#nothing big or serious is going to come from this

[yukipri]

feelin kinda sad so eating an obscene amount of pasta

[lillmirey]

„Protecting You”

summary: Melissa is your own personal Protector

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x Female Reader

Conten Warning: none just fluff and protectiveness

Word Count: 3k

The cafeteria at Abbott Elementary was its usual chaotic self. Teachers buzzed around, half-eating and half-grading, while kids darted outside to squeeze in the last minutes of recess. You sat at your usual spot at the far end of the staff table, gently sipping your tea and flipping through a small stack of student essays.

Across from you, Jacob and Gregory were deep in debate over something trivial—probably the merits of classroom seating charts again. Barbara chimed in occasionally, her usual graceful authority effortlessly shutting down Jacob’s more outlandish claims.

And then there was Melissa.

She sat beside you, sipping her coffee and shooting the occasional glare at anyone who looked like they might disturb your peace. It was subtle—most people didn’t even notice—but you’d long since picked up on her habits. Melissa was always watching, always making sure you were okay.

You glanced up and caught her eye. She arched an eyebrow. “You good, sweetheart?”

You nodded, offering a small smile. “Just a little tired. It’s been a long week.”

Melissa’s gaze softened, and she reached over to pluck the essays from your hands. “Go ahead and eat. These can wait.”

“Melissa, I—”

“Eat,” she said firmly, cutting you off with a pointed look.

You sighed but relented, knowing better than to argue. Melissa always had a way of getting her way, especially when it came to you.

Barbara chuckled from down the table. “Melissa, you spoil her too much.”

Melissa shrugged, leaning back in her chair. “Someone’s gotta look out for her. She’s too sweet for her own good.”

You felt your cheeks warm as the others laughed.

“She’s not wrong,” Gregory said, offering you a kind smile. “You’re always putting everyone else first. It’s nice to see someone returning the favor.”

You ducked your head, embarrassed by the attention. “It’s nothing, really. I just like helping out.”

“And that’s exactly why you need someone like me,” Melissa said, her voice teasing but her eyes serious.

The day passed quickly, and soon enough, you were back in your classroom, tidying up after your students. You were humming softly to yourself when a knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts.

“Hey, kid,” Melissa called, leaning against the doorway. “You got a minute?”

“Of course,” you said, setting down a stack of papers. “What’s up?”

She stepped inside, her usual confident stride a little slower. “Heard a couple of the kids in your class were giving you trouble today.”

You hesitated, unsure how she knew about the incident. “It wasn’t a big deal. Just a little back-and-forth.”

Melissa’s jaw tightened. “They back-talked you?”

You waved her off. “It’s fine, Melissa. I handled it.”

She crossed her arms, clearly unconvinced. “You don’t have to put up with that, you know. If they’re giving you a hard time, you let me know. I’ll have a word with them.”

You couldn’t help but smile at her protectiveness. “I appreciate it, but really, I’m okay.”

Melissa gave you a long look before finally nodding. “Alright. But if it happens again, you better tell me. Got it?”

“Got it,” you said with a laugh.

“Good,” she said, her expression softening. “Now, come on. Barbara’s got cookies in the lounge, and I know you’ve got a sweet tooth.”

The teachers’ lounge was a welcome reprieve from the chaos of the day. Barbara was holding court at the table, passing around a tin of her famous oatmeal raisin cookies.

“Melissa managed to drag you out of your classroom, huh?” Barbara said with a smile as you entered.

“She needed a break,” Melissa said, her hand resting lightly on your shoulder as she guided you to a chair.

Jacob looked up from his crossword puzzle. “You really do work too hard. Have you ever considered relaxing?”

“I relax!” you protested, though your tone was more amused than defensive.

Gregory raised an eyebrow. “When? You’re always the last one out of the building.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Melissa cut you off. “That’s because she’s got a heart bigger than her classroom. Doesn’t mean she should be running herself into the ground.”

Barbara hummed in agreement. “Melissa’s right. You need to take care of yourself, dear. You can’t pour from an empty cup.”

You smiled, touched by their concern. “Thanks, guys. I’ll try to take it easier.”

“Good,” Melissa said, handing you a cookie. “Starting now.”

The following week brought its own challenges. A parent had sent a curt email about your teaching methods, and while you knew you were doing everything right, the criticism still stung.

You didn’t think anyone had noticed how off you were until Melissa cornered you in the hallway after school.

“Alright, spill,” she said, her hands on her hips.

“Spill what?” you asked, playing dumb.

“Don’t give me that,” she said, her voice softer now. “You’ve been quiet all day. What’s going on?”

You sighed, leaning against the wall. “It’s nothing. Just a tough email from a parent. It’s not a big deal.”

Melissa’s eyes narrowed. “What did they say?”

“It’s really not—”

“What. Did. They. Say?” she repeated, her tone leaving no room for argument.

You hesitated before finally relenting. “They didn’t think I was challenging their kid enough. Said I wasn’t doing my job properly.”

Melissa’s jaw clenched, and you could see the fire in her eyes. “That’s bull. You’re one of the best teachers in this building, and anyone with half a brain can see that.”

You smiled faintly. “Thanks, Melissa. That means a lot.”

“No, I mean it,” she said, stepping closer. “You work harder than anyone else here, and you care more than anyone I’ve ever met. Don’t let some clueless parent make you doubt yourself.”

Her words were like a balm to your soul, and you felt some of the tension in your chest ease. “You always know how to make me feel better,” you said softly.

“That’s because I care about you, sweetheart,” she said, her voice low and earnest.

Your heart fluttered, and for a moment, the rest of the world faded away.

It was the next day when Melissa’s protectiveness hit an all-time high. One of the new substitute teachers, Mr. Whitman, had been overly friendly toward you in the lounge. While you didn’t think much of it, Melissa clearly did.

She stood behind you, her arms crossed and her gaze icy as Mr. Whitman tried to strike up a conversation.

“So, you’re the one everyone’s been talking about,” he said, flashing you a smile. “They weren’t kidding. You’re really something.”

“Yeah, she is,” Melissa said, her tone cool and sharp. “And she doesn’t need you bothering her.”

Mr. Whitman blinked, clearly taken aback. “I wasn’t—”

“You weren’t leaving?” Melissa interrupted, her expression daring him to argue.

He hesitated for a moment before mumbling an excuse and walking away.

You turned to Melissa, a mix of amusement and gratitude on your face. “You didn’t have to scare him off.”

“Trust me, sweetheart,” she said, her voice softening. “You don’t need guys like him hanging around. You deserve better than that.”

You smiled, touched by her protectiveness. “You’re always looking out for me, huh?”

“Always,” she said, her green eyes meeting yours.

And in that moment, you realized that Melissa wasn’t just protecting you because she cared about you as a friend. She was protecting you because she loved you.

And maybe, just maybe, you loved her too.

[honeyedfate]

backstage confessions | 심재윤

pairing. jake sim x fem!reader + feat. enhypen

genre. fluff (+ crack? im just a comedian really)

a/n. my first fic on this sideblog!! enjoy x

“what are you looking at?” jay’s teasing voice comes from beside you, effectively snapping you out of your daze.

you turn to him hesitantly, feeling like you just got caught doing something sinful. “mm?”

jay holds your gaze, clearly unimpressed by your pretence while taking a bite from his banana. he chews like he has all the time in the world and for a moment you wonder if he had spoken at all. then, he swallows and his lips curve into a smile. the kind you wear when you’ve already stolen someone’s wallet and are now humouring them.

“you were staring,” he eventually says. “at jake.”

“well, damn.” you laugh awkwardly. “don’t make it sound like a crime. and i wasn’t—“

“yea, no.” he shakes his head. “don’t even try. you were locked in for, like, the past 10 minutes. it was serious for you.”

“i have my reasons,” you sputter defensively, hoping those reasons will materialise inside your head right now. then the rest of his words catch up to you and you pull a face. “you’ve been looking at me for 10 minutes?”

“you would’ve noticed if you weren’t too busy doing the same thing to someone else.” jay snorts quietly. “besides, there are no reasons. or there’s only one, really. i don’t know if you know what it is, but i do. i know that look.”

you arch your brows. “you sound confident.”

he nods, tossing the peel of his banana into the nearest bin. “i’m not a gambling man but i would bet on it.”

“enlighten me then.”

jay squints his eyes, giving you a look that almost rudely says right. as if you’re ready to hear the truth. and you probably aren’t, but you’re fatally curious and the thought of someone knowing you better than yourself feels both touching and offensive.

“enlighten you about what?” another curious voice cuts in and the two of you swivel around, coming face to face with none other than jake. he tilts his head to the side, big black eyes innocently meeting yours as a strand of curled hair falls down his forehead and oh. oh, you wish he wouldn’t look at you like that.

jay clears his throat, glancing at you as if to check if you’re drooling. “erm, just you know…” he helplessly flails his hands around, gesturing at everything and nothing at all. “stuff.”

you stare up at him.

“smooth,” you mumble under your breath and he elbows your side. jake’s gaze darts between you two.

“you want him to enlighten you about… stuff.” he repeats flatly and you swear you hear jay wince beside you. yes, this is extremely painful and it’s your fault, you hiss at him telepathically, hoping he could hear it. sadly, absolutely nothing comes to mind to eradicate the situation, so you just smile back nervously.

jake eventually bites his lip and forces an awkward laugh, taking a step back while his eyes shine with something you can’t place. “sorry, didn’t mean to pry. if you guys have secrets, that’s none of my business, erm, i’ll just go see what the others are doing.” with an even more awkward wave, he leaves the room.

you round on jay. “what was that?”

he retreats with his palms up, laughing sheepishly. “that was close, wasn’t it?”

“you think?” you say bitterly, flopping down on the cluttered couch, pulling out someone’s charger from beneath you. you haven’t even realised how fast your heart was pumping, but you suppose that seems like an adequate reaction seeing how the boy you’ve been stupidly in love with for months might’ve overheard how you were staring at him yearningly like an idiot. or a creep. god, maybe it’s an heart attack.

“you know,” says jay as he sits down on the opposite couch, speaking at a normal volume now that everyone has left the waiting room. “one day, you will have to tell him. does it really make that much of a difference if you do it today or next week?”

you shoot him an incredulous look. “park jongseong, you’re funny if you believe i was planning on telling him a damn thing. hilarious, actually, for thinking i’d do it next week as if i’d saved it in my calendar.”

“jake probably has.” jay shrugs, smiling fondly. “he probably has an alarm set too. he’s such a J.”

“you’re a J,” says heeseung the moment he strolls into the room, door falling shut behind him. “hey, y/n.”

you flash him a smile over your shoulder. “hi, hee.”

he takes a seat on your left and offers you an open bag of peanuts. you take some and he extends the courtesy to jay who stares at him blankly.

“trying to kill me again?”

“what? you’re not allergic to peanuts.” heeseung frowns, glancing at you. “right?”

“leave me out of it,” you say. “i’m feeling murderous today so if he is, those nuts should not be anywhere near me.”

he studies your face as though to see if you’re serious. “okay then,” heeseung mutters to himself before turning back to his friend. “well, are you?”

jay’s brows furrow. “no, i was just kidding. but you should know if i’m allergic or not, man. peanut allergies are not a joke. we’ve known each other for years, what the hell?”

heeseung stares at him in bewilderment. “you’re not even allergic.”

“i could’ve been, you a—“

“what’s going on?” jungwon cuts him off as he walks in. the others shuffle in behind him, looking at jay and heeseung curiously. “why are you fighting?”

neither of them reply while everyone else makes themselves comfortable on the couch. it’s a whirlwind of movements and things being shoved aside and someone saying “you’re sitting on my hand, riki.” and before you know it, heeseung and jake are sat on either side of you.

sunghoon looks around expectantly. “so? what are we fighting about? might as well join.”

heeseung huffs and pours some more peanuts into your palm, nearly emptying the whole thing. “nothing, he’s just being weird,” he grunts and you grin at jay while he pouts and looks away. apparently, that seems to be a good enough response for everyone and they fall into mindless chatter and doomscrolling on their phones.

you’re in the middle of talking to sunoo about a drama you started last night when you suddenly feel a hand gently wrapping around your left wrist. jake grins at your startled reaction and pulls it towards him to pick some peanuts from your palm. “sorry,” he says with way too much amusement for it to be remotely genuine.

“s’alright,” you reply, not able to stop yourself from smiling shyly when you realise how close you’ve been sitting. you’re close enough to count his lashes if you wanted to, especially when he reaches up to remove a piece of lint from your hair and lets you blow it away.

“oh, wait, i wanted to show you something.” he fishes out his phone and lets his other arm fall on his thigh. since his leg is pressed up against yours, his hand is lying on your thigh and you really don’t want to think too much about it because you might squeal and pass away from embarrassment.

before you can ponder the possibility of that happening, he moves his arm behind your back and pulls you into his side. you are so proud of yourself for masking your surprise and biting back a yelp. the whiff of his perfume and something that smells so undeniably like him drifts to your nose as jake leans closer to show you his screen. you’re looking at the pepe the king prawn trend on tiktok where people share their traumatic experiences, and this one in particular has you in stitches in less than four seconds.

“i knew you’d like this one.” he beams at you with a hint of pride in this voice.

“you were blowing up my phone with these last week.” you move back a little after the last slide, the last remnants of a good laugh hanging in the air between you.

“because i know you’d find them funny,” he says with a shrug like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

you hum at the memory. “i had to turn off my phone because i was in the studio and wouldn’t have gotten any work done if your name had kept popping up.”

“oh?” jake looks pleased to hear that. he leans in closer, lowering his voice to a teasing murmur. “why? can’t resist?”

you playfully narrow your eyes at him. “shut up, you know how curious i get.” you look down at your hands. “besides, you stopped sending them, so i figured… i don’t know what i figured.”

a beat of silence follows in which you regret what you said. you didn’t mean to sound so needy.

“the only reason why i stopped was because i knew i’d see you today and i wanted to see your reaction.” jake’s voice is sincere and reassuring. “i saved so many for you, d’you want to see?”

ignoring how your heart flutters uncontrollably, you bite your lip to keep from smiling too much like an idiot. his eyes drift down, lingering there before he blinks rapidly, giving you a lopsided smile and opening the app again to a collection on tiktok that was named after you. no need to overthink that one, right? right.

madonna’s 'like a prayer' gets dramatically louder with each slide and you’re fully immersed, laughing at jake’s commentary and anticipating how it could possibly end when he suddenly stops swiping although there was only one sentence to read, and you’d be mildly offended if he believed you to be that slow of a reader. quizzically, you look at him only to find his eyes already on you. the effect is diabolical.

he’s really just smiling at you—something he’s done a million times even though you wish he hadn’t because you are so sure you could get drunk on it—but this one is painfully gentle and inviting. as if you had just told him you save baby animals in your free time and this was his secret show of tender gratitude. it’s all very confusing.

“you’re so pretty,” says jake, quietly as though it wasn’t even meant for your ears to hear.

his eyes hold so much softness and plain adoration—yes, adoration. even you can see that clear as day—that you immediately feel your mouth go dry and your chest squeeze around your heart. because what is happening right now? jay was right. you are, in fact, not ready to face the truth.

it is ni-ki who has you both crashing back to earth with the call of jake’s name. you tear your eyes away and blink at your lap.

“jay asked if you have anything planned next week.”

still out of it, he glances at you for some reason before settling his puzzled gaze on jay. “we have schedules every day next week, bro. we looked at it earlier in the car. you were there.”

“oh, i know.” jay grins and slides his eyes to you, mischief glinting in them. “so whatever it is you want to do, you should probably do it now. if you’re going to do it anyway.”

it’s like the entire room falls silent, prompting you to eye them suspiciously. “okay,” says jake slowly, clearly not getting the hint. you’re not sure you get it either.

“god,” you hear sunoo mutter under his breath, making ni-ki snort.

“i know,” jungwon sighs. “they’re idiots.”

[lovesickhughes]

COLD DECEMBER NIGHT – jack hughes x reader

a/n: happy holidays! i am so sorry for the late upload, i had been with family for christmas, so i wasn’t that active, but i still had so much fun writing this and wanted to share it with you! so, i hope you enjoy! i know it’s past christmas itself, but i’m still gonna upload a few holiday-related fics to complete the series! happy reading & i hope you all have had an amazing holiday season so far!

tags: jack hughes x reader

warnings: none! just lots of kissing and cuteness! (not proofread, apologies!)

word count: 2.6k

series masterlist

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“Y/n, I promise you they’re going to love you– I mean, this isn’t the first time you’re meeting them! You’ve been to plenty of games they’ve been to.” Jack assured you as he quickly jogged over to the passenger side of his car to help you carry your overnight bags and gifts for the Hughes family.

Jack and you had just arrived at his family home to spend the holiday break with his parents and two brothers for the first time. Needless to say, your nerves had skyrocketed upon your arrival. Jack was right however, this wasn’t the first time you had met the brunette’s parents– in fact, you had spent plenty of time getting to know Jim and Ellen at the times they attended the Devils’ games. However, this time, it was being spent in the house all three Hughes brothers grew up in and called home, and you would be welcoming yourself into what shaped her beloved boyfriend. 

“I know, I know,” You sighed, “You just don’t get it. I feel like I’m meeting them for the first time all over again. Hell, I’ll be sleeping in their house, eating their food, living with them while we’re here– so it’s kind of a big deal.” You expressed as you continued to place present box after present box on top of one another in Jack’s arms before flinging your duffel bag over your shoulder in the process. 

“Baby,” Jack pressed, his head popping out from the side of the tall stack of red, green and white wrapping paper-covered boxes, in an attempt to stop you from becoming overwhelmed. “There is nothing more that they want, other than to have you here with me and all of my family for Christmas.” He said as he looked into your eyes, a look in his own washing over to speak further without needing the use of words. “I wouldn’t bring you here if I wasn’t serious about us.”

You sigh in relief, but it’s halted when you hear the last part of Jack’s sentence and you let out a sarcastic laugh, “well, that’s reassuring.” 

“C’mon, let’s go, they’re probably just about getting ready for dinner.” Jack said with a nod of his head to direct you up the sidewalk from the driveway and to the entrance to the suburban home. As your footsteps echo as you walk up the steps of the front porch to the front door, the sound of the doorknob already clicking to open catches your attention, and before you know it– you’re greeted with the excited gasp from Ellen at the reveal of her middle son and girlfriend arriving. 

“Ah! My babies!” Ellen exclaimed with open arms and stepped towards you to bring you into a hug. It was what you loved most about the mother of your boyfriend; that since the day you met her, she was so inviting and warm that she really made you feel like you were accepted into the family. “How was the drive? Were the roads bad? I just pulled the lasagna out to quickly cool– you came right in time for dinner!” She rushed out as she pulled away from you and turned to exchange a hug with Jack to the best of his ability with the presents creating a barrier for him. 

You let out a breath, Ellen’s warm welcome immediately calming your nerves that you had pent up on the drive up. Jack quickly slipped into the living room where a warmly lit Christmas tree stood and placed the presents you had bought around the green fir. Coming back to give his mom a proper hug, you slid your own shoes off in the meantime. 

“The drive wasn’t bad, the usual– I am starving though,” Jack responded to his mom’s bombardment of questions. “Where are the boys at? I’m gonna go quickly say hi.” He asked and Ellen directed him to the basement where the two other brothers occupied themselves with the college football game that was on. 

Ellen waved you to follow her and you quickly proceeded into the cozy home, placing your duffel bag by the side of the stairs to bring up later. 

“So, Y/n, how have things been since I last saw you? When was it– two, three weeks ago?” She asked as she pulled out a prepared salad from the fridge, followed by a closed bottle of white wine.

You flash her a smile as you slid onto one of the barstools that was hidden under the countertop of the island, “oh, things have been good, y’know– work has been busy these last few weeks and Jack’s been in and out of the place with hockey, so we haven’t had too much time to spend together, but I’m glad we have the break to relax fully and spend together.” You smiled, all while Ellen silently opened the bottle of wine and prompted you by tilting the bottle in your direction as an offer, and you nodded while filling her in about your past few weeks. She poured you a glass of crisp, white wine and slid it in your direction to which you slid in a quick ‘thank you’ while telling her a story about something interesting that had happened at work. 

“No way! Well, it seems like you are keeping yourself busy which is great. Dinner’s all ready, so we can start heading to the dining room. I’ll call the boys up.” 

You nodded as you pushed yourself off of the barstool, “is there anything you need me to help with, Ellen? Any napkins or utensils that need to be placed?” You offered, feeling helpless as you saw by the presentation and smell of dinner, that she had put in hours of effort to make it look and taste delicious. But, all you received was a shake of her head and her hand placed on your shoulder as she guided you into the dining room. 

Not long after, the voices of the three Hughes brothers and their father grew louder as they approached the dining room, turning the corner to reveal their three figures. You smiled to the eldest and youngest brothers respectively, saying hello and briefly asking them how they were before greeting Jim and leaning in for the hug he pulled you into. You then pulled away, finding your seat next to Jack who had already begun pulling out your chair for you. 

You smile in his direction, placing a kiss on his cheek in return for his kind gesture, before you all begin conversing about the latest things that had happened in all of your lives. Everyone had devoured their meals within mere minutes of it being served, and you all stayed seated at the table, your glasses of wine and water slowly being emptied as you all conversed with one another. 

Jack’s warm hand was placed on the middle of your thigh as you listened to Quinn talk about his hockey season, the brothers and their dad every so often quipping in a quick comment here and there. You attempted to stay focused as the brothers and their parents talked with one another, but the feeling of Jack’s large hand rubbing up and down your clothed leg drowned out the words being exchanged, but it wasn’t long before the sound of the dining room chair sliding against the hardwood floored pulled you out of your trance. 

You followed suit, standing up out of your seat before grabbing Jack’s and your plates as well as Luke’s who was on the other side of you at the table, both boys bidding you a ‘thank you’ in appreciation for your gesture.

You smiled in return and walked towards the kitchen where Jim and Ellen stood side by side by the sink, beginning to wash the dishes. You felt Jack’s presence following closely behind your frame, and his hand reached to guide your figure by the small of your back, his touch causing heat to flush through your body. 

You had placed the plates next to the piling stack before Jack’s voice could be heard throughout the entire room. 

“Mom, dad, let us do the dishes tonight– you guys have done more than enough.” He exclaimed as you stood next to him, nodding in agreement as you looked at them with a hint of sympathy in your eyes. 

“Okay, okay, but you know this doesn’t mean just because you did it today, you’re off the hook for the rest of your visit.” Jim chuckled both playfully and sternly as he pointed his finger at his middle child with squinted eyes, only earning Jack’s sheepish grin in response. 

“Of course not, dad. C’mon, it’s the least we can do for you hosting us all for Christmas.” Jack reassured before taking his mom’s place as the drier, leaving you to finish washing the dinner plates and utensils. The parents quickly scurried off to the living room, the two other brothers already being planted on the couches, flicking through the channels on the TV to pick a movie for you all to watch. 

Jack and you quietly stood in the kitchen next to each other as you finished scrubbing and drying each object. You looked over at Jack with a grin on your face as you handed him the second last plate to dry, your soapy hand quickly brushing over his own, earning in a dramatic drop of Jack’s jaw as he stepped away from you. You threw your head back in laughter at his comical response, before finishing up cleaning before unplugging the sink drain and wiping down the wet counter with a new cloth. 

Jack put away the last few forks and knives in the drawer next to the stove before turning to you and reaching to pull you into his embrace. He leaned down, swiftly pulling you into a kiss as you melted into him and when you pulled away, you stared into his loving eyes, so many words being spoken through your eyes. 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Jack smiled, speaking just soft enough for only you to hear. 

You chuckle to yourself, “well, I’d hope so.” Earning a playful scoff and roll of the eyes from the brunette who stood opposite to you, such a warm, content and loving energy radiating off of him. You had a warm ache erupt in your heart at the feeling of such a domestic act; in the kitchen with the man you loved while spending time with his family and feeling so welcomed by his parents and siblings. 

“I’m serious, Y/n.” He paused, tilting his head down lower to look further into your eyes, a grin you couldn’t stop from erupting on your face before you lifted yourself onto the tips of your toes, reaching Jack’s face to kiss him again. 

You hummed into the feeling of Jack’s soft lips against yours as his large hands gripped your torso, leaving you feeling a sense of security and warmth before you were interrupted with a slow groan from a distance, stopping you from the display of affection. 

“Ugh, save it for the bedroom you two, I’m for real– I don’t want to see you both all lovey dovey.” You heard Luke call as he passed through the kitchen, entering the pantry before quickly exiting back to the living room with a snack in hand. 

All you could do was smile and let out a quick laugh as you finished tidying the kitchen for the next morning. 

Later that night, both Ellen and Jim had found themselves to bed, leaving the three Hughes brothers and you all dispersed amongst the couches in the living room, watching How The Grinch Stole Christmas, while the electric fireplace emitted heat, creating a cozy, Christmas-y atmosphere, only furthering your feeling of adoration for the man you were with and the experience you were having. 

You were tucked into Jack’s side, like a lock and key, fitting into place so effortlessly, as if you were made for his embrace. Jack, who now had changed into the matching set of pajamas you had gifted him and you, sat with his arm around your side, hand resting on your side just above your hip, and his legs stretched out in front of him on the L-shaped sofa. 

While the Grinch yearned to ruin Christmas in Whoville, you couldn’t help but feel your eyes grow heavy as the warmth of Jack’s body and the fireplace spread to your own body, lulling you into a peaceful, relaxed state. Jack’s hand slowly ran up and down your side, sending little jolts of electricity through your body, but the feeling of your head rested against his chest with the background noise of the movie and quiet room, you felt your eyes grow heavier and heavier before falling into a tranquil state of slumber. 

It didn’t feel like long before you felt Jack shift underneath you, indicating the movie had ended and everyone would be making their way to bed for the night, but he stilled his movements, and you could feel his gaze on you, despite your eyes still being closed– pretending to still be asleep. 

“You gonna wake her up, man? She looks so peaceful.” You heard Luke say as the sound of him getting up out of his seat and walking across the room echoed throughout the space. 

Jack chuckled softly, “Probably, even though it might not end well– waking her up out of her sleep.” 

“You got lucky, bro– mom seriously adores her, and she really fits in with all of us. She’s a keeper.” You heard Quinn call from where he laid on the side of the couch. You had to maintain your steady breaths, in an attempt to disguise the fact that you were awake and eavesdropping on the conversation. But, you couldn’t help but feel your heart lovingly ache at the comment from Jack’s older brother.

“I know,” Jack said softly, his hand reaching to the side of your face, brushing a stray hair out of your face, “I got so incredibly lucky. I really think this is it– like, she’s the one.” And you had to carefully bite the inside of your lip to stop yourself from letting out a wail in disbelief that you had gotten so lucky. You couldn’t hold your disguise any longer, so as best as you could, you slowly shifted in your spot, legs rubbing each other and arms stretching as you tried to sell your performance. 

“Well, look who’s awake.” Jack chuckled as you looked up to meet his tired, blue eyes. You only smiled, before sitting up straight next to Jack while his hand fell to your hip as he gripped it softly. 

“Alright, well, I’m gonna head to bed– night guys,” Luke said, giving a salute to the rest of you in the living room before exiting to the stairs for the night, and it wasn’t long before Quinn followed. 

Jack then pushed off of his knees to stand, turning off the fireplace and TV, and began to walk towards the stairs to his room, but your voice stopped his movements. 

“Wait, babe,” You called out, and Jack turned to you, eyebrows raised and lips pursed as he waited for you to continue. You stood slowly, walking over to the brunette before quickly slipping your hand into his, “I heard your little conversation just now…” You teased, earning a blush warming Jack’s face as he realized your confession. 

“You did?” He questioned, pulling you closer to his frame, his hands interlocking behind the small of your back. 

You hummed, “mhm… you really mean what you said?” You asked softly, barely audible. 

Jack didn’t respond, only reaching down to place a slow, soft kiss on your lips. 

When he pulled away, his forehead resting on yours, he continued, “of course I did, my love, and I’m serious– you’re it for me.”

[ang3lmoans]

Angel simply nodded at the man’s request. Knowing he would never let either of them get that far under the influence. That wasn’t what he wanted. Feeling the pressure against his hands Angel shifted his gaze. He looked down at their hands and back up to Garam only to see the man looking away. He stayed silent as he listened to the other man. He appreciated him being honest in this moment. Jealousy. It seemed to be the root of their problems. Well and Darius, which Angel made a mental note to talk to. His new friend had been rather affectionate since Garam came. Now that he and Garam spoke, it was time to set proper boundaries with him. Angel did feel terrible for kissing two men in one night. Especially when one of them saw it happen. He could see where Garam was coming from. He would be upset too.Angel continued to listen. Taking in everything Garam had to say. He wasn’t a fan of the man downing himself. This is what made him interrupt, “Garam…Garam listen to me. Let’s not worry about that right now. Okay?” He spoke softly placing his hand on the man’s cheek. Angel leaned slightly to get a better view of his face. “Neither of us is ready to choose anyone. I’m enjoying whatever we have going now. No pressure. No titles, just me and you. Okay?” Angel was now leaning forward whispering in the man’s ear. He could tell Garam was getting tense thinking of Axel breaking in. Now was not the time to tell him he already did. Now he was trespassed from the building. He needed the man to feel safe. Angel hated himself for it but he continued to keep quiet. “Garam, I’m sorry he destroyed your apartment. That must have been a lot to deal with on your own” Angel’s face dropped slightly and began rather serious. It was making more sense why his best friend was cold when he returned home. It wasn’t just the kiss. It seemed to be many factors that came into play. Angel ran his thumb over the man’s cheekbone and allowed his hand to slip to Garam’s neck. “Today we can make some phone calls to have more security put in. I’ve already been thinking of getting a camera for the door. Maybe a code that we give to no one.” Angel began spouting ideas nothing to calm his best friend down. As his hand moved to his neck Angel’s fingers played with the ends of his hair, a small smile gracing his lips. “We can get a bat. I said I’ll take care of you. I meant that.” He said quietly as he pressed a gentle kiss to Garam’s neck. “Now can we go get these pancakes you want? Now I’m craving them. What do you say?” Now whispering against his neck. Angel pulled back now and pulled his touch away as he stood up. “Let’s make a day of it. We can get pancakes at this great spot I know. Take a walk over to the mall. Look at some cameras. Maybe even buy one. Oh! Stop at the art store. I need some supplies. Even grab lunch, maybe? What do you say?” Angel chose a secret weapon. A pout and big eyes as he clasped his hands together. He began to whine begging the man to say yes. It took a lot of strength to keep from laughing but he was desperate. He didn’t want to be sad anymore. These heavy and tough conversations were taking a lot out of him. “Pleaseeee baby” he whined once more.

if you remember. garam rolled his eyes and let out a long quiet breath as if to say of course he remembered. though he couldn't exactly recall what the two talked about, if they really even talked at all, but he could remember what happened. to an extent, anyways. his demeanor shifted drastically once angel told him how he knew garam had a hardon. he felt the blood rush from his head, a sort of panicked numbness settling in his hands as he gripped as tightly as he could onto the blanket that still left his legs concealed. he felt it, angel actually felt his dick pressing against him. this was so embarrassing, definitely not how garam imagined the first contact would go. but at least he hadn't tried to push further, he had the common sense at the time to do his best to hide the fact. "i must have fallen asleep after that, too. when i've been drinking, don't ever let me go past just kissing... okay?" he was really worried, mostly about the fact that he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop if angel had given him any sort of leeway. he'd never been the type to keep going or push for more when somebody denied him but knowing the feelings between them were mutual, he feared that, being drunk, he would forget about what angel has been through and pressure him into going further. garam also... just really did not want their first time to happen while he was under the influence. he wanted to be able to remember every single second of it, he wanted to enjoy every feeling instead of those feelings being controlled by alcohol. when angel began talking about their fight last night, all garam wanted was to pull away from him but he feared that angel would think it was an act done out of rejection when that was far from the true reason. garam felt so guilty for what he'd said, ashamed of the accusations he made. the smaller man just sat there, his grip on angel's hand tightening for a moment before his whole body relaxed. it was good to hear that angel was seeking professional help for what he'd been through, garam would have felt worse knowing that angel was suffering in silence, by himself. he knew he wasn't very good with dealing with his emotions, he often jumped into things too quickly and latched on to anybody that showed an interest in him. that's partially why they were both in the predicament they were in, because garam lived with rose colored glasses permanently attached to his face. he didn't want to see the obvious red flags, he chose to believe there was good in everybody. "it was my fault," he admitted, turning his body to face angel. "i said things that i knew would hurt you because i was... i was jealous. you kissed somebody else and i saw, i didn't like it. i kept bringing darius up because i do want to be friends with him, too, so you don't feel like you have to choose between us. i wasn't lying but that wasn't the only reason." garam looked away from angel, obviously ashamed of himself at this point. "you deserve someone so much better than me, someone who actually sees you and who picks you first, someone who doesn't use you. i've brought you so much trouble and i hate myself for it. i'm afraid of what might happen to you if you do choose me." garam continued, looking back to angel once again. "he went to my apartment after he hit me, i knew that he'd go there so that's why i came here instead of going back home. i'm sure he got mad that i wasn't answering, he has a key so he probably just let himself right in. it looked like a bomb exploded in there when i went to grab my things. he knows i'm here, you really aren't safe as long as i'm with you." he didn't even want to think about what could happen if axel managed to get inside while they were home, while they were sleeping, or showering. completely vulnerable. "i should have brought my bat with me."

[anotherblinder]

Not Your Fault

Summary || Thomas finds her alone in the rain Word count || 689 Pairing || Thomas Shelby x Reader Warnings || Angst, loss of friendship Notes || It's been a long time since I posted. Over a year,things have just been up and down. This fic is pure self indulgent, i apologize for that. Lately things have been rough with me considering my bff. I'm coming to terms to most likely loosing this friendship because I'm tired of feeling like a second thought and only contacted when they need something or to talk about their daughter. I'm sure I'm not alone in this situation but it doesn't hurt any less. Everything in here is true to what I've been experiencing for years with this friend. I was hesitant to post it but I don't see why not as they have no idea i have this blog. I'll talk to them again at some point but rn I'm just tired. I hope you enjoy this fic if you decide to read it. probably ooc so be fair warned. -Jay

Regret, that’s what she felt. It only grew with every step she took. Droplets of water dripped from her hair and face as she walked on. The rain coming down in buckets. Only picking up as she continued to walk home. How could she be so stupid? This always happened, how naïve could she have been. Her best friend, so maybe so she thought, once again pulling away for a boyfriend. It was unconsciously of course, but regardless, it still hurt. As it always happened when they got in a relationship. After a breakup they’d come crawling back, spending time, talking, like nothing ever happened. It would be good, felt like they were friends again, only for the cycle to happen again when they got a new boyfriend. Only hearing from her friend when she needed something or to talk about her young daughter.  

The woman had talked to her friend about this and how she felt. She swore she’d do better but, like she thought, they grew distant again. Feeling like a second thought and only a friend of convince once again. The friend she’d knew since they were five. Always doing everything for them but feeling as though they get nothing in return. It stung, it hurt and burned. Longing for that friendship they never seemed to have in the first place. All of it sinking in as she walked home from her friend's house that night. Feeling numb and hollow at how long it’s taken her to realize it. 

She gasped as she left a hand grab her bicep. Too lost in her own thoughts to hear the steps and voice of the person calling out to them. Instinct taking over, her other hand swinging around to hit the person who had grabbed her. But they were prepared for it, catching her wrist and pulling it to their chest to prevent her from hitting them. Calling her name as she struggled. 

“Stop! It’s me Tommy!” Thomas yelled over the rain 

“Tommy?” She questioned 

The panic leaving her system to see it was Thomas Shelby. Letting out a big sigh as the tension left her. Thomas let her go as she stopped struggling. Gently he placed his hands on her arms as he looked at her in concern.  

“What are you doing out here? You’re fucking freezing.” 

It was a valid question, one that made her jump back to reality. Feeling the cold that soaked into her skin, the sound of the heavy rain all around her. The way her soaked clothing clung to her skin. How she had forgotten her coat earlier that evening. Even with all that, there was only one thought on her mind. One she voiced as she watched Thomas struggle to get his coat off.  

“Am I a bad friend, Tommy?”  

He froze at her sudden question. It was laughable to him, if he didn’t realize she was serious. Finally taking a good look at her to see her puffy eyes and red nose, not caused by the rain. With a soft sigh he was finally able to get his coat off and wrap it around her shoulders. Taking time to fix it in the front so she stayed warm and cupped her cheeks. 

“No. You are the best friend anyone could ask for.” 

“Then why does my best friend prioritize her boyfriend more than me? I’m nothing but a second thought to them it feels. Even after I've voiced my feelings about this to them. Nothing changed.” 

“Because they don’t know what they’re fucking missing. If this isn’t the first time, then nothing will change. That’s when you say fuck’em and move on.” 

“And if it’s too hard?” She asked with tears in her eyes 

“It will be hard, but you shouldn’t try to fix something that remains broken. It’s not your fault, it’s theirs for not trying. The pain will heal over time with the right people by your side. It's better to let go than struggle on.” 

Thomas grabbed her hand and lead her away to a warmer place. Making sure to mend her broken heart along the way. 

[thenewestxmen]

(Suicide warning*)

Wade has been acting really weird lately. When I come home from work every day, he’s on the couch, staring at the TV. Our TV is broken and doesn’t even work… he’ll just stare at the empty, dead screen. When I scoop him up in my arms, he’ll rest his head on my neck. Wade loves physical touch, but his returned gesture just seems so empty. Every time Wade returns from a mercenary job, he returns with more and more of his own blood smelling off of his clothes. Ive tried to ask him what’s going on, but being that little shit he is, he won’t tell me. One day, he walks in the door from a merc job. Today’s the day I ask Wade. I’m sitting on the couch, standing when I see Wade tremble through the door, holding his arms. Like, literally holding his arm that was cut off. Instead of cracking a joke, he just goes into the bathroom.

“Bub? You good? That looks like a nasty wound. Let me help you.” I say, offering some help. Wade doesn’t even look at me. He just continues to walk to the bathroom and locks the door behind him, running the shower. 

Yup, something’s most definitely wrong. He comes out a bit relieved, finally cuddling up close to me, rambling. But something he said stuck out to me.

“Logie bear, I love you. And no matter what happens, nothing you can ever do would ever change that. If anything were to happen to me, and I mean ever, it would never be your fault.” He continued on with his ramblings, I didn’t really think anything of it, I mean it was Wade, he said a lot. But that stuck out. We fell asleep in each other’s arms and I fell into a dreamless sleep, that is until I hear the window open. I flinch away, and turn to see Wade, sitting on the window sill, ready to jump. My heart sinks. I jump out of the bed and run after Wade, but he jumps. We live on the highest story in the entire apartment complex… he just jumped 6 stories. 

“Wade!” I shout after him. I hear a thunk below me and everything seems to fast. I run out of the apartment and race down the stairs. When I get to the bottom, the most sickening sight… Wade had landed on the bicycle rack… his limps barely hanging onto his torso. I freeze, unable to think about what just happened. Wade just killed himself. It’s like the X-men’s fate all over again. 

“Wade… Wade, no, no, no, no.” I say, finally moving towards wades limp body. I pull him off of the bike rack, holding him. His limps are in the moment regenerating themselves. That good. But what do I do? Wade just killed himself, he’ll do it again. I have no choice but to just carry him back to the apartment. Blood drips onto my hands and the smell of wades blood is overwhelming. I reach the apartment and set Wade down on one of the kitchen tables chairs. I don’t know what to do… do I restrain Wade so he doesn’t do it again, do I just talk to him?! All I can think of doing is watching him slowly gain consciousness and have him explain. I wait, and wait. As his limbs grown into being usable, Wade stirs. I perk up when I see his big brown eyes open.

“Logan? Oh… Logan, let me expl- -“

“No! You don’t get to explain! You just jumped out of the window and fell 6 stories! You tried to die, you left me here to watch you die! You…” the words flood out of me as I stare at wades eyes, glossy with tears. 

“Logan… you remember what I said to you earlier, that it wasn’t your fault?”

I nod. How could he do this…?

“I meant it. I love you so much and I didn’t want to hurt you. I’ve just been going through I rough patch. And honey badger, I can’t die, so good for you, you’re stuck with me.” He can’t be serious, can he?

“Wade… you tried to kill yourself. How could you? I love you and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, even if you’ll heal… you tired to die and I was right there…” I say, almost trembling. Wades arms have gone from stubs to his usual length. He can tell I’m emotional and worried, so he stands (barely) and walks over to me, sitting on my lap, wrapping his arms around me. The first tear slips down my cheek, then the next. Why does everyone I love die? Why does Wade want to…?

Wade look down to me, “Logan. I love you. I’m going through a rough patch. That’s all.” I try and understand, but it doesn’t click.

“Let me help you… please. Please let me do something, anything.” I say. Not sure what else to do, but it’s all I can think of. How to help Wade. Wade nods, and gives me a gentle kiss on my lips, not minding the crying or the tears. The rest of the night, I can’t sleep. I make a coffee, drinking it with my eyes glued to Wade, sleeping. The next day, I have to work. The entire day, it’s filled with anxiety and I can barely focus. The second work gets out, I run home. Wade is reading some romantic book on the couch. He smiles when he sees me, he knows I was worrying based on how he looks at me. Although it’s probably obvious, I’m sweating from running home and the anxious line on my brow gives me away.

“Don’t worry Honey Badger, just reading some sexy romantic literature.” He says.

Good. I sit next to Wade, nuzzling his neck. 

“I can barely read though, not with my dyslexic ass.” Wade says chuckling. I start to read the book to him. I’m a little concerned about how dirty this book is, but Wade seems to enjoy the awful love tropes.

The next few weeks, I make sure to check in with Wade, making sure he’s ok. Anytime he isn’t, I cook him a nice meal, cuddle, and praise him like the gorgeous man he is.

authors note: This… this is what I live for; the drama and romance. Anywho, thanks for the likes and reposts and following and such:)

[training-trio-irl]

About the fusions!

I’ve been thinking about the fusions I made, and because I can’t help myself, I compiled some random info about them I’ve come up with

Now since I’m just doing this for fun, if anyone has any suggestions, ideas, anything you would want to add to these characters, feel free to leave a comment or send an ask my way!

-Facts below the cut-

Makimaru Nikawa

Pronouns: she/they

Height: 5’ 7”

DOB: February 12th

Talent: Ultimate Teacher/Gang Leader

Background: 

Lived in an orphanage before running away at the age of 9, got taken in by a local gang (the Cult Carnations). Slowly rose in its ranks and eventually became its leader

Is actually the gangs co-leader, but is believed to be the leader as it’s real boss works from the shadows in anonymity 

Became known as the Ultimate teacher after a teacher’s assistant and helping classes of delinquents get fantastic grades (some of those delinquents being in her gang)

Personality:

Serious and generally rational

Prefers to think logically rather than emotionally, except when teaching classes where she can go either way

Acts very friendly towards their students, but can internally get quite fed up with their antics

Other Characteristics: 

Always armed in someway (steel-toed boots, bladed chain, brass knuckles, etc.)

Very serious about school and gang spirit

Heart rate problems (arrhythmia)

Relationships: 

She befriended Kagito initially out of sheer curiosity regarding his behavior and abilities, but ended up becoming quite close with him. (still wouldn’t hesitate to incapacitate him if he tried anything dangerous)

Hypothetical Quotes: 

Don’t you want to live?” -> said whenever someone is going to do something reckless/stupid

Kagito Komota

Pronouns: he/him

Height: 6’ 0”

DOB: April 20th

Talent: Ultimate Horoscope Author

Background: 

Has lived with his grandparents ever since his parents died in a plane crash

Got into astrology as something to engage in that would help distract him from the world

Started writing horoscopes for fun and shared them with his classmates in the hopes to connect with them. They initially teased him for it, but they changed their tune after his predictions started becoming eerily true. This only made people sort of scared of him

Personality:

Nihilist.

Off putting disposition.

Tries to be kind, but his honesty with his nihilistic beliefs tends to drive people away

Self-deprecating, but is working on ways to uplift others (although he could complement and encourage ultimates 24/7)

Other Characteristics:

Reveres space

Always tired looking despite having a normal sleep schedule

Prone to lung illnesses

He tries to cultivate houseplants, but they tend to wilt pretty quickly

Relationships: 

Somehow managed to become friends with Makimaru, which makes him very happy

Hypothetical Quotes: 

“Compared to the vastness of the universe, humanity is inconsequential and overall purposeless. I wish it wasn’t that way, but.. oh well….” —> Believes that humans are their existence are meaningless in the grand scheme of things. Ultimates, however, are an odd exception to this

Korehiru Shinzumi

Pronouns: they/them

Height: 5’ 9”

DOB: June 14th

Talent: Ultimate Paranormal Photographer

Background: 

Took up photography after their older sister, who was a professional photographer, passed away suddenly (they had a very normal, healthy sibling relationship I promise /gen)

They had been into the occult ever since they were little, so they ended up incorporating both of their interests into one

Personality:

Headstrong but compassionate.

Always does their best to respect others, especially the dead.

Takes their photography very seriously; refuses to doctor or photoshop any of their photos and demeans any other paranormal photographers that do

Enjoys rambling about the supernatural to whoever is willing to listen

Other Characteristics:

Travels all over the world to any supposedly haunted location they can find

Is willing to go into any environment or building, however hazardous, if it means they can capture some specters

Started wearing a mask after venturing into some unsanitary environments and eventually just got used to it. Wears it all the time (a comfort item of sorts)

Favorite type of haunted location: abandoned war zone trenches

Always comes out of each successful session with at least one photo that features something undeniably supernatural. If they don’t, then they are convinced the location isn’t really haunted and will complain about it wherever they can (usually on their blog)

Gets hired often by ghost hunting shows

Relationships: 

acquaintances with Makimaru

Ironically, Kagito, one of the spookiest guy at HPA, is terrified of them

Hypothetical Quotes: 

“One of the greatest mysteries of mankind is what comes after death, and unlike my peers, I plan on answering that question myself! How? Well through my photography of course! Trust me, one glance at the supernatural phenomenon in my shots and you’ll be convinced that I’m onto something. Keheheh- wha- where are you going?! Don’t just leave me in the dust, jeez!”

“I want to understand what exactly the afterlife is all about, truly, but… I don’t know. The fascinating mystery of it all, the allure of the unknown, its almost.. beautiful? No no that’s not the right word! Bah, whatever! You’ll hear about it more succinctly in my final essay anyway.”

[virtueofsanityx]

it feels like a bullet dodged, but there's a sharp sting of it in his chest, like he's been rejected without dmitri even realizing that he was doing it. fingers flex at his sides for a moment as he battles with himself, to either spit it out and just tell the man that he's so fucking in love with him that he could scream, or to let the moment go and brush past it like it's nothing, but dmitri makes the decision for him when music starts to pour from the speakers.

music that reggie recognizes.

the playlist isn't anything extremely special, it's the one that reggie has to have, the one that keeps him feeling positive even when he's going up against the most negative thoughts that live so deeply rooted in his head. it's the music that calms all of those nasty thoughts about him, about who he is and who he isn't. it's basically therapy to hide behind when a particularly bad day at work leaves him feeling the stress and trauma that really comes with his job.

the soft, fond little smile on his lips as song after cheerful song plays through the speakers fills him with a kind of profound warmth. his eyes keep cutting over to dmitri as the music goes on, heart racing just a little more, feelings getting muddled and mixed up all over again. he's pretty sure this is, at the very least, a little bit what love is. and maybe that's a stupid thought to trail after a pretty softball rejection of his feelings spilling out, but reggie has never been the smartest guy on the team.

as the cookies finish and the couch becomes a comfortable nest, reggie slips out of the button down he'd still been wearing, the tank top underneath loose and a-framed and comfortable. body sinks into a kind of comfort that he can only dream of on most nights, and the sigh he lets out could be called dreamy. he wonders if this is what heaven will be like, if he's done enough to even get there in the first place.

and as they're settling, as the cheesy movie plays, his mind continues to wander. he wouldn't be able to relay the plot to this movie if asked right in this moment. instead, he's thinking about love, and feelings, and how safe and comfortable he feels right here in this space. how dmitri has always made him feel that way, always wrapped him up in that cozy feeling and how rare it felt to be so blessed with it.

maybe it isn't fair, but the idea of anyone else getting this, this warmth, this comfort, this safety, it shoots a jealous bolt of anger through him, and his body shifts, perhaps a little more consciously than he's willing to let on, into the other man's space. if he were to move any closer, he'd be practically on top of him.

which isn't necessarily a position he's against being in.

dmitri's voice is the only thing that pulls him out of the deep hole of thoughts he's thrown himself down, thoughts about how easy it would be to just turn his head and start kissing a swath of skin down the man's neck, how simple it would be to curl his body just so and be cuddled into his side, how nice it might be to let his hand fall ever so gracefully into the other man's lap and then, perhaps, explore it.

but the question makes him blink away the filthy thoughts and he lets out a little chuckle under his breath at the question, twisting so that he can face the other man instead. "you really want me to stroke your ego right as they're getting to the big third act misunderstanding where they break up before they fall in love all over again?" eyes cut to the screen he's barely been paying attention to in the first place, but quickly move to look at him again.

like a magnet. drawn to him. oh so easily.

"i dunno, man. i feel...." he has to be careful with his words. has to be. or does he?

"when i'm with you i feel safe. like, i can handle myself, you know? i'm a firefighter, it's not like my workout routine and my arm game is bad, but i don't feel like i have to, because you're there, and you're always gonna have my back." expression serious, though with a glimmer of a smile hiding in the shadows of his features, reggie shrugs again. "i feel like... you're funny, and you're quick. i don't know a lot of guys who get punched in the head for a living in general, but the ones i do know don't tend to be as sharp or quick as you are. you have this energy, like... like i could say anything i wanted and you'd take it and roll with it, but you'd have something to say if it wasn't a good thing to say." without thinking, reggie leans in, and his hidden little smile twists into a smirk that's teasing and perhaps too mischevious to be completely innocent.

"that good? that enough stroking, or are you not finished, yet?"

Reggie’s soft, goofy laughter peeked through the shed tears, offering him a fragile sense of hope. Dmitri watched with quiet sympathy, his melted dark amber eyes warm and a gorgeously sunlit smile gracing his lips. As Reggie scrubbed at his tear-streaked face with his hands, Dmitri couldn’t help but think, Poor thing. Poor, pretty, thing.

But Dmitri didn’t mind. He knew Reggie would show the same support for him in a heartbeat. Sure, Dmitri internalized his struggles more, that was just his nature. Fight camps could stretch into painful, grueling months of mental hell, and while Dmitri didn’t necessarily expect Reggie to be there for him, he always knew he was. The trust between them was unbreakable, a powerfully steady presence that Dmitri found comfort in.

It felt good, knowing that Reggie wasn’t blaming him for anything or bolting out the door at the first sign of conflict. Maybe Reggie could sense Dmitri’s confusion, his quiet apology wrapped in unspoken words and a longing for clarity. Dmitri was used to his girl friends immediately flocking to him to vent about the terrible guys and gals they’d dated, but maybe other men handled things like him by also bottling it up, swallowing it down.

Did it piss Dmitri off, though? A little. But that had more to do with his inexplicable possessiveness over Reggie than anything else. Not that it made sense.

“You good? You sure?” Dmitri asked, his brow arched as he handed Reggie a napkin from the counter. The holiday fun wasn’t over, not by a long shot, but he was prepared to give Reggie all the time he needed to recover.

“Ehhhh… I didn’t have a lotta friends, either,” Dmitri admitted with a soft, sweet chuckle that rolled intoxicatingly through his chest. His shoulders shook slightly with the sound. “Kinda kept beating people up.” He was glad things were different now. Without Reggie, life would’ve gone on (his MMA career would still be intact, sure,) but there’d be a lot less sunshine. Dmitri didn't even want to think about life before Reggie, though the memories had a way of creeping back to haunt him anyway.

A part of him secretly burned to tell Reggie to stop apologizing for no reason, but he knew it wouldn’t stick. Instead, Dmitri just shook his head and let it slide. They were okay. At least, he thought they were----- until Reggie, in an awkward, last-second pivot, muttered a compliment.

He’s kind of… you’re kind of great.

Dmitri’s grin widened, every pearl-white tooth on display. “I know,” he teased, basking in the random moment of appreciation. But then the words settled in, and his expression faltered, his brows knitting together slightly. Could Reggie mean...? No, no way in hell.

Sure, Dmitri could buy that Reggie might be kinda sorta attracted to him (because duh, look at the man!) but attraction didn’t mean seriousness. Dmitri had long resigned himself to the idea that his territorial nature over Reggie was mostly one-sided, and that was fine, as long as Reggie never found out. What they had wasn’t worth risking, not even for sex, no matter how much Dmitri loved it. ...And yet, no lover had ever emotionally connected with Dmitri the way Reggie did. That fact lingered with sharp and profound undeniability. It also meant that their friendship was delicate, something to be handled with care, not to be tested on a whim or a feeling alone.

Patting Reggie’s arm one last time, Dmitri reached around him to hook his phone up to the speaker. They needed the distraction, something upbeat to fill the strained silence and dissolve the bubbling tension Dmitri was still working hard to ignore. He wasn’t about to let his emotions turn him into the kind of fucking idiot who pounces on his best friend.

His music library was eclectic: heavy metal for fight mode, hip hop for runs or club nights, and pop and R&B for chillin' with the girls. But this time, he scrolled to the playlist Reggie had sent him. Knowing it would suit his friend's taste, he hit play, letting the cheerful tunes fill the kitchen as they got back to baking.

Periodically, Dmitri paused during their work, when Reggie’s words began pulling at the threads of his thoughts harder than he’d like. But he pushed them aside with pure logic; all relationships went through hell only to eventually fall apart, but friendships were different, they were almost always worth saving. With friendship, Dmitri didn’t have to put his heart on the line. He didn’t have to face the risk of rejection or betrayal and end up the one sobbing in the kitchen instead. Besides, why would Reggie even want to be with someone like him anyway?

With the music keeping them energized, the cookies were finally done after little over an hour (seriously, how could baking gingerbread cookies take so goddamn long?) They’d rolled out more than enough for two, so Dmitri grabbed a bottle of eggnog spiked with rum from the fridge to kick off their celebration. He carried everything over to the fireplace, transforming the plush sofa into a cozy nest of quilts and pillows---- a makeshift bed for two. Propping his laptop on the coffee table, he queued up one of those classic holiday flicks.

Bundled up and snug, they seemed to have found their rhythm again. Dmitri lounged right next to Reggie, his muscular arm draped along the back of the couch, fingertips resting just shy of Reggie’s shoulder. For some inexplicable reason, he was acutely aware of the contact (or lack thereof) as if electricity danced at his fingertips. It was invigorating but strange, and Dmitri masked the feeling well, taking steady sips of the spiked eggnog to ground himself.

“So,” Dmitri began, biting into a cookie that melted warmly on his tongue. “What you were sayin’ earlier… about me bein’ great and all?” A smirk tugged at his lips, his dark eyes gleaming with mischief as they flicked over Reggie’s face. “What makes you think that, huh? Like, what’re the specific reasons?”

He loved having his big ass ego fed, sure----- but more than that, he wanted to know exactly what Reggie saw in him. Even if he wasn’t ready to admit how much that answer mattered.

[himbohimhoe]

Holding out hope that the writing in veilguard will get more bearable but rook saying to lucanis that it's "not nice that Spite hurt him" and he "shouldn't accept that it’s fine bc it wouldn't be ok if a person did that" like. That is a demon. Built off a single emotion called SPITE. Rook I am finding it really hard to believe that u have lived in thedas for more than 30 seconds.

[elftwink]

it boggles my mind that I still see reminder type posts about not consuming Harry Potter content, not because I expected everyone to agree to stop engaging but because I did sort of expect that the people engaging with hp in 2024 would at least have the decency to not grovel on the internet for random transgender bloggers to validate that they're still a good person and not transphobic for liking hp still. like these posts are not redundant they are FILLED with defensive responses and excuses for why actually its fine and its like not only can you not stop engaging with Harry Potter but you also want to be able to post about doing so non-stop and you never ever want to even see a transgender person point out that JKR is actively funding and directly influencing transphobic organizations and legislation. to the point that when someone does you are incapable of simply scrolling by because you need so badly to be reassured that this internet rando doesn't think you specifically are a bad person for doing the thing they said is bad. unreal main character syndrome. if you have committed to being an hp fan fine i am not a cop or your mom and I cannot make you do anything at all. but I am not, nor is any other trans person, going to give you 'permission' or absolve you of your own guilt for doing so. that is your problem to reconcile yourself and is not the job of random trans people. like jesus christ enough already

[marciliedonato]

Don't ask:

- a man, his salary

- A woman, her age

- And a tumblrina (gn) who they voted for in the nge/moomin poll....

[tonycries]

FIRST masterlist! This masterlist has all my writing from 06/02/24 up until 01/10/24 — for my recent works click on my SECOND MASTERLIST <3

Men In Uniform Do It Best!

Dirty Lil' Secrets

A Picture Lasts Long (But Not As Long As That D*ck)

I'm Addicted, I Admit It!

Give Me Tough Love

Never Ever Seen This Before!

We Don't Have No Babies!

Like A Fever

Bad Things (To You)

Prettier When Messy!

Care For You!

Green-eyed Monster

So Lonely In My Mansion!

Kiss Me More!

Girl, I Do This Often

Cause, I Love Freaks!

Sl*t Me Out!

Match My Freak!

WAP!

R U Mine?

Hot To Go!

Girl, You Earned It!

I'm A BIG Stepper!

BODY-ODY!

SOOO ANXIOUS

Long Overdue!

THIS P*SSY DEPRESSED!

The Family Matter?!

I-T G-I-R-L!

I Lasted Ten Rounds!

BRAT!

She's My Vitals!

Three's a Crowd (But Four...) — “So, are they like holograms? Or can you really touch them?” “Why? Trynna cop a feel, sweetheart?” In which you and your boyfriend find very unconventional uses for his powers.

Why Can't I Keep My Fingers Off You? [Part 1] [Part 2] — There were two things missing in the scene in front of you: 1. The aphrodisiac chocolate your friends had given as a gag gift last Christmas that had been hidden away in the back of your refrigerator. 2. Your dear fiancé.

Dream A Little Dream — For the strongest, it was a privilege to dream. Especially when his dream is you. 

Initiation! — “Just a small initiation, nothing too serious.” Couldn’t be too hard, right? So why are you - the all-new frat sweetheart - being pinned to the bed and stuffed full from all ends by your frat brothers?

One More? Please? — A kiss always solves everything! But when a kiss turns into something more…well, it’s only a desperate attempt to unseal yourselves from this damned prison realm, right? Right?

Everybody Knows That I'm a Good Girl, Officers... — You don’t know what’s faster - how fast you were speeding down the highway, or how fast you’re on your knees for the hot officers that just so happen to pull you over.

Hope They Catch Us — When you’re on-screen, it’s always a rivalry to see who’s best - you just never thought that it would be the same struggle in bed.

Unmistakably Yours — In which the strongest bends space and time - literally - after coming back from deatḣ, to do what he’s always wanted to do - you.

Madam Gojo — Gojo Satoru, the strongest clan leader in all of Japan - and the most dangerous, too. You, rejected by the elders, and totally not his future bride, right? Right?

Can't Touch Me (Like Gojo) — In which intentionally making your fríend-with-benefíts jealous ends up with more benefits than you’d think.

The Heir — No, your clan leader husband won’t stop until he gives you an heir. No, you don’t think you’ll make it out alive.

The Call — After an explosive fight with your boyfriend, you really should feel sorry about being swept up by the blue-eyed stranger at the club - but it’s so hard when he kisses you like that.

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy — He knows that you would be one of his favorite stories from his travels. And you know that you want nothing more than to stay by his side. After meeting an alluring cowboy at Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon, both of you are sure of one thing - this must be fate.

Go For It, Gojo! [Part 1] [Part 2] — You wouldn’t fuck Gojo Satoru even if you were paid…is what you thought exactly five minutes before you were shoved against the wall of this cramped closet, his face stuffed in your soaked panties.

Unhoneymooners!? — The universe was surely playing a joke on you. Here you were, trapped on a luxury getaway with your - dangerously handsome, extremely obnoxious - ex. Either you were going to kill each other or end up pinned beneath him, split apart on his cóck. You just didn’t know what would come first.

AITA For F*cking My Sugar Daddy's Son?! — When your sugar daddy just isn’t paying attention to you, can you really be blamed for fúcking his son? Especially when his son is absolutely obsessed with you.

Bad Boys Bring Roses — You’ve never dealt with the yakuza - not once. So why is the future head of the Gojo clan suddenly coming up to you, demanding that you marry him for 30 days?

The Way You Kiss Me — The four times Satoru tries really hard not to kiss you - his best friend’s pretty younger sister. And the one time he doesn’t.

Isn't That Sweet? (I Guess So) — Oh no! Why do your pantíes keep disappearing? Well, maybe your hot roommate knows the answer…

Haunting You — A bIoody trail of vampire attácks, a political marriage, and four suitors you’re forced to choose from - all haunting you. But none as much as the mysterious stranger that makes everything in you scream that you might just be fated for the very thing your kingdom is trying to escape from.

You'll Taste Me Too! — How do you last three days on a work trip with the man you hate the most in the office? You don’t - you end up pinned underneath him, instead.

We Neva Play! — Turns out, the “r” in rivals stands for “really good séx” when a mission becomes a little too hot to handle.

Something Stupid — Five times the strongest would rather díe than tell you he loves you, and the one time he almost does. Almost.

Initiation! — “Just a small initiation, nothing too serious.” Couldn’t be too hard, right? So why are you - the all-new frat sweetheart - being pinned to the bed and stuffed full from all ends by your frat brothers?

Like An Animal — Of course Toji doesn’t want any more kids. Of course he’s lying as he stuffs your pretty cúnt full of his cúm for the third time tonight.

Whiskey, Neat, With a Side of You — When your date stands you up, you’re lucky that the hot bartender is more than happy to keep you company! 

Everybody Knows That I'm a Good Girl, Officers... — You don’t know what’s faster - how fast you were speeding down the highway, or how fast you’re on your knees for the hot officers that just so happen to pull you over.

F*ck You! (Literally) — Of course, you hated your ex-husband. Of course, you found yourself in bed with him on your wedding anniversary.

Government Hooker — With the fame and glory of being an international popstar comes the inevitable threat of an overzealous stalker. You just didn’t think that it would also come with a very sexy, buff bodyguard behind your every move.

Madam Zenin — There’s nothing that rouses Toji, the infamous head of the Zenin clan, nothing that will make him lose control - until they take what’s most important to him. You.

Brooklyn Baby — Everybody wanted to fuck Suguru Geto, lead bassist of Tokyo Special Grades. Said Suguru doesn’t want to fuck anyone else but you. He couldn’t give less of a fuck if anyone walked in right now. In fact, a small part of him wishes someone would.

Initiation! — “Just a small initiation, nothing too serious.” Couldn’t be too hard, right? So why are you - the all-new frat sweetheart - being pinned to the bed and stuffed full from all ends by your frat brothers?

Golden Boy — Falling right back in love with the cult leader you’re supposed to kíll? Happens more often than you’d think.

Initiation! — “Just a small initiation, nothing too serious.” Couldn’t be too hard, right? So why are you - the all-new frat sweetheart - being pinned to the bed and stuffed full from all ends by your frat brothers?

A Million Dollar Baby! — Turns out, rent can be paid in much more than one way.

Welcome To The Itadori's! — Three times Choso really, really wanted to hold you without his family barging in, and the one time he actually does. 

FIVE! — Five hours - it’s all it takes for Choso’s baby fever to take over. After all, you’d look so pretty with his kid - five of them, in fact.

Great With Kids? (You Can Have Mine) — When your younger brother gets a new babysitter, only two questions linger on your mind: 1. How come your parents didn’t trust you in charge? 2. How dare the sexy babysitter be so perfect - it made you want some attention too.

Freak On The Cam! — Choso always loved watching you - his pretty lil’ camgírl - from behind the screen. Who knew he’d love being on-screen with you even more?

Can't Touch Me (Like Gojo) — In which intentionally making your fríend-with-benefíts jealous ends up with more benefits than you’d think.

Exes who...

Love Is Blind

“She My Best Friend, Yeah We Not a Couple.”

Wanna Do Bad Things To You

I Wanna Get Freaky On Camera

Lemme Ride, Baby!

Can I Fill You Up, Baby?

"Pull On It. Harder."

Little Heaven

©2024 tonycries. All work belongs to @tonycries. Do NOT repost, modify, translate or plagiarize in any way on ANY platforms. This includes themes, headers, and pinned.

[killerpancakeburger]

Thinking about a Reader who ends up having Scary Dog Privileges with Ghost without meaning to. It just happened.

Then they have to deal with the fact that this comes with duties too.

Tags: civilian!reader, gn!reader, mostly fluff, a bit suggestive, smug!Ghost, smooth!Ghost. 800 words.

Part 2. Part 3.

When Ghost is reluctant to getting sutured in Medical after accidentally opening his stitches, grumbling he can do it himself, who does the nurse call for? Yeah, you.

She could stand her ground, after all she's used to dealing with big, whiny men, but it's much more fun to knock on your door and smile at your bewildered gaze and gaping mouth when she explains the situation in two sentences.

"Ghost's being difficult, mind taking over?" "I'm sorry, what the hell does this have to do with me?" "C'm'on, everyone on base knows he's got a soft spot for you. Don't you want to make my job easier?"

You roll your eyes and slam your hands on your desk as you get up. Groaning as you walk past her— "I'm doing this for you, nothing else, got it?"

Mumbling to yourself "you've got to be kidding me" as you barge into the sick bay. Ghost is coolly seated at the end of a bed, large as life, casual clothes as black as his mask and— oh. You weren't told the wound was on his thigh— you weren't warned that he didn’t have pants on. You can’t help it, your eyes go down, down, your lingering gaze and your flustered silence forming a confession louder than words.

A noise — a scoff or a grunt, you’re not sure — emanates from him, breaks your trance, makes you look up. The amusement in his gaze tells you he noticed your oggling— of course he did. Nothing gets past the Ghost, and you've been remarkably unsubtle. Despite the mask, you swear you can make out the smug smirk on his lips. His cockiness reignites your irritation. Annoyance making you bolder than you really are, you charge at him, crossing the distance between you two in a stride, stopping close— too close. He doesn't back off.

"What's wrong with you?" you snarl. "Nothin'," he retorts, imperturbable.

It's actually the first time you’re overlooking him. You may be enjoying it a bit too much. Nevermind the fact that you've had to wedge yourself between his parted legs to get there.

You frown, unconvinced by his answer.

“Did Soap contaminate you?”

Bargaining to be cleared out earlier was the Scotsman's trademark.

“Johnny throws a fit cos he hates feeling useless. That's not what I'm doing.”

A smirk stretches your lips.

“Oh, no? I'm sure your reasons are much more noble.”

“Doesn't matter. Got what I wanted anyway.”

He's way too self-satisfied for a man in his underwear.

You throw an unequivocal look in the direction of his injury.

“What you wanted? A still open wound?”

“You.”

He replied without missing a beat, as confident as usual. It is both alluring and aggravating.

“And your idea of wooing me is making me upset?”

You don't add “because if it is, that's really fucking stupid” out loud, but you’re sure he got the message through your tone.

“Nah. But you're more honest when you’re angry. Gutsier.”

You only realize he slipped his index and middle fingers in your trouser loops when he sharply tugs at them. Off balance, you steady yourself by catching his shoulders.

Taking advantage of the strip of bare skin between your shirt and bottoms, the pads of his thumbs idly stroke your hip bones. The contact sends electricity through you, shivers of pleasure running down your sides.

“Ghost,” you start, severe, trying not to let the effect his touch has on you show in your voice.

“Simon,” he counters, surly. “Told ya it's Simon when we're alone, didn't I?”

He did, but you didn’t think he was serious. If that's what it takes to get him to listen… you’ll play by his rules.

“Simon. What's the rest of your brilliant plan? I'm here, but I can’t stitch you up.”

“How ‘bout a deal. I'll stop resisting… for a price.”

You raise an amused eyebrow.

“What kind of price?”

“A kiss.”

You snort. You didn’t believe him capable of something so… puerile.

“With the mask on?”

He doesn't move a muscle to get rid of it.

“Take it off.”

You usually wouldn’t obey what sounds like an order so easily, but it's the first time you get to touch the skull. Slipping two fingers between skin and cloth, you slowly roll up the mask all the way under his nose.

You gently trace the scars surrounding his lips. Then, the second you feel him relax, grip on your hips slackening and intensity of his gaze waning, you grab the bottom of his mask and drag it back down vigorously, making the holes for the eyes land way too low for him to see anything.

“If you thought you'd get a reward for acting out, you've got another think coming.”

[skzdarlings]

harmony ; 3racha x reader ; one-shot

masterlist.

porn without plot. you want to have some fun and you know exactly which boyfriend can help get it started.

pairing: 3racha/reader content info: sub!reader, dom!changbin, dom!chan, switch!jisung, polyamorous mmfm foursome (so they’re all involved with each other and interact with each other), very enthusiastic consent with an implied red/yellow/green light system (yellow is employed once).  some rough play (esp with changbin), cnc game that reader initiates, face-slapping, choking, dirty talk, pussy eating, double penetration, blow job, all three holes at once, multiple orgasms, jisung having a monster dick for no reason, aftercare.  (technically no mention of birth control but it’s a long established relationship and you can safely assume it’s taken care of.) 

word count: 5255 words.

enjoy <3

-

When you want to play – really play – you know where to go. 

Jisung can be an overthinker and Chan is always protective, so they hesitate before getting too rough with you. Changbin, however, never holds back.  You know how to touch him, how to smile that particularly provocative smile, how to bat your eyelashes and invite him to play.  

You are thinking about it when he returns from his work-out, muscles straining in his black tank shirt, body damp with sweat, and looking like pure, unadulterated sex.  Chan and Jisung are huddled around a laptop in the living room, their entrepreneurial endeavours a seemingly endless chore, and they are so engrossed in their work they don’t see you leave. 

You sneak off to your room to change, ditching your shorts and underclothes, slipping into one of Changbin’s old t-shirts and absolutely nothing else.  

You intend to hunt him down after his shower, but it’s Changbin who comes to you.  He ambles casually into your bedroom without knocking, comfortable and relaxed and at home.  You have your own rooms for personal space but you all come and go as you please.

Your room is dimly lit with strings of fairy lights, the bed crowded with pillows and teddy bears, not to mention a big strong boyfriend who makes himself at home.  Changbin is dressed in sweatpants and a black t-shirt, his hair blow-dried soft and fluffy, but body as bulky and powerful as ever. 

“Look at this,” he says, holding out his phone.  A sweater you were eyeing has gone on sale so he sits on your bed and buys it for you without hesitation.   He giggles to himself with all that self-satisfied delight, teasing that he is the best boyfriend and your number one favourite. 

He knows the truest harmony lies among the four of you, together, always, but he likes to tease.

You like to tease back. 

“Be careful, you big bully,” you say, because he plops himself down at the head of the bed, knocking a teddy bear over.  You pick it up and aggressively shove it back into place. 

He quirks an eyebrow, his giggling joviality replaced with a studious expression.  He seems to finally notice what you are wearing, blinking his gaze up and down your body as you rearrange the pillows behind him. 

You bat your eyelashes, all playful innocence.

“Don’t be so serious,” he says.  He deliberately knocks a teddy onto the floor. 

You playfully gasp, bending over with a flourish and flashing him. 

“Ah,” he says, putting his phone on your bedside table.  “It’s like that?” 

“I don’t know what you mean,” you say, blinking. 

“Hm,” he says, giving you another quick once-over.  “Okay.”  

Changbin hauls you over his shoulder and wrestles you onto the bed.  He puts you on your back, upside down so your head is near the foot.  He climbs right on top of you, not an inch of muscle budging even when you thud your fists against his firm chest.    

“Binnie,” you say, wriggling underneath him, the t-shirt riding up your thighs.  “You’re crushing me, you big mean brute.” 

“Brute,” he says, laughing.  He grabs your hips and pins you to the mattress.  “Tsk.  You like it like that.” 

“No, I – ah!”

Changbin never hesitates.  He knows you will tell him if you don’t like something.  It’s a game of trust, full of an all encompassing love that boasts such tender affection beneath each action.  Being with Changbin is like being nestled in blankets by a warm fire on a snowy winter’s day.  You are sheltered in the storm, feeling that protection even more keenly because of the dangerous cold.    

Between you, there is nothing but heat. 

He gathers the hem of the t-shirt and shoves it up, past the skin of your tummy, exposing your thighs and all the bare softness between them.  Oh, yes, all softness against his hard body, the thickness of his biceps as he holds you down, his big thighs shoved between your open legs, broad shoulders relentless and ungiving even where you smack him repeatedly. 

“Binnie, be careful,” you say, trying to close your legs around his hips. 

You gasp when he puts a hand up your shirt, squeezing your breast in the cup of his palm. His mean fingers immediately find the stiffening peak, thumb tormenting you while you whine. 

You buck as if you want to throw him off, but he is right where you want him and he knows it.  He knows you, your body like a well-loved instrument, his strong hands drawing every musical gasp and sigh out of you. 

“Where’s your panties, hm?” he asks.  Undeterred by your continuous bucking and writhing, he slides his hands down to your naked hips.  He was slouched half-on top of you but he gets up on his knees now.  He pushes your thighs apart, forcing his hips between them. 

“Shameful,” he says.   He tries to grab your flailing hands to no avail.  You smack his chest and shoulders, dodging the reach of his fingers. 

He smacks your face, a tap hard enough to register the game has really begun, but not so hard to sting for long.  You still gasp, your hands pausing.  It gives him time to work a hand between your open thighs. 

“Ahh—!” 

“Yah, look at you,” he says, rubbing his fingers through your wet pussy without finesse or gentleness.  You twitch every time his knuckle rides over your clit.   “Bad girl,” he says.  “Who are you so wet for?” 

He gives you no time to answer, scooting back to drag you to the middle of the bed. You are still upside down, your pillows and teddies piled behind him, all the dreaminess of your girly lace bedroom in contrast to his stark masculinity.  It makes your whole body thrum with arousal, hot from the tips of your toes to the crown of your head.  You feel him even where he is not touching you.  

Where he is touching you, you burn, heart erratic with anticipation as he squeezes your thighs, as he shoves your hands out of his way, as he uses his thumbs to spread your pussy open to his gaze. 

“Ah – Binnie—!”  You get louder.  Your bedroom door is open.  Chan and Jisung might be focussed on their work, but not for long, not if you keep this up.  Still, to speed things along, you scream, “Chan!  Channie!  Ch—hmmph!”

Changbin shoves a pillow in your face, holding it there, smothering you to soften your shrieks.  His other hand is on your thigh – no, slipping higher, a surface touch through all that wet desire.  Then his blunt fingers are inside you.  You moan into the pillow, clenching around the thrust of his fingers.  You get dizzy quickly, partially because of the pillow, partially his skilled hand. 

He abruptly lifts the pillow.  The oxygen goes straight to your head, as intoxicating as a kiss.  You realize you are close to coming already, hiccupping with all that sudden breath as he fucks his fingers into you. 

Changbin is relentless.   You smack his chest but he ignores it, his strong arm keeping a steady momentum.  An orgasm builds and builds, your fingers hooking into his t-shirt for some leverage.  He puts a hand on your belly and holds you down.  He feels so strong and heavy, utterly unmovable, and it makes falling apart so much easier. 

“Didn’t you have something to say to Chan?” he says. 

You gasp and turn your head.  Sure enough, Chan is standing there, watching you.  Changbin does it on purpose, knowing when you are close, so you look at Chan just as the orgasm crests.  

Chan is standing beside the bed, dressed in his basketball shorts and a sleeveless black shirt, a baseball cap over his curly dark hair.   He must have entered the room while the pillow was on your face, and now he is standing there, watching Changbin hold you down and fuck you with his hand. 

“Channie, please—” you say, then you come all over Changbin’s fingers.  You cry out because he keeps tormenting you, thumb shaking back-and-forth across your throbbing clit.  “Ah, Binnie—Channie, please!”

Chan gives Changbin a look, his eyebrow quirked, then he just leans towards the open door and whistles.  It’s a sharp, high whistle, a call to attention. 

“Han,” he says, not even very loud.  Chan never needs to shove or force or yell.  When Chan says come, you come. 

You always obey Chan.  You throw your head back, gasping as you come a second time.  It is so soon after the first orgasm that it feels like one long, rolling wave.  It continues to shudder through you, even after Changbin slips his hand out. 

The shirt is still shoved up your tummy, soft skin and wet pussy on display.   Chan does not look away, reaching blindly behind himself for your desk chair.  He yanks it closer to the bed and plops down, taking off his cap and tossing it on the floor.   He is bare-faced, expression so open and honest, but a hunger in his eyes that darkens his whole face. 

Changbin just looks giddy.  You look at him as he giggles, that funny little chortle leaving that buff body.  Then you realize he is rolling his sweatpants down. 

“Channie!” you yelp, shrieking and twisting while Changbin licks his palm and strokes his cock, his other hand effortlessly holding you down. 

Chan slouches in the chair.  He props an elbow on the arm-rest and puts his chin in his palm.  His other hand slips under the waistband of his shorts. 

“Careful, baby,” Chan says, seconds before Changbin smacks you again.  It is within your limit, but still enough to turn your head on impact.

Like before, it breaks your concentration, and Changbin takes the opportunity to grab your hips, line up, and shove his cock inside you.  Chan and Jisung always give you a minute to adjust, the size of a hard cock definitely different from fingers, but Changbin never waits.  Even while you wince and complain, he fucks you through it, gripping your hips hard and ignoring your hands pushing against his chest. 

“Too much, Binnie,” you say, even though the sting is quickly passing.  You’re so wet and it makes it easy for him to fuck you.  It even sounds messy, every thrust opening you up, getting you even wetter, the bed creaking as he pulls you onto his cock over and over. 

You look over at Chan who is still watching, the shape of his hand and his dick so clear through the material of his shorts as he fists his cock slowly. 

You hiccup as Changbin switches from long, deep strokes to short, pounding ones. 

At which point Jisung finally walks in, yapping about work, saying, “I was thinking we could postpone the meeting to Monday and—oh, hi, WHAAAT, we’re having sex in here?  All right, man, okay, that’s cool, all right, what’s up.”   

Oh, your sweet Jisung.  He is also in house clothes, black shorts and a sleeveless white shirt, dark hair feathering through his fingers as he runs his hand through it.  He walks further into the room, kicking the door closed behind himself for no reason.  His attention is firmly fixed on you, holding your gaze while Changbin fucks you.  The unmoving intensity of those big brown eyes leaves you tingling, a swoop in your belly that feels as thorough as a good fuck.  It crashes into the feeling of Changbin inside you, makes your whole body get tight so Changbin groans and curses. 

“Oh,” is all you can say.  You cover your face with both hands, gasping when Changbin goes back to longer, deeper thrusts. 

“Heyyy, baby, why are you hiding?” Jisung says in his sweetest voice. 

You hear him approaching, even above the sound of you getting fucked, above Changbin’s little grunts, above Chan cursing.   You feel the dip of the mattress when Jisung climbs up on the bed, sitting near your head.  Then his hands are on your wrists, prying them away from your face.   You try to wrestle them back but he holds them calmly, his own arms boasting a subtle musculature as he pins your hands to the mattress to stop you from moving. 

“Yes,” Changbin says.  “Like that.  Come on.” 

“Jisungie,” you whine, looking down at where Changbin is driving into you, feeling each thrust deeper than your pussy, all the way up to your throat.  You tip your head back, looking at Jisung upside down. 

He leans down, his hair swooping forward, tickling your face as he kisses your forehead and temple. 

“It’s okay, baby,” he says.  Despite his soft voice, he does not lighten his grip, your hands still locked in place.  “Does it hurt?” he asks, wide-eyed. 

“Mmm,” you say, nodding, even while shuddering with so much pleasure that a tear spills down your cheek. 

“Aww,” he says, licking that tear track, making every nerve spasm.  “You’re so cute, baby.” 

“She gets tighter when you choke her,” Chan says.

“Awww,” Jisung says.   He releases one hand to reach for you.  He wraps his fingers delicately around your throat, not even squeezing at first, just a caress as his hand curls around you. 

Your adrenaline naturally peaks, body clenching, just like Chan said.  Changbin groans his satisfaction and Jisung tightens his grip, keeping you pinned by the throat while Changbin goes still, coming inside you. 

“Fuck,” Chan says. 

Jisung releases your throat and you suck in a shaky breath.  It is interrupted when Jisung swoops in, kissing your lips upside down.  You squirm under the confusing messiness of his open mouth at this angle. 

He comes up with a breath, one as shaky as your own, ravished from a kiss.  He runs his hand through his hair and nods to Changbin, saying, “Turn her around.” 

Two pairs of hands find you, manhandling you so easily between them.  You yelp, startled by the movement, as they lift you up and turn you around so your head is in Changbin’s lap and Jisung is now the one between your legs. 

Changbin hoists you into his arms, holds you in the cradle of his bicep as Jisung lays down between your open legs. 

This is one area that Jisung never hesitates to indulge, his open mouth descending on your pussy with ravenous excitement. 

You are so, so sensitive down there, almost numb beneath the first few searching swipes. 

He presses his whole mouth there, moaning as he sucks on your clit then licks up and down, back and forth, around and around.  His tongue rubs where Changbin just came, circling your sensitive hole, pressing there then licking back up to your already throbbing clit. 

“Can’t come again,” you say, not entirely sure if it comes out coherent because your eyes are closed and your brain feels fuzzy.   

He answers with a hum.  He does not seem to be eating you out with the intention of making you come, but purely for his own pleasure as he sucks and licks and tastes.  Despite that – and despite your words – you feel a tightening in your belly, a dull throb that feels too feels too deep to reach. 

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Changbin says when you start to writhe, his big arm wrapped around your neck, holding you tight to his beating heart. 

The thud of that heart, the relentless flick of Jisung’s tongue, and Chan’s approving nod makes your thighs press around Jisung’s head. 

“Oh—” is your last word before you come again, bucking hard against Jisung’s face.  You gasp and cling to Changbin’s arm. 

Jisung keeps licking at you, not relenting until your gasping whine is more of a scream.   Then he kisses your thighs and hips before pushing himself up onto his knees. 

He and Changbin wordlessly work together, sitting you upright to remove your only article of clothing.   Both pairs of hands find you again, touching and groping and stimulating everywhere. 

You shudder under all the sensation, eyes closing, rocking against nothing.  You are desperate to close your legs to relieve the tension, but Jisung is kneeling between them.  Fortunately, he knows you well, his hand sliding down there, fingers finding you, curling into you. 

“You’re soo wet, baby, it’s embarrassing,” he says.  “You need it that bad?” 

He is still using his sweetest voice, like he doesn’t know he is about to utterly wreck your shit.  Because Jisung always does without very much effort, simply by effect of having the biggest dick you have ever taken.   It is part of the reason you usually can’t start with him, or why he takes his time when you do, because it is an aching endeavour whenever he tries to fit all that inside you. 

Even the bulge in his shorts is obscene, the material rubbing against your thighs.  He brings your hand to that bulge and groans when you squeeze it, saying, “That’s it, that’s it—”

He leans over you.  It sounds like he and Changbin might be kissing above your head, sloppily at that.  Jisung is probably shoving his tongue into Changbin’s mouth, the same tongue that was just inside you as it licked up the mess that Changbin made.   

They press you between their bodies in an envelope of desire, utterly dominating your senses.  Changbin smells like his shampoo, a deep scent like mahogany, while Jisung tends to douse himself in cologne, faded now at the end of the day but still a rich, expensive smell.  Beneath all that is that simple sweat, bodies getting worked up, raw sex overwhelming all those other scents. 

You breathe them in, whimpering because you are pressed so tightly between them. You can feel Jisung twitching in your hand and Changbin beginning to stiffen again at your backside. 

 There is a wet pop and a shared gasp when they stop kissing.  Jisung grabs your face and pulls you up, his mouth hot when it claims yours, that stupidly talented mouth making you crazy. 

“Hold her,” Jisung says, speaking against your lips while guiding Changbin’s hands.  Jisung grabs your thighs and pushes them up, not quite folding you in half but almost there.  He knows you need to be open to take him.  Even then, you are already clenching, fluttering around nothing in anticipation.

Changbin holds your thighs back, hands pressed under the curve of your knee.  Jisung hastily shoves his shorts down his thighs, leaving them gathered at the knee.   He touches you and uses your desire to wet his dick, frantically jerking it as if it is not already intimidatingly hard and ready. 

“Jisungie,” you say, already whining, wiping an embarrassing spot of drool as it spills over your bottom lip.  Your body is so eager that it thunders out of control, clenching around nothing, and you can’t seem to stop it.   

Jisung is so mean, just using his fingertip for a second, circling your fluttering hole.  You try kicking him but your ankle manages little more than a flick, your legs trapped in Changbin’s hold. 

“Sorry,” Jisung says, giggling and obviously unapologetic.  He flicks your pouting bottom lip before finally putting the tip of his dick at your entrance. 

The first little bit is always fine.  It feels good to be full, your body needing him, pulling him in.  He rocks back and forth a little, pushing an inch then another, and that’s when your body realizes how much there is, clenching and stretching and burning as he pushes in.   

He goes slow, his whining mouth against your throat.  But then Chan sits on the edge of the bed and touches his back.  He bottoms out quickly and you squeak, eyes closed and breath coming fast. 

You hear Chan say, “Take it off.”   Confused, you blink your eyes open.  Chan is talking to Jisung, tugging his shirt up his back. 

Jisung groans but complies, tugging it over his head with one hand.  The few seconds give you a precious moment to adjust, barely enough before he comes back and starts to fuck you with short, rolling thrusts.   You think Chan is getting Jisung’s shorts out of the way given the jerky way Jisung moves on top of you, but then you are skin to skin with no obstruction. 

“Mmph, yellow – legs,” you say, breaking only briefly to prevent a cramp in your thighs.  Changbin is quick to smooth you out, helping reposition you more comfortably.  

You sprawl flat on your back as Changbin moves away, wrapping your legs around Jisung’s waist without any hindrance.  He holds himself above you, alternatively muttering expletives and cooing sweet nothings at you. 

Changbin sits on one side, Chan the other, both fully clothed despite the obvious strain below their waistbands.  It reminds you a little of the time Changbin topped Jisung while Chan fucked you, the pair of you kissing and touching between them the entire time.   

Today is a little different.  You are at the centre of it all, Jisung inside you, Chan’s hand on your chest and Changbin’s fingers circling your mouth.   You take those fingers when prompted, sucking dutifully, batting your eyelashes up at him while he softly finger-fucks your mouth. 

Chan’s fingers join him, touching your lip.  You open your mouth wider and drool messily around the intrusion. 

“Fuck,” Chan says.  He rips his hand back in sudden needy haste.  “Turn over,” he demands, smacking Jisung on the ass. 

It makes Jisung yelp but he complies.  With some help from Changbin, you roll over until Jisung is on his back and you are on top of him.  Changbin kneels upright too, taking your face in his hands and kissing you, tongue penetrating your mouth as Jisung holds your hips and thrusts up into you. 

Chan grabs the back of your neck, holding you in place while Changbin kisses you.  Chan’s other hand runs down your front, tweaking a nipple and making you mewl into Changbin’s mouth.  You are more panting than kissing by the time Chan’s fingers reach your pussy. 

Jisung slows down just a little, out of breath and whimpering as you clench around him.  This angle makes him feel stupidly deep, your eyes rolling back.  He makes a few small, jerky movements, not even a deep thrust, and it still feels like he his hitting your heart. 

Chan joins the kiss with Changbin.  You are not even sure who is kissing you, just that it is one or the other, back and forth until you are dizzy.  You know it is Chan’s fingers between your legs, the unmistakable pattern of his deft, familiar stroke making you spiral towards another orgasm. 

“Oh, god, she’s – she’s—” Jisung says, squeezing your hips, going still for a minute to stop himself from coming when you do.  He is breathing as hard as you. 

You look down at Jisung, holding eye contact while you come hard on Chan’s fingers. Chan and Changbin are each sucking a bruise into either side of your neck. 

“Fuck,” you say in a watery voice, thighs shaking, hands on Jisung’s abdomen as you lean forward. 

“That’s it,” Chan says, kissing your throat sweetly while Changbin bites you meanly.  Both of them swipe their tongue across the mark they leave behind.  “Jisung,” Chan says, a demand without further explanation.

“Fuck, I know,” Jisung says, slowly moving his hips again. 

It is so quick off your orgasm, it makes aftershocks move through your whole body.  You are a livewire, making every ridiculous sound possible as Jisung fucks you, Changbin kisses you, and Chan gets up behind you. 

Chan runs his hands down your sides, gently bending you forward until you are chest to chest with Jisung. 

“Yup, just like that,” Chan says, rubbing the base of your spine then lower.  His hands cup the curve of your ass, squeezing, tilting your hips just so.  It gives him a good view of Jisung’s cock moving in and out of you, no doubt obscenely wet and messy, as well as exposing the smaller hole in your ass as he spreads you open. 

“Changbin,” Chan says, still with that same confident assurance he will be obeyed no matter what, “Pass me the lube. Bedside drawer.” 

As if you were not already sensitive enough, just hearing those words makes everything clench, which makes Jisung fuck you harder, which makes some place inside you that is so unbelievably soft and tender start to ache. 

“Ah, that sound,” Changbin says when your moans turn to high-pitched whimpers.  He pats the back of your head and reaches for the bedside table. 

After a bit of rustling, he tosses the lube at Chan who catches it easily. 

“One second,” Changbin says while Chan uncaps it.  “She’s gonna come again.  Big one, isn’t it, yes?” 

The fact he knows before you do is a testament to how closely he watches you, how well he knows you.  He is completely right, of course, as Jisung repeatedly pounds into some squishy, vulnerable part of you, so deep and so tender.  You are not sure your clit would even respond if someone tried to touch it, but they don’t need to.   It is enough that Jisung is hitting that place again and again. 

You come with a scream, literally gushing around Jisung as you come.  It takes everything in his willpower not to come, nonsensically begging Changbin to help so he doesn’t finish.  Changbin just grabs him by the throat, much harder than Jisung grabbed you, making Jisung choke out a strangled gasp immediately.  It works, though, as Jisung goes still but stays hard, letting you rock desperately on top of him as your orgasm seems to last ages. 

When it finishes, you are completely boneless.  You slump onto Jisung who takes a breath when Changbin lets go. 

“All right,” Changbin says, smacking your ass.  You hear him kiss Chan quickly.   “Your turn.”

It is a good thing you feel so willowy; it makes it easy for Chan to open you up on his slick fingers.  The few times you have done this, it always took forever, which was fun in its own way, but today it is so easy.  He slides a finger right in, then another, hardly any obstruction as your body surrenders so completely to your boyfriends.

“You gonna take it okay, baby?” Jisung asks, his hands on your sides, holding you steady. 

You look up at him, nodding, and open your mouth with a whine.  He understands, lifting his head, meeting you in a messy, lazy kiss while he rocks slowly inside you.   The kiss only breaks when Chan replaces his fingers with his cock, reigniting every spark in your over sensitized body.  

“Ugh, god,” Jisung says, barely above a breath as he pants against your mouth.  “He’s inside you, baby?” 

You don’t answer because he can probably feel it when Chan is fully inside you.  It takes a second for them to calibrate, find a rhythm that works.   You are not sure if you are more impressed with yourself for taking it so easily this time, or impressed that Jisung has lasted this long and is still coherent enough to keep a steady rhythm. 

“Changbin,” you say, his name a moan on your lips.  You need to feel him too, his hand on your back not nearly enough. 

“Go,” Chan says, groaning, your hips in his hands as he fucks you.  “Oh, baby, you’re so good,” he says.  “Isn’t our girl so good for us?” 

Changbin and Jisung basically just grunt in reply, affirmative but irrevocably distracted. 

Changbin kneels near your head, rubbing the back of your neck and gently guiding you to turn your face.  Jisung swears when you open your mouth, a bit of spit drooling past his own lips as he watches you take Changbin’s cock past your lips.   You mostly just lay there with your mouth open, letting him fuck it rather than really blowing him, but there are no complaints. 

Chan squeezes your ass, a gentle knead that just makes you feel more open, stretched to your absolute limits, so full that you do not know how you will ever be happy without them all inside you.  

It reinvigorates you.  You find strength in your arm and use it to touch Changbin, fist circling where your mouth does not reach.  You get him off first but Chan follows quickly, muttering things like you, tight, perfect, baby, baby, baby.

“Oh god,” Jisung says, somehow still holding out.  When Chan slips out, it gives Jisung slightly more leverage.  He pushes himself upright, letting you slump in his arms and cling to him while he fucks up into you with quick, desperate little uh-uh-uhs. 

Finally, he comes, your name melting into a moan as he buries his face in your neck, mouth open where Changbin left his bitemark. 

They surround you after that and you hum happily, letting them pass you from one pair of arms to the next.  Jisung flops back, running his hands through his hair and catching his breath.  Changbin is there with a cloth of some kind – you think it might be Jisung’s shirt, but Jisung is way past caring – and he gives you a quick and gentle wipe-down while kissing your sleepy brow. 

“I should buy you sweaters more often,” Changbin says, giggling. 

It makes you snort with laughter, blinking up at him with a grin.  “Was gonna fuck you anyway, dummy,” you say. 

“In that case, I’ll buy you another one right now.” 

You giggle when he rubs his nose against yours in a cute little nose-kiss, eyes crinkling with an affectionate smile. 

“Mm, c’mere, sleepy,” Chan says, rightfully as you are still mostly slumped in his arms.  You manage to string an arm around his neck as he scoops you off the bed and holds you against his chest.

You are still a little dazed from so much sensation.   You let your boys take care of you.  After some quick inspection and care, you are plunked in a bath with Jisung to clean and decompress while the other two go strip and re-make the bed. 

Jisung kisses your face while helping you wash, his careful hands and the hot water soothing every achy limb. 

“Totally worth it,” you say, head under his chin, eyes closed and sighing contently. 

Changbin comes to help you out.  By then, you are bright-eyed, sore but in a way that makes you alive.  You feel clean and fresh and loved, bundled up in a robe and then carried off in Changbin’s arms to the living room where food, a comfy couch, and Chan is waiting. 

Jisung joins a moment later.  The laptop is long since closed and utterly forgotten, the four of you snuggling up in a big blanket.  Chan has an arm slung across the back of the couch, your head on his chest, Changbin’s arm around your middle, and Jisung half-asleep where heis  slumped against Changbin. 

“Round two?” Jisung asks then promptly yawns, making you laugh as Changbin playfully smacks him and Chan just sighs an amused sigh. 

Taking the cue from Jisung’s yawn, you close your eyes and snuggle down. 

“Love you,” you say, drifting off to each of them saying it back.  You know one of them will carry you to bed eventually, so you let yourself drift into sleep, safe and warm, happiest when you are all together, just like this, the four of you always in perfect harmony. 

[itneverendshere]

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - FOUR

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mentions of pregnancy; abortion; health risks; insecurities. chapter one┆chapter two┆ chapter three

You were curled up next to Rafe, head on his shirtless chest, listening to the rise and fall of his breath.

You could hear the crash of the waves. His fingers were tangled in your hair, slow and lazy, like he had all the time in the world.

“Do you ever think about the future?” You asked, not even sure why you said it. 

Maybe it was the mood, the quiet.

He laughed softly, the sound rumbling through his chest, vibrating against your cheek.

“Future? Baby, we’re in the future right now.” He tilted his head to look down at you, his blue eyes catching the last bits of sunlight, making them almost glow. “What more do we need?”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him with your elbow. “I’m serious. What’s next for us?”

He was quiet for a second, and you held your breath, waiting. Sometimes Rafe had this way of avoiding real talk. He’d joke, or deflect, or turn the conversation back to something easy.

“You,” he said, his voice low like he was confiding you a secret. “You’re what’s next. What’s always next.” His arm tightened around you, pulling you into his lap. 

You smiled, that stupid, giddy smile that probably made you look ridiculous, but you didn’t care. His breath tickled your forehead as he kissed you there slowly.

He was so sure in that moment, like nothing could touch you two.

You lifted your head, just enough to look at him.

His face was so clear, each detail spot on, you could reach out and touch it. His messy beach hair, the way it fell into his eyes, his crooked smile, that scar on his chin from when he’d wiped out on his bike in high school.

All of him was yours.

“Promise?” You asked, like a part of you needed to hear it again, needed the reassurance.

Rafe leaned in, his lips grazing yours before he whispered against them, “Promise.”

He had this way of making all feel so simple, like the future wasn’t some big, scary thing.

“I’m never letting you go,” it sounded more like a prayer coming from his lips, fingers tracing small circles on your arm, sending these tiny electric shocks through you. “You’re stuck with me, Thornton.”

“Good.”

But then something changed.

His grip loosened. His warmth started to fade, and you blinked, confused. You lifted your head, trying to find his eyes, but his face was different.

Blurred. Distant.

“Rafe?” You whispered, reaching for him, but he wasn’t there.

The warmth was completely gone, replaced with cold, empty air. You turned, searching for him, but all you saw were shadows where he used to be.

The waves crashed louder, and you realized you were alone. Just like that, everything was gone, everything he promised, was gone.

You sat up in bed, gasping, hands instinctively going to your stomach in the darkness of your bedroom.

He wasn’t here. He was with her. You were alone. 

Pregnant.

You tried to stabilize your breathing, wiping away the tears that had slipped out during your sleep. The bed felt too big, empty without him. And the memory of his touch, his words, felt cruel now. 

You stared up at the ceiling wondering how a memory could feel so real, so vivid, but that was all it was. Just a memory. Just another piece of the past you kept chasing.

You looked down at your stomach, your hand still resting on the bump, if you could call it that. You weren’t showing at all, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t real. You knew it was.

Your very first appointment was in a few hours, and the thought of it made you want to throw up.

You needed to know how far along you were. It would be easier to stay in bed and let the what ifs spiral in your head than to face them, but you didn’t hold that privilege anymore.

You dragged yourself out of queen-sized bed, avoiding the mirror as you moved around the room.

You didn’t want to see your reflection right now, you dreaded facing the girl who had let herself get into this mess.

You threw on a pair of loose, old sweats and a hoodie, one that swallowed you whole, hiding everything.

The kind of outfit that made you feel invisible, and right now, that’s exactly what you wanted. It’s not like anyone around here cared much anyway, rich girl or not, kooks were experts at pretending. 

You grabbed your keys, your phone, and the one thing you couldn’t forget today —courage.

One foot in front of the other. One breath at a time.

The appointment was soon, and you needed to get there. You kept reminding yourself that you’d figure it out once you knew how far along you were, everything would make sense after that.

The drive there was a mess, the anxiety and anger, you didn’t want to acknowledge today were taking turns messing with your head.

You didn’t want to think about how you’d once imagined a future with Rafe, how he’d promised you a lifetime under the sun.

You could never feel guilty about keeping this from him. He’d made his choices, and now you had to make yours.

You rolled up in your car and had to park in the visitor lot, trying to sneak in like you weren’t a whole mess of nerves behind the wheel of a brand-new Range Rover.

It was practically empty, which was fine by you, less people to run into, less eyes on you, since every second you spent there was a second someone could recognize you.

Someone could see, that was the last thing you needed — for this to become some juicy little rumor for the Kildare gossip mill to chew up and spit out. 

You pulled your oversized sunglasses lower on your face, hoping they’d hide the fact that you were shaking.

You hated the fact that you were even in this position as you sat there, tapping your foot impatiently, checking the clock every five minutes like it was some kind of countdown to freedom.

Every noise from the hallway made you flinch, like any second someone familiar would burst through the door, see you there.

You winced in horror when your name was called out, following the nurse leading you down a sterile hallway that smelled of antiseptic. You tried to keep your mind off the fact that this was the first step toward the most life-altering decision you’d ever have to make. 

"The doctor will be in soon."

Times like these you wished you’d chosen a private clinic, but you had to avoid as many kooks as possible, even if it meant slumming it in this hospital. 

This was real.

Sitting down on the exam table, the paper crinkled under you, the sound making you cringe. You felt so small in that room, so alone. You’d always had someone—Rafe, even Topper. But right now, it was just you.

Your legs dangled off the edge of the table as you waited.

It felt like forever before there was a knock on the door, and the doctor entered.

"Hi, I’m Dr. Madison," she greeted you, offering you a smile as she sat down on the stool beside you. "How are you feeling today?"

What the fuck were you supposed to say? That your life was falling apart? That you didn’t know what to do? 

So you settled for a, “"I’ve been better," looking anywhere but at her.

She nodded like she understood, she’d most likely heard it all before. 

"Alrigh’, we’re just going to take a look and see how far along you are, okay? I’ll need you to lay back."

You did as she said, leaning back against the stiff pillow, trying to relax. 

"This is going to be a little cold," she warned as she reached for the ultrasound gel.

A little? You nearly jumped off the table as the gel hit your stomach, cold and slimy, like ice against your skin. You winced but tried to keep still as she spread it over your lower abdomen.

The machine whirred to life, and she placed the probe on your stomach. You sucked in a breath, trying not to cry as the screen lit up with grainy images.

She moved the probe slowly, methodically, her eyes glued to the monitor, and you couldn’t breathe. 

You forced your eyes to the ceiling, refusing to look at the monito, refusing to see. You couldn’t let yourself get attached, not like that.

If you saw what was on that screen—if you saw the shape of something, anything—it would kill you. Your breaths were shallow, and your fingers clenched the sides of the exam table, gripping the paper until it tore under your hands.

Dr. Madison was quiet as she moved the probe over your skin, you knew she was seeing something. You could hear the beeping of the machine, the faint hum of the monitor.

"Okay. Looks like you’re about thirteen weeks along."

"How long is that?"

"Almost 3 months, give or take."

No, that couldn’t be right, you’d barely felt any different.

You were at thirteen weeks. Just over the line.

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry.

 "Thirteen?" you repeated, like maybe if you said it out loud, it would make more sense. But it didn’t.

"Alright," you told her, voice even, like that number wasn’t echoing in your head, smashing through the calm you’d been faking this whole time. 

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Madison eyes scanned your face, probably trying to gauge how much of this you were even absorbing. “I know this is a lot to take in.”

A lot? That didn’t even begin to cover it.

The doctor cleared her throat gently. “In North Carolina, after twelve weeks, the options for termination become much more limited unless it falls under specific conditions like rape, incest, or a fetal anomaly. I know this might be overwhelming, but I’m here to walk you through what’s possible.”

You nodded, but it was a lie. You weren’t hearing any of it, you were already listing other possibilities, another place.

Your mind was a step ahead, planning out the details, flights, or maybe driving. Somewhere where no one would ask questions, where you could walk in and get this over with.

Just slip away for a couple days.

She kept talking, saying something about other options, but you weren’t hearing it. It sent your heart into a stampede.

"Thanks, Doctor," you said when you realized she was done speaking, your voice perfectly polite, perfectly controlled. 

It felt like you were watching someone else speak.

You were nodding like you understood like you had a plan. Inside? You were screaming. Your thoughts were a mess, colliding into each other—Oh my God, what now, what the fuck are you going to do? So much more work just because you were stupid enough to wait.

Dr. Madison gave you this list—appointments to schedule, things you should and shouldn’t do, prenatal vitamins to pick up. She might as well have been speaking a different language for all you heard. 

You mumbled something that sounded like “thanks” as she handed you the prescription, barely glancing at the paper. 

“Is there really nothing I can do?”

You couldn't confide your plans to her, for obvious reasons.

“I can’t advocate for any illegal options, but I understand your concern. If you were just a week earlier, we could have discussed a simple outpatient procedure. However, now you’re facing a more complex situation.”

You never felt so frustrated in your life, “But I’m—I can get you anything. You don’t understand, I can pay—”

“Miss Thornton,” she interrupted, her voice firm yet sympathetic, “I know you’re not trying to bribe me right now. I need you to understand that legality and ethics come into play here. What you’re suggesting isn’t something I can support or even discuss further. We have to work within the framework of the law.”

You bit your tongue, resisting the temptation to lash out at her.

“So that’s it, then? I’m just supposed to accept that I’m stuck with this?”

“There are still options we can explore together. We can discuss what’s next in terms of prenatal care, adoption, or even resources that might help you if you choose to carry the pregnancy to term. But I can’t ignore the fact that you’re beyond the legal limit for a straightforward abortion.”

You blinked rapidly, “Adoption?”

The idea of keeping the baby made your stomach bend into a different shape, but that alternative felt just as wrong.

She looked at you with genuine empathy.

“I understand that this is overwhelming. The decision is ultimately yours, but I need to emphasize that time is of the essence, and the choices you make today will have lasting implications.”

Then she was gone, leaving you alone in that sterile room with your head spinning.

You couldn’t even fucking remember the last time you felt normal. Now, you were staring down the barrel of a pregnancy you didn’t even know was this far along. The doctor’s speech about vitamins, checkups, and avoiding alcohol bounced off around in your head.

You swallowed down the nausea that had nothing to do with morning sickness, grabbed your purse, and walked out like nothing had just changed. 

You shoved the papers into your purse without a second thought, your mind already screaming to get out, to run, to go somewhere.

Anywhere but here.

As you walked out into the waiting area, you spotted a mother with her toddler, the kid giggling and playing with his toys. Would your baby be that happy? Would they giggle like that?

No, no, you couldn’t go there.

Your fingers were numb as they fumbled for your keys, and you somehow managed to get into the Rover.

The second the door slammed shut, the tears you’d been restraining started to fall.

All you could think about was getting far, far away from here, somewhere no one would recognize you, where people didn’t know your last name or expect you to show up to some debutante ball with a well-behaved husband, a kid on each arm, perfectly polished.

"Fuck..." you whispered through clenched teeth, squeezing your eyes shut like maybe that could make it stop. But it didn’t. Your whole body was trembling, hands shaking so hard you couldn't hold the wheel right.

You leaned your forehead against the steering wheel, trying to catch your breath.

Thirteen weeks.

You couldn’t stay here, in this parking lot. You needed to go somewhere safe, somewhere that made sense. You needed them.

Without really thinking, you turned the key in the ignition and pulled out of the lot. 

You didn’t even know where you were going at first, your body knew, the same familiar route you’d taken too many times. You didn’t realize where you were going at first, but once you passed the last stoplight before the cemetery, it hit you.

You parked haphazardly, not caring if your car was straight or if anyone saw. This was the only place you could think of. The only place that wasn’t ruined by all the mess in your life. 

Your parents. Your sister.

Their graves were tucked away in the back corner, under the big oak tree that had been there for as long as you could remember. You parked the car and got out, the ground crunching under your feet as you made your way to them. 

You sank to your knees in front of their headstones, your fingers brushing against the cool marble as if touching them could somehow make them feel closer. They’d been gone for five years, and no matter how many times you came here, that fact never got easier to swallow.

“I don’t know what to do,” you choked out, stopping to bite down on your bottom lip hard to keep from completely breaking down. “I’m so... I’m so fucking lost.”

The wind rustled the leaves above you, and for a second, you wished it would just take you away too. Make everything disappear.

“I’m pregnant.” You spit the words out, voice cracking, like admitting it was burning your throat. “Thirteen weeks,” you added, saying it out loud for the first time. Your hands curled into fists, fingers digging into the grass.

The tears came back, harder this time, and you bent forward, clutching your stomach, forehead pressing into the ground as if you could just bury yourself there. 

“I can’t—I can’t do this alone. I don’t know how to do this without you.”

Your voice broke completely, turning into a sob that you couldn’t stop. You were crying so hard you couldn’t even breathe, gasping, like you were drowning in it. 

“Why aren’t you here?” you cried, “Why did you leave me? Why did you—” but the words caught in your throat, turning into another round of weeping.

You stayed for a long time, curled up on the ground, crying so hard it hurt, until the tears finally slowed, until you felt empty, drained.

Afterwards, you sat back, wiping at your swollen eyes with the back of your hand.

“I’m pregnant,” you repeated, this time softer, “And I can’t... I can’t tell him. He’s with her, and I—I just can’t.”

You sniffed, cleaning your nose with your sleeve, feeling ridiculous and broken all at once.

Your breath hitched again as you forced yourself to stand up, even though every part of you wanted to collapse back onto the ground. 

They were gone, it was just you. Alone. You think that’s why there was this tiny persistent voice in the back of your brain whispering things you weren’t ready to hear.

This was a chance, wasn’t it? To finally have someone again, someone you didn’t have to say goodbye to.

The second the thought crossed your mind, you felt a gush of panic, a nauseating conviction that you were nowhere near capable of raising a child. You barely remembered to take care of yourself, so how could you possibly take care of a baby?

It felt so fucked up to you, to think this could be a “fresh start” or something like it—no, you weren’t naïve enough to believe that. Not when you’d barely coped to get through the last five years.

You remembered the doctor’s voice, factual, mentioning adoption.

Carrying this baby only to hand it over to someone else—someone who might be better equipped—Could you do that? Carry a piece of your family’s future, only to give it away? It felt wrong.

You were halfway to your car, still wiping the tears from your face, when you heard someone call your name.

“Hey... Is that you?”

You froze. The last thing you wanted was to run into someone, especially now. Not here, not like this.

Turning slowly, you saw her — Sarah Cameron, Rafe’s sister — standing by her mom’s grave.

She was holding a bouquet of wildflowers, brown eyes narrowing as she took you in. She looked like she'd been here a while, but the moment she saw your state, she dropped what she came here to do.

"Oh my God, are you okay?" she asked, her voice rising with worry.

Her eyes, so different from Rafe’s, scanned over you, taking in your bloodshot eyes, the messy hair, the way your clothes were dirty from sitting on the ground too long. 

You hadn’t taken sides when her and Topper split up; you’d just known, deep down, that they weren’t right for each other. He had this stubborn, idealized version of her that she could never live up to, and that had been the beginning of the end.

You opened your mouth to say something, to tell her you were fine, that you didn’t need her sympathy right now. Instead, you just stood there like a fucking idiot, eyes wide, as Sarah dropped the flowers and rushed to your side.

“Hey, hey,” she panicked, as if she was talking to a wounded animal. “What happened? What’s going on?”

Sarah touched your arm gently, and that’s when it hit you, the fear, the panic, the loneliness — it overwhelmed you.

Without thinking, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around her, holding on tight.

You didn’t even care how desperate it looked, how messed up you were right now. You just needed someone.

She froze for a split second, caught off guard, but then she softened, her arms wrapping around you tightly. She was warm, solid, and so there, and the moment she hugged you back, the floodgates opened for the millionth time that week.

You started crying again, silent but hard, your face buried in her shoulder as your whole body shook.

Sarah didn’t say anything; didn’t ask questions, just focused on holding you tighter, her hand smoothing over your back like she was trying to calm you down. The kindness of it, the warmth,you hadn’t grasped how much you needed it until right now.

“Shh, it’s okay,” her voice was soothing. “I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

You hadn’t seen her in months — not since everything went down with her and Rafe after Ward died.

The whole family had fallen apart after that.

Sarah had cut ties again, another fallout with Rafe. Things between them were always like a ticking time bomb, and Ward’s death had blown everything wide open. You knew they hadn’t been on speaking terms since.

It made this moment even weirder, seeing her here, of all places. She looked different, too, she was carrying her grief, her pain, that wild spark in her eyes a little more dim than you remembered.

As you pulled away from the hug, you blinked through the tears, and her face came back into focus. She was still looking at you, her brows knitted with worry, the wildflowers she’d brought for her mom now forgotten on the ground behind her. 

She looked like she was about to ask a million questions, but she was waiting for you to speak first.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” you finally said something, trying to wipe your face with the sleeve of your hoodie. It was a lame thing to say, but you couldn’t find any better words.

Sarah gave a small, sad smile, shrugging a little. 

“Yeah, I just… I come here sometimes. To see my mom.” Her voice was quieter than usual, and you could hear the strain behind it, “I guess I needed it today.”

You understood the feeling all too well.

You both stood there for a moment, just looking at each other, and you could tell she was dying to ask why you were here. Why you looked like you’d just been rolling around in the dirt. 

Instead, she said, “You okay? I mean, really?”

In some weird way, you’d always thought you’d be able to keep this part of yourself locked away, hidden and safe where no one could see it

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, the lie slipping out too easily. “Just… rough day, you know?” Your voice was hoarse, still shaky from the crying.

Sarah frowned, not convinced. She stepped closer, her hand hovering near your arm like she wanted to touch you but wasn’t sure if you’d let her.

"You sure? You don’t look fine."

You forced a smile, “Yeah, I’m good. Just needed some air. It’s been a lot.” You didn’t want to get into it, didn’t want to unload everything. 

She sighed, her shoulders slumping just a little. 

“Okay. But… you know if you ever need to talk to someone, I’m here, right?”

You blinked, not really sure how to answer to that, nodding away, hoping she’d drop it.

“I know I was just Rafe’s little sister,” she continued with pursed lips, “but you’ve always been like a big sister to me. Okay? Him being an asshole to both of us doesn’t change that. Ever.”

You could see she meant it. This wasn’t just some passing offer out of pity, Sarah was genuinely worried, wanting to be there for you.

You just nodded dumbly.

Sarah smiled softly with that same old Cameron determination. “Seriously. Whatever’s going on, I’m here.”

You stepped back, breaking the small bubble of comfort, you didn’t even realize you’d let her create.

“I should probably go,” you awkwardly muttered, brushing your hair out of your face and trying to straighten out your hoodie like that could somehow make you seem more put together. “But thanks, Sarah. Really.”

She just watched you with that worried look still across her face, but then she nodded. “Anytime.”

You turned to leave, feeling her eyes on your back as you walked away, your steps slow on the grass.

The loneliness had been suffocating, and even though you didn’t tell her anything, just hearing Sarah say she was there, that she still saw you as family—it meant more than you wanted to admit.

It wasn’t like anything was magically better.

You used to think this island would keep you safe forever, that it was big enough to hold your problems. 

Now, it felt like it was shrinking around you.

You were curled up on the couch, laptop balanced on your knees.

You’d googled “abortion options United States,” expecting answers, but all you found were long lists of restrictions, rules, states drawing hard lines.

You already knew that in North Carolina, you were already past the point of no return. So you kept digging, checking every single state until you found one, a random thread on some forum, that talked about New Mexico.

No restrictions on timing.

You scrolled, following link after link, getting deep into some Reddit threads, reading accounts from women who’d done it, who’d had to pack up their whole lives, fly out, handle everything on their own.

No one to tell, just a flight, a few days’ stay in a place that looked nothing like home, just to try and get back to normal. The whole time you were reading, this weird sense of relief and fear entwined in your gut. 

So you can get out of this.

By the time you shut your laptop, your head was pounding but at least you had something that felt like a plan.

The next morning, you woke up before the sun, tossing on yesterday’s clothes and brushing your hair as best you could with one hand. You scrolled through the numbers you’d scribbled down last night and dialed the first one.

You had to it straight away, without a chance of backing out. So you closed your eyes with all your might and hit call.

A woman’s voice picked up on the fourth ring.

“Women’s Health Center, this is Amanda. How can I help you?”

You cleared your throat, trying to sound normal. Like you weren’t shaking like a leaf.

“Hi. Um, I’m calling to see about scheduling… an appointment. I’m about thirteen weeks.”

“We do have availability. Our next spot is ten days from now.”

Ten days. Shit. Could you wait that long, or was that too soon? Shouldn't you think about it some more?

Maybe you needed more time.

Or maybe you shouldn’t be doing this at all.

You were already running through a hundred different what-ifs, a panicked mental list of everything you hadn’t thought through.

“Is that… is that the soonest?” You surprised yourself by asking.

There was a pause on the other end, and you could hear the kindness in Amanda’s voice.

“Yes, it’s our first available spot for a procedure beyond twelve weeks,” she informed you, “We’d also want to complete a few assessments with you, along with some necessary paperwork and counseling. I can walk you through everything if that helps.”

You nodded automatically, realizing a second too late she couldn’t see you. “Yeah… yeah, okay.”

“I’ll go over a few things with you, so you’re prepared. Do you have a pen handy?”

You grabbed a random envelope and pen from the countertop, jotting down every detail.

“You’ll need a form of ID, proof of residency—we’re required to check for that. Some basic insurance information if you have it. You’ll also have some health assessments here when you arrive, mostly standard but including a psychological evaluation just to ensure everything’s covered from a health perspective.”

It was all just words, logistics. You weren't exactly processing the information, just robotically writing it down.

“There’s also a mandatory counseling session we’ll need to go through. In case you have questions, or concerns. This will all be confidential, but it’s for your safety, both physically and emotionally.”

“Right,” you said, just to say something. You didn’t know if you even wanted to talk about it, not with her or anyone. You just wanted this to be over with.

“The procedure itself is straightforward, but it’s still a surgery. It’ll last anywhere from 10 to 20 minutes, with a little more time afterward for recovery. We’ll go over any complications with you once you’re here—risk of infection, bleeding, discomfort. We make sure you’re clear on what to expect before anything happens.”

You forced yourself to nod, then remembered she couldn’t see you. “Got it. I’ll—yeah, I’ll get the paperwork together.”

"Just one last thing," Amanda added, "Given the nature of the procedure, we ask that you bring a companion along, someone to stay with you. They don’t have to be in the room, of course, but they’ll need to be present to help you get back safely after."

Your hand stopped. A companion?

"What?"

The small sense of peace was gone in a heartbeat.

You wanted to tell her that it would be fine, you’d figure it out, because, rationally speaking, who could you ask or who would you even trust with this?

"It's a requirement,” Amanda clarified, “For your safety. You’ll need someone there with you. It’s non-negotiable.”

“Right. So, like… a friend? Or…” You trailed off, trying to hide the fear overcoming your senses.

“Exactly,” she said. “A friend, a family member—just someone you’re comfortable with. It’s standard procedure for anything this involved.”

A friend. Family. Someone who could sit in that waiting room and just… know everything. You didn’t even have anyone who could know you were pregnant, let alone be with you for this. 

“The total will be around $3,500, which we typically split into a down payment and a final balance due at the time of the procedure. We can take payment in cash, card, or even a wire transfer if you need that flexibility. We’ll also require a 20% deposit to hold your spot, which you can pay over the phone now or through our secure online portal.”

You glanced at the envelope where you’d jotted down notes, biting your lip as you stared at the numbers. “Right, um, yeah, I can do the deposit now.”

“That’s perfect. One moment, please.” There was a click as she transferred you, and while you waited, you blinked down at the deposit amount. 

Seven hundred, you thought. Seven hundred dollars just to hold a place. It was nothing to you and yet it felt monumental.

A robotic voice greeted you, and you keyed in the card information, watching the screen as it processed. The payment cleared, and you felt the strangest sense of finality.

It was real, stamped and sealed.

Amanda returned to the line, “Thank you for taking care of that. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

“No, that's all. Thank you."

“Of course. We’ll see you in ten days.”

Now you were at this god for saken country club brunch. Why you even came, you had no idea.

Maybe it was a pathetic attempt to feel normal. 

You were trying so hard to look casual, like you hadn’t just been on the phone with a stranger, scheduling the most personal appointment of your life.

Thankfully, Ruthie had canceled last minute — some emergency with your cousin, no doubt. Small miracles. The last thing you needed was her crazy ass analyzing everything you did.

The spread of food on the table looked like a minefield of smells.

Just the sight of the eggs benedict made you want to hurl on your seat, and the fruity smell of the mimosas wafting through the air was…torture.

You’d kill for a sip, maybe even two. 

You were watching the sunlight catch on the bubbles, sparkling like they were tauting you. The craving was there, whispering thoughts that felt equal parts impossible and unavoidable. The idea hovered, tempting you with a cruel promise.

A few mimosas could maybe make this go away, couldn't it? Maybe you’d get lucky and this nightmare would just end on its own.

But the thought made you sick.

You could almost feel it, this new life clinging to you, sticking around no matter how much you wished it’d leave. There was some echo of a moral sense—some annoying, reasonable, voice within your head that wouldn’t let you grab the damn mimosa even though your fingers were twitching for it.

What was the problem if you were getting rid of it anyway?

You forced yourself to look away from the mimosas, knowing that just one glass might make you feel something—anything—other than this sick dread.

With an effort, you forced yourself to say, “Water, please.”

Of course, the universe just had to have its laugh, because the one bringing it wasn’t just any waiter.

It was Sofia. 

How come everyone got a break from shitty things happening to them, and you didn’t?

You must’ve been really awful in your past life.

Perhaps you were one of those medieval villains who ordered people to be drawn and quartered, or some spoiled empress tossing servants into dungeons for looking at you wrong.

How else could you explain it? Life kept pilling more shit on top of you. Or maybe it was less about karma and more about some fucked up endurance test. You were still here.

Rafe’s latest… girlfriend? Hookup? Whatever the hell they were, she had that title, and now she was in front of you, all fresh-faced, her apron hugging her like she���d just walked out of some pinterest brunch board.

Her hair was pulled back in this cute little bun, and her face held that perfectly innocent smile that made you want to scream.

She was practically glowing. 

Her skin had that effortless, sun-kissed warmth like she’d just gotten back from the Maldives or something. Not a shadow under her eyes, not a single stray hair — just this easy, perfect beauty that looked even more surreal under the soft morning sunlight.

It was ridiculous.

Meanwhile, you felt like a mess. Dark circles, a slight breakout on your chin, and an overall look of someone who hadn’t slept in… weeks? or was it months?

The last good night before nausea became a part of your daily life, and the constant anxiety kept you up at all hours, staring at the ceiling and wishing it’d all just disappear.

And here she was, gliding around like she was untouched by anything so messy, so…human.

You glanced down at your outfit, the pristine, tailored Miu Miu set from the new collection —the cropped blazer was light and airy, perfectly cinched at the waist, with sleeves just long enough to make it feel sophisticated but breezy, paired with a sleek, high-waisted mini skirt, the whole ensemble skimmed your frame effortlessly, made just for you.

You knew you looked expensive, the kind of look people envied, even if they’d never admit it. 

Every stitch, every button on this outfit screamed privilege and class, and yet here you were feeling like some tragic, half-dead version of the old you.

Why the fuck were you even comparing yourself to her? She was still a pogue, for god’s sake.

Rafe’s latest toy or project or whatever, you had no business even wasting brain cells on her. So what if she looked a little too chipper, too perfect? 

She wasn’t worth the mental energy.

Just as you forced yourself to refocus, Sofia reappeared, setting a glass of water in front of you with that same innocent, syrupy smile.

“Here’s your water,” she chirped.

You hated that sound. 

She didn't look or sound in-your-face or territorial, more salt on an open wound.

Just hours ago, you were piecing together plans to get rid of the very thing that tied you to Rafe, and now here she was. 

You gave the glass a pointed look and then raised your eyes to meet hers. “I asked with ice.”

No, you didn’t.

You were supposed to be above this kind of petty bullshit, weren’t you? But the bitterness rooted in your gut like the mimosas you wanted so desperately.

“Oh?” Her face froze, that little smile twitching just a bit. “You did? I must’ve heard wrong. I’ll be right back with it.” She looked genuinely flustered as she turned to head back to the bar, her apron fluttering behind her. 

You caught yourself feeling the tiniest bit pathetic.

An unspoken vendetta against the girl serving water? Really? You almost felt a little ridiculous… almost.

“Oh, beautiful girl!”

It was Mrs. Aldridge, an old friend of your mother’s, all pearls and Chanel, her wrinkled hands wrapped around her mimosa.

“How’s your darling Rafe? I haven’t seen you two in ages!”

Instead of thinking better about it, your eyes slid over to Sofia.

She was setting the glass down, her face draining of color, frozen mid-action like a deer caught in headlights. It was almost too perfect.

You were gonna have fun with this, putting on your best sympathetic casually as if you’d had this conversation a hundred times. 

“Oh, we’re not together anymore,” you said, tone dripping with faux sweetness as you nodded in Sofia’s direction. “She is.”

Mrs. Aldridge’s eyes widened, almost bulging out of her head as she followed your gaze, putting two and two together with the slow, scandalized horror that only old-money kooks could manage.

You could hear her brain struggling to comprehend the fact that Rafe Cameron was now involved with the server.

The other women at the table leaned in, whispering behind manicured hands and designer sunglasses, eyebrows shooting up as they stole obvious glances at Sofia.

She was still standing there, stunned, her mouth opening like she wanted to say something. You half-expected her to look annoyed, maybe give you the scathing glare you’d be giving her all morning.

Instead she looked like she wanted to disappear into the woodwork.

“Oh dear…” Mrs. Aldridge’s voice trailed off, her eyes scanning her from head to toe with the kind of judgmental precision only years of country club experience could bring.

She cleared her throat as if she could somehow undo the fact that the help had captured Rafe Cameron’s attention.

“I suppose he’s… rebelling, then?” Another old lady muttered, eyebrows raised in suspicion, already delighted by the gossip forming on her tongue.

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Who knows? That’s Rafe for you.” 

You took a sip of your water, feeling satisfied as murmurs spread across the table, surprise and judgment all directed squarely at Rafe and Sofia, who looked like she might faint on the spot.

You couldn’t lie — it was the most fun you’d had in weeks.

“Such a sweet girl,” Mrs. Aldridge mused, her gaze fixed on Sofia, who was now engaging another table with her bubbly personality. “But bless her heart, she doesn’t quite belong here.”

“Definitely not,” you clicked your tongue, allowing the disdain to seep into your voice, even as a small part of you felt like a spineless bitch for feeding her to the sharks.

“New money, if you ask me. I can’t take them seriously. Remember when Ward was just a pogue with big dreams, trying to make a name for himself.”

You saw her again, just a gimplse of her still taking orders with that big grin, still doing her job.

This was exactly what you’d wanted, right?

To see her squirm in her hand-me-down shoes, to show her the world she’d trespassed on wasn’t as welcoming as she might have believed.

But your conscience decided to make an apperance, one more time, slipping in with a knowing sigh. You wanted to hurt Rafe, not her.

This was cruelty, plain and simple, the girl was only trying to survive.

She was dealing with these judgmental eyes and assumptions, probably used to being reminded that she didn’t belong, that she didn’t measure up, and you were sinking to that same level of entitlement and superiority.

The satisfaction wasn’t as sweet as you’d thought it would be. Dragging her into it was cheap, easy, like pushing someone off balance simply because they happened to be standing there.

You forced a giggle to match the others, playing the charade, but inside, something started to feel uncomfortable. You knew what it was like to be scrutinized, to have them pick you apart, to whisper behind your back.

You remembered how much it hurt.

To these people, you were only steps away from that same old judgment. If they knew about the appointment...their conservatives asses would ruin your reputation.

They’d tear into you in the same way, a scandal spread in manicured lawns and private golf courses.

Mrs. Aldridge leaned in conspiratorially, her aged perfume filling the air. “If he truly cared for her, he wouldn’t be making a fool of himself like this.” She sighed, looking at you like she expected you to agree.

You took a breath, one that felt painful, because were you really about to do this shit?

“It’s Rafe’s life,” you replied, shrugging. “Maybe she makes him happy. Who knows?”

The table quieted, a few eyebrows raised, flabbergasted that you hadn’t indulged in more snide remarks. At the end of the day, the life you wanted — it wasn’t this.

Maybe it was time to let some of it go.

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