was just using me to get team secrets out into the papers." You whipped your head around to look at him. Oh! You knew Pettigrew, unsurprising given you both reported on essentially the same topics, but he had a bad name even in your circles. He was closer to a paparazzi than a journalist, going for the cheap stories and ad hominem approaches rather than searching for any meaningful insights. Simply put, in an already sleazy career, Peter Pettigrew was the bottom of the barrel.

"Later, mate. I'm in the middle of something right now." James put his arm around your shoulder, better shielding you as he tried to make a getaway. The telltale flash of a camera reflected off the grey pavement, making both you and James whip your heads around to face Peter, looking hardly ashamed of himself. After a moment of shock, you both covered your faces, stumbling down the street as fast as you could manage. The damage was already done.

Suddenly you didn't feel as drunk, navigating the cobblestone streets with unanticipated nimbleness. James might've had the athlete's advantage but you were on home turf, leading him through local shortcuts and to the front door of your apartment building.

On the journey over you'd attracted a few more photographers all fiending for a scandalous picture of James, a small mob forming as you tried to punch in the door code despite your shaking hands. James was right behind you, front pressed to your back, holding his Adidas windbreaker out in a position to shield your face from the prying eyes.

You slammed the door shut, the nosy questions and camera clicks immediately muffled. James let out a long sigh, running a hand through his already tousled hair. Neither of you spoke for a while, processing what had happened.

"Make yourself at home then." You cringed as you surveyed the state of your flat; clothes flung over chairs and dishes still in the sink. Your only option for living alone was cramming all your stuff into what was essentially a shoebox, so any amount of mess made the place look chaotic.

"Nice place," James said and you immediately rolled your eyes, snatching up a stray bra strewn across an armchair. "No, I mean it! It's cozy. Very you." He gestured up at the colourful, mismatched glassware in a kitchen cabinet and the beaded curtain separating your bedroom. You blushed slightly; you didn't often take men home, your flat staying a girly paradise just for you.

You put on the kettle, comforted by the familiar sounds of water beginning to boil. James sat awkwardly on an armchair near the window, anxiously peeking out from behind the curtain every few minutes. His reactions told you the paparazzi were still loitering outside.

James took his tea gratefully, surprisingly still agreeable despite all the terrible things that had happened in the course of a few hours.

"Do you have a back exit or something? Somewhere I can slip out and get home?" You shook your head with a grimace.

"Only the fire exit, but that still goes out near the front. Otherwise we're surrounded by other buildings."

"You must be exhausted after everything. Head off to bed, I'll wait until the gits outside fuck off then lock the door behind me. We don't have to ever mention this again if you don't want." The orange lamp light made James' eyes look unfairly soft, highlighting the golden flecks amongst the brown. You steeled your nerve and shook your head.

"I'm not that bad of a host," You tried to joke, "Besides, don't you have training tomorrow? You're already up later than I'm sure you intended to be. I couldn't live with myself if I ruined England's star player by making him stay up all night, you take my bed and go to sleep." You were both very carefully trying to keep things light, not wanting to spend any more of the night miserable and fighting.

"Well, I'm not taking your bed, that's just impolite. I'll take the couch, if you're being so generous as to let me stay." He had a cheeky smile on his lips as he said it, both of you dancing around the fact that in any other circumstance James wouldn't have been allowed within fifteen feet of your flat.

"That couch? No way." You pointed at the teensy vintage sofa sitting in front of the boxy television. It had space for maybe two and a half arses to sit on it, maybe horizontally extended legs if you were short-ish, but there was no way the goliath James Potter was getting any decent sleep on it. "You take the bed. I'll survive the couch tonight."

"Don't be stupid, I can't sleep in your bed. If not the couch I'll take the floor."

"Speaking from a purely medical standpoint, I haven't cleaned these floors recently enough for it to be safe to have your face in such close proximity. Take the bed, Potter."

You bickered for a few long minutes, both of you trying to outdo each other's respect as host and guest, respectively. You didn't miss the irony that even when you and James were getting along you were fighting.

"I'm not letting you go without, that's final." You turned away to go fetch a pillow for your night on the couch when James said something you never ever thought you'd hear from him.

"Then sleep with me."

"Excuse me?" You all but shrieked, immediately cringing as you thought about your poor neighbours.

"Look, it's basically morning, we're both shattered and I'm sure your bed is much comfier than whatever alternative you're planning. We can even go full pillow-wall if it'll make you feel better." You stared at him for several moments, lips actually agape. Never in your life did you think James Potter would be asking you to share a bed with him, and never in your life did you think you'd be considering it.

"Fine."

Twenty minutes later and you were both ready for bed. You'd found James an old pair of an ex-boyfriend's long abandoned pyjamas, stuffed in a bottom drawer. They were slightly too small to accommodate all his muscles, the t-shirt sitting a few inches above the pants' waistband, giving him a very '90s crop top and exposing his happy trail.

You were almost definitely more embarrassed than James. You were in a similarly aged pair of pyjamas, a cartoon of Spongebob over your chest. You couldn't tell if you'd prefer to be in the lame pair that you were wearing or a cute pair -- no, it would probably look like you were trying too hard. Which you weren't. You didn't care about looking cute in front of James Potter, why would you?

He was already in bed when you'd returned from your skincare routine, face fresh and moisturised, and though you knew he was going to be there, nothing could have prepared you for the sight of James Potter in your bed. Tucked up to the chin under your frilly floral grandma sheets, he looked the picture of cozy.

"Don't bloody touch me, I mean it. I want to feel alone in my own bed," You snapped, sliding under the covers, pulling the doona similarly high up to your chin. You turned over to the centre of the bed to find James already on his side looking at you. You let it be for a moment, surprisingly enjoying the sleepover vibes you'd created.

"Okay this is weird now, the pillow's going up." You slammed a long decorative cushion in between the both of you, secretly smiling at the sleepy giggle James let out.

The first time you awoke it was hazy, still early in the morning with golden sunbeams streaming through your curtains. Warmth enveloped you, keeping you cozy despite the winter morning outside. You shifted to burrow deeper into your blankets when a groan came from behind you, startling you more awake as you recognised the feeling of muscular arms wrapped around your middle. It suddenly all came back to you, James walking you home, the paparazzi, you making an absolute fool of yourself. However, James was a portable heat source and extremely comfortable so you let yourself ignore everything that had led up to it, allowing yourself another few hours of blissful sleep.

The second time you woke up James was gone. That wasn't surprising given he definitely had early morning training, but you would reluctantly admit that it was a little lonelier in your bed than it usually was.

You didn't leave the house for the rest of the day, finally cleaning your apartment after much too long. Turns out all you needed was to be embarrassed in front of a guest to get you motivated.

Monday morning you weren't hungover anymore, but you were mourning the weekend that had passed much too quickly. Still, things were running smoothly enough; you didn't miss the tube and had snagged a seat, and your makeup was looking absolutely grand. You were absolutely thriving.

That was, until you crossed the threshold of the Sunday People offices and the jerks from the politics columns started bothering you, as if a Monday morning wasn't punishment enough.

"Meet anyone nice over the weekend, sweetheart?" One crowed from his desk chair, looking positively dickhead-ish in his too-small button-up.

"Or still on the clock maybe? We know you're always hunting for a good story." The combination of both remarks confused you, but you strutted past them with a quick glare in their general direction, your clicking heels producing enough attitude that you didn't need to say anything.

As you approached your own desk area, you had the distinct and uncomfortable feeling that everyone was looking at you. You couldn't think of why, but subtly wiped the edge of your lips in case it was foolishly smudged lipstick.

You even swore you heard one of the royal writers -- an awful woman maybe twenty years older than you -- say something about your 'promiscuity' and 'unprofessionalism'. You didn't know where it was coming from. You weren't friends by any means but you usually just stayed out of each other's way, you didn't throw around insults at your workplace. You glanced down at your outfit but nothing seemed especially revealing, the same button-up and pencil skirt you always wore if you weren't doing field work.

You were really starting to wonder why everyone was looking at you when even Lily was sending you pitiful glances. You had just made up your mind to say something about it when your boss came striding towards you, anger emanating in a way which only middle-aged men can do.

"What is this?" He slammed a Daily Mail tabloid down on your desk. The office was dead silent. You looked down at it, wholly confused as to what it could be -- your last article was approved without any troubles.

THE 'INSIDE' SCOOP? POTTER GETS COZY WITH REPORTER ON NIGHT OUT

And there, right under the brazen headline, was the stupid picture that Peter Pettigrew took. The two of you out on the street, you tucked into James' side with his arm around you. Your face wasn't totally visible, but anyone who already knew you would recognise the figure and fashion.

You could feel your face drop as you read the article, a barrage of slut-shamey insults and reports of how intimate you and James were out on the streets of London -- all entirely false, of course. When you'd finished reading the piece the whole office was staring at you, waiting to see how you'd react.

"It's a lie," You said quietly, trying to stop your hands from shaking as they rested on your lap. There was a pregnant pause as your boss processed what you were saying, clearly confused. None of your coworkers dared to speak.

"Bullshit," He replied, face blooming red as he decided you weren't being truthful. "That's you and that's James, there's no denying that. The whole bloody country will be able to see you two getting cozy on the street. How do you reckon this reflects on me, having your name and workplace published alongside your completely unprofessional affair?"

"I understand that it looks bad, but it's not what you think at all. J- uh, Potter was just helping me get home after a chance encounter because I wasn't feeling well, then he hid at my place because of all the paparazzi. Nothing happened." It was a weak explanation, even you could tell, even though it was completely true.

The arseholes over in Politics were already sniggering to themselves and you wished you could have ripped them a new one. Instead, you were cowering underneath your brutish boss.

"It's your word against Pettigrew's, and only one of you's been printed. You've been publicly humiliated and we're getting bad press for it."

Your boss had left you with the threatening promise that the issue would be brought up with your superiors and the whispered opinions of every single person you worked with. You choked out an excuse to get out of the office, taking the lift up to the rooftop to cry.

You had peace for a few minutes, getting the most embarrassing of the sobs out alone.

"Did you actually sleep with him?" If it was anyone else you probably would have snapped, yelling at them for being so insensitive. Marlene said it with such earnest curiosity and sympathy that you turned to face her instead. You were met with her and Lily, your very best friends who you were feeling especially lucky to work with at that moment.

"No!" You told them the full story, about getting sick at the club, James just being polite and walking you home, and Peter Pettigrew's terrible betrayal. Both women listened attentively, taking it all in.

"I thought you hated Potter," Lily said finally, "How'd it get that far in the first place? Usually you'd have ditched him in the first five minutes of being in his presence."

"I don't hate him." You studied your hands intently, observing the peeling red nail polish you should have reapplied yesterday. "I think he's annoying and obnoxious and I've always hated that he's never believed I could be a serious writer, but I don't hate him. He has his moments. Besides, why would I waste energy on hating Potter when I could hate Pettigrew with all my heart?"

"What a snake," Marlene spat, lighting a cigarette as she got comfy next to you. You and Lily both nodded. Peter was not only now a backstabber, but he'd been becoming increasingly insufferable over the years you'd all been writing.

He started out quite nice and was in your periphery of friends in the same way Remus and even James were, but as he'd gotten the job at his shitty tabloid magazine he'd become downright intolerable, always twisting what you'd said both in official articles and when gossiping with other friends. You had all had enough a few years ago and stopped inviting him places. Clearly, he'd held onto the grudge.

At his own work, James was facing the same rumours, though not nearly to the same peril. As he rocked up to his home pitch for the morning training session he was received with catcalls and high fives which made him nervous. No one was ever that happy to be working out on a Monday morning.

"Thought you hated her, mate."

"Maybe all she needed was a good shag to get the stick out of her arse."

"Woah! Can we take it back a few steps and not talk about women that way?" James sent a look over to one of his teammates.

"Sorry bud," He held his hands up in surrender, "Thought you wouldn't mind since you're always moaning about her." James' eyebrows knit together as he tried to piece together what the men were talking about, finally giving up and asking for a plain explanation.

He was met with a copy of Peter's article, outlining the flirty touches and 'electric chemistry' the two of you shared. Scanning it quickly James felt his face screwing up in disgust. Never mind that it obviously wasn't true, what a disgusting violation of privacy. He'd only recently launched into the spotlight, working his way up into the Premier League and then team captain in the last few years. He still didn't know how to handle the fame, especially invasive press like this.

His first priority was setting the ruth straight for his team, explaining exactly what happened and outlining strict instructions not to bring it up the next time they saw you.

"This is going to be a lot worse for her than me," He said, ending the conversation there.

He was correct. Rumours only spiralled from Peter's article. You'd stupidly created Google Alerts for your name; as a journalist, it made sense to keep track of where your writing was being shared. One day of this nonsense and you had all alerts silenced, not wanting to ever visit the internet ever again.

Apparently, this alleged affair was the most interesting thing young British people had ever experienced. The football star and the sports journalist. As you packed up to leave at the end of the day you were feeling sick to your stomach, already overwhelmed by the attention you never wanted on you.

Your face blanched as you approached the dizzying glass windows, a mass of reporters swarming the door. You didn't have to think hard to know they were waiting for you. You retreated to the restroom where they couldn't see you to rearrange your exit appearance. Pulling your coat tight against you and scarf up to cover the bottom half of your face, you plugged your iPod nano in to appear busy (and touched up your eye makeup for the inevitable photos that would make it back into the news cycle).

Physically and emotionally prepared you braved the crowd again, moving through with a polite but firm shove, making yourself a path down to the tube. You only snapped at one particularly rude paparazzi, giving him an instruction of where to 'stick it' as you hopped down the stairs to your station.

You ate a haphazard dinner by your computer, obsessively clicking through the various articles (and now personal blog posts) that had mentioned you. Every link made you feel worse about yourself.

The articles themselves were bad, most of them degrading you and congratulating James. Some had even produced old school photos of the both of you, even a few from your uni days when James was just starting out professionally and you were attending similar parties.

The articles were one thing, at least they usually had to be somewhat impartial. The blog posts by James' fangirls were downright cruel, calling you a slag based on a singular photograph and dragging your name through the mud.

You were drawn from your doom-scrolling by your cellphone ringing, Britney ringtone at least drawing a smile from you.

"Hello?"

"Get off the internet," Sirius Black said from the other end of the line.

"How'd you know?" You exited the webpage dutifully, already feeling the weight of the world's ugly words lifting from your shoulders.

"I figured. First time being written about isn't easy."

"It's certainly making me grateful I've never been so bitchy in my articles," You produced a hollow laugh, "I don't know how people can say these things about someone they've never met."

"That's why we like you," He said, "Mostly, at least. You stick to the sport and not our personal lives."

"Don't inflate my ego, Black, it's just because I don't like you guys," You joked, your mood already blooming back to somewhat more chipper.

"That's what I've been telling him!" You heard Remus call from further away, probably the other side of their living room. Sirius made an offended noise.

"Is Potter there?" You changed the topic, swirling your mouse around the window aimlessly, too afraid to check your work or personal notifications.

"He's out right now, calling someone official -- a publicist or lawyer friend. He's tearing his hair out about this, he feels awful for you." Both men explained, bickering about who exactly he was talking to.

"Yeah, I'm noticing only one of us is getting called a slut." You rolled your eyes even though they couldn't see you, balancing your cell between your shoulder and ear as you made a cup of tea. Sirius' barking laughter crackled through the speaker.

"Don't worry about it, love, everyone knows The Daily Mail is full of shite. Besides, I got that all the time."

"Yeah, in school! Not when you have a grown-up job to save face at!" Sirius conceded, apologising lightly. You shrugged him off; he was not the target of your anger at all.

"James'll be back soon, do you want to stay on the phone?" Remus asked and you answered without hesitation.

"No. I don't want to talk to him right now. We'll just find something to fight about, it's not worth it."

"He wants to make things better," Sirius offered, "He feels terrible."

"Maybe when I'm not so angry at the world." You left them with the offered compromise, hanging up to pity yourself for a few more hours before bed.

You didn't end up being fired over the incident, your bosses couldn't find a good reason to cite, but everyone in the office knew you were on thin ice. Most weren't afraid to highlight that fact. You were really starting to hate the Politics guys.

You just tried to keep your head down, diving into your articles and trying to keep in the higher-ups good graces. Amidst the drama though you'd been taken off all football coverage for the time being, banished to the irrelevant 'sports' you never even knew existed.

The week had taken you out of London to cover bizarre rural events like cheese rolling and bog snorkelling; not uninteresting but a big change of pace to the Premier League drama you were used to.

It did take your mind off of James and the media shitstorm for a day or two though. Being in a small town was much preferable to London, at least for the moment. The paparazzi weren't going to make the drive to find you for a single day when there were plenty more interesting figures to find in the city.

Plus, you were meeting the most interesting people. Though it was no Premier League final, everyone around was so wholly invested and excited by the competition that you couldn't help feeling the same, despite your initial hesitation.

Throughout the day it was just you, your notepad, your camera and the few thousand people who came to participate and observe. You'd already met and interviewed the woman who made the cheese, the previous year's winner and you were waiting impatiently to see who'd prevail now.

The paper was paying for you to stay overnight so you could chronicle the post-event celebrations, and you'd never been so glad to be working late. The key players in the day, organisers and competitors had all convened in the town's old pub, basically heaving under the weight of you all.

You held up your beer with the others despite hating the taste, grateful to be included in their toast to the day. You laughed as you tried to down it quickly, wanting the taste out of your mouth as soon as possible without refusing such a kind gift. Holding the pint up in the air victoriously you accepted the cheers of those around you, including the lovely middle-aged lady who made the ceremonial cheese and the man only a year or two older than you who'd won earlier.

"Finally letting your hair down!" He laughed and you smiled back, trying to remember his name. A glance down at your notepad said Drew. "Can I get you another?" You hoped he didn't notice your eyes widen, not expecting attention like that, not when you were allegedly working no less. You opened your mouth to agree when someone else answered for you.

"She doesn't like beer, thinks it tastes like piss." You whipped your neck around at the familiar voice, mouth dropping open at the sight of James Potter.

"What the hell are you doing here?" You asked, jovial politeness abandoned.

"You didn't remember that my family comes to watch every year?"

"Respectfully, why the fuck would I remember something like that?" You snapped, moving to leave and follow the much nicer Drew to the bar. James grabbed your hand lightly, stopping you from leaving.

"Wait, can we talk please?" You just looked at him for a long time, considering how much patience you had after a full day of work, then shrugged half-heartedly.

He led you outside and away from the crowd, both of you letting out a huff as you noticed the change in temperature.

"I liked your story on the bog snorkelling -- interesting stuff," James broke the awkward silence and you rolled your eyes aggressively.

"As if you read my pieces."

"I do!" He insisted, silently refusing the cigarette you offered. "I've read all your pieces, honest."

"But... huh? You're the one who always said I'd be a shit writer, I've spent years trying to get the negative internal James out of my head! You absolute dickhead!" You shoved his chest, turning back towards the door to return inside.

"Are you thick? I only said that because I fancied you!"

James' words rang heavy in the air, the street otherwise silent. You stared straight ahead of you for a moment, his words settling on top of you as you focused on the orange street lamp.

This whole time, this whole time, you'd been fighting the image you believed James had of you, striving to be better, never being satisfied, for nothing. This whole time you and James had been bickering and trading insults for nothing? And all his flirting... James' annoying charm and ironic compliments and innuendo-filled teasing were all genuine, after all this time? Suddenly your whole world had turned on its axis.

"What do you mean you said it because you fancied me? That is not normal!" You whirled around, accusatory finger pointed his way.

"I don't know! I thought I was supposed to! It wasn't cool to be a sap!" James argued back, running a hand through his already tousled curls.

"Jesus Christ," You muttered, "So what, you thought all my arguing back was just flirting?" James' silence told you all you needed to know.

"Come on, don't act like you didn't like it a little bit! As I recall you were always up for the fight, weren't you? You never avoided me or ignored me. Let's face it, you enjoyed it as much as I did." He stepped closer to you, breath visible in the cool air.

"I didn't enjoy it, what the hell are you talking about? Why would I enjoy trading schoolyard insults with some arrogant, idiotic football player who discredited the one thing I wanted most in my life?" Suddenly you were inches apart, heat emanating from both of you as you fought.

"Like you never said I was stupid for wanting to be a footballer? Face it, love, you're just as bad as me."

And suddenly, despite all your better judgement and every bit of sense in your head, you were kissing him. You didn't know exactly how it had happened, and if anyone were to ever ask you you would absolutely pin the blame on James but there you were, out in the middle of the street without a care in the world.

Every one of your senses was on fire, the smell of his cologne, the taste of his lips, the feeling of his soft curls under your fingers. Everything about James felt like he was made for you, like all the years of you revolving around each other, playing off the other's insult was just a lead-up, preparation for the very moment you kissed for the first time.

James' arms around you were warm, strong from years of working out and protective like a weighted blanket. One hand wrapped around your midsection and the other firmly on your neck you felt wholly surrounded by him, isolated in your own bubble of James.

It was probably a bad idea, but you weren't overly concerned with addressing that fact in any rush. It didn't come as you tilted your head to bring him even closer, it didn't come as you said hurried goodbyes in the pub and collected your coat, it didn't even come as you closed the door to your hotel room, undoing the buttons to James' shirt like they had a personal vendetta against you.

The admittance only came as you lay entangled with him, faces millimetres apart.

"Was that a bad idea?" You asked, genuine self-consciousness mixing with pragmatic anxiety.

"I mean, I quite enjoyed myself, love. Did you not?" James' cheeky smile made you snort out a giggle but you sobered up quickly, hitting him lightly on his toned chest.

"Don't turn this into a joke!" You ordered, "Have we just fucked everything up?" James just looked at you for a minute, taking in the sincerity in your voice and the depth of your eyes.

"Of course we haven't," He assured you. "Do you like me?"

"But--"

"Ah! Do you like me?" He reiterated and you paused, nodding shyly. "See? You like me and I like you. We'll figure everything else out. Start slow; baby steps."

"Baby steps," You agreed, sharing his smile. It really only hit you how much you actually liked James once you'd said it, finally noticing how he might've been looking at you the whole time.

You sent James off early in the morning, both of you needing to make it back to London quickly. You had to get your article written up and James had training. Thankfully there was no awkwardness in your goodbye; James had to rush to meet his parents to drive back by car and you had a train to catch. The only moment of hesitance came as you said goodbye, waving at each other with a giggle as James hopped down the steps. He hesitated halfway, turning to look at you with the glint of mischief in his eye that you'd become very well acquainted with.

In a moment he was at the top of the steps again, swooping in to steal another kiss. You rolled your eyes to hide an embarrassing smile, pushing him back in the direction he came.

"Haven't you got somewhere to be?" You asked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. James mimed twisting a knife in his chest but continued down the stairs nonetheless, giving you one last smile before he turned a corner and disappeared from your sight. You sighed like a schoolgirl then laughed at yourself, packing the last of your things to get home.

As you sat on the train, green landscapes passed you through the window and you felt your cell phone buzz from the minuscule pocket of your work trousers.

thinking of u :P <3

You grinned, looking out at the scenery so the people around you wouldn't be able to figure out your embarrassing secret. You felt like a teenage girl again, blushing over a text from the guy you had a crush on.

Everything turned to shit in a matter of hours after returning to London.

First, James' publicist made his statement. It wasn't necessarily terrible, but it really had no regard for you. No statement declaring you both on good terms, no coming to your defence or asking for the press to respect you. James looked like the hero saving a stupid drunk girl, and you still looked desperate for the most popular footballer in the country. You were decently sure it wasn't James' fault, but it did significantly dampen your lovesick giddiness.

The office was half-empty when you arrived, kitten heels clicking against the ground. You said a quick hello to Lily, still dutifully typing away at her computer. You followed her lead, exporting your notes to your desktop computer, formatting the piece and going through edits to have it ready for the next paper.

The sun was setting, sending orange and pink streaks through the sky when the door to your boss' office slammed open, echoing above the cubicles.

"You kissed him?" He yelled and you paled, knowing exactly what he was talking about but not how he knew. That problem was solved when he slammed the magazine down in front of you, no doubt just delivered by the skittery young receptionist running back to the elevator.

FACT OR FICTION? POTTER AND REPORTER CAUGHT SNOGGING AMIDST PUBLIC DENIAL

Fuck. That could not be worse.

The whole piece was essentially dragging your name through the absolute mud now that they had the confirmation there was something going on between you and James. The whole world thought you were sleeping to the top, or for the best scoop, and everyone hated you for it.

You looked up at your boss, words dying on your tongue.

"Please tell me that's not you," He said, grasping at the thinning hair on his head. You couldn't deny it.

"I..." You trailed off, searching for anything you could say to make it better. "I didn't mean to. And I'm being completely honest when I say that the first article was all bullshit. Things have... happened since then." You were already on the verge of tears. Even on an optimistic day, you couldn't have denied that this was utterly shit.

"Jesus." Your boss muttered, beginning to pace. "Look, I like you, you know? You do good work and you're never outta line, but I reckon the higher-ups are gonna be done with you. They wanted you out over the first article but I convinced them it was all speculation. This is proof and makes us all look bad that you're sleeping with someone you interview every other bloody week. Look, I'll do what I can in damage control, but I'd be bringing your stuff home tonight. I'm sorry."

How could he have just left you with that absolute bombshell? Effectively firing you, just like that? The tears had made their way up to your waterline, sitting there mocking you as you refused to let them fall. You submitted your piece and shut off your laptop, angrily stuffing your sparse personal decorations into your shoulder bag to get the fuck out of the building as fast as possible.

The paparazzi were waiting again, of course, like that was what you really needed. You pushed past them, making sure to land an extra hard stomp on Peter's foot, lips twitching into the beginnings of a smile as you heard him curse.

You sat on the tube, staring intently at your feet and trying desperately to think of anything but your current situation. You'd already been approached by someone who'd coughed out "Skank," which really hadn't done anything for your sour mood. All you wanted was to crawl into your bed and never emerge.

You wandered down the street between the metro station and your flat, hands shoved deep in your coat pockets.

"Hey!" Someone called and you glanced over on instinct, senses drawn by the interruption of an otherwise quiet evening. "You're the girl who kissed James Potter, yeah?" It was a girl still in her school uniform, probably sixteen or seventeen. You thought through your options quickly and shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Wicked. How was it?" She asked, chewing on pink gum. There was an aura about her that you liked, not judgemental like everyone else you'd met. If you were still in school you thought you might've been friends with her.

"Pretty good, I'd do it again." A cheeky almost-joke between the two of you, ironic given the shit that it had caused for you.

"We were talking about it at school. Pretty shit how they've treated you. Like they all wouldn't jump at a chance to get close to 'im." You liked the way that she didn't get any closer. Just the two of you standing face to face, divided by the empty road.

"Exactly what I've been saying," You agreed, tucking your hair behind your ears.

"If it was the other way around, if you were the famous one, James would be getting congratulated for getting with you, not ridiculed by the mindless gossip columns. All my friends think it's utter bullshit, stopped buyin' 'em and everything." You could have kissed her if that wasn't tremendously creepy. In five minutes, this schoolgirl had vindicated everything you'd been saying for the past week in a way no one else had.

"Thank you," You said, with more sincerity than you probably should have had for a complete stranger. The girl just shrugged with a smile, nodding before continuing down the street, the sound of her leather school shoes growing quieter with every step.

You felt it in your whole body every time you thought of the interaction for the next few hours, warmth spreading through your chest as you were reminded there were still good people around.

Your other reminder of that fact came with the sound of your buzzer, the laughing of Lily and Marlene echoing off the stone of your building. As you let them in curiously they presented armfuls of takeout, the smell of Chinese food immediately floating through your flat.

Lily took the responsibility of setting out the food while Marlene took control of your little television, flipping between channels until she found a suitable romcom starting.

You didn't speak about what had happened, no one mentioned James Potter or the bloody Sunday People. Yet, there was an air of tenderness that let you know the girls knew exactly what was happening and how you were feeling about it.

Still, there was something bothering you. You couldn't give it a name immediately, only a tugging in your stomach while the girls were entertaining you, but persistent nonetheless.

It wasn't until you were all crammed into your bed, the other two peacefully asleep, that you could identify the sensation. It was an overwhelming desire, a need to write that you hadn't felt in ages. It was the same feeling that had pushed you to be a journalist in the first place, an inspiration you typically only felt watching a magical soccer final.

You crept out of your bedroom, switching on your computer at the kitchen table, squinting at the aggressive blue light. And when a blank Word document appeared before you, you started writing. Obsessively, feverishly, words poured out of you at a rate that hadn't happened since you'd started at Sunday People.

The words of the school girl fresh in your mind, you started an article vastly different from your usual kind. Instead of strategies and highlights you dissected your own experience of the past week, saying everything you hadn't let yourself unload to the paparazzi outside your office (though with fewer curse words than they would have received). It could have been minutes or hours that you were writing and you wouldn't have noticed, eyes glued on the screen in front of you.

You didn't realise you'd fallen asleep until Lily woke you gently with a hand on your shoulder, offering a steaming mug of tea. It was light outside, the world already up and awake. You were glad it was a weekend as the girls didn't need to rush off to work, cooking a simple breakfast for you all to share.

"What've you written?" Marlene asked, the second part of her sentence unnecessary: since you don't have a job to write for. You shrugged, taking a bite of some eggs.

"Just something I had to get off my chest. Might see if I can sell it to someone to tide me over 'til I figure out what I'm doing with my life."

"Can we read?" You made a 'go ahead' gesture, the computer already open to the screen.

A WOMAN'S UNWILLING WEEK IN THE PUBLIC EYE:

How a woman always loses.

You sat in mild discomfort as Lily and Marlene read your piece in silence, anxiously awaiting their reactions. They weren't what you were expecting.

When they turned back to face you, Lily had tears in her eyes, red tones brought out in her skin. Even Marlene looked uncharacteristically moved, not at all the reaction you were expecting. Firstly, it was completely unedited so you suspected it was somewhat of a mess from your midnight haze. Secondly, it was more of a vent than anything, getting your hatred for invasive paparazzi off your chest. You thought you'd all laugh about it then move on with your days.

"Lils, what's wrong?" You didn't mean to laugh, it was more out of surprise than anything else.

"It's just, it's so raw and real. It's so unfair," She sniffled, wiping her eyes with the sleeves of her sweater.

"Jesus, you don't have to cry," You said lightly, "I'm fine! I hated that bloody place anyway."

"That's not the point," Marlene pointed out, "And Lily's right, this is really confronting stuff. It's great."

"Thanks," You mumbled, studying a lamp for something to do.

"Can we talk about James?" Your head snapped back to look at her.

"What about him?"

"Clearly there's been some... developments in your relationship, which we don't have to talk about--"

"Yet," Marlene interrupted.

"The point is that it looks like there's feelings involved now. What are you doing about them? Because if you publish that, it's putting everything out there, and even I can't tell how you feel about James right now," Lily finished.

"I don't want to talk to him," You said quickly, "I know it's not his fault but I can't think about him without getting mad. It's like I wrote; he ends up fine while I lose my job over one kiss."

"Understandable," Marlene nodded, "But if I know James at all, he'll be going crazy every minute that you ignore him."

You had much to consider when the girls left. The state of your career, your feelings for James, everything felt too big and overwhelming to make any decisions about. So, you took a nap.

The rest of your weekend was spent sending your then-edited article to as many newspapers and blogs as you could and hiding out in your flat, dodging James' calls.

Unfortunately, you liked him. You'd figured out that much. More unfortunately, he hadn't done anything to help you out in all this mess, benefiting from the press in a way that only England's favourite footballer could.

On Monday morning your piece was published. Not the biggest or most reputable newspaper, if your name hadn't still been trending it probably would have gone largely noticed. Instead, it blew up.

It had mixed reviews, of course, a tell-all so blatantly feminist would always attract its haters, but you were floored by the support it was receiving. Women were validating your experiences in a way you hadn't expected even a few days ago. It made you not so scared to leave the house anymore.

On Tuesday morning, Remus called you. You had the thought that it might have been James calling to grovel on Remus' phone, but you thought it was a smart enough idea you'd indulge anyway. If it was Sirius you wouldn't have picked up.

Instead, it was actually Remus.

"Come to the media room this afternoon," He said, evidently not wasting time with pleasantries.

"What?" You asked, caught off-guard.

"Just do it. Two o'clock."

"Remus, you know I don't have a job anymore, right?"

"Come off it, you know anyone on the team would let you in. You've got quite a name for yourself," He chanced a joke and you rolled your eyes.

"What, whore?" You retorted, only a little worried it would be true.

"I'm hanging up," Was all he said before the line went dead. You huffed, snapping your phone closed with all the attitude of a spoiled private schoolgirl.

Yet, at two o'clock you were standing in front of the media room at James' team's stadium, questioning all of your life choices.

The room seemingly went silent when you entered, dozens of pairs of eyes staring you down as you nervously stuck to the wall. You felt the derogatory, leering stares from all the sleazy men who'd been accusing you of sleeping with players since you first started in the field. It made you want to drop dead.

James made his way to the lectern up the front of the room with a cough, quieting down the chaos.

"Afternoon, everyone. I'm sure you're all wondering why I've called you here, I've got some things I'd like to address.

"As you all well know, I've been a frequent face in the papers lately, and not for my brilliant playing as it usually is. I recently got followed down a street after a night out looking after an old friend who happened to be a colleague of yours. Now I know that my godly good looks lead you to believe that I don't feel the same as all of you, but I do. And I'd like you all to consider how you'd feel if a man with a camera followed you all the way home after you'd been out for a night with your friends and a few cheeky drinks. It's pretty invasive if you can't imagine.

"Now, all this press hasn't really affected me. However, my dear friend has been subject to misogynistic articles, slut-shaming and harassment all because we were seen out together and a few hateful words from someone I used to consider a mate." You had no idea where this was going, but you were absolutely fascinated. James was more well-spoken, more mature and solemn than you'd ever seen him, though he still had his audience in the palm of his hand with his casual jokes. It was a masterclass in public speaking.

"If you haven't read any of my friend's pieces I would highly recommend them; she's got a brilliant voice and I personally read everything she publishes. However, I'm not here to talk about her work; I'd actually like to talk about her if you all don't mind."

What the hell was happening?

"In the midst of all these articles over the last week, I know you've all seen various pictures of us, including from secondary school. A few come to my mind, our graduation picture is a highlight, but I'd really like to talk about this one." James brandished a printed-out photo you recognised instantly.

Your life wasn't real, it absolutely could not be.

The room started to trickle out but you were stuck to your spot against the wall, frozen in absolute shock. You hardly even noticed the dirty looks you got from some of the people you'd been working alongside for years.

You spotted James in another corner, drinking out of a plastic water bottle and messing with his hair. A nervous tell.

The room was almost completely empty when you approached him, heels muffled by the carpeted floor.

"Hey stranger," You said softly, feeling way out of your depth. He turned in an instant, smile lighting up his face then melting away as it was replaced with an insecure frown.

"Was that okay? I didn't want to embarrass you but I wanted to step up and do something and protect you and--"

"Have you really loved me since we were twelve?" You cut him off bluntly.

"Every day since, as I've figured out," He agreed with a slight nod, glasses slipping down his nose slightly.

"What about all the flirting with Lily? The other girls over the years?"

"So obviously fake. Distractions. It's never been anyone but you, love."

You could only stare at him for a moment, your whole world shifting beneath your feet. James' face became increasingly worried, brow furrowing more the longer you remained unresponsive.

"If you don't feel the same that's totally alright, I still stand by what I did and I don't want you being harassed for--"

You'd always thought that cutting someone off with a kiss was ridiculously cheesy, reserved for shitty Hallmark movies with grown-up child actors who never got their big break. Turns out though, when you realise that your girlish crush on the star footballer has actually been a complicated love of twelve years, you don't really want to waste any more time.

When you woke up on Wednesday morning with James next to you, body heat keeping you cozy, you were convinced you had to be dreaming. When you eventually got up to check your emails and start your day the hypothesis was only solidified by the impossible email waiting in your inbox.

The fucking BBC wanted to hire you as a football commentator and sports writer. Your dream job at your dream company. If you let out an embarrassing squeal then that was none of your business.

You were still convinced you were hallucinating the whole thing until James came in with his biggest smile and that look in his eyes that told you he probably had a hand in getting your name on the BBC desks.

Even a few weeks ago you would have been mad at him, assuming it was mocking or he had ulterior motives. But it wasn't a few weeks ago anymore, and James Potter's whole, endless heart belonged to you. You weren't letting that go anytime soon.

#jo’s readings ◡̈#james potter x reader #gia <3 #i did not know what chess boxing was wth bog snorkeling either ?? cheese rolling ??

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t1ny-untitled · 3 days ago

Text

TILL X GN!READER

「 ✦ ‧₊˚ 🎸 ⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ

- in this au, Till is in love(?) with the reader!yn and sang a different song in Round 2 in where he thinks you like (the aliens don't know it was someone else's song). He feels unsure of his feelings for gn!reader until he sang the song. -

- Warning; Till might be ooc(out of character) so I apologize if it is. If anything, feel free to give me some tips or things to improve this or any of my future fics, thank you! -

「 ✦ ‧₊˚ 🎸 ⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ

날 스치는 그대의 옅은 그 목소리

(That faint voice of yours that grazed me.)

내 이름을 한 번만 더 불러주세요

(Please call my name one more time.)

얼어버린 노을 아래 멈춰 서 있지만

(I'm standing still under the frozen light, but)

그대 향해 한 걸음씩 걸어갈래요

(I will walk towards you, step by step)

Still with you

0:01 - 0:18

Still With You - Jungkook

‧₊˚ 🎸 ⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ✦ 」

[Reader] has always been the person that Till admired a lot. Watching them from afar with admiration. Through his journey of learning the guitar, they were his inspiration and motivation to continue on. For him, his education, and for them.

You were his childhood best friend he never wanted to let go. You were too kind to him. To people. To everyone. He likes that about you. He couldn't even believe that he met someone so caring like you. It felt so unbelievable.

He just wishes to at least hold your hand, wipe your delicate tears when you cry, let you sleep on his shoulder for as long as you can, and talk to you for countless hours.

It breaks his tiny heart whenever he sees you with someone. He had always tried to impress you. He wanted you to be proud of him. To notice him. To care about him. He had always dreamed about that.

And this is finally the time that he can impress you. And he won't mess it up. He can't mess it up.

‧₊˚ 🎸 ⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ

Till was now against a guy—Acorn. A short brown haired boy who is just the same age as he is. He looked at the audience with confidence. He knew he was gonna win this round. With this song he prepared. For you.

Surely, the music started to play, giving a somewhat soft but electrifying memory with his guitar. He tried to do it as softly as possible but also enough to maybe impress you.

He struck a few tabs and some chords, bringing the microphone to his mouth as he sang, giving a slightly blocked sound to impress the audience as well

"날 스치는 그대의 옅은 그 목소리."

"내 이름을 한 번만 더 불러주세요"

"얼어버린 노을 아래 멈춰 서 있지만"

"그대 향해 한 걸음씩 걸어갈래요"

"Still with you"

He sang in a soft tone before striking a slightly louder and improvised melody. The boy looked at him, not even knowing where to start singing until he continued.

"어두운 방, 조명 하나 없이. 익숙해지면 안 되는데 그게 또 익숙해"

("Dark room, no lights. I shouldn't get used to it but I'm used to it again.")

He sang, looking at the ground for a brief moment to think about all the things he had with you before when the two of you were still kids.

"나지막이 들리는 이 에어컨 소리. 이거라도 없으면 나 정말 무너질 것 같아. 함께 웃고, 함께 울고. 이 단순한 감정들이 내겐 전부였나 봐"

("This quiet sound of the air conditioner. I feel like I'd really fall apart without this. Laugh together, cry together. I guess these simple feelings were everything to me.")

A gentle smile creeped up to his face, looking up. He felt conflicted by his unknown feelings for you. And he wanted to be sure...

"언제쯤일까 다시 그댈 마주한다면? 눈을 보고 말할래요."

("When will I ever see you again? I want to look you in the eye and tell you")

"보고 싶었어요"

("I missed you")

Suddenly, he felt a switch in his heart turned on. A feeling of his heart racing as he continued on the lyrics with passion. He hasn't felt something like this until now... It felt so nice, even.

The brunette looked at him, slightly panicking as he looked at his score compared to the gray haired one. He looked back at the gray haired, seeing how he was smiling genuinely. His collar was green, showing his positivity. Or even, motivation..

He really hopes you like it...

‧₊˚ 🎸 ⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ

"Till!"

A young child said, running towards the young boy—Till "Look what I made!" The young child said, showing him a little bouquet of flowers. You were smiling like a little kid, giving the bouquet to him. "It's for you!"

Till looked at the bouquet, feeling his cheeks burn beet red by the sudden gift. "W—why me?!" He exclaimed, looking up at you with surprise.

The young child looked at him, confused but also upset, thinking he doesn't like it "Why? Is it ugly?" You asked, looking a bit saddened as you looked down at your bouquet. He didn't like it when he saw you like that. He quickly patted your head, trying to calm you down "I—I'm just asking! I didn't say anything negative about that!" *He protested, hesitantly grabbing the bouquet and hiding it up to his chest "H—happy?!" He says, looking down at you and hoping you would be happy again

The little child looked up at him, and your face brightened. "Sing me a song" You stated, looking at him with a smile. You knew he couldn't say no... "A—ah... Hrgh..." Till grunted, feeling his face heat up and looked away, looking timid. "Fine...!" He said making you smile brightly and jumped up and down.

You sat on the floor beside him, looking at him as if waiting for him to sing. He couldn't concentrate properly on how focused you are to him but eventually, he started to sing.

"황홀했던 기억 속에"

("In the ecstatic memories")

"나 홀로 춤을 춰도 비가 내리잖아"

("Even if I dance alone, it rains")

"이 안개가 걷힐 때쯤 젖은 발로 달려갈게"

("By the time this fog clears, I'll run with wet feet")

"그때 날 안아줘"

("Hug me then")

‧₊˚ 🎸 ⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ

He didn't even realize that he was zoning out and his opponent—Acorn was already singing while he was distracted. He felt angered to the point he slammed his guitar on the floor. He wanted it to be him he's impressing you. Not the flat haired guy.

It still made him mad despite him still winning over the brunette. Now he had just killed his alien guitar. Ahh... But all he wanted to know is if you liked it or not.

He goes back to where he was, trying to find you to see if you paid attention to his performance. He just hoped that you weren't sleeping that time since you are a heavy sleeper... But luckily, when he came back, you instantly greeted him with a soft smile and waved at him. The only thing that filled his mind is that you liked it based on your small interaction with him.

Till looks at you, his face burning and his lips curling into a nervous and awkward smile before waving back. Now he finally knows what his feelings for you are now.

He wants to stay still with you

‧₊˚ 🎸 ⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ

#till x reader #alnst x reader #till alien stage x reader #alien stage x reader #alien stage #alnst #alnst till

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spookwriter-xo · 22 hours ago

Text

Coppélia

Chapter 3 - The Figure Painter

Chapter Summary - Y/N visits a childhood friend to go over Seonghwa's odd invitation.

Series Masterlist

"And then he gave you a contract... Like from Fifty Shades of Gray?"

"I told you it's not a contract, he said it was an invitation."

"Honey, it literally gives you a place to sign at the bottom."

After Seonghwa had given me the envelope and left, I wasted no time in rushing over to my friend, Mia's, house to tell her everything. Mia and I had known each other since we were seven years old, hanging off of each other like leeches since. Her family was rich too, but unlike mine, they supported her artistic endeavors.

She was a painter, specializing in figure paintings and realism, and was also my voice of reason.

"I seriously don't know what to do," I whine, my head resting on her kitchen countertop.

"Well, what does it say? Like what does he want you to do?" She asks, her fingers twirling a teaspoon around her tea cup.

I glance down at the papers in front of me. So many rules were listed I struggled to even wrap my head around it.

"He wants me to move into their home," I say.

"Their home?" Mia clarifies. "As in other people?"

"I guess so?" I clear my throat as I continue. "I can remain as a dancer for the society as long as I don't practice for any longer than I need to be."

"Well, at least they're offering you some freedom." She mumbles sarcastically, taking a sip of her tea.

"Mia come on!" I cry out rather dramatically.

"I feel like there isn't much up for discussion here? Yes, it's weird and borderline controlling but when was the last time something exciting like this happened in your life?" She argues.

"I don't want to be controlled, Mia. This whole thing, it's just way above my pay grade. I had enough of it living with my parents, I don't need it in a romantic relationship too!" I point out. She lets out a sigh, nodding in understanding.

"You're right, I'm sorry." Mia runs a hand through her hair. "Okay, let's try a different approach. What things in there benefit you?"

"Uhm, I get to live in a big ass mansion free of charge," I say, my finger hovering over the bullet point. It sure would be better than the cheap studio apartment I live in now.

"You can never go wrong with a big ass mansion." She quips before I continue.

"It says... I have to be willing to, share myself?" I tilt my head with furrowed eyebrows.

"Oh, don't tell me they're the type to want a girl to homey hop." She seethes, leaning over the counter to read the paper. "Oh god, they are!" She exclaims.

"Just because you're monogamous doesn't mean you can judge!" I scold.

"I'm not judging, I'm cringing 'cause it's not for me." She says defensively. "If you're into that, I won't judge."

"Sure you won't."

"I might make fun of you a little, but you know I'll get over it!" She laughs. "Besides it's a bonus if they're all cute. I looked up Seonghwa and that Hongjoong guy and woo!" She whistles.

"Poor Mark." I tease, she gasps. "Listen, I don't know if I'm up for that either. I mean I don't even know who the others are, for all I know there could be a serial killer among them."

"Then call him." She states. "Call him and demand him to rewrite it on your terms."

"Would that work?" I ask, placing the papers back into a neat pile.

"He's a businessman, right? Of course, it would! Hell, you might even get to meet the others if you play your cards right." She says confidently. "You like this guy right?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Then fight for your own morals and boundaries, and if he doesn't accept that then move on." She says, moving over slightly to place her mug in the sink. "And if they try something, Mark and I will come over and beat them up for you."

"You and I both know Mark Lee is not going to beat anyone up." I laugh causing her to let out a snort.

"You're right, he could yap their ears off and give us time to escape the country though." She jokes, a wide grin spreading across her face.

I glance back down at the documents, genuinely contemplating for a moment. I hated the idea of being controlled by anyone again, let alone a bunch of men who, aside from 1, I have never had a conversation with in my life. But on top of that, it would be really nice to stay somewhere that didn't charge me almost my entire weekly pay for rent.

Plus Seonghwa was really good-looking, but was I really going to risk my freedom just because a cute guy gave me a second of his time? Mia was right, I needed to call him and set up some kind of meeting and get this document altered to my liking also, not just theirs.

"You're doing that thing again." Mia's voice cuts me out of my thoughts. "You know it's creepy when you stare off into space like that."

"Sorry, was just thinking about everything," I say softly, stuffing the document back into the envelope it came in.

"It's a lot, I know, but once you put your foot down like I know you can it'll all even out. You'll see." Mia was often right about these things, then again she was always the one to come up with the ideas that would get us into trouble growing up. I trusted her with things like this because I knew it would never leave the two of us, but trusting her to convince me to do something that could lead to me signing my life away? I was going to be a little more cautious of that.

"I should probably go, I got another show tonight," I say, hopping off of the seat I was perched on.

"Oh! I'm coming to the show next Monday! Don't mess up for me okay?" She says, skipping around the counter to give me a quick hug before I leave.

"Of course I won't, you're my lucky charm." I joke, pulling away and waving. She waves back, knowing I could find my way out.

I contemplated calling Seonghwa as I walked through the city streets. I let out an annoyed huff at the constant tug-of-war going on in my head. My finger hovered over the call button as I stared down at his contact. He'd probably show up tonight, but did I really want to decline his initial offer in person?

Without thinking I pressed call, holding my phone up to my ear as I chewed on my bottom lip nervously. I felt a sick feeling of nerves in my stomach, the same feeling I felt before I went out on stage.

It rings 4 times before he picks up.

"I thought you'd think about it a while longer." He states, his voice rough. I take a deep breath before I speak.

"I'm declining your 'invitation'," I stated, making sure my voice sounded defiant.

"What?" He asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

"You heard me. This... Contract is far too controlling for my liking and I refuse to subject myself to signing my life away for a man who only graced me with his presence last night." I say, earning some looks from passersby.

"Doll-"

"I'm not done! Look, I like you. But the only way this is happening is if we rewrite this to include my own terms. And I want whoever the hell you expect me to share myself with to be there also. No way in hell am I agreeing to something like that without even knowing what they look like." I say, rather rushed. Silence follows, and I look at my phone screen for a moment to make sure the phone call didn't end. As I placed the phone back to my ear I heard laughter.

"My, I really underestimated you didn't I?" Seonghwa chuckles. "A real firecracker you are, so unassuming up until now." I could feel his grin through the screen, and it made my blood boil.

"If you're going to waste my time-"

"Hold on a second, Doll." He says, his voice still laced with amusement. "I'll organize a dinner, how does that sound? You, me, and the others who helped write the original contract. That way you can meet everyone and get your boundaries heard."

I blinked in surprise at his offer. Was it really that easy? "You're serious?"

"Of course I am! Honestly, it's refreshing to talk to someone as pretty as you about business exchanges." He chuckles. "You have a show tonight, yes? Are you free Saturday night?"

I clear my throat. "Uhm, yeah?"

"Excellent, I'll send you the details tonight with your Gardenias." He says, hanging up before I can get another word in.

I gape at the phone, staring at it as I stand frozen in the middle of the street. I look around for a moment before continuing on my way.

I had a sinking feeling that this dinner was not going to be as easy as he made it seem. The others were most definitely businessmen also, co-owners of ATZ Corp. Me, a broke ballerina versus 8 businessmen on their own turf.

Pray for me.

#kpop #ateez ot8 #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez #ateez fic #hongjoong #wooyoung #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #jongho

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theunholybastard · 3 days ago

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Bad Day (Papa Emeritus IV x Gender-Neutral!Reader)

Requested by @ollies-station !!! <3

Tags: Fluff, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Reader Is Hinted Trans But It's Pretty Vague, Mentions Of Body Dysmorphia/Dysphoria, 2nd Person POV

Copia hovered over you, paints smudged and halfway wiped off. He stopped in the middle of washing his face when he noticed something wasn't right with you. You lay face down in the bed, unmoving, just so done with life.

"Eh... t-tesoro, what's wrong?" Copia asks warily, head tilted like a confused puppy, eyes darting around the room awkwardly. He was never very good at comforting people. But you were the love of his life, how could he not at least try to be of help? He just can't stand to see you like this.

"Everything." You reply hoarsely, muffled by the pillow you were crying into earlier. You were hardly exaggerating, everything seemed to be going wrong and sending you further down a spiral. Not to mention, you've not been very kind to yourself today either. When you first woke up, things immediately felt off. You felt off. Looking into the mirror, you instantly felt dread, like something wasn't quite right with you. Deep rooted insecurities bubbled up to the surface, your body not feeling like your own. You just want the day to be over already, but every passing moment feels like eternity.

"Bad day, huh?" Copia sighs, sitting down on the bed with you, mindful to give you a little bit of space if you needed it. You finally lift your head up, and the sight makes Copias heart ache. Red, puffy face, tear stains down your cheeks, hair tussled and greasy. You hadn't even gotten a chance to shower that morning, notably the first sign today wasn't going to be all that great. You probably looked like a hot mess right now, but to Copia, you were the most beautifully ethereal being he'd ever laid his eyes on, no matter what state you were in.

"Is there anything I can do?" Copia asks concernedly, softly stroking your back with a gloved hand. "Do you want to talk about it? It might make you feel better."

"Maybe... But there's still so much stuff I have to do today-"

"Non importante. Whatever needs to get done today, I will do it for you. You've had enough stress put on you today, now it's time for you to relax. Now, tell your Papa what is wrong, okie dokie?"

You couldn't help yourself, airing out all your grievances to him. You spared no details, every little thing that went wrong and every little worry you had was brought to his attention, and he listened intently to every word. That was the one thing he's always been very good at. Listening. And he was right, it did make you feel a little better, especially with how earnest you could tell he was.

When it was all said and done, he said nothing at first, simply holding you close to his chest, his warmth and sweet smell of cologne quickly lulling you into a sense of security and comfort. You knew you always had a safe space with him.

"Bad days come and go, amore. You must keep in mind that this won't last forever. The good days will come back sooner than you think. And yes, maybe they will fleet sooner than you want them to as well, but the important thing is that they will come again. Look outside, tesoro..." You did as you were told, gazing out the window to see the sun slowly setting over the horizon.

"The day is almost over, you see? And tomorrow is a new day. A better day. Why don't you sit here for a moment and focus on that while I run you a nice relaxing bath, hm? I'll quickly run whatever errands you have left today, and after that I'll order some takeout for the two of us, how's that sound? I'll get you whatever you want."

"And... And can we maybe watch something after? And cuddle?" You sniffle. A comfort show would be great right now. He smiles. "Of course! Anything for my baby." He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, pulling away to get up and do the tasks he promised. You quickly grab the lapels of his jacket, keeping him from leaving you so soon.

"Copia... You know you don't have to do this, right? I'll be fine, really." You murmur, self conscious and worried that you're asking too much of this sweet, perfect man you've somehow managed to claim as yours. He chuckled.

"I know, amore; I want to. I want to make you happy, I want to make things easier for you. Because I love you. Because you deserve that. Capisci?" He says, a gentle firmness in his soft-spoken voice. Hesitantly, you nod. Still, you don't let go of his jacket just yet.

"Could you stay with me for just a little while longer?" You ask, hopeful and bleary eyed. He grins.

"As long as you need, tesoro."

#the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost band #ghost band fanfic #papa emertius #papa emeritus iv #papa emeritus iv x reader #papa copia #cardinal copia x reader #cardinal copia #copia emeritus #copia #frater imperator #frater imperator x reader #hurt/comfort #nameless ghouls #ghost band fandom #fluff fic

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emmmaa4 · 2 days ago

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I don’t know if you do male reader! But if you can please do make it that and if not do gender neutral.

Buttttt I would love a fic where Male reader just puts Jimmy (mouthwashing) in his place, just fucks the shit out of him really, give him a taste of his own medicine kind of thing, just rough sex.

I’ve love your work, and your writing is so amazing!! Take your time please if you do my ask 😭🙏

Hi Anon! Thank you so much for this proposal and for your words. I hope you and others like this fic. 💙

Male!Reader x Jimmy (mouthwashing)

⚠️ TW: NSFW, abuse, degradation..

"A taste of your own medicine"

I had entered into this 'great adventure' to feel better and to be a little more useful. I don't think I'm a bad guy, I just have a very strong sense of justice when it comes to the bad things that happen to me or, rather, to the people I like.

When one time, Anya, the Tulpar nurse had taken me alone to the infirmary, only to break down crying in front of me, almost screaming about how Jimmy had abused her, used her, as if she were just another piece of meat; something in me broke at that moment, I was furious. Even though I only tried to hug Anya and comfort her

"Please don't tell him anything! He'll kill me, I swear, he will..."

"Don't worry, I won't tell him anything, I promise Anya."

Of course that was a complete lie but honestly, I didn't want her to worry anymore. Curly was a corpse that could barely breathe, Swansea and Daisuke were just trying to do what they could to keep going; and on top of that, this idiot, in the end, ends up getting away with it like a slippery worm in the mud.

So, I just didn't think about it, I didn't want to think about it. Do I really have to think about it at this point when we're all about to die?! I don't think so. I looked for Jimmy, and I found him, he was almost hiding (so to speak), he was in the console room, this room was full of that white foam shit, Jimmy looked upset; I went in, closed the door behind me, the room was red because of the lights.

"You?! Get out of here, I'm making a plan because of your fault, because of Curl-"

He spat out his filthy words, thank god I'm a bit taller than him and fast too, I quickly punched him in the face, sending him crashing to the ground, the metal making a giant clatter. Jimmy gasped, his face scrunching up in anger, already getting up as he staggered to punch me. I grabbed him by his overalls, "Oh, don't you think you can, you little shit" - I quickly tackled him back onto the metal floor, chest face down, being crushed by my weight.

"You think you're a genius, without feeling guilty about all the things you've done?! Huh?!"

I grabbed him by his hair, lifting his head forcefully to whisper: "I'll make you taste a little of your own medicine.."

He gasped in shock, I used my hand to slam his head back into the cold ground, him gasping at the pain it caused him. I quickly tore with what I had of my strength, of my fury, his pants and pulled them down, I heard him scream beneath me but I quickly spanked him even though he had boxers on, he screamed loudly at this.

"Shhh... You like doing this to innocent people but you don't like it when it's done to you? Crying bitch..."

I started to hit his ass more, his body responded with small spasms, he also let out small gasps at my spankings. I got closer to his face, my mouth on his ear to whisper: "If you try to escape, I'll kill you."

I let go of Jimmy's hair, for a second I thought I saw tears in his psycho eyes as I got a little closer, I could only smile at the thought. I positioned myself behind him to tear the fabric of his boxers, his ass was already red; I couldn't help but bite my lower lip furiously, seeing so much pain from someone who had caused that same pain.

I started to hit him more, his ass turning a painful red, I heard Jimmy let out a scream out of nowhere causing me to quickly squeeze his ass with my big hands: "Shut up, you didn't let her scream, why I would let you then? Get your ass up."

Jimmy's hips shook but he still tried to lift them as best he could, I saw him turn his head slightly to the right to see me behind him, I saw a small dry tear come out of his eye. I would lower the zipper of my jumpsuit to take it off below my hips and take out my cock, resting it between Jimmy's two red and sore buttocks, he would jump when he felt it: "Oh, is the abuser sensitive?" I said with pure sarcasm, he dedicated himself to sticking his face to the floor. My cock began to harden, leaving pre-cum at the entrance of his ass, I would rest the tip of my member at the entrance, I decided to take just a few seconds to tell him with a furious voice: "I hope this hurts" - I slammed my penis inside his ass completely, without gentleness, without love, only fury and revenge.

Jimmy's little screams would sound all over the room, with the red consoles and that foam around. I would hear him gasp, I don't know if it was from pain or pleasure, I didn't care; I would pull out and bury my cock against his ass while I grabbed his red buttocks to hold him even if it hurt, I would hit him from time to time, just to take out the anger I have of him ON HIM.

"Stop! Stop please!"

"Oh no... we're going to be like this until you can't move anymore."

I grabbed his hair back so I could ram him deeper, my hair disheveled from moving so much, in a harsh way I grabbed his hips and rammed one last time, my balls would pucker as I would cum inside him, even being inside, still grabbing his hair I would guide his head so he would turn to look at me, he had saliva coming out of his mouth, along with dry and new tears coming out of his tear ducts; I got closer to his ear and whispered:

"Take responsibility Jimmy."

I threw his head against the ground, leaving him lying there, as I stood up to put on my overalls without a care in the world, I walked to the metal door, before leaving I gave him one last look; lying there, panting, having small spasms, and the worst? He had cum, his semen shot in his abdomen.

#anya mouthwashing #captain curly #curly mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing #mouthwashing #swansea mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing #jimmy x reader #mouthwashing game #smut #mouthwashing x reader #mouthwashing x you

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lucy90712 · 1 day ago

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Can you please make a hector fort fic where he spends all his time with his friends and spends barely time with her. Then they were supposed to go on a date together and she waits for him to pick her up, she waits for 2 hours and goes to social media to see if he has posted anything and sees on his story a picture of him and her girl bestfriend having fun playing games. So she leaves the house with her stuff. When hector comes home he realises what he has done and tries to get back in contact with her but he fails. They don't see each other for a while but he notices her walking on a busy street and tries to talk to her. (ending with fluff please)

You: good morning amor hope training goes well don't forget about our plans tonight I'll be waiting for you

Hector: have fun in class and don't worry I'll be there at 7 as promised

You: love you

That was the last I heard from Hector and now it's 8:32pm and he's still not here to pick me up. He promised he promised me he'd be here and that he'd make up for us not spending any time together. I should've seen it coming as he's been doing this for weeks he's promised time and time again that he will come over or we'll go on a date and then he never shows up. When I can finally get hold of him he always has an excuse either he was busy or with friends and lost track of time but whatever it is it hurts. I've done so much for Hector I've been there for him since we were kids and I've been there for every good and bad moment of his football career but he can't even manage to show up for one day or just to see me for an hour.

We made the jump from being friends to being a couple just over a year ago and for the longest time he was the best boyfriend ever he treated me so well was super attentive and really made an effort to be romantic and take me on dates. I don't remember exactly when it changed I think it happened slowly over time but ever since he's started playing with the first team more he's been busier with training and matches which I understand but what I don't understand is spending every evening with his teammates who he sees all day when he could see me. It might sound selfish but I just miss my boyfriend he's already missed so much like he wasn't here when I was stressed over my big exams and he wasn't here when I got the results and he wasn't here when I needed him most when my mum went into hospital and I was scared and panicking. Just a few months ago he'd never dream of leaving my side during any of those times but now he barely knows they even happened.

I text him once then twice then three times then I called multiple times but they all went unanswered. My last resort was to message him on Instagram as I know he won't have turned the notifications off for that but I didn't need to message him Instagram gave me my answer straight away. He had posted on his story showing him out with his friends and my best friend was with them too which was a whole other level of pain. My best friend knows all about my troubles with Hector yet she went out with him and his friends anyway and didn't even bother to tell me. That was the final straw I'm not dealing with this anymore I deserve better I deserve someone who will be there for me, not break promises and definitely not someone who makes me feel like this.

My mind was racing but I quickly worked out what I wanted to do so I grabbed my keys and got in my car. Seeing as Hector wasn't in I decided now is the perfect time to go and get all the things I have at his place and leave the spare key I have that he gave me ages ago because I won't be needing it anymore. When I opened the door I immediately saw all the little things of mine there are that makes Hector's place feel just like my own some of my books are on his coffee table and my hair ties on the sideboard by the door. I spent some time grabbing all my things while trying not to cry that I was losing my boyfriend who I thought was the love of my life. Before I left I found a piece of paper and a pen and wrote Hector a note to tell him his I felt and why I was leaving and then put my key with it. Closing the door I felt like I was closing a chapter in my life a chapter I never wanted to close and one that's going to stay with me for a long time but it has to be done.

Hector's POV

As soon as I opened the door to my apartment it felt weirdly empty like was something wrong but the door was locked and nothing looked like it has been stolen. Still I had a quick look around and then I noticed a piece of paper on the kitchen counter. Next to it was a key and that's when I realised what was wrong all of y/n's things were gone her books, her hair ties and all of the little things she leaves here were gone and this is her key that's now in my hand not with her like it should be. I knew the note would be from her but I didn't need to read it to know what was going on and what I'd done. I had promised to see her tonight as I've forgotten about the last few dates we've planned but I did it again my friends dragged me out after training and then I got carried away and forgot about the most important part of my day proving to y/n that I will do better. I really didn't want to read the note but I knew I had to I owe her that at the very least.

Dear Hector,

I have left my key and taken my things because I'm done. I'm done because tonight we were supposed to go out you promised you'd pick me up at 7 and you promised you wouldn't forget like you have been for the last few months but you did. Instead of trying to prove to me that you love me and that the last few months have just been an anomaly you went out with your friends and my best friend leaving me waiting for you, calling and texting you until I saw your story. I can't do this anymore I love you but I can't let you treat me like this so I'm calling it here. I've really enjoyed the last year or so we've spent together but it's time for us to move on as clearly we aren't meant to be.

I love you and probably will for the rest of my life but this is goodbye.

Y/n xx

Those words hurt to read. I already knew I fucked up but to see the words written in front of me made it truly hit me how much I'd hurt her. She was the best thing that ever happened to me she was always there for everything no matter what she's been by my side through every up and down and I truly thought she'd be there for everything for the rest of our lives. I wanted her there for every achievement in my career and I wanted to be there for all of her achievements too. She was the one I didn't need anyone else I didn't want anyone else but now she's left me and I don't have my person anymore and I may never have her again.

After the initial shock I tried to text her to see if I could apologise but she had already blocked me so I tried Instagram but she had blocked me on there too. I should've seen it coming but it upset me that I wouldn't be able to reach out to her and try and make things right or at least tell her how sorry I am for fucking this all up so badly. She's gone and it's all my fault that's what hurts the most if I hadn't been such an idiot then we'd still be together but no I had to go and ruin things with the best woman in the world.

A few weeks later

Life has been hell for the last few weeks I've really missed y/n I've missed having her sat in the stands during matches and I've definitely missed seeing her. She's been in my life for the longest time not just as my girlfriend but as my friend so not having her in my life anymore and so suddenly as well has been really hard. I've definitely not been myself all of the guys keep asking if I'm ok and I tell them I am but we all know it's a lie they know how much I love y/n and they can see how it's destroyed me to lose her. I've tried time and time again to reach out to her but of course I'm still blocked I even text her best friend to get her to talk to y/n but she says she hasn't seen her or had any of her texts answered either so I have no way of telling her that I'm sorry.

Everyone keeps telling me I need to try and move on and they're right it's just hard everything reminds me of y/n whenever I go anywhere I see places that we've been on dates to or just places we have memories at. Today I'm going to stop myself from moping about and go for a walk to clear my head as that's what I think I need to be able to move on or at least start to. I decided to go to the nearest park and walk around as it's relaxing and it should be quiet there which is what I need.

The park was pretty empty there was a few people around; one couple with their baby an older couple feeding the birds and a girl who was sat on a bench with a book. The girl reminded me of y/n her hair was the same colour and reading in the park is something she loved to do. As I walked closer I realised that it actually was y/n she had headphones in and the book she'd been reading in her hands like she so often did when I went to see her. Seeing her made me stop in my tracks I didn't know whether to go and talk to her or just leave her be but then I realised this is my chance to talk to her and get closure at the very least.

Your POV

Being without Hector has been hard I've missed feeling his touch and having him next to me when I sleep. So many times I've wanted to take it all back and run back to him but I know I can't or he'll think he can treat me like that again or someone else and I can't let that happen. Today is Wednesday which is the day that I had free from classes and usually I would spend all day with Hector so I've been sat at home all day thinking about him but I can't keep doing that so I needed to get outside. To give me something to do I walked to the park with my book. I found a bench with a nice view of the trees and the little pond with a few ducks and let myself forget about the real world.

I was so in my own world that I didn't notice when someone sat next to me to start with until they sighed which brought me out of my trance. When I looked to my side I think I turned as white as a ghost because Hector was sat next to me with a look of pure sadness on his face. It took a few seconds for my brain to begin functioning again but when it did I leapt up and tried to run away. I'm not ready to face him again not when I've been trying so hard to forget about him and move on I blocked him and separated myself from him so I wouldn't have to do this. Before I could get more than a few steps away Hector placed a hand on my arm he didn't pull me back he didn't even hold my arm tightly but having his hand on me stopped me dead in my tracks. He encouraged me to sit back down so I did and I watched as his hand moved off my arm down to my hand which he held tightly in his grasp so I couldn't run again.

"Hector" I started to say

"No please let me talk" he interrupted

"Ok but you have five minutes then I'm leaving" I said

"I'm sorry and I know move said that a lot recently but I really mean it when I got home and saw the note you left it broke me having all of your stuff gone from my apartment made it feel empty and not being able to see or talk to you has killed me I've missed you so much and I'll do anything to make it up to you" he said

"How do I know that you actually mean it and that you'll actually change I told you how disappointed I was a million times and every time you told me you wouldn't forget the next time and then you always did it's like I wasn't important to you anymore how do I know that'll change" I said

"I know I was an awful boyfriend but losing you has taught me a lot I know I can't treat you like that and I'd never dream of doing it again this might seem to much but you are truly the one for me I don't want to ever be with anyone else so please give me a another chance and I promise I'll do better and if I don't I'll let you go" he said

"Ok but this is your last chance if you miss any date or anything without telling me and giving me a valid reason we're done" I said

"I'll never miss a date ever again don't worry" he said

"I can't lie I'm glad to have you back I've missed you so much it really hurt to walk away" I said

"And you'll never have to walk away again I'm here to stay" he said

He pulled me into his side and leant down to kiss my lips which felt so good as I've missed having him by my side and I've definitely missed kissing him. He let me sit and finish the chapter I was reading before we left the park and went back to his place as he wanted to make things up to me straight away by having a movie date at home which he knows are my favourite. He's definitely off to a good start at making things up to me but honestly I'm just happy to have him back by my side.

#hector fort imagine #hector fort x reader #hector fort #football imagine

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olderthannetfic · 11 hours ago

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Ok, LONG story and a rant. ESL

I have a "friend" who recently got on the topic of disabled children, including severely disabled, mentally and physically children, and how people having an abortion just because of it are bad people. She's not pro-life, but her opinion is if you want a child you need to "accept what you get." She has even spoken about how she'd never even consider an abortion if she had a disabled child, and that she'd be a great mom. Blah blah blah.

Starting off, we went to school in the same class until high school. Her entire life she was terrified of people with disabilities, especially developmental. One time in 8-9th grade she started scream crying because our teacher's son with down syndrome had to join class for 2 hours because of the teacher's schedule. In 3rd grade she thought needing glasses was infectious and always ran away from the two kids in class with glasses.She's had some of the weirdest reactions to people with autism, ADHD, and similar diagnosis.

Yet she's here proclaiming how good of a mother she'd be to a disabled child, as a key argument why people screening for disabilities are bad.

Here's my position, as someone who started studying in a field focusing on working with disabled people in all stages of ability and disability, her sentiment is incredibly stupid to me. If you know the fetus will become an incredibly disabled child, it's not a kindness to have it, you're not mother Mary for giving birth to a child that'll never be able to live independently in this world. I've experienced some of the most unpleasant sides of this, and I don't mean helping clean people after the toilet, or showering. I've been inappropriately groped, touched, and kissed by more people than I can count. Some of them understand it's wrong when I tell them a firm no, some get huffy and angry, some get violent. That's just the surface problems I've dealth with. It's difficult, and painful, and to me it's just a job I can step away from at the end of the day, especially since I'll be able to find work in other medical fields when I've completed my studies.

Yes these are people who deserve all the kindness in the world. But I won't lie, the quality of life for someone who's only way of communicating is crying and hitting people is not a kind life. They don't get to live lives where they can just go on vacation, and see new places on their own. They can't start a normal job. They can't start a family. Half the people I work with haven't seen their relatives in years, or are only visited for an hour or two every week. They see people having relationships and having relations in movies, and with their caretakers of family, but they can never have that. Most of the ones who've tried to touch me, or claimed I'm their wife, or girlfriend did it because that's what they see but don't understand what it actually means. I've dealt with disabled people who were victims of extreme abuse not just from family and strangers, but also people in my work field, who're traumatized but don't have the ability to work through properly because it's already difficult for them to just getting through their days. They have their happy moments, but most of all of this happens in an incredibly small social circle, with strict routines, where only other disabled people exist, and they don't even get the chance to be part of "normal" society. We workers are literally trained to "deal" with these people, sure we're also there for socializing, but most of us are also literally just a resource, we're not a friend, or a family member, we're workers.

Some of the places I've been at are more like a 24/7 kindergarten, with a huge lack of funding and manpower. You won't believe how many times we've struggles trying to help people during extreme and violent meltdowns, all because we're understaffed. The job also lacks male workers, which means it's harder to help with any male patients who voice feeling uncomfortable being helped by women. Do you know how incredibly painful it is to see the shame on someone's face who's more abled to voice this discomfort, but still not able to care for himself and needs help with, to us, basic things such as putting on clothes, or taking showers?

People like this "friend" annoy me, because they idealize the idea of having a heavily developmentally disabled child. They see people with more "mild" cases, or self-sufficient disabled people, but ignore everyone living in cramped disabled "communes" or under poverty and high levels of abuse.

Children, animals, causes: a lot of people romanticize the idea of taking on more than you can handle. It's not romantic. It's just irresponsible.

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mellyssecrethideout · 2 days ago

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talk me through an orgasm. call me a good girl or a dumb puppy {or both} and tell me how to touch myself. tell me to pinch my sensitive nipples, to push my fingers inside my needy hole, to drool all over my tits like a dumb mutt. tell me how fast or how slow to rub my throbbing little clit. tell me what toys to use and how exactly to use them. tell me to grind on my mushroom dildo or rub my vibrator against my swollen, needy clit.

tell me how good i am for blindly following your orders. talk about your favorite kinks while i'm a needy mess so they start to become my own. play with my mind. tell me how much you love when I play with myself for you. tell me i'm your perfect little toy. tell me how much i need you, how much you need me.

if you are feeling cruel, tell me i'm not allowed to cum. force me to edge myself for you, slowing down and speeding back up at your command. tell me i haven't been good enough to deserve an orgasm.

and then force an orgasm out of me anyways. tell me to hold my vibrator on my clit and keep it there no matter what. tell me repeatedly i'm not allowed to cum. keep teasing me and talking down to me, talking condescendingly, like i'm just not trying hard enough to not cum. make me pinch my nipples and flip the vibrator to the clit sucking side. tell me not to cum with more and more urgency as you listen to me struggle and beg and whine because i can't control my orgasm that's building.

and when i do, inevitably, cum without permission, don't let me stop. tell me i couldn't follow basic directions by not cumming, so this is my punishment. force me to overstimulate myself while you tell me you love me, even though i don't listen sometimes. tell me to rub faster and listen to my cries and whines as i let myself go completely for you. make me cum again and again until you are satisfied. make me cum as many times as you want, as many times as you think i can handle. don't let me stop until you think i've learned my lesson.

don't let me stop until i'm crying and begging and telling you over and over that i won't cum without permission again. because i'm a good girl and i wouldn't do that, right? listen to my pathetic whining and crying knowing damn well it's all lies because i can't control my own orgasms, you can.

finally let me slow down, let me breathe. tell me i'm a good girl for taking my punishment so well. thank me for listening so well. tell me you trust me not to do it again, not to cum without permission next time. tell me i'm a good girl and you think i've learned my lesson, knowing damn well you are gonna do it all over again tomorrow.

#mellythinkssometimes #edging and denial #forced 0rgasm #0rgasm control #0rgasm denial #overstim kink #manipulation #d0m/sub #teasing #🧡🧡🧡#inspired by a mutual

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beef-brisket · 2 days ago

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((Just living out my housewife dreams through Adam 😫😫))

Adam looked around. Everything was clean, an apple pie was in the oven, and Adam just put his homemade ice cream in the fridge. Everything should be ready to go when they get back from seed shopping.

Now, all that was left was for Adam to get presentable for Lucifer. He looked like a mess.

After an hour, Adam walked into their lounge, drying his hair. He even decided to shave today. It's been a long time since he shaved his whole face, but he liked it. It was a nice change.

He even clipped the sides of his hair, just to tidy everything up.

He put on a simple black shirt and some corduroy pants. He even found some studs for his piercings.

Walking to a small table near a window looking over pentagram city, Adam picked up his phone. Lucifer has been gone nearly six hours. And he was starting to feel it.

His skin was getting itchy, and it was getting harder to take full breaths. He hoped Lucifer didn't feel the side effects as badly as him.

He doesn't deserve it. It was Adam that drove him off, Lucifer left to be with Lilith. And he can't hate him for that. Not anymore. His heart still hurt that he didn't choose him. But why would he? Lilith had more to offer, but Adam could make up for that now. He'll treat Lucifer so well that he won't want to leave.

He had to. He couldn't be alone again. He couldn't leave Lucifer, but Lucifer could leave him.

Adam jumped when there was a knock at the door. It was loud. Forceful. But Lucifer said not to open it. Not unless it was Charlie, and she's already been.

But he was curious.

He started to walk over before someone yelled through the door.

Vaggie: Adam!? Don't you dare fucking speak to Charlie about me! I'm none of your fucking business- there's a fucking reason why I didn't want you here! You're not my fucking father! You- it makes Mt skin crawl to even know I came from you! So, don't speak about me to Charlie- ever! I'm not fucking doing it!

Adam heard footsteps stomping away from the door.

He never thought something Vaggie would say would ever hurt him. But he recognized the way his chest tightened as his face heated up, his eyes watering.

He had every right to hate him. He wasn't there. He didn't stop Lute. He didn't protect her. Like a father should.

She's another person he let down. He left Lucifer down, he let Lilith down, and Eve. And now Vaggie is added to that long list.

Adam leaned against the wall. He covered his mouth as he started to cry.

He deserves this. He deserved her words. But that doesn't make them hurt any less.

I'm coming up with some aus for you, but I need some meeting shenanigans.

I would love to know what bullshit Adam and Lucifer got up to during meetings.

Slowly healing their relationship, one meeting at a time 👀

Well I think the very first one they wouldn't even be alone together because of what happened. I think Adam would just silently glare at him.

Over time when Adam was feeling more confident to face the devil he'd go alone but by hologram, Sera's idea.

Making snide remarks, snappy comments, and being sassy.

And Lucifer would come back with his own and they would end up in banter for a while other than why they are really there.

As more time passes it's less hateful and more playful, maybe even takes on a flirty edge.

And I always see Lucifer being the one to make the first move after what happened in Eden. Adam has so many insecurities he wouldn't think that Lucifer would want him as more than maybe a friend.

Hit me with them bud 👀

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animeyanderelover · 14 hours ago

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This will be my first request, I am very happy because I LOVE your writing.

Alas aside, Yandere falls in love with a woman older than them who is very maternal for having a child, when he proposes she rejects him because she feels that they should not waste themselves on a woman who already has a child (You can do with the father whatever you want ).It would be with Atsushi, Akutagawa, Daichi Sawamura, Oikawa and if you want to add any more I don't mind

Sorry for my bad english😘😘

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, clinginess, manipulation, stalking, threats, violence

Tags: @shumidehiro @leveyani

You shouldn’t waste your time on me

Sawamura Daichi

🌅Cries of a small child are what guide him through the crowds on that day, his eyes flickering over the people before they finally land on the boy who is standing there all alone. Upon asking him what happened the child tells him that he got distracted and lost his mother. As not only a police officer but also a decent human being Daichi immediately helps, asks the boy where him and his mother were last together and if he knows where his mother planned to go. If worst comes to worst and he won't be able to find the boy's mother he'll just ask the boy where he lives and will bring hm home to wait together with him until his mom returns. Luckily it never comes that far as Daichi is able to find you after half an hour of searching, the boy instantly leaving his side and running to you with tears in his eyes. He's far too humble in your eyes as he is confronted with your gratefulness, tells you that he only did his job and that anyone would have helped a crying child. Still, you make some small talk with him as you ask for his name and both of you start talking for a while with each other. That's how he finds out that you recently moved to the Miyagi prefecture with your child and live close to his neighbourhood.

🌅The fact that he doesn't live far away from you and that he helped your child are major reasons that aid the two of you in getting so close to each other. Also, your son's dream is it to work for the police later on so he obviously views Daichi as his hero, something that flusters the man deep down a lot more than he shows. He visits you once a week when he has a free day, often bombarded with questions from your son about his job until you softly chide your child for his uncontrolled excitement. You admit to him relatively early that you moved here because your husband died and your parents live nearby as you also need to work and need someone to look after your son. Hearing that your husband died strangely enough makes more sense to him than if someone would have divorced you as only an ignorant fool would have let someone like you go. Daichi is not even going to deny his own feelings, he knows that he's extremely attracted to you. You're kind yet not too coddling, you're responsible and patient, you listen to the worries of others and are always willing to help where you can. Watching you raising your son sometimes reminds him of his high school days, a fond look on his face.

🌅Daichi is able to stay patient in spite of his obsession, especially if the loss of your husband has been very recent. He gives you time, he allows you to grieve and focuses in the meantime on helping you and your child to integrate into the new city. The thing is that he fills that role of a supportive husband and father so nicely that neighbours and even your own parents and son can't help but support the two of you getting together. When you reject him he is a bit disheartened but he takes it really well because he realises that you didn't do so because you do not love him. You reject him because you feel not good enough but that in itself is still quite hurtful. You're such a wonderful person after all. He doesn't mind the little age gap nor does he think of you less because you have a child. In fact he's grown very fond and protective of your son who you have raised wonderfully. Still, it's wiser to not pressure you so he steps back for now. His confidence remains though, knowing that you didn't deny not being able to see him as a partner. He'll just stay in your life as a pillar of support for now and will slowly make you realise that you are everything but a waste to him.

Oikawa Tooru

👑After a difficult divorce you make the decision to completely change your life and decide to try to reach for a dream you had when you were younger but gave up later on, deciding that you might not make it. It's better to try and fail then to never take the step. After many months of interviews, exchange of mails and documents you receive the news though. You did it. You're one of the managers for your favorite volleyball club, Club Athletico San Juan. You're so joyous, almost feel like a school girl all over again as you read the letter over and over again, kicking your feet and grinning like an idiot. Oikawa is still Oikawa even if he is by now an adult, his charming attitude still there as soon as you're introduced to the team as their new manager. His other teammates just watch with half amusement and half pity as Oikawa's charm ultimately never works. Sure, he manages to charm people quickly but he never manages to hold a relationship and they would hate for their setter and new manager to be on bad terms from the very start. You, with the divorce still freshly on your mind though, put your foot firmly down and clarify it to Oikawa very clearly that you have no intention of dating.

👑Obviously Tooru is miffed about your blunt rejection yet another part of him can't help but respect your determination. You know what you want to focus on and he wants to acknowledge that, especially since he is essentially the same. The keyword here is want because who would have thought that his feelings would slip out of his grasp of control so quickly? You know when to put him and his childish antics in his place, chiding him almost as if he were a child and the experience feels only more realistic when he realises that you're a few years older than he is. The fact that you work so closely with him only enables him to be very overbearing as he dreams up all kinds of minor inconveniences so that he has something to complain about to have your attention on himself. Your daughter is a shocker as you have never talked about your private life before and whilst other players gush over your child he gives her a strange look at first, his mind trying to process what it could mean. He pesters you privately about it, his eyes desperate and his body tense. The tension leaves his body at least partially when you admit with a heavy sigh that you had a rough divorce before you started working here.

👑Oikawa doesn't take the rejection very well, his heart dropping even though it doesn't have to do with the fact that you don't see him that way. Still, it is hard to stay logical with a heart as sensitive as his, especially since he is prone to being delusional. He just doesn't understand. What is it that he could have done better?? He has made it more than obvious that he is deeply in love with you. He's showered you in presents, constantly demands your attention and has even made the effort to get closer to your daughter despite initial caution he held. Is that still not enough?? What do you want him to do?? Please tell him what he as to do in order for you to accept. Honestly, your maternal instincts will come quite in handy as you're confronted with Tooru whilst his feelings threaten to burst out of him. Because it helps him to calm down and gives him the reassurance he so desperately craves from you in that moment. Nevertheless though, he ramps up his affection from a 10 to an 11 after that incident. If the problem is simply that you don't feel good enough he will change your mind. You're forgiven this one time. Do not reject him a second time though or else he might just make your job more difficult.

Nakajima Atsushi

🐅The gentle love of a parent is a notion so foreign to Atsushi that the first encounter he has with you leaves him almost on the edge. Your kind words, the patient look in your eyes, the warmth and comfort you provide him with by simply being in the room threatens to burst his heart right at the seams. After cold deprivation for as long as he can remember your presence feels like being drowned in a bathtub filled with hot water. It's overwhelming almost, scorches his skin yet he gladly submerges himself in the heat and the sensations that come with it. He's almost immediately infatuated with you, finds himself yearning for your affection in his dreams as well as in the real world. The age difference is something that weights on his soul though as he realises how experienced you are and how clumsy he seems to be in comparison. There's a lack of knowledge with certain machines or customs that he hasn't been exposed to due to his time in the orphanage but he is always too ashamed to tell you about it. Adamant to not let himself look like a young fool in front of you, Atsushi simply refuses to ask for help or advice from you. He wants to prove to you as well as himself that he can provide for you.

🐅As shameful as it is, there is an undeniable twinge of jealousy directed against your own child. He envies the little boy for being able to cling to you as often as he does as those are all things Atsushi desperately wishes to do as well. He wants to be held, comforted and loved by you too but he could never admit such things as he stares at your son. What would you think of him after all if he were to confess to you that he feels jealous of your own child? It doesn't stop him from clenching his hands into fists every time he witnesses you giving affection to your son, nails turning into claws as he imagines what it would be like if he were to be the one in your child's position. You and your husband have parted ways a few years ago but you still keep in contact due to the child and that just about kills Atsushi. It takes always more willpower than it should to not outright growl at the man whenever he visits. Atsushi can't even fathom how a man could let someone like you go and occasionally he imagines what it would be like to just tear that man apart whenever his jealousy gets the better of him. Chances aren't exactly zero for Atsushi to confront your ex-lover and accidentally kill him during an argument.

🐅The beast within him tries to tame itself as good as it can for you even if results are mixed. With time he grows closer to your child though he struggles to be a parent for the little boy as he more than once acts just as childish and needy. Still, he does his best to show you that he can protect and provide for you and your child all whilst seeking emotional comfort from you. It has taken him a good chunk of courage to finally confess to you only to be met with a direct blow to his heart. The shock of your rejection numbs him for a few seconds before the weight comes crushing down. He hyperventilates, he cries, he bites his bottom lip bloody and his nails threaten to rip through the skin of his palms. That is only because he does misunderstand your rejection as you telling him that you have no interest in him. Once he has come to understand that you didn't reject him for that reason hopefully he manages to calm down at least a bit. That means that he still has a chance, doesn't he? Still, he feels like it's his fault for not having made it clearer to you just how deeply infatuated he is with you. That has to change now. Hopefully some of his seniors can give him useful tips how to woo you.

Akutagawa Ryunosuke

⬛It is through Gin that Akutagawa finds out about you as his beneath the mask quite shy sister has befriended you and finds herself visiting your small shop once a week. Whilst he is anything but an overbearing brother this piece of information still manages to stick to him. It's the first time he has heard that Gin has made friends with someone outside the Mafia and initially he starts directing hostility against you. Akutagawa isn't an individual to trust easily as he distrusts with far more confidence and this is what he finds himself doing against you. Who are you? Are you really just a regular citizen? His sister assures him that you are not some spy nor does she plan to give you any information about the Port Mafia or her real identity but for Akutagawa actions speak louder than words. He finds himself stalking you occasionally, dark eyes trailing after you. A scoff appears on his face the moment he notices the boy following you, realising that you have a child. How naive you must be, keeping a child whilst involving yourself with a mafioso. If you really are just a normal person you must have no motherly senses at all or else you wouldn't hang out casually with Gin.

⬛Akutagawa never had a mother who raised him as he has grown up in a violent environment from a very young ago. None of his mentor figures have ever given him even an ounce of affection which has led him to believe that love is a weakness. A weakness he has fallen victim to. A part of him itches to use Rashomon to tear you and that little brat apart yet he holds himself back. Partially because his emotions are messy and partially for his sister's sake as she cherishes you. It's Gin he turns to as his curiosity grows and it is through her he finds out most information about you. The most pressing issue for him is who the father of your son is and even if Gin tells him that you have parted with the guy long before your child was born that doesn't stop Akutagawa's urges to rip that man apart for his mere existence. Stalking you becomes quite difficult, his possessive side flaring up the moment you talk to another man and give him a smile. It's the horrified gaze of his sister that holds him back but that is no guarantee that it'll work every single time. Only to his sister is he able to admit his conflicting feelings to you and both of them know that it is only a question of time when you will find out.

⬛Still, even if it comes that far Gin wishes for her brother to not terrorise and hurt you even with his obsession. She cares for Akutagawa but you're still her friend and she likes your child as well. She wants him to attempt to confess to you the normal way at least once and if you reject him she kind of knows that there's little she can do. Unable to live with herself if she wouldn't try though Gin introduces her brother to you who finds himself incredibly awkward as he is completely out of his comfort zone, easily irritated and with little patience, especially when your son is around. Big chance that Gin is lurking around in the distance when Akutagawa tries confessing, already looking like he is glaring at you. He honestly only knows what to do in case you reject him because you don't like him which is instantly doing what he can do best. Inflicting fear upon you whilst using Rashomon. He isn't prepared for you rejecting him because you think he shouldn't bother with you and is left so perplexed with that answer that he just stares at you for a good while. Ultimately this only delays the abduction though because it'll still happen. He's promised Gin to not harm your son though.

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