#skip ahead and start fresh

[harriertail]

Id love for a soft reboot of warriors and Arc 9 to begin, if ASC ends with new leaders and code changes, four/five generations on in the future with a whole new set of cats and lore

[leahwllmsn]

here, always

alexia putellas x reader

word count: 4.9k

a/n: a bit late but happy halloween :0

Your routine was the same. You would wake up, get ready, and get to work. This time, you woke up with a headache and the claims from your friends that you had been missing for a month.

You woke up with a headache. That was the first thing you noticed. That, and the blaring ray of sunlight from the window. You must've forgotten to close the blinds last night.

When you sat up, the headache became even worse and you squeezed your eyes shut in pain. You placed your feet on the floor and slowly got up. You tried your best to ignore the pounding in your head as you made your way into the kitchen. 

Passing by the clock in the living room, you saw that it was half past eight, which is great, because your work starts at eight. On the dot. 

You stepped in the kitchen and began to open each drawer, hoping you'd spot the painkillers–you forgot which drawer they were in. You let out a sigh when you finally spot them, taking one and drinking it without the help of water. You knew the relief wouldn’t be instant, but still, you were annoyed when the headache didn't seem to lessen.

You took a deep breath and got ready for work. It was going to be a long day ahead.

—

You got off the train at your stop, walking the route that you knew by heart.

Up the stairs. Turn left. Right. Pass a coffee shop.

Left. Go straight. Pass by a florist—

A florist.

The smell of the fresh flowers made your heart skip a beat, because it reminded you of Alexia. The colourful array of flowers made you think of her and her gorgeous smile. You decided to get her flowers. You knew how happy it made her every time.

You bought a bouquet of roses. Simple, but it was perfect for Alexia. She had always talked about how if she were to be a flower, she'd be roses, and you wholeheartedly agree. Alexia had grace and joy like pink roses. Her passion in everything she did: orange roses. And despite being so passionate, she had an innocence to her that made her seem oh so sweet–white roses. Lastly, red roses, to represent your love for her.

You smiled to yourself, one hand holding Alexia's flowers, and the other in your pocket. You had a feeling it was going to be a good day.

—

You opened the door to an empty office. There were four desks and two doors, one that led to the head physio’s office and the other that went to the pantry.

As you put your bag on your desk, you heard laughter from behind the door. Your colleagues must be having breakfast.

You walked to the pantry and you were met with some of your friends. However, their reaction wasn't the usual. They stopped whatever they were doing, hands midair, mouth agape. They looked ...confused? Shocked, even. It was like they were seeing a ghost. Even Alexia wasn’t giving you her usual ear-splitting grin at the sight of you. You weren't sure why.

"Hi, Ale, these are for you." You gave her the bouquet of roses you bought earlier.

Her eyes widened in surprise and she got up, slowly outstretching her hands and taking the flowers. "Y/N..." she whispered. "These are lovely. Thank you."

You smiled, satisfied. Anything for Alexia. You could sense that she was about to say something else, so you stayed silent, waiting for her to go on.

"Mi amor…" she started. It seemed like she had trouble expressing what she wanted to say.

Ingrid seemed to sense the same thing, as she went up and stood next to Alexia. She then said something unfathomable, you thought you heard wrong. "You've been gone for a month."

"What?"

"We didn't know where you were." Alexia spoke up, softly as if she was scared that if she spoke too loud, it might make you disappear again. Which was insane, because you hadn’t gone anywhere.

You had been right here all along. Right?

"No... that doesn't make sense. I was with you just last night, Ale."

Alexia opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out. She was at a loss for words. So were you.

Ingrid cocked her head to the side and furrowed her brows. "What date was it yesterday? Do you remember?"

"October 31."

"Well," Mapi joined in on the conversation, scratching her head. "You're right, but you weren't here, Y/N."

You gaped at her, "What do you mean I wasn't here? I was. Right, Alexia? Tell her."

But Alexia just stood there, not saying anything.

"Baby, please." you pleaded.

You looked at them and they were looking wistfully at you, as if you really had gone missing and this was the first time they were seeing you in a month. But that didn’t make sense.

"Amor," Alexia walked closer to you, touching your forearms. Her touch was so light and soft, always the same as you remembered. "I wasn't with you last night."

"When was the last time you saw me?" You directed your question at your friends.

"One month ago," Ingrid answered.

"That's not possible." It really wasn't. "I... I have no memory of going anywhere for a month."

"We were really worried," Alexia sighed, walking closer to you. You knew for a fact that you hadn't disappeared, but why do you have this feeling of… of longing and yearning for her deep in your heart?

"We searched everywhere," Mapi continued. "We couldn't find you."

"I've been right here all along! I don't know what else to tell you guys." You couldn't believe them. It was hard to accept the fact that you disappeared, because you didn't.

"What was the last thing you remembered?" 

You looked at her, your sweet Alexia. Alexia whose existence brought so much warmth to your life. You wouldn't know what to do if the roles were reversed and she was the one who ‘disappeared’. You didn't think you could take it.

"I had dinner with you, at that Italian place you liked," you answered, taking her hand in yours and holding it tightly. "You dropped me off at home because you were going to stay with Alba for the night... I received a text goodnight from you, then I replied and went to bed."

Alexia gave a grim smile, "That was a month ago, amor. And you didn't text me back."

"No... no that was last night." You were getting incredibly frustrated.

Mapi seemed to notice your frustration as she cleared her throat, "I think we should leave Y/N so she can process all this."

What? I didn't think I wanted to be alone at a time like this.

They all nodded and were about to leave the room when I grabbed Alexia's arm, "Can you stay with me?"

Alexia smiled, "Of course."

Ingrid and Mapi gave you a reassuring smile and went to leave the room. Then, it was just you and Alexia. She grabbed your hand and you sat down, your hands interlocking perfectly on the table.

"My love," she started. "I know this is hard, but you have to learn to accept things."

You raised your eyebrow at her, "What do you mean? I don’t get it, Ale. My head’s been killing me all morning."

She shrugged. "Just... trust us."

"I don't understand. Is this about my disappearance?"

She smiled… almost sadly? "In a way."

"So I really did disappear?"

She nodded. "You did."

"Where did I go?"

She looked at me and chuckled, "I think you should be asking yourself this question, not me."

You were still confused about this whole thing. It was like your world had turned upside down. "But... how? Why?"

She shrugged again, "I wish I knew. We spent a long time searching for you. You were gone."

Were you experiencing a severe memory loss? Was that it? Was that the reason you couldn't remember anything?

You doubted it, though. You remember what date it was yesterday, and you weren’t in the hospital. Everything was normal.

Everything seemed normal... Until this talk with Alexia. Something was up. Her words were vague... as if it had a hidden meaning. You didn't like it.

As you were about to tell Alexia that none of this felt real, you saw something outside the window. It was... a bird? A black bird. You didn't think it meant anything, even though it felt odd to you.

You let out a big sigh. This wasn't how you imagined your day to go at all. You didn't have the energy to do anything else, but you needed to look for clues as to why this whole thing was happening.

So you got up and left for your desk. Everything seemed normal.

Just like how it was yesterday. Not one month ago.

You sighed, it still didn't make sense. You looked around the room, your co-workers were on their respective desks, typing away on their computers.

Weird.

They hadn’t mentioned anything to you. It was as if your disappearance wasn't a big deal. Shouldn't it be a big deal if your colleague went missing? 

"Hey," you whispered to the girl sitting next to you. Surprisingly, it was Ingrid. Why was she even on the computer? "What are you doing?"

Ingrid turned her head towards you, "I'm doing the weekly report."

You scratched your head. “Why aren’t you on the field? You’re not a physio, you shouldn’t be here.” 

Ingrid simply shrugged and the confusion must be written across your face because she scooted her chair to be closer to you. "Is everything ok?" 

"I don't know, I feel weird,” you decided to be honest. "Like something is off."

And even though Ingrid was smiling, her face looked sad. Why was the atmosphere so sorrowful somehow?

"Well... Maybe you should figure it out."

"Figure what?"

"Figure it out," Ingrid replied like it was obvious. "I know you remember."

"I don't."

"You do. Think, Y/N."

You were about to question her further when your hand brushed the mouse of your computer, causing your computer to light up. The background was a picture of you and Alexia. You realised it was taken at that Italian restaurant that night. Yesterday. Or, one month ago?

As you squinted at the picture, you saw that you had a ring on your left hand—

Wait.

A ring. Alexia gave you that ring.

You looked at your hand now and the ring wasn't there.

A ring... You had that because…

Oh my God.

You stood up suddenly, because you realised that Alexia proposed to you that night. And you said yes. You did. Then you took this picture.

But where was your ring now?

"I'm gonna head home for a bit."

Everyone lifted their heads up and looked at you questioningly. Alexia spoke up, you didn’t even realise she was still in the room. "Are you okay, amor?"

You smiled, walked over to her side and kissed her cheek. "Yeah, I just need to look for something."

"Okay, we'll see you later then."

"See you."

And with that you left.

–

Once you opened the door to your apartment, you stood for a good minute, trying to take it all in. You looked around, attempting to see if something was different. You didn't notice it at first, but the couch in your living room was blue. Blue. You would never choose that colour for a couch. That was weird.

You sat down and faced the TV. The couch was the same as it had always been, just a different colour. You didn't know what was going on but you swore the couch wasn’t blue yesterday.

You turned to the left, where a small table resided beside the couch. It had a framed picture of Alexia that you took one summer. That was the same.

You got up, going forward to the TV and looked around the shelves. Everything was the same. It was all the same—

Until you saw it. 

You caught a glimpse of something colourful on the kitchen island. It was a vase full of flowers. They were definitely not there this morning. Did someone break into your home? That seemed to be a plausible explanation. But with the way your day was going, anything seemed possible.

You looked at the flowers and there was a note attached to it.

Y/N,

We're always here for you. Please don't forget.

- Ingrid & Mapi

That was... odd.

There was no way they sent that this morning? They did have the keys to your apartment... but they were at the training grounds this morning with you. There was no way they gave the keys to the delivery guy.

You thought about calling Ingrid or Mapi to ask about the flowers, but you decided against it. You should focus on your task in finding your engagement ring.

You left the kitchen and went to your bedroom.

Everything was still the same there. Your bed was in the middle of the room, with a nightstand next to it that had a lamp and framed picture of you and Alexia. 

You opened the drawer of your nightstand but there was nothing except for a pink post-it. 

hi :-)

I love you

meet me at our usual Italian place at 6?

It was scribbled in Alexia’s neat handwriting. Your heart swelled remembering she left you this note along with fresh lilies–your favourite flowers. 

Yesterday.

Or was it a month ago? You didn’t know if you should trust your memory or your friends’.

You decided to go look in the walk-in closet. You walked inside and looked around, deciding to go to the left side, searching through your jewellery drawer. If anything, a ring should be there right?

But all you found were a bunch of rings you collected over time, not the ring Alexia proposed to you with.

You turned to the opposite side and you saw the section that was usually filled with Alexia’s hoodies was empty. This wasn’t possible, because it wasn’t like this yesterday.

Before Alexia moved in, she would usually spend a night or two and she would leave behind a hoodie. She did that often enough that you could fill up a space in the closet just for her hoodies. When she moved in, she didn’t have any hoodies left from her place because it was already all at your apartment.

But none of them were here anymore.

Suddenly, a shiver went up your spine and an odd feeling settled at the pit of your stomach. It was as if… you could remember why that rack was empty now… but it was like your brain didn’t want you to remember and you ended up with a blank memory.

You tried to shrug it off, but it was futile. The feeling stayed there, making you uncomfortable even in your own home. You decided to call Alexia. Talking to her always made you feel better.

As always, she picked up on the first ring. “Hola, amor.”

“Hi, Ale.”

“Are you okay?”

“Well, considering all the things that have happened so far and it’s not even noon, not really.”

“I’m sorry, I know this must be confusing for you.”

“But I feel better now that I get to hear your voice.”

“Always the charming one, aren’t you?”

“It’s a fact. Even with all this nonsense that’s happening, I still have you, so I’m all good.”

“About that…”

“What?”

“I love you, amor. I always will. I want you to know that.”

“I do. Of course I do know that, Ale.”

“Even if I’m not here, I still want you to be okay.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Hypothetically speaking.”

“Was it really?”

“Why did you call me again?”

“Are you changing the subject?”

“No...”

“Don’t change the subject. What did you mean by that?”

“Y/N…”

“Everyone has been speaking as if their words contain a double meaning and it’s frustrating. Just tell me the truth.”

“About what?”

“About this whole thing! I don’t know what else to do, Alexia. I tried looking for my engagement ring but I couldn’t find it anywhere. Just tell me what you know about why this is happening to me… Why is there a one month gap in my memory?”

“I’m not here.”

“What?”

“I’m not here, Y/N.”

“Alexia, what the hell are you talking about?”

“That night, the 31st of October. It really was one month ago. It wasn’t yesterday.”

“Are you saying I have amnesia?”

“No. I’m saying that you have to remember.”

“I can’t! God, if I could, I wouldn’t be stressed out like this!”

“I’ll help you. What time did we meet?”

“Six.”

“See, you remember.”

“Ale, I don’t see your point here. Of course I remember that night. It was yesterday.”

“Bear with me. What did we eat that night?”

“Italian.”

“Yup. We shared a pan of pizza—the one with pepperoni, my favourite.”

“I know.”

“What did I do that night?”

“Seriously? I don’t know why you’re asking all this.”

“I told you, to help you remember. This is the last one, I promise. What did I do that night?”

“You proposed.”

“I did. …It was the happiest moment of my life, you know? You, saying yes. I was nervous the whole night and I had this whole speech planned. Then you came and you looked so, so beautiful. Mi vida. You’d think that with all the years we spent together, I’d get used to how stunning you are.”

“Alexia…”

“I think I’ve always known that you would say yes if I proposed. You were never really subtle with your hints. But still, I was nervous. God, I felt like my heart was going to beat out of my chest. When it was time to do it, the speech that I had been rehearsing in my head? It just flew out of the window. I was a stuttering mess and my words were all over the place. Yet, you still said yes.”

“Of course I did. I love you, Ale.”

“And I love you too. Always. You chose to be with me for the rest of my life, but things never turn out the way we want them to be, huh?”

“Alexia… You’re scaring me.”

“You’re going to remember now, and when you do, make the choice that you think is right, okay? I can’t make that choice for you, you have to decide on your own. Whatever it is that you’re going to choose, just know that I’ll always be there for you.”

—

31 October 2023

19:58

“Y/N L/N,” Alexia held your hand on the table, staring into your eyes. “I want to spend forever with you.”

Wait. Was she…?

“I can’t remember my speech,” she gave a nervous laugh. “It was a good one, I swear. But I guess I have to improvise now.”

You looked at her expectantly, your heart racing at the possibility of what she was about to do.

“You’re my soulmate, Y/N. I don’t… I don’t want anyone else but you. You’re it for me. You make me laugh, you make me cry sometimes,” she gave a lighthearted laugh and you rolled your eyes at her, a tear escaping to your cheek. “You make me so happy. I’m so crazy for you.”

She squeezed your hand and reached into the pocket of her blazer. She pulled out a black box and you gasped.

Oh my god.

She opened up the box and it revealed a ring inside. The ring was simple, just how you liked it. It was a silver band and a round diamond was placed on the centre.

You looked at her, back at the ring, and back at her—not quite believing it yet.

“Y/N,” Alexia continued. “I-I promise to love you with everything in me until my dying breath. I will love you the way you deserve to be loved—fearlessly, passionately and gently all at once.”

“Alexia…” you looked at her, tears freely falling down your face now. “If this is you improvising, I don’t know if I can handle your actual speech.”

She laughed and gave you a bashful smile. “Will you marry me? I’m proposing, in case that wasn’t obvious.”

You smiled at her, a huge ear-splitting grin.  “Of course I will, Alexia. You’re the love of my life.”

Alexia looked at you with wide eyes, as if she was still trying to process your words.

“Aren’t you supposed to put the finger on my ring now?”

Alexia wiped a tear that escaped her eye and laughed. “Yeah. Yeah. I just—you really… You said ‘yes’ right?”

You leaned forward and captured her lips in yours. “I did, you dummy. It will always be ‘yes’.”

—

ale: I love you

y/n: I love you too, so much

y/n: drive safe, okay? text me when you get there

ale: will do

—

“It never came.”

“You remember now?”

“Your text… it never came. I spent hours waiting for your text, and I was dumb enough to just sit there and do nothing, when I knew it would only take you ten minutes to get to Alba’s.”

“It’s not your fault. It never was.”

“But… but you’re here. On the phone with me. I can hear your voice, Alexia.”

“I’m here, but I’m not really here.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“You can either stay here with me or leave. That’s the choice you have to make.”

“I don’t understand… What do you mean?”

“Just two simple choices, baby. Stay here with me or leave.”

“If I leave here, where would I go?”

“You know the answer to that. You’re smart.”

…

“So what’s your choice?”

“…I’m staying.”

“You’re staying?”

“I am. I’ll go wherever you are, Alexia, you know that.”

“I know… but I thought that…”

“I know you said that you’ll always be there for me for whichever choice I make, but why do I have a feeling that won’t be the case if I choose to leave?”

“Well, I could mean it in a metaphorical sense.”

“I don’t want metaphors, I want you. Always. I thought you knew that when you proposed to me.”

“Mi amor… I love you.”

“And I love you. Why does it seem like you don’t want me to stay?”

“Because… I know that it’s not the best choice for you.”

“I know what’s best for me. And that’s to stay. It’s final, I’m staying.”

“Okay. Meet me at our usual spot in the park in 20 minutes?”

“I’ll be there.”

—

1 November 2024

21:47

“Babe? Visiting hour is almost over.”

Ingrid turns to the source of the voice and sees her fiancé standing at the doorway. She nods and gives a melancholic smile. “We do this all the time, but it never gets easier. Why is that? Leaving her here, I mean.”

Mapi gulps and takes a step forward to Ingrid and to… you.

“I don’t want to leave her here, María.” Ingrid sighs.

Once Mapi is at the foot of the bed, she braces herself and looks up—towards the girl occupying the bed.

Mapi has always stared at anything but you. It’s been a year since that night, since everything fell apart, and Mapi misses you a lot.

You’re staring back at her, but she knows that you’re not seeing her. 

That’s mostly why she hates looking at you. You, sick, pale-faced, and all alone in this hospital bed. Just a reminder that you’re not here with her anymore.

Because although you’re still here physically, every time Mapi stares into your eyes, it just shows that your mind is not—your blank stare confirming that you’re no longer emotionally present. 

Mapi tears her eyes away from you and blinks back her tears. Ingrid’s right, it never gets easier.

Mapi clears her throat. “We should go.”

Ingrid looks at Mapi sympathetically. She knows how tough it is to lose not one, but two of their closest friends all in a snap. 

Ingrid turns to you and stands up. She leans forward and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “We’re going to go now, okay love?”

As always, there’s no answer.

“We’ll be back next month, don’t worry.”

Ingrid gulps and tries her hardest to not let out a cry right then and there, but the shakiness in her voice betrayed her. “We hope you’re better the next time we see you… Mapi and I are getting married soon, I just want you there next to us.”

“Ingrid…” Mapi walks over and stands next to Ingrid, squeezing her hand.

Ingrid wipes a tear that manages to escape. “I’m fine. And Y/N will be fine too.”

“She will.” Mapi whispers, looking at you, her voice wavering slightly. Mapi doesn’t know whether to believe her own words or not.

Mapi takes your hand with her free one and squeezes it, silently hoping that you can feel her touch, wherever you are, and that you can hear Mapi's silent plea for you to come back to reality.

Ingrid leans down and kisses your forehead. “Sleep tight, Y/N. We miss you so much.”

Ingrid steps back to give Mapi a chance to say her goodbyes. 

Mapi holds the railing on the side of the bed and squats down so she is speaking directly to your ears. “Y/N… I know how much you love her, and I can’t imagine how painful it is that she’s not here anymore, but you have to come back to us. You have to…” Mapi trails off, her chest heaving with unshed sobs.

Ingrid places her hands on Mapi’s shoulder, slowly bringing her up. “Hey, come here,” Ingrid whispers, wrapping her fiancé in her embrace. “We’ll try again next month.”

Mapi sighs against Ingrid’s shoulder. “I know it must be tough, losing the love of your life—I don’t even want to imagine losing you,” Mapi leans back and takes another deep breath. “But it’s been too long. Where is she? I just want our friend back.”

Ingrid smiles regretfully. “We can’t force her to snap out of it if she doesn’t want to, my love.”

“Then what do we do?”

“We’ll be patient and wait for her here.”

“What if she won’t…” Mapi whispers, as if she’s afraid to speak those words. “What if she won't come back?”

“Then we let her go,” Ingrid places both her hands on Mapi’s cheeks, caressing them softly. “If that’s her choice, then we have to respect it.”

Mapi nods slowly. “I know. I just don’t know why that’s the choice she’s making.”

Ingrid shrugs. “Maybe she sees Alexia, wherever she is.”

“You think so?”

“Who knows?” Ingrid questions back.

Mapi lifts her hands up and places them over Ingrid’s. “I hope she’s happy then.”

“If Alexia is there, she’ll be happy.” Ingrid smiles wistfully. She turns her hands around, intertwining them with Mapi’s. “C’mon, let’s go. Don’t want to miss our flight.”

Mapi lets Ingrid drag her out of the room. She pauses just at the doorway and turns around to look at you one more time. You have your eyes closed now and Mapi can swear that she sees a faint smile gracing your lips. 

Mapi can’t help but smile back. Maybe you’re with Alexia after all.

—

You arrived at the park exactly 20 minutes after your phone call with Alexia. She was there, at your bench, looking out at the lake.

You walked towards her and sat down, your shoulders brushing.

“You stayed.” Alexia stated.

You looked at her. Your beautiful Alexia. Her eyebrows were furrowed slightly, her lips pursed. “I did.”

She sighed and turned to look at you, staring at you with those eyes. “You have to be the one who decides, not me.”

You looked at her questioningly.

She turned back towards the lake. “There’s nothing I can do.”

You were confused. “Are you not happy with my decision?”

“I’m always happy to be with you, amor. You’re the love of my life.”

“Then?”

“You can’t blame me for being sad too, because of what the implications of you being here means.”

What was she even talking about?

Before you got the chance to ask, Alexia continued, “Let’s enjoy this moment,” she grabbed your hand in hers, stroking it softly. “It may be selfish of me, but I’m glad I get to spend another day with you.”

“What?” you still couldn't understand her. Alexia was being so vague. “I’m here, of course you get to spend the day with me. We have tomorrow, too. And the day after that. And so on. Until forever.”

“Sure, baby.” She smiled, although still not looking at me. “Until forever.”

You smiled back at her and placed a soft peck on her cheek, laying your head on her shoulder as you stared into the lake with her. It was a nice day, the sun was shining, although not too brightly—just perfect. The wind was a light breeze and you scooted closer to Alexia every time it blew.

“I love you, Ale.” you whispered. You really did and you wanted her to know it. If you could let her know every second of every day, you would.

The reply didn’t come in an instant, but it eventually did. “I love you, too.” You could feel her placing a kiss on the top of your head. “And it’s only because I love you that I hope you choose differently next time.”

—

a/n: let me know your thoughts!👻

[missfrustration]

to teach a captain - part 3 (luffy x reader 18+ fanfic)

summary: “You want to kiss, too!” He says. His head juts forward, leaning down as he looks up at you. You could only respond with one thing: "So, what if I do?"

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7

rating: 18+ explicit, minors do not interact!!

tags: pwp, nsfw, smut, sexual content, masturbation, kissing, luffy is a curious guy, reader is a member of the straw hat crew, post-time skip, second-hand embarrassment, no spoilers, no use of y/n

A/n: the ao3 crowd waited half a year for me to post this part, so parts after this will chug along slowly, just wanted to warn you ahead of time! hopefully the length of this helps. posted on ao3 here

words: 8.1k (very long, whoops)

--------------------------

The rest of the night went as follows.

Chopper finally catches up to you after the crew settles into the Sunny. His chipperness never faltered when you tell him you feel better than earlier. Still, he insisted on a late-night check-up. Other than an elevated heartbeat, he gave you a clean bill of health and sent you on your way. 

You took a peak in the small bag Robin gave you, largely ignoring Nami’s. You softly grimace, seeing the new bottle of lube lying on top of the other shopping list of things you ask her to get beforehand.

You couldn't go to sleep for the better half of the night. Every time you thought of what transpired only a few hours ago, your breathing started getting heavy, your mind was racing, and you just felt like squealing. 

It was half past four when you finally went to sleep. You don’t particularly enjoy sleeping in, but when you woke up this morning and saw the time read past 11 am, you welcomed it…

…Up until you realized why exactly you slept in so late.

After a fresh change of clothes, you reluctantly get on deck. As you feel the smooth wooden planks of the Sunny under your feet, you’re overcome with an increasing perplexion. 

The Sunny is still at the dock of Tashini. If we had followed Nami’s schedule she set yesterday, we would’ve left in the early morning. Tashini would’ve been a small dot across the horizon at this point. 

You feel an even deeper pit of your stomach spiral when you see no sign of life, which means everybody’s gathered in the kitchen and dining room, currently having lunch. Alongside your crewmates, smack dab in the middle, will be Luffy.

Your heart thumps as you reach the door to the dining room, swinging it open like usual. The Straw Hat crew sits around the table, collectively turning to the archway when they see you. All have a smile on their face and a greeting on their tongue. Sanji, once setting a big platter of shrimp scampi in the middle of the crowded table, frolics over to you and sings your name.

“Ahh angel, you’re awake,” he sings. “Just in time for lunch.”

You greet him like usual, running your eyes over Nakama until your body erupts in butterflies again.

Your eyes meet Luffy’s, feeling your heart crack against your chest at the immediate eye contact. He gives you a toothy grin. 

“Good morning!” Luffy says. Before you can stutter out a response, Ussop pipes up.

“Hey, now.” Nami points at you. “You’re not wearing any of the new stuff I gave you.” She gives you a playful frown.

“Ah, sorry about that, it was a long night last night,” You sigh, purposefully trying to divert Luffy’s eyes. “Chopper, said I’m fine at least. Speaking of which, why are we still at dock?”

“Well, I may have a surprise waiting for everybody, I was just waiting for the last person to join us.”

You nod, going to take a seat. Brook tells you to sit down next to him and Chopper, playfully tapping an empty spot at the table. Chopper smiles at you, glad you look better than last night. 

“Aaand with that, everybody’s here!” Nami says, paper in hand. “Time to announce the next island and lookout parties for tonight…”

While Nami is talking off the paper she has in her hands, you settle down and join in on digging into the beautiful array of dishes. There’s fluffy white rice, shrimp scampi with a fragrant green sauce, lovely cut fruits that Sanji got from Tashini, and more meat to compliment Luffy’s hungry appetite. White rice is the first thing you go for, feeling the squishy texture as soon as you dig into it. 

“That means our next destination will be Dracon. Now,–”

“Dracon?” The word comes out before you have the chance to think about it. You pause, letting your fork drop some rice you just dished out. You try to clean up the mess without anyone noticing.

Nami, including the others, turn to you. “Yes, do you know it?” The navigator asks.

“Oh, ah.” You search your brain, trying to come up with an explanation for your reaction. “I’m not sure, it’s been a while since… working for my home country.”

“From what you’ve told us, you used to be a diplomat before, yes?” Robin asks from across the table. You nod.

“I had to travel a lot, and there are islands I remember going to, but I don’t quite recall visiting Dracon. I’m not sure—at least, I have no memories of the name in terms of my diplomatic work,” You shrug unassuredly.

“I’ll keep note of that,” Nami states, scribbling something down.

Nami moves on to some unrelated housekeeping items, though something feels so familiar that you can’t shrug it off. You feel off about the whole thing, yet not enough to notify the crew.

Now, you feel a pair of eyes on you from across the table. They’re soft in their demeanor, yet concerned in your sudden tenseness. You look over to them, to see Luffy with his head slightly tilted. He’s looking straight back at you while shoving a slab of meat in his mouth. You can’t find it in yourself to look away at his calming face, but all you remember is Luffy panting, pleading with you as his hand found purchase on your shoulder, face so close to yours as he moaned–

“Uhh, excuse me…” Brook nudges your arm, making you snap forward and see Nami leaning over the table, waving her hand in front of your face. 

“Hey, are you listening?” She asks.

“Yeah! Yeah, yeah, uh…” You cringe, “what was that again?”

Nami sighs, slapping your head with the rolled-up paper from across the table.

“You and Luffy will be on watch for the first shift tonight. Make sure to wake up Zoro and Sanji for the shift after, okay?”

“R-right, got it.” You nod, hoping the heat from your face isn’t noticeable.

“You got that, Luffy?” Nami turns to Luffy now, chunks of ham disappearing from his hand into his mouth. Luffy manages to say a jumbled yup between food scarfs.

“I can’t believe you paired me up with brow-for-brains, Nami.” Zoro scoffs, digging into his next bite. You all look to Sanji, or well, where he used to be. He’s now standing over Zoro with a menacing figure.

“Shut it, mosshead. Don’t blame Nami for your incompetence.”

“Huh?!” 

Ussop makes a point to sigh loudly, muttering something about “some weaklings will never learn,” whatever that means in Ussop-speak.

Before a fight breaks out at the dinner table, Nami gives a threatening scowl that separates the two.

“I will reiterate this as I did with a few of you earlier: As you know, we were meant to set sail this morning to the next island. How ever,” Nami says with a smirk, “I thought it would be a nice change of pace for all of us to go to a theater tonight, and then set sail after.”

“A theater? What’s that, a game?” Zoro raises an eyebrow. 

From the other side of the room, Sanji loudly sighs “ Idiot ,” causing the pair to grit their teeth at each other like wild animals. At this point, they are too caught up with each other to pay attention to the conversation.

“I’ve heard of that,” Franky says, “Isn’t that where people perform a story on a stage?” 

Robin nods. “It’s not something you see around the sea often.”

“How inspiring,” Brook gleams next to you. “I can’t wait to see what it’s about.”

“I’m guessing we’ll have immunity there?” Jimbei asks.

Nami nods, “With a bit of persuasion, I was able to get a personal booth at the top of the theater with a promise that we’ll be protected as long as we don’t do anything.

“Her ‘persuasion’ was swooning the staff that we ran into while shopping last night.” Robin chimes in, causing Nami to smirk in triumph. 

“Hey, a cheap meal and show is a steal.” Nami counters. “I spent a quarter of what I spent on our girl’s new wardrobe on this opportunity, and that’s even with the bargaining I had to do.”

You choke on your glass of water hearing Nami’s words.

“How much did you spend on me?!”

“As long as you wear them, you don’t need to know,” Nami assures you with a sly grin. “Giving you a good sense of fashion is payment enough.”

A guttural groan comes out of you as you shake your head.

“I will, I will. Just— please don’t charge me this time.” You say to Nami, who seems to grant you mercy with a nod.

The crew laughs at your exchange. Ussop is yakking it up to Jinbei and Franky about how he used to be a “connoisseur of theater” in his day. At the end of the table, Luffy waves his hand to flag Sanji.

“More please!”

–

Nami instructed everyone to dress accordingly for the play. To be honest, you didn’t know what to wear until after looking in the clothing bag she gave you. Maybe you shouldn’t have, because you find a dress inside that works almost too well for tonight. 

“Perfect, it’s the one I picked,” Nami says when you shimmy it on. She and Robin have already gotten ready, Robin has now gone to join the others on deck.

“You planned this?” You’re surprised as you look at her through the girls’ mirror. You had just finished zipping up the deep rouge silk dress. There was ruching in the bodice that gave your silhouette more form than you’re used to seeing, hem peaking right above your knees. 

She makes her way to the dresser where you’re sitting. “You should appreciate a good dress more than once in a while. We always have plenty of days besides celebrations to wear them, after all.” 

“Yeah, you’re right.” You think about it. Robin and Nami always outdo you in style, probably because they treat every day like a fashion statement.

“You look sexy in a shirt and pants anyway.” Nami makes a dumb kissy face as you giggle and push her off. She beckons you to the door. “C’mon, everybody’s waiting.”

When you leave the girls’ dorm, you can see everybody has cleaned up rather nicely. Sanji his usual suave attire, Robin and Nami are dressed to the nines, and each of the others has a flare of fashion. 

Thump. Thump.

Luffy was no different. He wears a black tie and crisp red dress shirt tucked into belted slacks. The dress shirt was slightly pulled up because of his goofing off with Ussop and Chopper. Chopper is on his head doing birdarms as Luffy runs around the dock. Ussop chimes in with an airy bird call that dies out pretty quickly.

Everybody turns around to you and Nami when she closes the door behind her. You hear an ‘ooooo’ around some of the crew as Ussop wolf-whistles.

“You ladies look so lovely!” Sanji cries.

“Ah, my, you’re a charmer,” Brook says to you, bowing deeply. “It would be such an honor to see your p–” Yup, you’re tuning that out.

“Hah! I think the girls super outdid us again.” Franky laughs as he poses. Jinbei seems to nod in agreement.

You blush at their compliments, seeing Chopper and Luffy now turn to look at you. Luffy is the only one not smiling, mouth agape and it makes you a little sad to see. If you wanted anyone to smile, you would’ve wanted it to be him.

“Our girl finally gets to dress, am I right? Now, I think that’s everyone!” Nami comments to the group, “Let’s head out!”

You arrive at a large building bustling with people under a tall hall archway. The whole inside seems illuminated in a soft yellow glow, with torches decorating the exterior walls. Nami and Robin led the pack to a side door, where a group of staff were waiting for you all. You’re briskly taken to a private entrance. It leads to a modest open room with a wide U-shaped booth that spans to either side of the wall, a large tray full of decadent foods in the middle, and an open window that showcases the lowered, grand stage a hundred feet away.

Everybody seems pleased to sit down and get situated, especially Luffy. He takes the part of the booth closer to the open space, objectively a great view, as the rest of you file in. He digs into the trays of complimentary food before you even think to sit.

You end up sitting next to Zoro and Jinbei on either side of you, pleased to be within arms reach of some fresh fruit on the tray. It doesn’t take long for the stage lights to dim and for the show to start. 

It ends up being a fairly detailed story about a knight and his quest to save the heroine, a fellow knight, after they got separated in a battle between countries. There is plenty of humor that the audience and the crew laugh along to. At one point, the knight has to dress as a stuffy aristocrat to pass into the country that captured her and prepare for her execution. Usopp had cheered especially at this as everybody laughed it up. Just before she was scheduled to be beheaded, the hero stepped in and acted as a country nobleman turned war veteran, using his many past achievements of slaying warlocks and beasts to convince the guardsmen to release her. They end up running away on horseback to the country they fought for. Once unsaddled, the heroine finally confronts him.

“You… you came to save me?” The heroine asks, tears laddled in her eyes, almost in disbelief at the hero, her friend’s, bravery. “Why would you do something so risky?”

“I can’t be on the battlefield without you.” The hero falls to the ground to kneel in front of her, taking her hands into his and looking deeply into her eyes. “Won’t you be mine, my knightess?”

“You stupid man. Is that even a question?” She cries out, running into his arms.

They lovingly embrace after the crowd cheers, many of the Straw Hats whooping in celebration. You’re almost thankful you didn’t sit near Franky, as you could practically hear him sob out into a snotty, rather tear-packed mess. You almost feel bad to see Chopper is in his range of fire.

When they finally pull away from each other, the hero steps towards the heroine once more, taking her head in her hands and kissing her passionately. Her arms wrapped around him after a moment of surprise at the gesture, letting him dip her into a warm, lingering hold. Your heart flits at the sight as you join the audience’s cheers and awes. 

Amidst the loud celebration, you realize the scene before you feel reminiscent. As the pair kiss on stage, you think of how you were in a similar position with Luffy not long ago, tasting his lips. Though, the fashion you two were in was more… sensual. Your face flares up. 

You turn to the other side of the room. Luffy’s shadow is clear in the illumination of theater lights, and you see his figure shift as he raises his arm. He lifts his fingers up to his face in what you could only think of as… a yawn? Maybe boredom?

No. He touches his lips softly, grazing them along the skin before looking down at them with curiosity.

You turn away quickly when you notice his head swivel, spinning around the crew members until he stops at you. A pair of eyes is now settled in your direction as you feel your heart pick up speed. You felt him stare at you between the food platters now littered with bones and stems, before the crew joined the audience in a standing ovation. You tuck yourself away from Luffy’s averting eyes as you stand behind Jinbei, shortly overshadowed by every pair of hands now erupting in applause. You clap extra loud, hooked onto the stage to watch the start of the curtain call. When you finally feel the courage to look amongst the crew, you feel the absence of a few eyes that turn back to the stage.

The crew ends the night as normal with a round of drinks before slowly filing out of the theater and towards the ship. You pace alongside Franky, Robin, and Nami. Franky has his robust arm around Robin, laughing along while Nami and you talk about the wonderful experience. Before your mind filters out the thoughts of earlier, a pair of rubbery arms snaps behind you all before Luffy’s figure catapults to the ship at the dock.

–

Nervous blood bubbles in your veins when you’re on your watch shift. 

From the crow's nest at the top of the mast. The saltiness of the ocean breeze isn’t as apparent on the shoreline, but you still smell the tanginess of ocean algae mixed with the earthy scents of the sandy dock. 

You’ve been glancing every so often towards the rear of the ship, wondering when you’ll be able to spot Luffy’s black, messy hair walking along the deck under the moonlight. Maybe he’s tucked at the rear, but it’s hard to tell from the top of the mast without craning your head. You’re not brave enough to check in detail at this point. 

While you think about your watch shift partner that gets more and more late, you think about what else was said around that dinner table.

Earlier, Nami announced the next stop is Dracon, an island that sounds too familiar to be a coincidence. You’ve been to a lot of places in your life before joining the Strawhats, but it’s been so long since that you're not exactly sure. If your home country had any notable affairs with them, surely you would’ve remembered dealing with it. The question was, was it positive affairs, or would you have trouble soon? You don’t have a good feeling about that name, even if you wish for the former. 

“Sorry, I’m late!”

Turning around, you’re met with your smiley captain, his grin upturned ear-to-ear. You look to the moon, and judging from the position, it seems that…

“An hour late, Luffy. And you didn’t change out of those clothes.”

Luffy smiles in response. His tie is undone, hanging around his neck as one side threatens to slip off. The deep red button-up shirt is now completely untucked, hanging loosely past his hips. Some of the top buttons are now undone and loosely shifting under the chilled breeze. His hat is hanging by the string around his neck, resting quietly on his back.

“Sorry.” He doesn't look that sorry.

“It’s fine,” you waved him off, “nothing suspicious happened out here.” Unsurprisingly, not many people dare to approach the infamous Thousand Sunny. Certainly, no one is strong enough to succeed in plunder, anyway.

You look at him again after a moment, heart thumping when you see he’s not moving to climb out of the crow's nest.

“You can go to your lookout now.” When you try to casually say that, your nervous shift practically blows your cover, though you're not sure if it’s noticed.

Luffy hums a noncommittal sound as he thinks about it.

“Nah, I wanna stay.”

“Why?” 

He shrugs, pouting his lip a little at the question. “Don’t wanna move.”

“Fine,” You conceded. It wouldn't be the first time Luffy would bend the rules during watch. “Let’s at least watch the nest to cover ground.”

Luffy nods, following your step as you start walking around the edge of the nest by each window, looking out for any activity. Your partner, unsurprisingly, doesn’t care to watch, walking with you as you make small circles in the nest. At one point, Luffy jumps on the seats lined against the walls, matching your pace as he whistles quite brashly. You carry on like that for a while, watching all parts of the horizon and shoreline of Tashini. You’re not surprised to see any signs of life at this time of night. 

After a few times of Luffy almost losing his balance, he joins your side, loudly stomping his sandals on the dock as he kicks his feet forward.

“Man, I liked that Theodore a lot!” Luffy says. 

Your face scrunches up in confusion, unsure of what exactly he means until you can only deduce one thing.

“You mean… theater?”

“Teeter?”

“ Theater.”

“Oh, tea-eater!”

“Yeah, that.” You couldn't help but giggle at him. “What did you like about it?”

He chuckles, reaching back to the straw hat and swiftly squashing it on top of his black hair.

“Man, it was great! There was so much yummy food to eat, and it was funny when the knight guy made all those silly faces to sneak around!”

His hands are behind his hand as he throws his head back into it, looking wherever as he talks about all the different aspects he likes. Luffy talks about the color of the clothes he liked and the way he laughed at the things that had the audience roaring. You idly listen, agreeing to his list, not paying attention to your watch shift duties anymore.

“I think the girl knight who got captured was kinda stupid. She didn’t scream or kick when she was locked up!” Luffy says.

“Would you have kicked and screamed instead?” 

“I would’ve never gotten caught!” Luffy laughs out. “But if I did, I would at least fight back. She could’ve easily saved herself from the guards if she did that!”

“I think her being the helpless lady in need of saving was a part of the story, it made it more dramatic. For the knight, it made saving her more high stakes.” You think out loud.

“If she’s a knight, she’s strong enough to fight back and get out by herself.” He turns to you. “Right?” 

That makes sense to you, but what doesn’t is the way Luffy looks at you. He’s looked at you with that cheerful expression thousands of times before, but now you feel a hammer from your heartbeat. His chest muscles barely peek out in the moonlight under that silky button-up, and his tie is so, so close to slipping now.

You reach out before thinking, stepping up to Luffy and catching the end of the tie right before it falls off of his narrow shoulders. You promptly adjust the tie so it's balanced around his neck, no longer threatening to fall off.

“Yeah, you’re right.” You surmise. Honestly, Luffy makes sense. In his scarce moments of clarity, he always speaks with an astounding factuality. 

His smile fades as he looks into both of your eyes. The proximity of you two is now very apparent, but you're struggling to find yourself creating distance, struggling to keep your hands off of the edges of his tie.

“I–”

“I want to learn how to kiss!” Luffy announces loudly.

You sucked in a breath that catches in your throat, rather badly, and feel a cough fumble out of your mouth. You try to save face but find yourself awkwardly grasping onto your shirt and in the air for some stability. 

“I’m sorry, I’m surprised you know what it’s called,” you say after gaining enough breath.

Luffy gives you a frown and crosses his arms. “I know what kissing is. I’m not dumb.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, I just…” You kick yourself in your mind. “What brought this up?”

Luffy shrugs, looking out the nest’s windows onto the oceanline. The moonlight illuminates his face crisply through one of the windows, but you can’t tell exactly what he’s thinking.

“Was it the theater?” You ask him.

He looks back at you without moving his head, confirming your suspicions. 

“They did what we did. I wanna know how to do that.” 

“With… me?” You blink.

“Yup!”

You feel the thrumming of your heart in your veins, beating at his words. “It's pretty simple, you should know based on the first time we did,” you say. You try to stuff down your elation as best as possible, but you know your face is warming just like it did last night. 

“I wasn’t paying attention!”

“You should have been! You were there, you know-?!”

“You want to, too!” He says. His head juts forward, leaning down as he looks up at you.

“So, what if I do?” You say, a bit annoyed at his correct assumption. “You already know what to do, plus, we have to be on watch right now!” You gesture with your arms held out open in a reminder of why you’re both here. 

“I have Haki!” Luffy says with a childish pout. “If anyone comes I’ll know. I’ll beat them up.”

You frown at him, again seeing how easily your captain can push to get his way. It feels even redundant for you to be on watch if Luffy has enough Observation Haki to detect anything suspicious.

“Just one.” He grumbles. “I just want one.”

You know this feeling. The cocoons that were once hibernating in your stomach have hatched into butterflies, now violently beating against your gut. The small crush you had has transpired into an infatuation. An annoying infatuation. The current predicament you’re in is…

Tricky.

Luffy doesn’t seem to be interested in you like that. You know he just wants a lesson again—for his own purposes. But, can you find it in you to deny him of something that you’ve been thinking about, even before last night?

“Okay,” You sigh, hand waving up and down. “Stand up, then.”

Luffy stands up straight like a spring, smiling brightly at another victory. He is giddy from excitement, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, yet he waits for your next words of wisdom.

“I guess the best way to describe it is… there’s not any set rules for this. To kiss, at least one person is needed, you put your lips together like this,” you make a small pout, “and lean into the object of affection that you want to kiss.” 

You demonstrate by taking the back of your hand, looking at Luffy when you pout your lips, and gently placing them on the back of your hand. When you purse your lips and pull away, the contact makes a small smooch noise.

“Here,” you raise the back of your hand you kissed, holding it up to Luffy. “Try it.”

Luffy looks at your hand curiously before he leans in and he pouts his lips like you did. He presses his lips to your hand with the pressure of a feather until he briefly, brashly presses it down and lifts his head. It reminded you of the peck of a bird, almost. In the process, he opens his mouth to make a small smack.  

“Like that, got it? …why are you frowning?”

“That’s not what I want,” Luffy says. “I want to kiss like they did.” 

Why are you not shocked a hand kiss would be enough.

“To do that, both parties usually lean in for a kiss together. If it’s something that both people want to do, the rest should come naturally.”

“And they did this,” Luffy says, holding his arms and shaking them around to poorly mimic the embrace the two on stage did. 

“C’mere.” 

You take the ends of his tie, pulling him a step towards you until your bodies are inches away, the straw hat barely grazing the top of your forehead. Luffy lets you easily, watching you with gentle focus. You guide his hands around your middle. You lightly rest your hands on top of his shoulders. You hear a soft swallow. 

“When you want, you lean in. Once our lips touch, you close your eyes. Ready?” You ask. He nods. 

“Okay, just follow me.”

You lean in halfway, slowly, softly pursuing your lips together as your eyes flutter shut, nervousness bubbling up your body until your head feels light. You let it try and fizzle, try to let the stupid pounding of your heart quiet down in your eardrums, but it’s slowly replaced to wonder when your lips stay untouched by Luffy. 

…and, still nothing?

When you open your eyes, Luffy is staring at you, face reddened like a cherry with his mouth agape. His eyes are fixed in awe, flicking between your eyes and lips.

“Sorry, I,” Luffy stutters. “‘S weird. My body… it’s not moving.”

The weird feeling in your stomach has bubbled up again. His flustered cheeks and sheepish smile are quickly blocked from your vision as he mumbles into the back of his hand. 

“I don’t know. It’s like, l-like I don’t deserve it, or somethin’. Haha…”

Overcome with affection for the blushing captain, you quickly close the gap. You want to steal away his anxieties, steal away that flustered nervousness you couldn’t bare to see on him. It takes him only a second to process it before his muscles relax against you. 

Your lips touch his gently. His hands rest on your waist, his straw hat lifting oh-so-slightly by your forehead as you press into him. Those narrow lips of his feel so plush against yours, perfectly slotted together that you feel light and airy. It lasts just as long as last night’s chaste kiss.

When you slowly pull away with a small smooch noise, his face doesn’t look as cherried, save for a light pink tinge across the apples of his cheeks. 

“Cool!” Luffy says, “Let me try!”

“Hold on, I said only once–”

He gains the courage this time to lean wholly, trapping your lips between his thinner ones, feeling the smile etched on his face the whole time. When you pull away, he seems almost back to normal. The lingering worry on his face is gone now.

Smooch!

“Well?”

“It’s good,” Luffy said. “It’s really good. Again. Let’s do it again.”

You both lean in this time, lifting the brim of his straw hat again. His hands naturally graze down to your waist while your hands lay on his chest. His lips aren’t as chapped as you thought they would be. For a guy, they seem very soft. Not in the way that regular skin should be, but more pliable. It squishes against your lips but seems to spring back to form each time you pull back. 

Smooch!

“Again.” 

You both lean in again, as your hands explore past the partially unbuttoned shirt to his chest. Your suspicions of rubbery skin are confirmed as you feel the softness, malleable, that bounces back when you release the pressure of your fingertips. 

Smooch!

“Again.”

After slotting your lips back on his, you swallow down a whine, busying yourself with the feeling of his body against yours, his hands so subtly stroking the small of your spine just above your ass. This time, the straw hat slips off of his head and falls to his back.

A noise of frustration escapes him as he squirms.

“Do what you did last time,” he whines. “Your hands. Like you did yesterday.”

“So you were paying attention, liar.” You grimace. He smiles in response, just like a guilty captain would.

Yet, you have no qualms threading our fingers in his hair, grabbing the tufts together a little too excitedly. You dive back to his mouth to claim his lips. This time, his eyes close in tandem with yours as he slips his hands up and down your torso, kneading the flesh, leaning his body against yours. You absentmindedly feel the fluffy, soft black hair under your fingertips, running your hands through the scalp as Luffy presses his lip to yours. 

“I think,” Luffy breaks the kiss, speaking so close his lips are still grazing yours, “you have magic fingers.”

“Yeah?” You giggle for the first since you’ve started kissing him, making his face light up.

You turn his head slightly to give him a small peck on the cheek, he tries to copy you by stretching his head to yours and planting a quick, hard kiss.

“And you smell familiar.” He says softly. So unnaturally soft for the rubber man that it makes your face burn.

“What do I smell like?” You whisper.

“Like a cabin.”

You giggle. “Okay? Any cabin in particular?”

“Makino’s cabin. Back where I grew up.”

“Is that a good thing?”

Luffy thinks about it. After a moment, he gives you a big nod as if sealing the thought in his mind. 

“Yes,” he smiles.

“That’s nice of you to say, Luffy.” 

He seems to like that compliment. To which he smiles very brightly, now kissing you with a newfound passion that you find attractive.

Okay, like, really fucking hot. 

Luffy smushes your face between his palms and plants kisses any place he can think of. From the lids of your eyes to your temples, to the bow of your nose, and all the parts of your cheeks that squish into his lips when he puts extra pressure. Each time he leaves a small, wet smooch behind, a sound he seems captivated by the more he kisses you. 

“It’s really good.” He murmurs into your skin. 

His arms reach out and grip the back of your neck, almost pulling you closer despite the fact your chest couldn’t press farther. His heavy-handed presence causes you to shuffle a little. 

“Luffy…” You sigh out. You really can’t take it without needing more. You pull away from him; something he doesn’t seem happy about, illustrated by the childish pout he has on his face.

“There’s one more type of kiss we can do.” You whisper breathlessly. 

“Really, what’s that?” Luffy asks. You brush over his lips, noses lightly connected as you whisper to him.

“Just follow my lead, okay?”

You lean into him once more, but now slowly opening up your mouth to have your tongue slip out. You run it over Luffy’s thin lips before running against the entrance. After a moment, Luffy opens his mouth, tongue slowly peaking out past his lips to meet yours. 

You swear there is electricity in the air when it happens because he moans again. Whimpers from the sensation as his hands jolt around the caressed skin. 

Your tongues dance together in shared bliss, Luffy shudders against you at the feeling, grabbing your body like he’s surprised by the feeling. 

Luffy knew how bad you wanted to do this—he said himself—but, he must not know the extent, really. 

Because with every kiss, it just leads to more wanton in you. With every graze of his tongue against yours, feeling the wet muscle that tastes of meat, it makes your breath feel like magma. The noises coming from sucking and tasting his tongue slicks into the dead of night. It’s the only noise ringing in your ears save for the small whimpers and sighs coming from both of you. He despreately brushes his fingers against the sides of your face as his chest tightens, and grows still.

“Breathe through your nose.” You tell him after Luffy starts to turn blue in the face. His breath to hitch, the air exhaled back down your throat hot and wet.  He instantly returns to color, now with a revived energy. 

You can’t take it, him exploring and prodding the inside of your mouth, him gripping and almost vibrating against you as your upper bodies press together. You wrap your arms over his shoulder, permanently sewing your finger pads with that soft hair.

“Ah…” A small moan comes out of Luffy’s mouth when you tug on his hair to tilt his head up and off of yours. You dive in with false expertise as you give wet kisses on the underside of his jaw, consuming the skin until you’ve covered it all. You move to his neck, making him grunt as you pull his head back to expose it in full. Your tongue slowly sweeps down and over until it lands on his jugular, sweetly sucking it now as he gasps. The breathiness turns into a grunt of what sounds like frustration and he riggles against the feeling. 

“I think something’s wrong again,” Luffy says, face knit together. You pull off of him in concern.

“Do you need me to stop–”

“No!” He says, grabbing both sides of your head. His eyes fire wide as he grabs in panic. 

In his expression, he shoves you forward so hard you lose your footing, tumbling down with him onto the planks. You both fall into each other before he scrambles on top of you. 

“What’s wrong, Luffy?” You say, looking up at him.

“I don’t know,” He says, “But… every time I try to think about it, this happens!” His hand dives in between the two of you before hastily grabbing onto the hem of his shirt and pulling it so high his whole chest shows. When your eyes travel down, you see his problem. 

“It’s why I was late! I couldn’t make it go away even when I touched it like you showed me to!”

“Oh.” 

A breath catches in your throat as your eyes adjust under the moonlight. With his other hand, he points crudely to a large bulge now prominent under his pants. 

“Can you show me what I did wrong?” He breathlessly whispers. 

“Y-you did it like last night?” You prop yourself by your arms as he kneels over you. 

“Yeah. It didn’t feel as good, though. Used half of some bottle in the kitchen.”

Luffy shuffles a hand into the underside of his pants, rustling into his boxers until he grips the erection trapped inside. You swallow as he takes his dick, quickly slipping it out.

“You sneaked into the pantry?” And he’s still slick from it. The tip of his penis glistens from the lubricant, as well as the pre-cum now leaking from it. You should be upset on Sanji's behalf that he allegedly used half the bottle of what you’d guess is oil from the kitchen, but the view of his dick was too appealing for you to care.

“It kinda hurt without it,” Luffy said. You don’t blame him, mostly thankful for its convenience.

“I can show you then, Luffy,” you whisper, “you can start when you want.”

He beams, bright and contagious, as he grabs onto the head. Without any guidance, he begins to pump himself with an arm propping himself over you. You don’t dare to mention the intimate space he's invading for fear he’ll back off of you. With proximity, you get to see more of his movements, his facial features, and the heat behind his breath.

His face scrunches up in his first initial strokes before easing into a steady rhythm, similar to the brisk pace he kept last night. His hand lingers on the base and shaft, quickly running over the head each time. You could hear the light, moist squelching of oil rubbing against his cock.

“Ah, this is familiar,” Luffy says. 

“Better than earlier?”

“I did this earlier, but it didn’t feel this good.” 

“You did it the same way?” You ask in confusion. 

“I guess.” He shrugs. “I think you help me. This is really fun,” Luffy huffs out.

Luffy’s confession astonishes you. To know you can help him, to know that you and you only have made Luffy experience this, it makes you burn up in lust. 

“Shit, Luffy, you sound so good saying that.” 

You want to reach up and touch him, graze down his body with wonderful kisses, and feel the heat against each inch of skin. You feel your hand inch in front of you to reach up to his face, but when you lift it, Luffy jerks into himself so sporadically that your fingers are caught in the crossfire. 

He’s loud when your hand suddenly fumbles onto his shaft. The feeling of surprise is mutual as you look deeply into one another. His mouth opened, pearly white teeth peeking out.

“Please,” Luffy doesn’t need to say anything else, his fingers hastily interlocking with yours as he lowers them. 

“Touch me like this.”

Your face feels on fire, his hands feel steady and laced with yours as you both grasp his shaft together. He whimpers in delight, satisfied with the new warmth of your hand wrapped with his.

It’s so erotic, so sensual, his shaft feels so hot with the slick of oily lubricant and pre-cum meshing in the crevices of both of your fingers now when you start fisting him. He shudders into you in pleasure, head lulling back and forth like a wave, chasing his highs and mellowing into lows. A wrinkle in between his eyebrows shapes off and on when he bucks out. The moistness of his lips attracts you again, how could you deny the savory taste of Luffy in front of you?

Your lips latch onto him, licking up the saliva awaiting from his drooling mouth. Teeth click together from the intensity you both kiss each other. It’s wild, and uncoordinated, you try to follow the beat of his pace while he desperately chases your tongue after each moan. 

His mouth in combination with his erection, hand, his fingers squeezing into yours as you stroke him. His dick felt firm in your grip, textured with small veins illuminated by the moon. Every time his hand slipped past his shaft, you would help guide him back as quickly as possible, and every time he would thrust his hips forward to compensate. 

“You look so needy like this, but you can’t help it, can you? Such a gorgeous look on your face, so sweet and filthy, hm?” You coo. Something in you adds a little more pressure to his dick stoking down the base. Something that Luffy finds quite enjoyable. It gives you so much gratification to see that lustful, desperate face, that you try something sinful.

“Why don’t you tell me how this feels?” With your one hand interlocked with his, you take your other and dive past Luffy’s leaking erection. You cup his ballsack, feeling the thin skin molding into your hand until you rub up against it.

“Ah!” His head bucks forward into the crook of your shoulder. He’s shaking from the pleasure of it. “So good. So good, I—ahhn!”

You fondle his balls under the breakneck pace of strokes into his cock. The smooth flesh is nothing like his pulsing, steel penis. You inch lower down to the underside of the sack and slowly stroke under until Luffy reduces to nothing but animalistic husks.

“Be as loud as you need to, Luffy.” You rasp. “You can do that for me, can’t you? A good boy like you can do it.”

And just like that, your words seem to coax something in him, because he grips your fingers harder with his, pumping himself into a devious pace, and moaning wildly in between his pants.

Puffs of warmth exhale from his lips, the heat between you two can’t be penetrated by any icy chill of the night air. You feel enveloped in him, in your lust and passion, you can hear his every bit of pleasure, every pump of his dick, and the way the sound of his pants is magnetized with his head tucked to your ear. 

My God, he’s drooling in ecstasy down your neck. You feel the wetness trail like sweat down your flesh.

“Nnn, ahh, ‘s coming out. I can feel it.” Luffy whimpers into your skin. His voice sounds rasped from his panting

“Why don’t you cum then, my captain?” You take the liberty to nip on the skin of his neck. It’s something small, but one that causes his whole body to jolt.

“Mmmph!”

That look. He’s so close to release that he’s completely hunched over you. There’s barely any space for you to stroke his pulsing dick, but you continue regardless. His voice is the only thing you can hear on the ear he’s crushed up against. 

But you don’t get that liberty of him cumming onto you again, however. In your other ear, you hear something alert enough for you to slow your strokes down.

You hear a faint shout from the deck of the Sunny as a familiar voice calls out the two of your names. Your body freezes.

“Luffy, shit, Luffy!”

“Hm?” Dazed and sublime, Luffy has half a mind to hear the panic in your tone. 

“Oiiii!” Says the voice, one that sounds so quiet, but it’s loud enough for you to tell who it is.

With a push you’ll soon regret, you shove him off of you onto his butt, scurrying to sit up.

“It’s the next shift!”

“Ah… so?”

“Get up,” You squeak, pulling Luffy's pants back up, much to his dismay. “Put it away!”

“What?! Why?”

“I told you why yesterday, just do it!” You zip his pants but up against the now trapped erection, and Luffy groans out.

Both of you try to get up at once—Luffy in agitation, you in alarm that his button-up is falling down his shoulder and he looked fucked out of his mind—but you bash your heads together. The clunk is so solid that you double down on the floor. You yelp out in pain, looking up from the corner of your eye to see Luffy’s standing up just fine. 

Of course. Of course he doesn’t feel how hard you collided into each other, the fucking rubber man. 

Quitely, you hear someone. 

“Oiiii, you never woke us up. Is everything okay?” That voice gets louder with each rung of the ladder of the crow’s nest until the latch is lifted. 

Coming from the opening is a mop of blonde hair followed by a mossy green. You freeze, whipping your head to see the state of Luffy. His face is slate, like nothing was happening, and…

What the fuck?

There’s no more bulge in his pants. 

You can’t think of it too hard, with the throbbing pain seeping into your head as your adrenaline creeps down.

“Oi,” Zoro gets up, looking back and forth between you two. “The hell happened here.”

“Ah! My angel, you’re hurt?” Sanji yelped in alarm, “You had me so worried. We were calling out for some time and didn’t hear anything back. And you’re sweating bad…” He kneels to your form glued to the ground, pointing to your neck ladened with Luffy’s drool, looking back at Luffy who was awkwardly standing close with no motion. “Hey, shithead, the hell did you do to her?”

“Nothin’, she was just showing me something.”

You don’t know if those two believe him. With the horrid poker face Luffy typically has in a lie, you can’t bare to look up and confirm it. You rub your head on the ground. 

“I just… bumped my head.” You groan.

He looks back at Luffy, then at you.

“Oh, dear, please go back down and sleep as much as you need, me and moss shit can take care of the rest, okay?”

“Who the hell are you calling moss shit, kitchen boy?”

Yeah, you’re getting the hell out of here before dumbbells are thrown.

Once you get the bearings to look up from the pain, you see the lemon-lime pirates gnawing their teeth at each other. From a glimpse, a straw hat dips down below the crow’s nest latch and disappears. 

You feel a small force compelling you to chase that hat, the man attached to it, that you ignore the masculine catfight beside you and follow it. 

You climb down the mast to the deck of the Sunny and hear your feet knock onto the deck. 

You see Luffy leaning against the dock next to the boys’ dorm, looking out for a moment before latching his eyes on you. You’re glad to see him. He doesn’t seem to be frustrated at the abrupt stop you put things.

“Hey,” Luffy calls, followed by your name.

“Hey,” you softly smile back at him. Maybe it was a little awkward. Maybe you’re distracted by the way the collar of his unbuttoned shirt is still hanging off of one shoulder, or that the shirt tie that laid around his shoulders is gone at this point. You hope it didn’t look weird to the two who came in.

Luffy rustles with the top of his straw hat. The ties of it dangle with the wind of the night.

“Thanks for that! It means a lot.” He says.

And just like that, he retreats to the boys' dorm, leaving you alone again as you make your way to your own bed. You snuggle back in bed with the girls, harboring a hardship that bounced in your head:

Damn. There’s always Nakama somewhere to walk in on you.

--------

ao3 | tiktok | kofi | masterlist

[e1dritchjackal0pe]

𝓛𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓪 𝓢𝓽𝓻𝓪𝔂

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: You always knew deep down that getting involved with the Kook prince himself would result in nothing but heartache. Unsurprisingly, like an absolute sucker you had allowed yourself to get pulled into his orbit, hook, line and sinker.

The two of you were always unlabeled, two people just trying to take the edge off; so it shouldn't have stung when you caught him with another girl on his arm. But it's completely unfair when he comes crawling back as soon as you attempt to move on.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Rafe, 18+ content (so minors go somewhere else), AFAB, fem aligning pronouns, toxic relationships, lack of communication, infidelity if you really squint, stalking, hints of dark!Rafe, Soft!Rafe (because I'm a sucker), Rafe refers to himself as Daddy once (I'm sorry, it's so in character), Oral (F! Receiving), Unprotected sex (reader is on the pill), public sex (they do it in a bathroom at a party), dubious consent (both Rafe and reader are intoxicated).

ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ: 25K words (the Lana Del Ray and Chase Atlantic continuously playing in my headphones wouldn't let me stop). Not proofread (as per usual, I'm sorry), Pogue!reader.

You love your life. The simultaneous merge of monotony and spontaneity. Sure, it is boring in certain aspects. The schedule of your job demanding that you wake up nearly every day of the week, pulling yourself out of the warmth and comfort of your bed before the sun has even bled across the horizon in hues of pale gold and soft lavender to begin opening up the restaurant; passing through the door that always squeals sharply on its hinges. No amount of WD-40 has managed to correct the offending, metallic shriek, but Deborah, ever the penny-pincher always brushes off the notion of simply replacing the hinges. Huffing and shrugging it off whenever you suggest it. One of these days you plan to go down to the hardware store yourself and buy a fresh set of replacements. 

The ritual of your mornings is often tedious. The one before it the same as the one that comes after; setting the chairs down from their places tucked upside down on the tabletops to be seated on their designated positions on the floor, turning the coffee machines on to begin brewing a fresh pot for the early risers and regulars that stop in for a quick uplift before they head off to their jobs, checking to make sure that you had properly stocked up the night before you left; that the sliced lemons and creamers and ketchup bottles have all been filled. You sometimes have a habit of accidentally skipping out those tasks when you've been on a double. Sometimes on purpose if you know that you're going to be the opener the very next day. 

Though more often than not it ends up with you cursing yourself out for leaving more unnecessary work for yourself. 

You're at your job more than you're at your own home. But with how high Deborah's turn rates are, and how little people do actually come in to retrieve an application, it's practically been up to you to try and hold down the fort as best as possible. Apart from Charlotte, who does her best to cover as many shifts as she can (though that isn't always possible if one of her kids falls sick or the babysitter calls off), and Rusty. But as the main cook, he practically lives in the restaurant to begin with. So much so, that it has become a joke among the staff that he should just call it quits and put up a cot in the back so that he could takes naps in between shifts. He's always at the restaurant long before you are. Piddling around in the back of the house to get a head start on the day ahead and prepping for what he'll need. 

It's dull work, sure, and the breaks that you get are few and far between, but the threat of oncoming bills always looming overhead like a fucking hydra. As soon as you manage to cut off one head, another immediately seems to grow in its place. Plus, you also have a difficult time in saying no to Deborah. You think everyone does honestly. She could be hard to navigate at times, seeming to seesaw between being almost sickeningly sweet and intimidatingly disgruntled. Skulking around the restaurant with a sharp anger glinting in her eyes, a harsh scowl pulling at the wrinkled corners of her lips as she barks orders and huffs over crumbs and stains that aren't there. 

But you try, like the others, not to hold it against her. You know that she's just stressed. Struggling to pick up the pieces that her son had left behind; to keep his dream alive as best as she can. 

Still, you can't help but to revel in any chance you get to have a day to yourself. Even though the reprieve that you do get is typically spent at your own home. Basking outside underneath the warmth while you soak in the small layer of water contained in the old sun faded kiddie pool, reading one of your unfinished books, or reclining against the lip of the hard plastic while the music from your old Bluetooth speaker drifts down from the steps of the small, worn porch attached to the front of your trailer. 

Every once in a while, if your budget is willing, you might head down to the quaint thrift store that lies just on the outskirts of town. Though calling it a "store" is being quite generous. It's pretty much just a shed that had been repurposed as a business in Metilda Clark's backyard; the walls boarded with shelves for books and DVD's and VHS tapes, and racks filled with garments donated from families whose children have grown out of their clothes or family members that have passed on and they can't bear to look at their personal belongings anymore. 

So you suppose that in a sense, it's a graveyard of sorts. A place for people to bury or move on from their pasts without entirely discarding the items that they need to be free from. Given that that a large chunk of the island's population is in part of the working class, a vast amount of the wares and goods found at the store are a little lackluster. Every once in a while, you manage to find something good. A piece of clothing or shoes that have managed to trickle down from the Eight, like a pair of vintage heels that you were able to snag for twenty-five bucks. But for the most part it's just plain knickknacks, fishing lines and old bodice rippers - many of which are wildly amusing to flip through. 

If only you had a nickel for every time you had seen a man's dick referred to as a "pulsing hot member" or "engorged manhood." It never fails to remind you of Ms. Perky from Ten Things I Hate About You trying to write smut in her office. 

Still, it does sometimes prove to yield some interesting finds. Like the magenta lava lamp that now sits on the shelf posted along the far side of your room or the rooster shaped tea pot that you always use on stormy nights. That purchase might have been a little dumb, just maybe, but you had thought it was cute when you saw it. 

But if you're being honest, you mostly go to the thrift store for the small ceramic bowl full of candy that Metilda keeps along the front counter; always full of strawberry bon bons, Tootsie Rolls, and hard caramels. You always make sure to pluck one up as she tallies up your purchase on her archaic cash register, squinting through her glasses as her bony fingers skitter across the buttons while she shares the latest bit of gossip to you. She's always in the know it seems, like some sort of P.I . . . or maybe Batman. It's almost a talent. But you suppose that being a member of the church, the local book club, and attending bingo every weekend would get you in on a lot of the gossip that circles around town. 

It's how you found out the Janice Morty was cheating on her husband of twenty-three years with his own brother, or that Sammy Kennedy has been breeding and selling exotic reptiles in his basement illegally. Sometimes you'd find yourself standing in front of that little desk long after your purchase had been bagged and paid for, just listening intently as she gives you the scoop on everything. Watching the earrings dangling from her lobes quiver and shake animatedly as she passionately recounts all of the drama she's heard - she's always got a new, fun pair on every time you see her. Many of them are retro, 80's style, but a large majority are shaped after everyday objects. One of your favorites so far would have to be the odd pair of small rotating fans, colored in that vintage mint green shade with pink blades. But the fuchsia gumball machines have to be a close second. 

You love to come in and see what pair she's going to be wearing, to hear all of the local drama. But the sound of a single name had made you regret the trip entirely. 

"- all of a sudden the screen had lit up! Just set alight without any warning." She recounted, tucking a book alongside the others inside of the recycled bag, the wrinkles in the plastic causing the smiley face to become disfigured. "Well, one of my customers saw the culprits - or at least who they suspect to be. They saw a big group of them scatter once the chaos erupted; that Thorton boy, and old Heyward's kid was there. And even Rafe Cameron, that spoiled little nuisance -" 

Your brain had blanked then. Falling flat and somehow chaotic like static filming over a TV screen. It had made it difficult to tell what you were truly feeling in that moment as it all seemed to crash over you into a still hush. But the elements of it all was certainly there: irritation, resentment, and that pathetic sense of longing that never seems to truly go away. It sticks to you like a nasty parasite. Burrowed deep and latched onto your flesh, the disease in it seeping into your bloodstream. 

No matter how much you try, it seems that you can't get away from him. The woes of living in a small community. It feels like a sort of damnation. A limbo that you can crawl yourself out of. You've gotten so close to it too. All but throwing yourself into your work - even more so than usual, if that was possible. It was to the point that your coworkers have begun to notice. You can see the way they all watch you curiously as you talk to your tables and flit about the dining room floor. Charlotte had even thrown away any attempts at subtly and had directly confronted you about your "situation." Claiming that you've seemed distracted as of late. Tense. And shit, maybe you have been a little uptight lately. Forcing plastic smiles and pretending that there isn't a hurt that's aching deep in the pit of your chest. You had promised her that you were alright, while the words felt fake, almost acidic on your tongue. She hadn't looked convinced. 

You had been doing good at pretending that you're alright. For the most part at least. With the distraction of your job and lounging around at home, diverting your attentions with old comedies and comfort watching the same old TV shows, you had nearly convinced yourself that you were alright. Though you mostly owed that to your recent proclivity for eating your feelings with Ben and Jerry's and sunbathing. Cliche, maybe. But effective. Indulging and pampering yourself has become your new means of deflecting the heartbreak that you so desperately want to pretend isn't there. And it had been working so well too. 

Until Matilda had to go and ruin it. The sound of his name leaving her red lips might as well as been nails on a chalk board. You know it was well meaning. There is no way that she would know, not even with all of the tabs and connections she's got running through the island. And that had been the point of it all. There was no label for whatever the two of you had been. The only agreement there was that your "relationship" - friends with benefits or whatever you were - was to remain on the down-low. A quiet, airtight secret lest the population of Kildare become privy to the fact that the Kook prince himself had been fucking a Pogue. 

It had been fine in the beginning. Well, not exactly fine. If someone were to ask you how you had begun seeing Rafe Cameron of all people, you wouldn't have a good answer. You yourself aren't entirely sure. It had sort of just happened. Like a wildfire that had grown out of control. The both of you have always been at each other's throats. The bullshit roles thrusted upon you by the divide of the classes on the island seeming to demand that you be enemies. Though he was more interested in maintaining those characters than you. 

You had never cared much for the Kook vs Pogue ideal. It seems archaic, tired and outdated. An unnecessary dissection that often gets grossly out of hand by the other locals.  Sometimes violently so, with the clashes ending in busted lips and bloodied knuckles. Not too long ago a fight had broken out during an after-storm party, where it was claimed that a gun had been drawn and fired. Just another reason why you found the blatant classism in the town to be entirely too much and downright threatening at times. 

But no one else believed in it more than Rafe Cameron. Topper Thronton might give him a run for his money, but you'd still have to give the victory to the prince himself. That's why it came to a complete shock to your own system when your relationship with had gone from scathing, sardonic quips and passive aggressive remarks to something balancing on almost playful. You had seemed to dangle precariously between that fine line, rocking back and forth between a genuine disdain and a delicate sort of camaraderie. 

It was an explosive mix that was just waiting for the trigger. And the anticipation of it had suspended over you like the humidity that taints the air outside, like the heavy quiet before a great storm before the lashing and booming of lightning and thunder rattles across the sky. Still, the both of you had blindly ignored the signs - the fleeting glances, the jealously that would fester in your gut whenever you saw him with someone else, the way that he would seek you out while you worked to hover over you as you poured sugar into shakers or bussed tables after your customers left. Hiding his interest in the guise of immature taunts and corny insults. And you'd do your best to deny the temptation suspended over you, writing it off as hatred and irritation whenever you crossed paths. 

You would see Rafe sparingly in your day-to-day life. Though he would fleetingly come into the restaurant every now and again. Typically to bring his newest fling in for the slices of lava cake or malted milkshakes. The Backyard Grill - or more simply, the Backyard, is a seafood restaurant first and foremost, but one thing that cannot be denied, even by the likes of the upper class, is that it has the best desserts in the entirety of Kildare Island. People of all walks of life come in to get a warm slice of apple pie, or a rich piece of red velvet. 

But it's the floats and milkshakes that are the most popular. Usually among couples that are trying to have a romantic evening. Or as romantic as it can be while in the ambiance of a ramshackle dining room, with scratched, defaced tabletops that have the initials of lovers etched into the (once) polished wood, and an old A/C unit that hisses as it spits out air. 

It's hardly a place that you'd imagine someone like Rafe Cameron frequenting, but he would still pop in every now and again. Usually with a new girl on his arm, trading them out as just easily as he'd change clothes.

It had made you tempted to speak up about it. To dare to make a subtle warning in the guise of a joke to clue the girls in, but he would always look up at you with a knowing gleam in his eyes. As though he was challenging you to spill and make a scene; to give him a reason to lash out with that scornful tongue of his and somehow pin the blame back on you. It always left resentment bubbling just underneath your skin, hot and angry while you forced yourself to hold your words back, all while a sharp, mocking smile threatened to show on your face. 

You had loathed when he would walk through the door. The infrequent nature of his visits making it feel like a sort of roulette as to whenever you'd hear the squeal of the hinges, and the dainty chime of the bell posted above the threshold - if it would be him passing through the door or not. Each time it was him, irritation would flare throughout you, but some traitorous feeling that you couldn't name would quickly follow; light and almost warm. Horrendously close to what could only be considered affection. You'd always shove it down as soon as you would register it. 

Rafe was unpredictable. A notorious hothead with a proclivity towards handling any offence he deemed against him with violence and hostility. The echoes his past rampages are still frequently on the town's lips despite being old news. Much like the time that he had reportedly attacked Matthew Bailey in the hallway of the private school for accidentally brushing against him. In Rafe's words, Matthew had rudely shoulder checked him and tried to walk away without apologizing. Regardless, the beat down that had proceeded had been a complete overkill, with Matt ending up on the flat of his back on the floor while Rafe pinned him down and repeatedly struck his face with a closed fist. He only managed to deliver two blows from what you had heard before he was pulled back, but the force behind it had been enough that Matthew's nose is now permanently bent. 

Everything about him should have repulse you. From his insistent belief that the less financially fortunate aren't as important or deserving as the wealthy, from the downright volatile way that he behaved. Like a rabid dog on a fraying lead. Morality should have been enough to repel you from him. To get you to steer clear of Rafe Cameron and pretend that he didn't exist. 

But that night on the beach, with bonfires burning high along the shore like blazes and the rowdy scattering of people cheering and laughing around you, everything that had been restrained between you both seemed to finally tear free from the grip you had on it. Maybe it had been the influence of the alcohol in your system, buzzing about your veins in a rush of warmth, or a side effect of the excitement thrumming throughout the air, but when you had saw him enter through the mass of bodies, something - some kind of resistance seemed to break.  

It was pitiful how your eyes had found him through the masses, fastening onto him as though he was the only thing that had mattered. But the way that the firelight had casted onto his skin had been gorgeous, panting him in hues of amber and vermillion and dramatic shadow. The traces of it glimmering clearly in his eyes, still visible from the distance that had separated you. A few strands of his hair dangling above his eyes in a way that you found a little too appealing, the glow of the flames highlighted the traces of brown and red in the strands.

It was almost offensive; how attractive he looked. Even while wearing one of those stupid polo shirts that he's so fond of. The color of it was a soft sort of blue. A shade that you knew would bring out the color of his eyes, gunmetal and baby blue. 

It felt like all of the oxygen had been siphoned from your lungs when the pair of them had flickered over to you and the shadows that you had found comfort in while you watched over Becca as she danced with some random guy, her laughter twinkling over the exuberant chaos letting you know that as of now, he was being respectful and minding his manners. But being under the sudden observations of Rafe had caused the dancing and socializing around you to melt into a dull background until it was nothing but the soft sand beneath your shoes and the balmy glide of the breeze shifting over your skin, slightly damp with humidity and tinged with the salt of the waves crashing along the surf. 

You had expected him then to simply alter his path and seek out some of the other Kook's that were mixed in along the crowd, but he hadn't. He kept on his trajectory, walking straight towards you, unworried as the rest of the people around you were too caught up in their own affairs or too intoxicated to notice. 

There was a determination and intensity in his eyes that had made you feel uncertain. Almost awkward in your own body, leaving you to pluck at the neon glowstick bracelet around your wrist and absentmindedly swirling the mixed drink in your red solo cup, that had long since gone warm. Once he had been standing directly in front of you, the conversation that had taken place was almost delicate as it was playful. Something new was stretching out in front of you both, strange and tricky to navigate. 

"Hey, Pogue," had been his greeting. As though he was trying to remind himself of who - of what you were to him. But it had been said so oddly, not laced with the usual contempt, that it nearly sounded endearing to you. It had been enough to warrant a smile, and the sight of your apparent amusement had been enough to have the tension melting from his posture. The rigid set of his shoulders sagging into something more relaxed and familiar, allowing him to settle into that arrogant stance of his. 

"Hey, yourself," you responded and raised the edge of your cup to take a sip of your drink. You had to fight off the urge to wince as the alcohol went down, sharp and stinging on your tongue from the cutting edge of hot vodka and the sickly-sweet syrup of cranberry and orange juice. "What the hell are you doing here, consorting with the enemy. Try not to get to close, yeah? You might catch our diseases." 

He had seemed then, to take your words as a sort of challenge. Like a raise to a sort of bet. He had stepped closer, crowding himself into your space in a way that should have felt invading, but you had only delighted in it. Free of a shirt, with only a bikini top to conceal your chest, your skin was unprotected from the subtle warmth that radiated from his body. His sudden proximity washing over you with the scent of his cologne and the gel in his hair, that seemed to have come unruffled from its usual slick back style. 

You had felt hypnotized as he pulled himself closer into your presence; engulfed by the ardor in his stare. A like of which you had never seen aimed at you - not so unabashedly, at least. You had only gotten glimmers of it. Small doses given behind the cover of hard glares and snide remarks. But then, the want on his face was bare. Shown freely underneath the cover of the dark while he leaned close enough for you to feel the gentle trace of his breath on your neck. His eyes bore into your own, demanding that you meet his stare and bear the weight of it. 

"Maybe I wanna get close." 

It had all been a flurry after that. A rush of playfully passed words and hushed, almost covetous whispers. You had allowed him to tug you into the night, far away from the illumination of the bonfires and the possibility of seeing eyes to carve a space just for the two of you. Guiding you into the thicket of trees surrounding the festivities, far off until the laughter darting over the air and the calming rise and fall of the waves had dimmed; softening so that your focus was fixed entirely on him. 

He'd taken you against a tree, fucking up into you harshly as though he'd been waiting a lifetime to do it. Splitting you open on his cock and driving his hips forward like he hated you, leaving you to claw at his back through the fabric of his shirt, nails catching and slipping up towards the nape of his neck where they left marks deep enough to have him hissing in pain. You could have felt guilty for it, but the subtle agony seemed to spur him on more. Somehow causing him to pump himself into you with a new vigor, leaving you to hang on and take it while he punched the air from your lungs. Pinned in place uselessly while the bark of the tree he had you pressed against scraped and nicked at your back. It left marks on you for nearly two weeks. 

You had thought that would have been the end of it. A night of regret fueled by alcohol and hatred, but the both of you hadn't stopped afterwards. He had begun to seek you out afterwards. Not too brazenly. He couldn't have the locals of the island finding out about your little trysts. But he would often sneak up to your house, around the late hours, always long after your neighbors had tucked in to sleep and the sun was well past the horizon. 

At first, it was fully apparent what he wanted from you. He'd stay long enough for the both of you to get what you wanted. A simple transaction of the flesh. The boundaries had been clear then. Just two people working out their frustrations and using each other to take the edge off. Put then he had started spending the night. You aren't sure when he had stopped leaving and begun staying over, tucking himself next to you in bed, burrowing under the covers while you watched the shitty action movies that he always requested you put on. 

And pretty soon he began leaving pieces of his clothes. Small things. A shirt or two. Because he liked to see you wearing them; that's what he had told you. But then there had been pants, and the odd sock, and a few pairs of his boxers, all of which you washed with your own clothes and then kept folded in a corner of your closet. 

His toothbrush was placed next yours on the bathroom counter, colored white and blue. And there was a bottle of his cologne tucked in the shelf underneath the sink, right next to some of your hygiene products and rolls of toilet paper. He kept spare shampoo in the built in shower cubby, so that he wouldn't have to use yours. He'd smell too feminine, that's what he told you. 

He'd spend the night whenever things would grow to be too much with his dad. Their relationship was always so strained. So full of resentment and insecurity. He had shared that with you one night, while you were held to his chest, your head tucked just underneath his chin while you stared up at the fairy lights strung up around your room. The scent of sex was still heavy in the air, the sweat from it clinging to your skin while you counted the thrum of his heart racing under your ear, gradually mellowing out to a steady beat as your breaths calmed. 

You had tried to nudge him to stop, promising that you didn't expect for him to share any of it with you. Warning him that it was just the influence of sex and the rush of dopamine and oxytocin thrumming steadily in his veins urging him to open up. You didn't want him to regret it. To regret what you had between you. But he had promised then that he wanted to. That he needed to tell someone. There had been a vulnerability in his voice that you had never heard from him before. A mild tremor as though he was trying to hold onto himself. To keep himself from potentially falling apart while he confessed about his home. How his stepmother was always present and yet entirely absent, how his father saw him as nothing but a failure, how Sarah paid him little mind. A psycho, she had called him once. But he was always sweet to you in those simple moments, when he would scatter kisses up your neck, tender and light while he drew you to him with the wide grip of his hands. 

There were so many lines that had been crossed. Lines that just "fuck buddies" don't cross. Not without a clear conversation at the very least. Perhaps it had been your fault, for reading into things that weren't there. For applying meaning to all the little moments you had spent together. All of the times you had ate leftovers together in your small kitchenette, laughing and playfully insulting each other while you ate away at Chinese food or reheated burgers in between jokes. Childishly nudging at him with your foot underneath the table while he complained or made remarks about his day. 

It's just fuck buddies who ask for you to pick a box of Lucky Charms during grocery runs because it's a quick meal to eat after fucking, when the weed gives him an appetite; it was just being a fuck buddy when he would lay in your arms for hours, molding himself against the shape of you to try and burrow himself along your skin, breathing tiredly into your neck; and it was perfectly casual when he bought you a necklace with a pendant of his first initial - 14 karat gold he told you. He wanted to go for 24k, but it would have been too weak and malleable, and 18k wouldn't be as scratch resistant. He wanted it to last. That's what he had said as he sucked and nipped at the skin on your neck, around the thin, golden chain; turning the flesh tender and marked. 

Maybe it truly was all your fault. So you shouldn't have been at all surprised when he had ghosted you for four days straight and then you had seen him strolling around town with Casey Ellis; her head tucked into his neck while she laughed, her hand placed to his chest. She was a gorgeous girl with highlights in her hair and a body that didn't have so much as a hint of a single stretchmark or a dimple of cellulite, wearing Luis Vuitton sunglasses and an outfit that must have cost a fortune. She was perfect, and she wasn't you. 

You were smart enough to connect the dots. To put two and two together. You had been replaced. Just all the girls before you had, and it made you feel like a complete idiot. How you had let yourself be so blinded by affection, to let the wool be pulled over your eyes and tricked into believing that you wouldn't fall to the same fate. Letting something that feels dangerously close to love delude you into thinking you'd be different. It dug deep. Slicing through you and reaching to grip a hold of a vulnerability that you hadn't even known was there. Still, you hardly even thought it over when you had skimmed through your contacts and blocked his number; doing it as though you had been put under a sort of spell, detached and numb while anger seared underneath it all in a burning undercurrent. You sent him a single message before cutting him off and out of your life. Affording him at least that little curtesy, unlike what he had done to you. It was curt. Cut and dry, if not just a little personal. 

it's clear that you've found another person to cry to and fuck. that means we're done. Dont come back 

Was it a little juvenile? Perhaps. But it had felt good, even if you hadn't done it face to face. But he didn't deserve that much. And it was nice to be so detached about it. To do something as shitty as cutting things off over a text message. It was disrespectful, a slap to the face, and you hoped that it had hurt and confused him. That his brows had pinched in the way that they do when he's bewildered, that he had paced around his room and combed his fingers through his hair while he read those letters over and over again as though it would help him make sense of it. 

You had ignored the curious, perplexed stares of your neighbors when you threw his clothes and toothbrush into the containment of the firepit behind your trailer, dousing them with lighter fluid and setting them alight. It had felt therapeutic to watch it all burn. Charring around the edges and turning black as it melted from the unforgiving heat to turn into an indiscernible pile. You'd like wish that the memories with him would do the very same, but you've had no such luck yet. 

But it's difficult to forget someone when they're determined to be remembered. Skulking about like a wild dog in the shadows, wandering up to your door in the night, pawing to be let in. The first week after you had cut ties, he had shown up at your trailer, forgoing all attempts at being quiet to bang his fist on your front door. Loud enough to all but tear you from your sleep, causing you to jerk up with a gasp, your heart thumping wildly in your ears as his muffled voice bled past the walls. 

"C'mon, baby! Listen - I - I know I fucked up, but we can work past this, alright?" A dull bang had punctuated it, and it left you to wonder if he had dropped his forehead against the door, defeated and desperate. Good. "It's not that - can't we just back to the way things were?" 

You had ignored his please to be heard and turned over in your bed. Drowning out the sound of his voice by turning on the TV and waiting him out until he left, deterred only by one of your neighbors' dogs, agitated by the sound of his shouting. After that he only tried to approach you one more time. Turning up at you job and all but ambushing you once you stepped out into the parking lot. You had done your best to ignore him. To keep the venom and contempt that longed to rise up past your lips as he trailed after you like a shadow, demanding that you stopped and just listened to him while you beelined for your car at the far end of the dirt lot. 

He had only touched you once you clutched your keys and turned them into the lock and reached for the door handle, grabbing ahold of your shoulders to shove your back to the driver side door, caging you in with his body while he clutched at you like a drowning man reaching for a buoy in a storm. You swear that there were tears in his eyes then, glinting in the dim cast of the nearby streetlamps. The emotion in his voice had been so raw. Broken, as though he was hanging on by a thread and just barely holding himself together. It made you feel like you were being dragged under. 

"Just look at me - just let me speak, okay?" His words nearly melded together in a quick rush, as though he couldn't spit them up fast enough. But your heart was in your throat, adrenalin running rampant in your veins while you stared into his eyes. Lost in the desperation in them. The dark of his pupils like hollows, threatening to swallow you whole. All the while your hand remained latched onto the door handle, frozen as he sucked you into the raw emotion that could only be described as a sort of anguish. "I fucked up, I know that, but we can get through this. "

His hands had slipped up to your face then. Cradling you as though it might keep you with him, secure in his palms, a fine porcelain that might shatter if handled too harshly. But you couldn't stand to listen to him. To feel him on your skin, to smell the scent of him after trying to wash the fragrance of his cologne out of your sheets. It had you jerking in his grip like a wild animal, even while a pathetic part of you longed to draw him closer. Before he could fully register it, you had tugged the driver's side door open, slipping out of his grasp and into your car. You had yanked the door shut and slammed your hand down on the main button to lock the entirety of the car down. Keeping him out. 

You didn't spare him a glance as he banged on the window, asking that you step back outside in a tone that was so soft. So broken. But you swallowed down the urge to comply. You fueled yourself with the anger buried beneath it all instead as you twisted the key into the ignition and sped off and out of the parking lot, gravel and dust spewing behind while you left him behind. Standing alone in an empty parking lot with only the dim sound of his voice trailing after you like a wounded, violent howl. 

"Fine! Go on then! I don't fucking need you!" 

It's only been a few weeks since then, but you've done well to move on from it all. It was a simple, few month-long fling. Nothing more, nothing less. And that's all it would ever be. Thankfully, eventually, after a few weeks, he had given up. He stopped coming by your house, he quit stalking around the outside of your job. It was as though he had never even existed. All traces of him were gone from your life. For the most part. Until Matilda had gone and opened up her mouth, accidentally drawing up old memories and picking at a wound that had just begun to heal.  

It had been enough to put a blight on the remainder of your day, looming above like the thick of storm clouds. You're suffocating. Being pulled beneath crashing, tossing waves that threaten to fill your lungs with the sting of water and leave you lifeless and adrift. All of the vibrancy and enthusiasm for life that had been there just this afternoon seems to have fizzled out like a sparkler that's been dropped in a puddle. 

It makes you frustrated and tired with yourself. Exhausted by how much you've paled in comparison to the person you were only weeks ago, and here you are groveling in self-pity and loathing all because of an egocentric, insecure man who runs around town with all of the self-restraint of a rabid dog. He doesn't deserve your heartache or your tears. He never cared about you or your feelings. You had just been a hole to fuck, a pair of arms to run into when his life at home fell into shambles. 

For the first time in a while, you found yourself calling Becca in the hopes of wrangling her into going out. There was a party going on tonight, and an invitation had been extended to you, passed on by Allen Thatcher when he had come into the Backyard yesterday for his usual. You declined then. In any other circumstance, you would have accepted, schedule willing. Then the idea of attending a party, as relaxed as the environment might be, had seemed daunting. Far too much, too overstimulating while you still struggle to grapple with the torrent running rampant within you. But now, with anger and betrayal breaking through it all, bursting between the hurt like a fire spreading through a dead forest, the prospect of blaring music and the sting of alcohol sounds like a relief. 

It had been enough to have you dialing Becca and asking if she was free. She had seemed surprised on the phone, and she has a right to be. She's spent close to two weeks now trying to draw you out of the fog that you had fallen under. Doing her best to be supportive and keep you grounded while you try and weather the onslaught of your emotions, often swinging by your place if your work schedules allow to spend hours talking and exchanging some of the local drama with each other and catching up on the little things. She had also goaded you into bleaching and dying her hair late at 3 a.m., a task that you weren't fully confident in, but now the final result isn't too bad. 

She knows what happened between you and Rafe. She's the only one on this entire island that's aware of the precarious fling that had taken place between you and him and the sudden "break up" that had followed. She was the only person that you had trusted to share your secret with, and once your mood had taken a steady decline after cutting him off, you were unable to deny that the shift in your demeanor was entirely obvious, and she of all people, deserved to know the reason why. 

You received about what you had anticipated. A confused, somewhat disappointed stare in turn, as she no doubt processed why you hadn't told her sooner. The shock clearly written on her face as she wondered just how and why you had chosen to have a fling with Rafe Cameron of all people. But thankfully she had kept (most of) her thoughts and feelings to herself. For now, at least. Once the wound in you heals, you know that she'll be poking and prodding for you to give her all the details. 

For now, you can just bask in the sense of freedom that falls over you. It's like breathing after holding your breath for too long and it invites you to be shameless as you allow yourself to sway and move under the guide of the music's rhythm, taking sips of your drink until you can feel it humming in your limbs, making you light and pleasantly warm. People scattered among the space had greeted the two of you as you entered, nodding in greeting and lifting their solo cups to acknowledge you. It was nice to be seen so unabashedly, to be invited into a space without any strings attached or expectations. It just feels like another reminder that you don't need him in the slightest. With all of his insecurities and expectations for how he's perceived in the world. In his version of society. A place that you didn't fit. 

Here you're liked. You're wanted without having to give hardly anything in return. You're only expected to be present. 

It should be suffocating in Thatcher's living room, crowded by the scattered throng of people as laughter rises and falls across the air, bubbling over the 2000's pop song that blasts through the speakers loudly enough to have the walls vibrating. But the atmosphere is purely electrical, thrumming with an excitement that almost seems tangible, gliding along your fingertips and down your spine. It's lively, but comforting in a space that's decently familiar, having spent many a night in these same walls during parties just like this one, surrounded by many a familiar face. You know the people here. You've grown up with them. Many of which you had played with as a child, exploring creeks for bottles made of green and blue glass, skinning your knees from climbing trees, and breaking into abandoned buildings to explore and decorate with spray paint. 

Even if time has grown you apart somewhat, your lives forking from each other to divert you on your own paths, you can easily scan the throng and find at least ten people who you know. It brings you a sort of solace. You community is small, and your luxuries are often just as limited but there's a genuine connection between the lot of you that the Kook's will never have. 

Their relationships come with a check list. Requirements and demands that rests entirely on the number of digits in their bank accounts or how they're recognized by their accomplishments. It's all purely material. It's not a give or take, but a constant influx of give, give, give. You suppose in that aspect, you can pity Rafe. And all the other Kook's on this island. 

But you don't need to worry about all of that here. You're entirely free to do whatever you want. It could have been hours, or maybe only seconds, time seems to have poured into a blur in the middle of Thatcher's living room. Drawing down into a sluggish glide, like a thin flow of water cascading over the bend of rocks. It had taken you by surprise when a girl had run in from the adjoining kitchen, whooping loudly over the music, and she had nearly sent you and Becca tipping over when she brushed past you, tossing a handfuls of confetti as she went. 

Your irritation is only able to flourish for a breath or two before it's snuffed out when the shifting star-shaped silver begins to fall down around you like a soft scatter of rainfall. You have to cover your drink with your hand to keep it from getting contaminated from the confetti as you shift with the music, listening to the elated sound of Becca's laughter from somewhere beside you. Her attentions fixed on a guy that she's been eyeing all night. He's cute in a way, not exactly you type personally, but what you and Becca find attractive has always coexisted on a different spectrum. 

He seems to be watching her too. Sneaking glances from his place on the worn couch, but he hasn't worked up the courage to part from his friends, remaining fixed in his place as he clutches his beer. Either playing hard to get or too shy to make a move. 

"You gonna go for it?" You ask, leaning in towards her ear to be heard over the energetic tempo. 

Her face pinches like she's considering her option, nose wrinkling slightly. She has a tendency on waiting for guys to make the first move. A strategy that typically pays off in a party setting, with everyone boosted by liquid confidence, but this one in particular doesn't seem to be budging from his spot. If she was going to even attempt to approach him then she wouldn't do it without a little, gentle push. But once she works past whatever is giving her hesitation, she's pretty quick to gun for what she wants. Now you just have to nudge. 

"I don't know." She answers, shifting on her heels to get closer to you. You can hear the uncertainty in her voice, even underneath the cover of the swelling music. It has an amused smile tugging at your lips, and you fight off the urge to playfully roll your eyes at her as you dare to look back over to the guy who's been undressing her with his eyes the entire night. 

"Oh, come on," you urge, meeting her doubtful expression with your own confident one. "You've been watching each other for at least twenty minutes now. "

"Then why hasn't he made a move?" She taps her nails absentmindedly along the side of her cup. 

"Maybe he just likes the chase," you shrug. "But I've seen a couple other people here checking him out. Most notably, the tall blonde in the corner. It's only a matter of time before she swoops him up herself." 

She seems to take a pause, falling silently for a moment as though she's weighing her alternatives, but when you catch the hint of a smirk on her face you know that she's finally made her choice. She silently taps her cup to yours in a salute, and a quick, "Alright, I'm going in," as she heads off in the direction of the couch with an inviting smile on her face and an extra sway in her hips. 

As soon as she leaves, her absence is unignorable. Despite the living room being packed with people, it suddenly seems terribly hollow. There are faces scattered among the throng that you easily recognize. People who you went to high school with. A few only live down the street from you, and you see them nearly every day on your drive to work piddling around in their yards; you talk to some of them while you stand in line at the corner store to ring up the gas for your car a fountain drink. It would be easy, in theory, to walk up to just about any of them and strike up a conversation, but that suddenly seems impossible. 

It's like being in the middle of an ocean, clinging onto a scrap of wood left from the remnants of a wreck to keep you afloat in the tossing waves. The colorful array of confetti casted along the carpet, the music humming along the air like a current, the dispersed chimes of laughter floating up around you, it doesn't seem as lively as it did before. The sight of couples mingling in the corners of the room like they're the only people left alive is a nasty reminder of what you've lost. Of what you've never had to begin with. 

It has you glancing down at the inside of your cup, and it's a little frustrating to see the bottom of it, dark with only a thin sliver of what isn't even half a sip left. It has you making off towards the kitchen. Weaving through the sprinkling of bodies, carefully avoiding in accidentally nudging shoulders or running into someone as they mindlessly dance and wave their arms in the air. Lost in their own worlds. 

It's mostly empty when you pass the threshold, with only two three other people present, two of which are little more than strangers and the other is Thatcher; the small group huddled together near the cabinets. The aforementioned man responsible for the little get together perches on the counter, his head leaned against the cabinets while he talks with the pair between swigs of his sweating beer, laughing loudly with his companions. 

You don't let it stop you from approaching the kitchen table posted in the middle of the room, surveying the multiple two liters of soda and bottles of liquor that are scattered along the top, almost lost among the various chips and junk food. There's a lot to choose from, from Tito's to tequila and Fire Ball - the latter of which you can't help but to grimace at. You liked it for all of one night, and now the scent of cinnamon and overwhelming flavor of syrup threatens to make you gag every time. When you first got here, you had let Becca make your drink. A rum and Coke, you think, but it looks like someone might have finished off the bottle of liquor. 

"There's beers and stuff in the fridge," a voice sounds out, drawing your attention up from the table and across the room. It's Thatcher, watching you from underneath the scattered dark strands of his hair. He points in the direction of said fridge with the hand holding his drink. "Some of those seltzers and uh, fruity beers too - Mike's or whatever." 

"Oh, thanks," you say, crinkling the plastic cup in your hands and turning to toss in the trash can that's been blatantly placed near the table's legs. Probably so that it can't be missed. You see him nod towards his friends in your peripheral vision before slipping off the counter, the three of them exchanging words before he shuffles past them, and they leave the room, passing him knowing smiles as they slip out of the space. 

You can guess what they might be insinuating, and suddenly it leaves you feeling just a bit awkward as you move over to the fridge and tug the door open to scan its contents. True to his words there's a pack of Bud Light, the majority of the cans already gone, leaving the box nearly hollow. But the seltzers and alcoholic lemonade is still fairly plentiful. 

You've always known about the small crush that Thatcher has on you. Granted he's always been more than a little obvious with it, always following you with his eyes and popping into the Backyard on his lunch breaks from the docks, always requesting your section without fail, if more than one server happens to be scheduled. He's never been untoward or suffocating in his pursuit of you - if you could even call it that. It's always been more of a quiet admiration. He's sweet. Kind. A hard worker and boy-next-door type. The sort of guy that you should be able to see spending your life with. Except you can't. No matter how much you've tried to convince yourself, or others have tried to talk you into seeing his potential, the feelings never come. 

You can easily acknowledge that he's attractive. With a light dusting of freckles over his warm skin and defined muscles in his arms from his work on the boats. You can almost be mad at yourself for not having so much as a flicker of attraction for him. It isn't a fault of his own. There isn't some awful thing he had done to you as children, or a comment that he had made in the past that rubs you the wrong way, there's just nothing. Not an ember of want buried down deep or a flicker of consideration that maybe you really should give him a try and maybe you'll discover that he's truly the guy for you. He's patient and sweet, and it somehow does nothing for you. 

Being in his presence has never made you feel nervous before, but with the recent gash that Rafe has left in your life, the prospect of Thatcher suddenly coming to you with the insinuation of his feelings seems alarming. Like a wave that you don't have the courage to try and surf and navigate. It makes you almost regret coming here. Of letting your anger and exhaustion get the better of you to cling to an attempt to try and have a sense of freedom. 

"Have you been doin' alright lately?" He asks, and your suddenly hyperaware of his body beside your own. The inquiry has something unsteady prickling along your flesh. To prolong the silent gap between you, you unseeingly sweep your vision along the fridge and grab at one of the first cans you see before closing the door softly. You try to focus on the atmosphere around you for a few more moments, listening to the hum of the music, the ceaseless chatter echoing around you. The scent of vape fumes and weed smoke piercing the air and making it thick. 

"Uh, yeah, why?" You ask, keeping your voice light and leveled. You only pass him a look when you dig your finger underneath the tab and push it down to pop the can open with a sharp, metallic crack. 

He shrugs then, tilting his head as he considers you from his place leaned along the kitchen counter. "I don't know. You seem . . . Different. Distracted, I guess?" 

You've heard that one before. From Charlotte and the other girls at work. Even Becca herself has said that you've been quiet. Withdrawn. It makes you feel as though you're being put underneath a microscope. It forces you to be conscious of yourself. Of how you hold your shoulders, the way your arms hang at your sides, the posture of your spine. If you're smiling too much or too little, and the line between the two sometimes seem like they're merging. 

"Just personal stuff," you reply, occupying yourself by taking a sip of your drink. "It's nothing serious, honestly." 

Another small stretch of silence extends between you two, and you can see him nodding out of the corner of your eye as you shift to properly face him. 

"Okay. For what it's worth I'm here if you ever need someone to speak to. I know it can seem a little lonely when you're dealing with shit. Especially, personal, family stuff. " He clears his throat then, his eyebrows drawing close. "Sorry, I didn't invite you here to interrogate you. You're probably trying to forget it all, and I'm just reminding you-" 

"No! It's fine," you assure him in a quick rush. And it's the truth. You can't deny that the sentiment of it is nice. To know that he does care. You wouldn't consider yourself particularly close to him. You get on well enough. You've been to several of his parties, and he comes in to see you semi frequently at work, but beyond those cordial meetings, your time with him has never really extended beyond that. He was sort of part of an old friend group of yours when you were young. A friend of a friend. But age had seemed to draw you apart. You outgrew each other, it seems. But from what you remember, he was always one of the most doting. A natural part of his personality brought on from being the eldest brother to three siblings, most likely. 

Despite it all, it's a comfort. You can feel the tension that had pulled your muscle taut beginning to fade, allowing you to relax again. There's the impression of a soft smile on your mouth. A product of the relief that melts through you at the small offering of his support. It's probably not one that you'll actually seek out or indulge in, but the thought behind it is a welcome one. 

"I appreciate it." You offer a smile. 

Something shifts in his expression then. It's tender and subtle, but the implications of it suddenly terrifies you. The sight of it gives you a good idea of what is going on in his head. Of what he thinks might be happening, that an opening has just presented itself to him. It's more than enough to have that delicate sense of unease welling up inside of you again, trembling up your spine like a bolt of electricity. It urges you to make up an excuse, no matter how flimsy or paper thin it might be, but the words in your throat never rise. You feel trapped as you watch him shift awkwardly on his feet, the bottom of his shoes squeaking lowly on the fake, linoleum tiles as he prepares to speak, clearly thinking over how to make his approach. 

"Who the hell is this?" 

At first you consider that one of your earlier drinks had been spiked, and that you're suffering from a hallucination before you tip over and pass out on the kitchen floor. That could be the only possible explanation for the familiar voice that has just cut across the energetic atmosphere and uncomfortable tension. The sound of it seems to sever through you like a hot blade. The tone of it and the subtle, almost tired croak that always seems to be present in the edge its inflections searing through you like a lick of fire. 

It has your head jerking in its direction in a sharp snap and so many different things happen in you at once. Your mouth goes dry, you're certain that your heart stops and plummets down to the pit of your belly; time grinds down to a halt. The air is like static, thrumming over your skin in a way that tingles and hums. It forces you to stare like a deer caught in the headlights. 

Something about him looks rough. You can't tell if it's just the oily hue of the overhead kitchen light that's making the bags underneath his eyes more pronounced, but his face looks ragged. As though he hasn't slept properly in days; body pulled up tight with a nervous energy. His hair tousled and unkempt, as though he's been restlessly running his hands through it, knocking the strands loose to hang above his eyes, which look wild. A little blood shot as they dart between you and Thatcher, sweeping down the length of the other man's body as though he's sizing him up. It makes you worried that he's come here coked up. Fueled by chaotic emotions and drugs. 

It immediately puts you on edge, the way that he's openly evaluating him. No doubt, considering what might happen if he crosses the floor and swings on Thatcher. It's enough to rip you from your daze, the very prospect of it snapping over you like the crack of a gunshot. 

"Rafe," you gasp. "What are you doing here?" 

"I had to see you," he answers, as though it's normal. As though it was the most obvious thing in the world. He creeps forward a little bit then, as though he's attempting to approach a wild animal that might startle and dart at any second. And honestly, you feel as though you might. Your mind is scrambling, whipping around like a storm as a barrage of questions rise and swell. 

"How did you know I was here?" The question tumbles out of your mouth like something molten. Even with the unease seeping at you, you're unable to fight of the irritation burrowing beneath the surface of it all. "Are you stalking me? Do you have someone keeping tabs? What-"

"It was a lucky guess." 

Bullshit. Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit, a voice in your mind seethes. He's such a liar. It's like he's allergic to telling the truth. There's no way he had a "lucky guess" for this. There's no explanation as to how he managed to track you down to a house in the middle of nowhere. A place that you know he's never been to before. 

Thatcher stands up straighter beside you, removing himself from the support of the counter to evaluate Rafe. "Ah, do you want me to kick him out? -" 

"Why don't you keep out of this." But it isn't a question or a suggestion. It slips from Rafe's mouth sharp and venomous, a clear command. Nearly a hiss with how much disdain is etched in his words. His vision flickering from you just long enough to pin Thatcher in place. It makes you wonder how he could possibly be so cross with a person that he doesn't even know. But then again, you've seen him snap people for as something as little as looking at him for too long. 

You can practically feel the possibility of a fight in the air. Heavy and charged like the presence of electricity running through the thick of a storm with the promise of a lightning strike. You can see the hypothetical rope that's restraining Rafe fraying and straining by the second. Growing weaker and weaker. Everything about the way that he's holding himself is practically screaming that he's preparing for the possibility of a physical confrontation; shoulders set, and eyes wide and glinting in the glow of the lights in a way that looks feral. 

You hardly think when you step out in front of him, moving yourself away from Thatcher to place your body between the both of theirs until there's little more than a few feet separating you and Rafe. You hardly have time to process how close you are to him. That night in the parking lot feels like a lifetime ago. A murky, faded memory now that he's here in front of you again. You try to shove it all down as you crowd closer, drawing his focus onto you. He watches at you like you're a ghost. Like you might not be real at all. A figment of his imagination. There's a type of wonder in his expression, wide eyed and doused in disbelief. 

"You want to talk, right? That's why you're here?" You ask sharply, in a rapid fire, ignoring Thatcher as he shuffles just close enough to enter your peripheral vision. You have half the mind to warn him to back off, but you don't. 

"Yeah, I just wanna talk," Rafe answers. It sounds like another lie. His eyes are still attentive on you, the joined shades of faint gray and blue boring into you with an intensity that you long to both shy away from and bask under. You can see it now that you have to confront whatever this is. He's made it more than apparent that he won't leave you alone. That he won't back off until he's said his piece. He's a dog with a bone, and he isn't going to relent until he finally gets his way. 

"Fine." You relent, and all but slam the can of drink that you're holding on the edge of the kitchen table, nearly knocking a bag of chips down onto the floor. You swear you can see relief wash over Rafe then, slipping over from his body as though he had been held down by a physical weight. The alleviation burns bright in his stare, and a deep, silent sigh expels from his chest. It's as though you had just saved him. Tugged him out of deep, dark waters and onto solid land. 

It's Thatcher who speaks up next, standing straighter like he might dare to move closer. "Hey, are you sure that that's a good idea?" 

That's all it takes for Rafe to start forward, lunging like a guard dog. "Why don't you stay the fuck out of it, huh? She's not your girl, so do yourself a favor and keep your mouth shut." 

You have to throw yourself in front of him again, smacking your hands onto his chest to try and nudge him back. It's probably by the grace of God that he relents, yielding to the press of your hand and allowing you to push him back a few paces. You're quick to look over your shoulder to pass a glare at Thatcher. A silent signal to get him to keep silent, lest this get out of control. It's a plea and an order all once, and thankfully he complies, even while he looks like he wants to do nothing more than to meet Rafe's challenge. 

"It'll only be for a few minutes," you decide and promise; to Thatcher, to Rafe, but mostly, it just seems like you're saying it to yourself. You can see that Thatcher is uncertain. He has every right to be. You should be as well, but you can't find yourself to be swallowed by your doubt and caution. Instead, you move around him, not even bothering to check and make sure that he's following. 

You know that he is. Like a buried instinct, you can practically feel his presence running down your spine as he trails closely like a shadow. Allowing you to guide him through the living room where some people pause and turn with confused expressions as they see Rafe pass. But you do your best not to pay them any mind. Not even when you can hear hushed murmurs manage to trickle past the wild thrum of music; gossip already taking root. 

You were able to get a glimpse of Becca making out on the couch with the stranger from earlier. You wish you had it in you to be happy for her, but you're currently too busy being attacked by a chaotic swirl of emotions as you lead him down the narrow hall until you come to a door on the right. The knock that you harshly tap against the flimsy wooden panel is loud but rushed, and you hardly give anyone time to answer before you're twisting the knob and all but throwing the door open on its hinges. 

Fortunately, it's empty and you're quick to slip into the compact space, slamming it shut behind you once Rafe steps past the threshold and twisting the lock. It's all done with the sharp pronunciation of anger, quick and heavy as you try to control the absolute flood of insults and questions that threaten to spill past your lips, but you settle for leaning back against the sink, watching him with your arms crossed. 

"Well? Go on then," you encourage tersely. 

His eyebrows crease just the slightest. He shifts back, tilting on his heels while his lip's part. Like he's perplexed. "So that's how it's gonna be, then?" 

"Yep." 

He stares at you for a few beats as though he's trying to process your remark, wiping a hand along his mouth in an annoyed gesture. "Y-you just left. Without hardly so much as a word. One minute we were fine, and the next -" his hands raise up in the air in some sort of a flourish like it'll help him articulate better, " - Gone. Like nothing. Do you have any idea what that did to me?" 

For a long moment you can only stare at him. In disbelief. In complete shock honestly. You can feel your face twisting up in a snarl, but probably does nothing to show the true extent of your anger. "What it did to you? What about me, Rafe?" It comes out scathing. Dripping with contempt and it has you leaning just slightly from the support of the sink - just enough to tilt into his space. "Do you even realize how shitty it made me feel, seeing her clinging to you like a tick? No warning from you or anything. You used to sleep in my fucking bed, Rafe. I would wash your boxers with my laundry. And then what? I'm just thrown away? That easily?" 

A laugh bubbles up from you, full of scorn and mocking. You hate the lost look in his eyes. How he shuffles back a few paces, as much as the small space of the bathroom with allow, just until his back nudges with the wall and shakes the small picture frame hung there. Suddenly, he seems like the trapped animal. A nervous, wild thing that's been cornered and threatened, but you can stop yourself once you've started, and it pours out of you in a rush, talking over him as he tries to speak. Tries to defend himself with more lies. 

"I guess it's my fault though, isn't it? I shouldn't have expected anything different. How could the prince of Kildare Island be seen with someone like me, huh? I'm not rich and perfect. How could a Pogue honestly expect to be with someone like you? " Your mouth shapes into a grimace as you observe as he stands to the wall, shoulders hunching like he doesn't know what to do with himself. "What was I to you, honestly? Just a distraction? A little inside joke with yourself? A quick fuck to take the edge off when life with daddy and mommy got too rough?" 

"That's not it, okay!?" He shouts suddenly, moving forward abruptly enough to send you reeling back into the sink. Enough for the press of the porcelain to sting. "Will you just let me speak? Just - " His face pinches again, lips twisting while he draws in a deep breath as a means to steady himself. "Just let me talk." 

It makes you swallow. Burying down the nerves that prickle along your gut and beneath your skin as you watch him. You move your hands to grip the edge of the of sink tightly enough for your knuckles to ache, but you do keep your mouth shut and he seems to take your silence as the go ahead. 

t

"I didn't sleep with her, alright? I tried. But I didn't - I couldn't. " 

"Like that's any better." You scoff. It's childish, but in your defense, he's entitled. So out of touch with reality and the impact that he truly leaves on things. Unaware of the hurt that he's carved into you. You have to distract yourself by looking off; anywhere but him, and you end up scanning over a half-used bottle of body wash and a bar of soap that sits in the bathtub caddy like they're the most interesting objects in the world. 

"When I'm with you, you make me feel . . . things. Things I've never felt before. Not really." The clunky confession draws your attention to him much easier than you'd like to admit. The way that he describes his feelings is always odd. Detached. Sort of messy, like he's trying to come to terms with being a human being and doesn't know how to fully understand the gravity of his own emotions. "It was a lot to deal with. I didn't know how to. And there was all of this shit with my family and that damned Pogue sticking his nose where he shouldn't - I just needed a distraction. But it couldn't have been you. I wouldn't have been able to keep myself - " 

He seems to catch himself short. Biting his tongue to keep it at bay. And whatever it is you aren't sure. But you have to know now. He's not allowed to backtrack as soon as it gets uncomfortable for him. Not after what he had done. How he had left you and tried to pin the blame back on you. 

"You wouldn't have been able to keep yourself from what?" It surprises even you when your voice comes out soft. Far too light for the conversation you're having and all of the pain that it's digging up. But it must have some sort of effect on him. He seems to lean closer to you then, like he longs to dip into your space and is just barely resisting in holding himself back. 

When he looks at you again there's such bare vulnerability reflecting in his gaze. It nearly breaks something in you, but you hold onto your resolve. Gripping tight onto the heat of your resentment while something pathetically tender yearns to surface. It's dim and weak, but even the traces of it are enough to frighten you. To make you angry at yourself. 

Rafe himself seems to hesitate. Like he's reached a physical barrier and doesn't know how to move past it. Something about his aversion annoys you. The implications that his words have left hang heavy in the atmosphere. Thick and prickling just like the humidity outside, and it seems to cling to your skin just as it would. Uncomfortable and sticky. He looks as though he might back away again. His body curling in on itself, clearly agitated, like he means to hide from your stare. 

"Rafe," you murmur. It sounds like a plea to you; just as desperate as he looks. it almost pains you to be so delicate around him, but you can't seem to force the anger back into your voice. 

He swears lowly under his breath, muttering lowly to himself in a tone that's too quiet to make out. He nearly looks as though he's lost his mind, mumbling to himself with some sort of distress clearly visible in his posture. And then in a blur he's on you. He's crowding you into the sink, his hands cupping your face lightly as though he wants to touch but isn't sure if he can. There's something frantic about it all. Like someone trying to catch water and keep it from slipping between their fingers. And there's a glimmer in his eyes that fervent, full of need and want; pupils blown so wide that they almost seem like chasms. Like they could swallow you whole. 

"I think I love you." He says it slowly and yet it still comes out like a mess. Like he's articulating softly to try and sound out a foreign language. A tongue that he's never heard before. There's a confused edge to it. Almost as though he's in disbelief himself. 

It leaves you more stunned that anything that has left him this night. Or in the entire span that you two have known each other. There's laughter welling up inside of you, but it feels like it might be out of hysterics rather than joy, but all you can do is sit and stare at him in total silence. You think you've lost the ability to speak. Your voice is absent. A dead thing in your throat. 

"Baby, talk to me. Say something." His thumbs sweep along the swells of your cheeks, stroking you tenderly like you're something breakable. 

"That's not true." You will it out of you, forcing your voice from your chest and it rises up a pale comparison of its usual tone. Light and weak around the edges. You hate the hurt look that flickers across his face. As though you had struck him or thrusted a knife into his chest. "You wouldn't have hurt me if you did. You wouldn't have done what you did." 

"I know, but I was scared, baby." He nods in agreement. But there's still an excuse. Because there always is with him. He just can't seem to help himself and cuts you deep, prodding the wound that's already there and bleeding. It has you gripping at one of his arms, to pull him away or keep him close you aren't sure. "I was scared of us." 

"There is no us." 

"But there could be." 

He's clinging onto you with the desperate zeal of a starving man groveling at the feet of a savior. Spewing out praises and pleas to satisfy the unforgiving hunger ravaging his body. In any other circumstance, you would have delighted in seeing him so anguished. You would have gloated over it. But it's difficult to find that delight while he's making promises of you've always longed for. A promise that you know he can't really keep. Not when you're worlds apart. It makes it cruel, the way he dangles it in front of your face with so much conviction. As though he believes in his own lies. 

And you want to trust in them. So badly that it aches. It's almost like a physical agony, and it has you resisting the urge to lean into him for a comfort that only he can provide while he causes your pain. 

"Don't do this, Rafe. Please." You know that you must sound pitiful. A far cry from the rage that had possessed you only moments before, and you hate how powerless he's able to make you. How easily he can disarm you with just his presence, the sound of his voice. You're weak against him. You think that you always have been, long before the two of you had begun to hook up; always sneaking quick glances at him when he wasn't looking. Admiring him when you knew that you shouldn't have been. 

"We can do it; just you and me." He insists, curling his body closer to yours as though he's trying to cage you in; his lips nearly brushing along yours. It has his scent wafting over you, filling up the air and tainting every drag of oxygen you take until he's trapped in your lungs; all dark rum, musk, and a blend of something woody and embellished with a hint of spice. It always blends with the salt of his skin and his natural scent. The same one that had stubbornly clung to your sheets and lingered about your trailer like an unwelcome ghost for days. 

"And what happens then? When the friends you're always so worried about see you with me? How do you think they'll look at you then?" You try to manipulate some strength into your voice, but it still sounds too light, even to you. Nearly wavering. 

"They don't matter anymore. Not really. " He promises. The cradle of his hands becomes firmer in its press, sinking the warmth of his palms into your skin. "It's just you; it's always been you." 

You think that it shatters you and snaps your ire back into place all at once. Striking fire around the molten heat that had just begun to dim. But it doesn't manifest in the nature of more scathing words or a slap to his cheek. You just want him to shut up. To stop talking. Suddenly, your lips are on his, your fingers are threading through his hair as you guide him into a kiss that's all teeth and tongue; fueled by the fire and the suffering in your veins. 

A small, startled sound puffs from his chest. The only indication of his surprise before he's matching your passion with an ardor and need that leaves you just as bewildered and breathless; swept under as though a raging surf has crashed over your body. He nips at your mouth, biting at the tender flesh of your bottom lip like he means to draw blood. His nails scratch at your scalp, his fingers tensing like you might slip away otherwise and he's determined to keep you held against him while he nudges his body flush to yours. 

It quickly becomes a tangle of limbs as you both scramble to get closer, guided by the overwhelming sense of relief that smooths over you like a balm on a burn scar. The taste of him in your mouth seeming to soothe you and tear you apart all at once, but you can't find the strength to stop now that you've started. The mere idea of it seems like a damnation. Like hell incarnate. And now that he's here you can't help but to wonder how you've made it so long without him. You feel drunk on him. Intoxicated by the alcohol on your veins and the scent of him; the desire coiling in your belly like something molten and starved. 

You moan into him when he removes his hands from your face sweep them down the length of your body. Trailing them along your ribs and down to cup your ass, squeezing the shape of it as he hauls you up onto the counter and the edge of the sink so that he can wedge a place for himself between your thighs. It urges your legs to part, and you willingly let him settle between them, rucking your skirt up high on your hips as he presses against you. 

Fitting himself so close that there isn't any space left to separate your bodies. 

He already seems restless, his hips working on yours in slow, almost broken grinds. Like he's not even aware that he's doing it. Mindlessly seeking out friction while he breathes into you. It's like he's been starved, and now that he has something to feed that hunger, he's frantic and wanton. His fingers claw at you. Gripping so tightly that you know the skin beneath them is going to smart and sting later, but you almost welcome the pain. The reminder that it'll leave. 

You've been kissing for so long that it feels as though you're beginning to suffocate. The small gulps of air you've been snatching in between the nips of his teeth and the sweeps of his tongue aren't enough. There's a slight pinch in your lungs, screaming at you to pull away, but you wait only till the last second to do so. Only removing your mouth from his once you fear you could go lightheaded and faint. Still, you can't help but to mourn the loss when you break the kiss to come up for air, gasping softly to soothe the mild ache in your chest. 

Rafe's nose brushes against yours, nudging as though he's tempted to seek out your mouth again. But he grants you the mercy of occupying his own by scattering fervent kisses up the stretch of your neck, removing a hand from your hip to grip your hair instead. Using it as leverage to tug your head to the side to offer himself more of your flesh. 

It all feels so overwhelming. As though all of the nerves in your body have come alight and are burning, flaring like embers at the press of his body and the wet glide of his mouth. His tongue traces over you, lashing out to taste the salt on your skin. His lips close around the point on your neck that turns you soft, and just as easily as if he had pressed a button, your muscles seem to go taut and malleable all at once when he begins to suck. Slightly dragging his teeth over that spot, making your hips jerk against his. He's already hard. The weight of him pressing against your cunt. The motion tugs at the fabric of your underwear, and it could be embarrassing when you notice the arousal soaking the material, making it cling to your skin, but you're too deep in the want the licks up your flesh to truly care.  

He groans lowly in your ear, the noise drawing up deep and heavy from the depths of his chest. Spurred on from the restless drag of your hips as you begin to greedily chase after the bright heat that zips up your spine when you do. 

"Rafe." You moan, clinging to his shoulders like it might keep you from floating away. 

"I know, I know. I got you." He mumbles it on your skin, saying it between sharp bites of his teeth. His fingers flex again, like a physical period on the sentence. Then he's moving again. Shifting his focus down your chest to map out a string of kisses across your chest. Nipping at your collar bone and tracing his tongue over the hint of your breasts that peek from the low cut of your shirt.  Your head thumps back on the mirror as you arche towards him, seeking out the wet heat of his mouth when suddenly he pauses. His lips detach from your skin, just near enough that you can feel the light brush of them, but it's not firm enough to bring you any pleasure. 

Your eyebrows furrow close when he still doesn't move. You can't keep yourself from tilting your head down to glare at him with a frustrated scowl, lightly panting as you as you speak. "Wh - why did you stop?" 

He pulls back then, posture straightening just a bit to meet your eyes, and you can't keep the confusion off of your face when you feel something slip from between your breasts. But then a glint of gold passes into your vision, twinkling lowly in the warm light projecting over the bathroom. Dangling from his index finger and still hooked around your neck is a familiar chain. Thin and delicate, but it's the pendant that hangs from it that really captures your attention. 

Humiliation stings at your cheeks at the sight of his expression. All smug and too satisfied as he suspends the charm in front of your face, faintly swinging it back and forth like a taunt. Forcing you to confront the R and its significance; still safe and secure on your body despite everything. You can see his delight and pride glinting clearly in his eyes, and there's a comment on his tongue. 

"Don't," you warn. But despite your best efforts to sound firm, something soft bleeds around the fringes. It's playful but also sensitive. Reluctantly spirited despite all of the hurt. It dips over the heat that clouds over the atmosphere like the light fall of a delicate, scattered rain. It's frustrating how natural it feels. Like slipping into the comfort of your bed after a long day or falling back into the soothing relief that comes with giving into a bad habit. It's like a second nature. That should concern you. It should make worry and maybe even hate yourself a bit too, but the wave of self-loathing doesn't come. You can't seem to find a place for hatred when being so close to him is like coming home. 

"Don't what?" He asks cheekily. Finally, he drops the necklace. But he doesn't break eye contact as he leans forward to plant a kiss between your breasts over the obnoxious barrier of your shirt. You've never wanted to rip off a piece of fabric any more than you do now. It's almost as though he can read you mind once his hands slip beath your shirt, bunching the short, tight cut of it further up your ribs and past your breasts until its little more than a strip of gathered fabric. And then he's slipping it up around your torso and impatiently tugging it free from your arms, which you lift to aid him. Allowing him to toss it somewhere on the floor. You hear it land with a light thump, discarded and forgotten.

There's only the cover of your bra now keeping your chest from being on display, but his eyes zero in on it regardless. Eyeing the shape of your breasts as they heave against the lace clinging to them and the gold jewelry draped over your skin. That starved look is back again, melting with the smug glint in his eyes; gone dark from lust. 

"I've missed you so much." He speaks against you, speaking the words to your skin like it's a prayer. A declaration and plea for all at once. He drops to his knees then. The bottoms of his shoes lightly squeaking on the tiles as he shifts to trail the plush of his mouth down your stomach, pausing in his trail to swipe his tongue along the divot of your belly button. It makes your stomach twitch when he does it. Lurching at the liquid fire that it leaves in his wake. He playfully nips at the hem of your skirt, nosing at the button keeping it secure around your waist. "What about you, baby? Did you miss me?" 

He already knows the answer to that. You can tell by the way that his eyes fix on the pendant glinting just above the joining strip of your bra, between the cups of delicate fabric. But even with the traces of his ego still present, the desperation that was there before is still clear in the dark of his stare. He looks so vulnerable then, with his head cradled between your thighs, staring up at you like a sinner seeking absolution. You know that he's always craved to be wanted. To be needed and seen. 

You could easily tear him down right now, in the exposed state he's in. To exact the revenge that you had wanted so badly. To finally get ahold of the retribution that has haunted you for many sleepless nights. But the desire to truly do so doesn't come. The sting of anger that ravaged you before has dimmed into a weak ember, set to go dark and cold. 

Instead of lashing out, as though it has a mind of its own one your hands reach down to smooth over the side of his face. Your fingers glide over his skin and cup around the shape of his ear. His eye lashes nearly flutter when he leans into the warmth of your palm, seeking out the press of it like he needs it to survive. 

"Yeah, I missed you," you admit. You swear that he shifts closer to you at the confession. Such a minute movement that you might not have noticed it had your attentions not been so heavily fixed on him. There are the traces of a smile on his lips. But it isn't smug like before. It seems like one of relief this time. Happy and at peace. Like a sentence so small as brought him a kind of solace. 

"Yeah?" He presses a soft kiss onto your upper thigh then, holding his mouth there while a puff of what could be a breath of laughter, or a sigh of elation leaves him. "Let me show you. Can I show you?" 

The fervent pitch of his voice is loud in your ears, your dazed mind sluggishly making sense of his rushed beg. But once it connects, you don't take long to respond. Your head nods quickly in agreement, a jumbled string of yeses pouring from you in a steady stream. Anticipation thrums thick in throughout your body, smoldering and intoxicating as it winds through your veins. You've hardly done anything with him, and you already feel drunk. Like your head has been packed full of stuffing and fumes. You feel like a live wire. Running hot and searing; waiting to light up in a barrage of sparks. 

You swear you could already tip over the edge when he shoves his face between the apex of your thighs, laving his tongue over the clothed heat of your cunt without any warning. Licking you through your underwear. It all but crushes a strangled gasp from you and your hands fly to the edge of the counter to support yourself as your body curls in on itself. Doubling over from the zip of pleasure that skirts through you like the wild crack of a lightning rod. 

"You're already soaked," he groans. The vibrations of his voice doubling with the drag of his tongue and making your hips mindlessly grind into the warmth of his mouth. It feels so good, and yet it somehow isn't enough. The barrier of your underwear makes the swipe of his lips and tongue too dull. A faint comparison of what it could be. Of how good you know it really feels. 

"Ray, take 'em off." You beg, arching as he grinds the point of his nose against your clit. 

The look in his eyes is impish as he watches you from his place between your legs. The look of it is always a sign of trouble from him. Especially in situations like this, where he can easily exercise control over you by keeping you malleable and desperate on the caress of his fingers or the glide of his tongue. He'll keep you dangling on that edge for hours if you let him. Pushing and pulling you like the sway of the tide. Working you up to the precipice of something debilitating only to drop you back from it, until your pleasure ebbs away into a dull, frustrating ache. And he'll do it over and over again until your moans meld into the beginnings of a sob. But you can't do that. Not now, at least, with a hunger and want that feels like it could tear you apart by twisting inside of you. 

"Please, don't tease tonight." You pant, still mindlessly chasing after what little pleasure he gives with the roll of your hips. "Not now, Rafe. I can't-" 

"I won't. I promise," he says, placating you with kisses along your underwear, sucking at the delicate skin at the joining of your hip and thigh. "I'll play nice, hm?" 

It's only then that he's tugging your underwear off. Ripping it from you so suddenly that it would have uprooted you from your place if you hadn't already been clinging to the edge of the counter. You can hear the sharp cry of fabric giving a little as he slips it free from your legs. But you don't have time to mourn or admonish him for the loss because you're pretty sure that he pockets it, taking if for himself like the pervert he is. It wouldn't be the first pair that he's snagged from you. His probably has more of your panties than you do at this point. 

He uses his shoulders to shove your thighs far apart, using his hands to lift and drape your legs over his back as he lurches forward, smothering himself in your bare cunt. He groans into you, dropping his mouth open to swipe his tongue, lapping at you like a man starved. 

A loud, startled moan rips free from your lungs and you only have half the mind to swallow it down, making it trail off in a strangled noise. You can still hear the party living on just outside the thin barrier of the door. The music and chatter from beyond it trickling past in a muffled hush. From deep in the living room there would be no possible way for them to know what's happening, but if someone was to walk past the bathroom it would be more than apparent as to what the both of you are doing inside. 

 Rafe isn't having it. He lands a soft smack on the outside of your leg, mostly just to catch your attention, but the subtle sting of it makes you gasp regardless. It forces you to return you focus to him, looking down at him as he watches you with eyes that seemed glazed and almost drunk. He just barely pulls back, his lips still sweeping over you while his tongue brushes over your clit in soft licks as he talks in a slurred sort of tone: "Don't hold yourself back like that. Let them hear you. I want them to." His voice dies down then, falling into an almost crazed murmur in between the drag of his mouth. But you are certain that you can make out scraps of what he's saying in between the messy, wet sounds coming from your pussy and the pants of breath rising from his lungs. Something along the lines of "especially him - I'll kill him." 

Regardless of who he's referring to (even though your addled brain slowly gathers that it's more than likely Thatcher), it should concern you. The threat that easily slips from him as though he's proposing something as simple as taking a joy ride around the island or making a remark about an annoying coworker. It's supposed to be disturbing, especially when you know that violence comes easily to him. Sometimes as simple as breathing. As though it's engraved in his DNA, part of his genetic coding. 

You know deep down, in the pit of your soul that the remark isn't one to simply pass off. It isn't just a product of his mood or a fleeting result jealousy; it could very well be a promise. He's always been protective over what he deems as his. If anything poses a threat to his happiness or comfort, he's quick to lash out. He doesn't shy away from the possibility of violence, bloodied knuckles or busted noses and broken wrists. 

You had seen the way that he had looked at Thatcher earlier. Like a guard dog staring down a potential intruder through the bars of a fence, eyes wild and locked on. You hate to admit that you liked it a little then too. The glimmer of satisfaction that had zipped through you then had been so easy to ignore underneath all of your confusion and frustration, but here and now, with his head buried between your thighs and his fingers tensing around your skin, it's impossible to disregard. 

His jealousy had been clear as day underneath the warm hue of the kitchen light. Naked for the world to see. Thatcher had to have noticed it then. He would have to be an idiot not to. Rafe came here to find you, trailing after you through the crowd of Pogue's and locals just so that he could speak to you. His reasons for showing up to this party in the middle of nowhere was obvious to everyone, and it pleases some twisted little part of you to know that gossip must already be circulating around the rooms just outside. Whispers about you and the prince of Kildare Island himself that would quickly spread beyond these very walls and make their way to town to be scattered amongst the population. To the two-faced old women of the church on Driftwood Parkway and all the way down to the rich men in khaki's as they cruise across the green in their golf carts. 

Just about everyone on this island would know about you and him by the time that the sun sets tomorrow over the waves and douses Kildare in the dark. Just the prospect of it nearly pleases you as much as the glide of his tongue splitting you open does. Dipping inside the entrance of your cunt like he means to drink your soul from you. The combination of it all threatens to make you double over again, and to keep yourself from writhing off the counter you thread your fingers into his hair. Using the grip of it to grind your hips against his nose and the heat of his mouth. Your head knocks back on the mirror with a dull thump as a cry shakes itself free from your ribs, pitching and ragged. 

"Rafe - oh fuck. God." 

"Mmm, nah, not God - it's just me." Comes his response. It's so cliché and corny that you would have rolled your eyes and scoffed at him were you not too busy trying to gulp down oxygen in between your labored breaths. All you can do is manage an exasperated, playful frown in response, but you can see amusement flicker in his own gaze at the sight of it. 

His apparent delight is enough for you to scramble enough air together to form a sentence, but it comes out winded; slow and choppy around the edges while you force it out. "You're so lame, Ray." 

"Well, you're stuck with me. Now don't interrupt me." Then he's taking your clit into the cradle of his tongue and sucking. Laving it with small licks that turn your thoughts slow and syrupy. You hardly notice that he's pressing a finger against you, gathering the slick of your cum before slipping it inside, stretching your walls around the thickness of it; so much longer and wider than your own. It has your jaw dropping at the added pleasure and your hips twist up when he trusts it in deep. Finding that depilating spot that leaves you a mess with a practiced precision, reaching it so easily, just as he's done countless times before. 

He chases after the jerk of your hips. Keeping his mouth fixed to you while he hurtles you closer to drowning in bliss. The influence of your approaching orgasm starts to crest with a speed that's dizzying, and you feel as though you hardly have any time to brace for it. It has your free hand scrambling across the stretch of the counter, blindly seeking for something else to hold on to, but all you succeed in doing is knocking down a bottle of mouthwash, sending it toppling over the edge to clatter on the floor below. 

You can feel it fizzling at your fingertips and toes. Skirting down your spine like a zip of electricity, like a drizzle of scorching honey. Your body is drawing up tight. The muscles in your abdomen already seizing to mangle the pleasure from your body. 

"Ray-Rafe, I'm gonna cum. You're gonna make me cum." 

He doesn't bother coming up for air. Instead, his free hand slips up your thigh and reaches for your own. For the same one that had been mindlessly clawing for something to reach onto, and it makes your heart ache a little bit when he takes it in his own. Threading his fingers with yours for you to squeeze. It's a gesture that's far too sweet for a person who's currently eating you out in someone else's bathroom, but the pressure of his palm on you, the chill of his ring on your warm skin, the intimacy behind it, is enough to throw you headfirst into the throes of an orgasm. 

You moan his name when you cum. Repeating it over and over again like a mantra that might save you as your bliss rips through you. But it's the support of his hair threaded through your fingers and the weight of his hand held in your own that serves to keep you grounded while you coast through the flood of warm and pleasure. It ebbs away slowly. Slipping from your body like melted sugar being poured down the drain and stubbornly catching in place. But it doesn't stop. It stretches out in front of you and begins to shift into something tainted by licks of fire and shocks of electricity. 

It's too much. Blending between the lines of pleasure and pain. You need to catch your breath. To properly orient yourself but Rafe hasn't removed his mouth or his fingers from you. It's like your nerves have been lit on fire and it only heightens when he slips a finger in along the next, curling them together to stretch you out around them. 

"Rafe, I can't." You nearly sob, your back impulsively bows and twists to try and shuffle your hips out from underneath the constant swipe his tongue but he stubbornly keeps himself in place. 

He parts his lips from you only long enough to speak out a harsh reply, his voice firm and rigid while he pins you with a stare that's equally unwavering. "You can and you will. You've done it before; just ride it out and take it, baby." 

And then he's on you again. Smearing your pussy open with his mouth, which suddenly feels too hot. It's a sweet sort of torture. One that you've never fully gotten used to, as much as you like it. It's like grasping onto a pop of lightning; searing underneath your flesh and ravaging you from the inside out. He's gone down on you for hours before, spurred on by the stresses brought on by his family and the weight of the world on his shoulders. It's a sort of stress relief for him, in some way. He gets a kind of peace out of it. From keeping you underneath his mouth and working orgasm after orgasm out of you until you're a wet, incoherent mess. Even while you benefit from it, it's more than apparent that it's mostly for his pleasure. 

A set of your favorite silk sheets had been ruined because of it. Nothing that a cycle in the one of the trailer park's community wash machines hadn't taken care of, but the point still stands. He had kept you there for hours, pinned down on your bed while he used your body, wringing it of its pleasure and getting drunk on the taste. You had lost count of how many orgasms he had pulled from you after the third one. You can only hope that he isn't that starved for it tonight. You don't think that you'll survive it. Not here at least, while you're held up in Thatcher's bathroom. 

But it seems that a small mercy has been bestowed upon you with how another coil of bliss begins to wind up tight, closely trailing after the influence of your previous orgasm. It's running up on you so much quicker than the first. Zipping through your body at a breakneck pace, spurred on by the curl of his fingers, and strengthened by the traces of ecstasy that still flood your system. 

The movement of his fingers flexing and stroking inside of your send little shocks of static zipping inside of you. Still bordering on something almost painful, but it only serves to tip you that much closer to the precipice. Promising to toss you over the edge as he lightly shakes his head while he drinks down your arousal. 

You gasp as you look down, taking in the sight of him through the rapture turning your mind into mush. He looks blissed out, eyes slipped closed and the worried pinch between his eyebrows has smoothed out. The traces of your cum has smeared across his nose and the corners of his cheeks, glinting softly in the light. He seems just as intoxicated it as you. Soothed by the taste of your cunt and the scent of sex in the air. It's filthy. 

You hardly register being swept under by your pleasure, but it tugs you down ruthlessly. Seeming to snatch you by the throat and leave you breathless as you twitch and jerk beneath his mouth, and you're hardly able to hear his words of encouragement as he thrusts his fingers deeper to help ease you through the thick of it. "There you go. Just ride it out and give it to me." 

Your body bends the command like its gospel; hips twitching to the rhythm that his fingers have set to further chase after the dull flickers of heat biting at you at you and sinking in the base of your spine. It turns your blood into something molten, and your muscles go pliant like melted wax, leaving you to sag against the mirror like dead weight; the sink presses almost painfully into your back but you're too spent to shuffle from it. He lets up only once a sharp hiss escapes you, slipping past your teeth in a thin sigh. He's careful when he removes his fingers free from you, shuffling up from his kneeled position on the floor to stand on his feet. His drags his tongue over his fingers as he does so, cleaning the taste of you off of them as he watches you with an intense stare, releasing them from his mouth with a pop that seems to ring out across the close walls of the bathroom. 

He crowds into your space suddenly, his body now flush with yours. His chest heaving as though he had just run a marathon. "You did so good, always such a good girl for me." He murmurs as he places a kiss to your forehead, undeterred by the perspiration that dampens your skin. It's another soft moment between you both. Like an echo of all the ones just like it from the past, hidden under the guise of an odd camaraderie, always dancing around the emotions that truly lied beneath. This feels so much more natural than that. No longer self-conscious or restrained. 

It makes everything seem light and airy. Probably a side effect of the dopamine now rushing through your veins and the remaining traces of alcohol, but there's no mistaking the soft look in his eyes. The peaceful expression on his face, now free of the clear agitation that had drawn his body tight just earlier. It has you reaching out for him. Smoothing your hands up his arms, feeling the texture of his shirt as they trail up his shoulders - a dark black shade. One of your favorite colors on him. Something that you had casually shared with him once, and it makes you smile to think that he had purposely worn it to come and see you. 

Your fingers thread through the hair at the nape of his neck, carefully scratching your nails along the sensitive skin there. It feels like a reward when a pleased sigh puffs from his chest, and he props his forehead against yours to stare into your eyes. His own hands come up to trail over your bare thighs, messaging the flesh there as he runs them up and down their length, prompting you to lift them to wrap around his waist. Tugging him closer despite the slight tremor running through your relaxed muscles. 

You feel almost impossibly close to him now. As though a pocket has been carved in time and made for the both of you; intimate and private. Even with the dim chatter of the party and the dull hum of music drifting through the flimsy door, and the possibility of people standing just outside, listening in to gawk and recount what they've heard and seen. The Kook prince himself is fucking a Pogue. You'll no doubt get looks once you finally leave this little space. Some will be curious and shocked; others will probably be out of disgust and maybe even horror. But that seems so trivial right now. None of it has a place in this moment. It's secondary. And you can't be bothered to give it any attention while he watches you as though you've created the heavens themselves, the same ones that glimmer and wink above this very island. The striking blue of his eyes seeming to burn with something that seems a lot like admiration. 

"Hi," you breathe. It sounds a little corny. Kind of dumb, even to you, once you fully register what you've said, but it's all that seems fitting. It's like you're meeting him all over again, as dramatic as that may be. Like you're seeing him for the first time. You can only hope that it isn't just from the high of sex - that it won't all wear off and vanish as soon as you both leave this room and face reality. 

"Hey, pretty girl." He returns with a smile of his own. It urges you to lean that much closer to him, drawing your legs up tighter around him to seek out his natural warmth. He complies easily, allowing you to press him flush to you, almost molding your bodies together. It soothes the wounded ache in you that still lies beneath the surface of it all, stinging lowly under the haze of bliss and pleasure. The warmth of him and the pressure of his body smoothing over the hurt like a compress. 

But the press of him against your inner thigh draws everything to a hush, hot and heavy under the material of his pants. It shouldn't be possible, but the subtle weight of it against you has another flicker of lust lashing between your hips. Smoldering and heating up like a handful of embers. And suddenly the scent of him filling the air is tempting, all dark musk and cardamom. It's mouthwatering, settling deep in your lungs with every drag of your breath. 

It's almost instinctual when you slip one of your hands free from the back of his neck to glide it between the press of your bodies, playful trailing your fingers down and past the stretch of his abdomen until you're able to cup him through the material of his pants. A groan rumbles out from his chest, deep and drawn out before bleeding into a low, almost strained "fuck." 

"Still need you, Rafe." You brush your lips over his, gathering the traces of your arousal that's smeared on his mouth onto your own like a vulgar sort of gloss.

"Yeah, shit, okay," he agrees. He nods frantically in agreement, pulling himself back from you just enough to give you the space to start undoing his pants, but your fingers slip on the button, slightly slick from the sweat on your skin and uncoordinated from the zeal of your excitement. Rafe isn't patient enough for you to make a second attempt it seems, restlessly batting your hands away with a somewhat snappy, "Jesus, just let me do it," huffing from him as he reaches to slip the button through the puncture in the material. 

The urge to snap at him rises up, but it's snuffed out just as quickly when the sharp metallic sound of the zipper being tugged down its teeth cuts across the heavy air. It all happens in quick succession after that. He tugs his pants down just enough to free the length of his cock. He doesn't give you the ability to admire him, because he's tugging you forward by your thighs, parting the sliver of space between your bodies to drag the head against the slick entrance of your cunt, still wet and messy from the mixture of your cum and his spit. 

He tilts his face to be able to speak against your lips, gazing into your eyes with a determination and fervency that seems to cut through you, holding your attention hostage even as one of his hands comes up to grip the nape of your neck. All but pinning you in place.

"I want you to scream for me. Don't you dare fucking hold back." 

That's all the warning you get before he's shoving himself inside of you with a single thrust. Burying himself all the way to the hilt, forcing your walls to give and stretch around his girth. Even with the aid of your previous orgasms making you pliant and soaked, there's still a dull ache that zips through you as your cunt clenches around the shape of him. The force of him inside of you all but strikes the air from your lungs, and it leaves your hands to scramble across his shoulders, your fingers gripping and clawing at the fabric of his shirt to ground yourself. 

He doesn't waste any time by starting in a slow pace to gradually work up to something greater. He's moving fast and hard from the very start. Thrusting himself in and out of you like he's desperate. All but punching himself into you with enough force to rattle your head back on the glass of the mirror, and with how many times you've knocked against it tonight, you have to send a fleeting prayer up to the universe that it won't shatter and break. 

It's like he's trying to make up for lost time. Like he's trying to drill all of his frustrations into you; all of his pent-up anger, humiliation and regret; to make you feel what he's feeling. Or maybe he's just trying to prove a point. To himself, to you, and all of the people outside. That you're his. It leaves you clinging onto him. Holding on while he drives himself into you with a passion that's almost brutal. You can practically feel yourself going stupid. Going pliant and dumb on his cock at it drags through you, gliding against your walls in a way that makes you feel all of him, every little detail. Every single inch is heightened by the veins that run down his length, starting from the base to trail down near the head. He used to go crazy whenever you would glide your tongue over them, throwing his head back and moaning with the sound of your name or a curse under his breath. 

You almost wish that you could have him in your mouth right now. To see him break underneath something as simple as your tongue and the heat of your mouth, but you think that you could die if he pulled out of you. It would be a horrendous sort of torture. Worse than death. 

"God, you're such a fucking slut, hm?" He almost croons it. Mean and condescending as he grips your cheeks to get you to look at him. Making you get lost in the flecks of cerulean and hints of gray that's nearly become swallowed by the width of his pupils. "Letting me fuck you like this, in some Pogue's bathroom while everyone stands outside. They're probably listening right now; you know that, right? Standing outside while they listen to you moan like a whore." 

It's downright degrading how he's speaking to you. It should hurt you to some degree, or make you irritated at the very least, but all it does is make you clench around him harder. Your pussy seizing up around his length like it's trying to suck him inside to keep him there. And he feels it too. You know he does based on the nasty smile that breaks across his face; teeth baring in what almost looks like a snarl. All arrogant and mean. 

"Yeah, that's right. Not even gonna deny it, are you?" He uses the hand still secure around you jaw to shake your head for you as though you're a doll. Using how malleable you've been reduced to for his own benefit. "That's right. Cause you're mine. " 

You find yourself nodding out of your own volition then, drawing up enough focus to will yourself in moving your head around the grip of his hand to agree. You can tell that it pleases him. His expression is one of pure, arrogant delight, and you know that he'll be riding the high of having you dumb, and cock drunk like this for days. His ego always manages to find a way to inflate whenever he succeeds in turning your brain into liquid and mush; until you're practically mindless and stupid. It used to have him striding around you trailer with a satisfied glint in his eyes. The traces of a smug smirk on the edge of his lips as he'd rummage through your fridge for leftovers or dig through your cabinets for a snack before he'd leave (unsurprisingly, Kildare's most spoiled rich boy can't cook worth a shit - he's burnt eggs black before and left your trailer tinged with smoke that took a good two days to get aired out). 

But you can't find it in yourself to be exasperated or annoyed with him while you're too occupied surviving the white-hot heat shooting throughout your body, drizzling down your spine like a vat of liquid sugar to settle between the cradle of your hips. It's too much. It's like being torn to pieces but in the most delicious way possible; you don't want it to stop. You want to stay here, suspended in this moment with the scent of sex and the musk of his cologne staining the air. With the warmth of his body seeping deep into your bones while he uses you for his pleasure while throwing you headfirst into your own; the sound of his name repetitively falling from your lips. 

So it's completely cruel that he suddenly pulls out of you, leaving you torturously empty and on the edge of something cataclysmic. A confused, annoyed look crosses your face, and a complaint rises to the tip of your tongue as you openly scowl at him. Though you don't get the opportunity to voice it. 

"Turn around. " He commands impatiently, but he doesn't even give you the chance to try and shuffle free from your perch on the counter. It's all an abrupt rushing blur when he tugs you from your spot and forces you onto your feet. His hands settle on your waist, fingers greedily gripping the shape of them as he spins around you on your heels and bends you over with the firm press of his hand. A gasp rattles from your ribs as he pins you on the sink, leaving you exposed to the gluttonous sweep of his eyes. 

Then he's kicking your legs apart, spreading you open to bare you to him and without any warning he's slipping himself back inside in a single, long thrust. It has your jaw dropping open, your lashes fluttering at the sensation of it ripping through you, all liquid and smoke. Now that he has you facing the mirror, it gives you no other option but to watch you both as he begins fucking you again. It's like a magnet to metal, the way that your vision flickers up to him. Seeking out the sight of him as he works you closer to that debilitating end.

Not even the way that the harsh edge of the counter digs into the bend in your hips is enough to distract you from it. The pinch of it fading into a dull ache. He looks beautiful like this. Even as he does something as vulgar as watching the sight of his cock ceaselessly plunging into you. It's as though he's hypnotized by it, his own focus fastened to where the two of your bodies join. Where the smack of your skin meeting his sounds out from; the wet slap of him thrusting in and out of your pussy. 

There's a blush on his cheeks, and a sheen of sweat glinting softly on his skin like a dusting of pale gold. It almost makes him look angelic. That should be impossible for someone as frantic and violent as Rafe, but there's no denying that there's something gorgeous about him, as volatile and unpredictable as he can be. The sounds falling from past the parted shape of his lips are beautiful. His moans and the almost drunken cursing and rambling douse your nerves with heat and rapture every time he speaks; slurred and low like he's falling apart in the best way possible. 

It took you forever to convince him that it's okay to vocal in bed. That the sound of him groaning is a turn on. For the longest time he thought it was a joke, like you were trying to trick him into embarrassing himself. Some odd form of toxic masculinity, you think. But you had finally succeeded in getting him to be comfortable with it, after what must add up to days of convincing him and getting him to moan in bed, he finally gave in. And now it's almost impossible to get him to shut up - not that you would ever dare such a thing. You wouldn't dream of depraving yourself of it now that you have it. 

He finally looks up from between your bodies, and you don't miss the way that his eyes nearly roll in the back of his skull, lashes fluttering. He meets your stare in the reflection of the mirror, and that mean smile makes its way on his face again. But it's gone nearly just as quickly as it had appeared. His mouth drops open in a deep groan when your cunt clenches tight around his girth, a crease pinching between his eyebrows to make an expression that almost looks pained. 

He leans over you then, hooking his chin over your shoulder to nuzzle his nose against your head to speak into your ear, not breaking eye contact with you even for a split second. "You're not allowed to leave me again. You can't this away from me. You're not gonna take yourself away - not again." 

It's structured like a command. Or manic ravings. Regardless, it would enough to send anyone else running the other way and ducking for cover. Someone with common sense, maybe. But the tone of his voice is so desperate. Fragile and a little distraught. Like the very thought of you slipping from him could send him into a spiral. It has so many different things rising up inside of you: a sick type of satisfaction. The hurt in you pleased to see him in just as much pain. To know that you're not the only one who's been scarred. But there's the urge to soothe him as well. To cradle the parts of him that have been broken and kicked - by the world, his family. To nurse the wounds that have been left on him. They all gave up on him, but you don't think that you can. 

It has you tilting your head back to give him access to your neck, and like a moth to a flame he immediately dips his face to tuck it into the junction of your shoulder. Nipping at the skin with his teeth and breathing in your scent like it's a drug. One of your hands lets go of the iron clad grip it has on the edge of the counter to clutch at his hair, threading through the thick of it and grazing your nails close to the nape of his neck. 

It draws his attention back on you, making him tilt his head just enough to meet your eyes again in the reflection, pinning you with a stare that seems to communicate so much. It's a silent plea and a devout order all at once. A beg that you won't slip away from him. 

"Just as long as you don't leave me first," you answer. Your voice is full of conviction, even as it wavers just the slightest. The sound of it weakened by the breathlessness in your lungs and the brutal pace that he's managed to maintain; still thrusting himself into you as though he needs it to survive.

He speaks into your skin then, answering you in a low mutter. Nearly a whisper: "I won't. I won't, I promise." 

One of his hands shoves your hips down flat on the counter. It slips your hand from his hair and forces your spine to curve into a more pronounced arch that somehow makes him feel deeper than before. Hitting that spot inside of you with every single stroke. Forcing a gasp of air from your chest every time his hips meet yours, making your toes curl in your shoes. The position that he's tiled your spine into almost stings. The ache of it licking up your back but can't find it in yourself to complain. Or even really care. Not with the way that it's rendering you completely mindless. Seeming to knock a thought from your head with each grind and thrust. 

One of your hands flies up to the sink. Your fingers claw and grasp around the shape of it, clenching around the cool steel like it's a lifeline, but it does little to offer any semblance of support to guide you through the high that's beginning to overwhelm you. It bleeds along your toes and sears up your fingertips and up your spine like a current. It has your body going slack, muscles falling weak. It's almost as though you've been tazed when your head drops against the counter. The weight of it suddenly too much for your neck to hold up. 

It's like everything's been plucked free from your skull. Leaving it an empty pocket, a vacant space that only Rafe occupies. You can't focus on much more than that now. You're lost in the pleasure lighting you up from the inside out and eating you alive. It's only the vague details that you're still able to register. Like the smear of your arousal slipping down your thighs, pushed out of you each time he pulls out to fill you up again; the sting of the counter's lip digging into your hips; the smack of his balls hitting your clit with every stroke, sending sparks around your cunt, making it clench and pulse around his length. You think that you might be drooling, but you aren't entirely sure; saliva slipping past your lips as your mouth hangs open.

You can hear yourself moaning over the rush of blood roaring in your ears. Breathless, pitchy moans rising in the humid air each time he pumps into you, rolling his hips in a way that's almost mean. The zeal behind every movement would have the crown of your head knocking into the sliver of wall beneath the mirror if it wasn't the secure grip he has on your waist, keeping you held in his grip so that he can control your movements. Practically using your own weight and pliancy to fuck you back onto his cock. 

You try meeting his thrusts on your own, but his hold on you is rigid, and the rhythm he moves in is punishing. At this point he's just using you, and simultaneously using himself to get you off like it's his job. 

"You're so tight," he groans. You can't see his face, not with the side of your own pressed to the counter and your eyes squeezed shut, but you can hear the smug edge in his tone. He's absolutely thrilled with the state he's reduced you to for the second - third time this night. "You're squeezing me, baby. Gonna kill me if you keep doin' that." 

But he quickly contradicts his statement, gripping onto your hair to pull up and off of the counter. Just enough so that he's able to slip his other one past your hips and the fabric of your skirt to glide his fingers around your soaked cunt, just above where he thrusts into you. Gathering your cum on his fingers, and then his slipping them up to circle around your clit. 

You would have doubled over if it wasn't for the hold he has on your hair, keeping you held in place. A flare of pain bites across your scalp, but it's a shadow in comparison to the ecstasy flooding your system. It might be dramatic, but a small part of your brain wonders if you'll survive the onslaught of it all once it finally slams over you. It's hurtling towards you again. A rising tide that's set to drown you and hold you down. It flares underneath your skin, skirting across your nerves and leaving traces of heat behind. 

It has your body winding up tight again. The muscle connecting you and holding you together seizing up in preparation to wring you dry of every ounce of pleasure, and Rafe is determined to get you there. Working himself inside of you in a way that has your eyes threatening to roll back, his fingers sweeping tight figure eights over your clit, making your abdomen draw up harshly. 

"Shit, Rafe - my God." 

"I feel you about to cum again. I know you're close. " He says it in your ear, slipping his hand from around your ear to grip your throat, using the leverage to tip you back towards his chest. His nose nudges along your cheek and you can feel the brush of his lips glide over the edge of your jaw. "Just let go. You know you want to. I want you to cum on it. Give it to Daddy, baby; let me feel you, pretty girl." 

It's like your body was waiting for his permission, and now that it has it, it's caving in and sweeping you under. Time seems to blank out as a field of stars bursts across your vision. All of it flattening and smearing into a distorted blur with your sense of sound dimming into something dull and muffled. The only distinguishable noise is the roar of your heart thundering in your ears like a warped drum. It makes you lost, muscles lax and completely reliant on him to keep you upright. 

It probably only takes seconds for you to come back to yourself, but deep in the throes of it, it feels like years have passed. As though you've been frozen in place and dipped in hot wax and electricity. It bursts in your bones and the pit of your stomach, making your body tremble with aftershocks as it struggles to ride out the waves of bliss ravaging through you. 

It takes a minute for your brain to orient itself. For you to become aware of your limbs and the support underneath you, the drag of Rafe's cock still splitting you open. It's beginning to border on too much again. The pleasure is leaning on too sharp and bright, making you hiss under your breath. But Rafe is close. You can hear it in the groans spilling from him. You can feel it in the glide of his hips. The once hard, smooth rhythm faltering into something broken. 

"Where do you want it?" He gasps in between raged pants. A glimpse in the mirror lets you see his face and the grimace taking up his expression. Like he can hardly stand the pleasure overtaking him - like it's tugging him apart at the seams and might not leave anything of him left behind. His grip is harsh on the length of your neck. His other fingers squeezing tight on your hip. Hard enough that it's going to smart the skin underneath, and it's with a shaky sense of strength that you manage to lift a hand up to slip over his hold on your hip. Your fingers threading alongside his. 

You feel as though you can hardly breath, forcing your lungs to expand and pull in oxygen. Trying to give yourself enough air to form a sentence, and you just barely manage to do that. You practically have to force it out of your throat. "Inside. I'm still on the pill-" 

That's all you get to say before he's doubling over you with a long groan. Driving himself into you a few more final, sloppy thrusts. They're sharp and heavy from the force behind them as he tries to work out every possible scrap of pleasure, a rush of heat spreading throughout you as he cums inside - thrusting his hips into yours one last time and holding himself there. Making you take every possible drop. 

That's how the two of you stay. Pressed against each other and floating in your own euphoria as the high in your vein's flows and ebbs through your limbs and fills your head with an empty kind of euphoria. You can feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back, syncing with your own as you try to level out your breathing. You aren't sure how long you stay that way, with Rafe draped along your back just barely holding himself up with your joined hands now splayed out on the counter. The thumb around your throat idly sweeps along your pulse point, tracing over your skin like he means to count the racing of your heart. 

It all feels thick and syrupy. As though your limbs have been left to soak in a pool of warm water. As pleasant as it is and as hesitant as you are to move, the weight of him simultaneously sagging against you and keeping you held up is straining on your spine and shoulders. The desire to shift from your position is dull, but the ache in your body demands otherwise. You lightly nudge him in the ribs with your elbow, reluctantly mumbling for him to move. To which he complies with a quick, alright, alright, I got it, huffed out, but it lacks any real bite as he detaches himself from you. 

It makes you uncomfortably aware of the sheen of sweat that clings to your skin, and when he finally pulls out of you it's even worse. You both groan from overstimulation when he removes himself from you to tuck his cock back into his pants, the metallic cry of the zipper ringing off of the bathroom walls. You can feel his cum trickling down your thighs, smearing across your skin and beginning to cool. 

Now that the high of it is wearing off, you just feel gross. It has you turning on your heels to face him, the bottoms of your shoes squeaking on the floor as you pivot to lean your back against the counter with an exhausted sigh. You let your head thud back against the mirror again, but you can't find it in yourself to care this time. Not while you can barely hold yourself upright; the buzz of sex still pleasant and clinging in your body. 

You hadn't even realized that you've closed your eyes until a sharp clatter has them opening. Your head also turns on its own, leaning to glance over to your right where Rafe stands alongside you, rummaging through a narrow set of cabinets fixed between the sink and the bathroom door, carelessly glancing around the folded piles of towels and wash cloths. 

Your eyebrows furrow as you watch him while your sluggish brain connects the dots. As soon as you come to the realization, you can feel the opposition on the tip of your tongue - ready to say no. To tell him that you can just wad up a pile of toilet paper instead, but he's already plucking a towel up from one of the shelves and gently nudging past you to run the tap, the knob quietly squeaking as he twists it on. 

You don't hide your exasperated look when he shuffles away from your side to stand in front of you, reaching to spread your thighs open. You hiss when he runs the damp cloth over you, cleaning up the mess you both made with the aid of the warm water he's soaked the fuzzy material in. You appreciate the gesture, but you still don't think that he had to ruin someone else's towel to do it. 

"Really?" You ask, tilting your head as you watch him. 

His eyebrows perk up just the slightest when he meets your unamused stare, but he doesn't seem to be troubled by it in the slightest. Once he's finished, he tosses the soiled cloth across the room and into the bathtub without so's much as a glance.

"What? We already fucked in the bathroom; I don't think a towel is going to do that much more damage." He just shrugs, unbothered and nonchalant as he answers. Then that amused, smug smile is on his face again as he casts a look towards the door. "Unless you wanna walk out of here with my cum pouring out of you. I won't complain." 

You can't help but to roll your eyes at him while you reach down to tug your skirt from where it had rucked up, smoothing it back down to cling over your thighs, but the expression seems much more playful and relaxed than it should probably be. His usual brand of douchie, cocky sarcasm is already making a comeback now that the tension has left him. It should annoy you, probably, but it soothes you more than anything. It's a comfort, as odd as it may be, to see him gradually resorting back to himself. Arrogant, and a little obnoxious, but in a way that you find entirely endearing. 

He notices the traces of the smile on your face. You can tell by the way that his own goes from gloating to a little soft. The tenderness of it reflecting in his eyes as he closes the space between you to settle himself close. His lips are on yours then, drawing you into a kiss that's so much slower than the first. The desperation and the anger between you both having settled and died out like a fire. Now there's nothing left but ease and a relaxing calm. It makes it unhurried and languid as he leads your lips to move against his. 

It doesn't last for long though, eventually breaking off for you to come up for air. His eyes are still a little glazed over when you meet them. Dopey from the high of sex, and knowing him, a line or two. He seems so far off from the nervous wreck that he usually is. Free from the aggression and arrogance that usually taints everything he does. 

But he's soft with you. Gentle when he wants to be - gentle with you. Only you. And it's going to stay that way if you have anything to say about it. 

"Don't ever pull that shit again, Ray." You warn, dipping your voice into something stern despite the affection blossoming in the pit of your chest. " I swear I'll castrate you if you do." 

Something like a snicker puffs past his lips, like he finds the prospect entertaining. Or maybe he just likes you being possessive over him. It's probably that. Regardless, he leans closer to you, pulling you closer by your waist and stroking his hands down your hips. "Yes, ma'am, I'll keep that in mind." 

You don't get to respond to him. A knock rattles against the door, slow and light enough that it nearly sounds hesitant. Still it causes you to flinch a little, nearly jerking you out from underneath Rafe's hands but he maintains his grip on you, assisted by the way that the counter keeps you blocked in place. 

"Hey, uh, I'm not trying to . . . interrupt anything, but you've been in there for a minute, so I just wanted to check and make sure that you're alright." The voice that bleeds past the barrier of the old wood is muffled from the thick of it, but just loud enough that you're able to recognize it as Thatcher's. Embarrassment floods you at the realization. Especially when you briefly think back on your old statement you had promised to him just before leading Rafe out of the kitchen. It'll only be a few minutes. That's what you had told him then. It's definitely been longer than that. Probably closer to thirty - if not longer. 

You let your forehead thump against Rafe's chest, a low, defeated sigh leaving you as you consider what to say next. An apology would probably be in your best interest. Just to be polite, for what little it's worth, considering that you and Rafe have all but defiled his bathroom. It makes you wonder how you're even going to be able to walk out of here without cringing underneath the weight of everyone's intrigued - if not disgusted - stares. 

"I just made her cum three times in a row, man, but yeah, she's 'alright.' " Rafe replies, irritation and contempt lacing his words like a venom. You truly wish that the floor would split open to swallow you whole as soon as you register what he said. All you can manage is pulling yourself back enough to shoot him a withering glare, but he doesn't appear to be affected by your look in the slightest, far too busy scowling at the door. 

"Rafe," you snap. You try to collect yourself, mentally shaking off your humiliation as best as you can and dipping your voice into something pleasant and even to be heard through the door to answer Thatcher. "Yeah, I'm fine. We'll be out in a minute. For real this time." You almost wince when it leaves your mouth. The awkwardness of the situation stretches on when Thatcher doesn't answer immediately. There's a pause and silence before an unsure, stiff "alright" rises up from outside before he presumably leaves. 

A relieved sigh leaves you, the breath you were holding leaving you like a deflating balloon as you allow yourself to lean into Rafe once again, finding solace in his warmth to try and detach yourself from the embarrassment of the encounter. His arms slip around you easily. Shifting to take you around the waist in a loose hold that has all of your thoughts settling down into useless background chatter. 

"Want to go to yours?" he asks suddenly. It makes you look to him again, shifting back on your feet to observe him from the containment of his embrace. There's the hint of something vulnerable peeking through the blue of his eyes as though he's partially expecting you to deny him. To pull the rug out from under his feet - turning him away. Like it was all just a cruel joke to get back at him. 

As wrong as it might be, it feels somewhat vindicating to see him still so unsure. Visibly insecure about where he now stands with you. Mostly because you're in the same boat. This is a new territory for you both, and regardless of the previous words shared, there's still the fear that it was all induced on his part by the high of the moment. 

"Then maybe in the morning we can go get breakfast at Merrick's? Just not dinner there though - if we're going out for dinner, then I'm taking you somewhere nice." 

That grabs ahold of your focus in easily. Rafe's been to your trailer a hundred times. Sneaking in in the dark and making himself welcome in your home. Using your shower, eating your food, sleeping in your bed. All of these intimate things done as easily as second nature. But something as simple as walking alongside you, as touching you openly in the stark daylight, was a boundary that had never been crossed past casual conversation. Whenever you had associated it was under the guise of eating at your work, or because you had naturally happened upon each other in your day to day lives. There was never any intent behind it. Especially not while in a part of the Eight. 

Merrick's is right on the docks, settled in the center coast of the Northside of the island, among the wealthy houses and businesses of the OBX. It's a fairly popular spot among the wealthy locals. Being seen with you there would be a public declaration of sorts. Something that the customers, and employees would take notice of. 

"And you're good with that? Being seen with me?" The question leaves you in a pale version of your usual tone. It's hesitant, revealing the fear that begins to pool in your gut. Settling there like a nausea. Now it's you waiting for him to reject you - to backtrack on his promises and leave you standing here in the middle of this bathroom hurting, confused and heartbroken. You could nearly imagine the scornful smile that would tug at his lips, the glimmer of his teeth, the contempt that would burn in his eyes as he pinned you down with an unforgiving stare. You wouldn't survive it. 

But it never comes. 

"I meant what I said earlier. I don't give a shit what anyone has to say; you're my girl now." Some of his usual hostility seeps through his tone then, biting through the sweetness of it. None of it aimed at you. But it's like he's asserting a challenge for himself and others. Stating a threat to anyone else who may try to oppose him - or you. But it sounds like so much more than just the promise of a possibly verbal conflict. That wild glint is back in his eyes, passionate and determined, and you know now that he's prepared to draw blood for your sake. That he'll break bone and start fires to defend your name if he has to.

It's another one of those things that should repel you - a red flag waving vigorously in the air, but you can't find so much as the hint of an urge to turn and run. To escape and from his explosive nature, but you find warmth and comfort in it. He's like a wildfire. Erratic and starved, lashing out and reaching for anything that might burn and feed it, and like a glutton for punishment, you'll always open yourself to be consumed. Willingly allowing yourself to be licked at by the destructive edge of his nature; picked apart and feasted on. But he'll be there to put you back together again. Always eager to hold you up in his greedy palms, to have you safe in the shelter of them. 

Because he's sweet too. Caring when he wants to be. When he's allowed to be - safe from criticism or disapproval. He's been taught to be harsh. A product of his father's love, most likely. But you'll show him a different kind of love if he lets you. Something gentle and nonjudgemental. The sort of affection that he's been deprived of his entire life. 

You're his now, and he's yours; rough, violent edges and all. 

"Okay," you agree. "Breakfast it is then. And dinner." You nudge his nose up with your own, guiding him to angle his head so that you can place a lingering kiss on the plush of his mouth, feeling the shape of his smile against your lips. 

"Alright, and dinner." He nods, raising his hands to cradle your face. Watching you with a gleam in his eyes that looks like he wants to devour you entirely and hold you close. "Just you and me." 

[bodybaggage]

Shadows in Gotham

---

Gotham’s twilight sky was a patchwork of purples and reds, a fading canvas that gave way to the inky blackness of night. The city was alive with the usual sounds of distant sirens, honking horns, and the underlying hum of danger that never quite left its streets. For Danny Fenton, now in his early twenties, Gotham was supposed to be a fresh start—a place to lay low and raise his unconventional family.

His daughter, Danielle, Ellie, as she preferred—skipped ahead on the cracked sidewalk, her energy boundless despite the long day. She looked about ten years old, though she was technically more of a clone than a traditional daughter. She had Danny’s black hair but with an unruly curl to it, and her bright blue eyes sparkled with a mischievous light. Beside Danny, holding his hand, was a boy who looked no older than eight. His hair was tousled, and his expression was a strange mix of innocence and the haunting wisdom of someone far older. This was Dan, Danny’s de-aged evil future self, a living, breathing reminder of what could go wrong if they weren’t careful.

The trio moved through the narrow streets, Danny’s senses on high alert as they made their way back to the modest apartment they now called home. He had retired from the life of a ghostly vigilante, focusing instead on keeping his small family safe and hidden from the relentless pursuit of the Guys in White (GIW). To the world, they were just another struggling family in Gotham. But beneath the surface, their existence was anything but ordinary.

“Can we get pizza tonight?” Ellie asked, her voice full of hope as she glanced back at Danny.

“Pizza sounds good,” Danny replied with a smile. “But it’s Gotham, so let’s hope the delivery guy makes it to our place in one piece.”

Ellie giggled, and even Dan let out a rare smile, though it was fleeting. The moment of normalcy was interrupted by the sound of a scuffle up ahead. Danny’s instincts kicked in as he pulled his kids closer, eyes narrowing at the scene unfolding just around the corner.

A man, clearly desperate, was trying to rob a woman at gunpoint. The woman’s purse dangled from his shaky hand, and fear was etched across her face. Danny knew he should keep moving, that getting involved could blow their cover, but he couldn’t just walk away.

“Stay here,” Danny whispered to Ellie and Dan, his voice firm.

Before he could intervene, a shadowy figure dropped from the rooftops, landing silently behind the mugger. The man didn’t stand a chance as a blur of red and black moved with lethal precision. Within seconds, the mugger was disarmed and unconscious on the pavement.

Red Hood stood over the man, his stance relaxed but ready, as if this was just another routine night in Gotham. He turned to the woman, who quickly grabbed her purse and bolted, muttering her thanks. It was only then that Red Hood noticed Danny and the kids standing just a few feet away, watching the scene unfold.

Danny tensed as the vigilante’s eyes—hidden behind that crimson helmet—seemed to study them. He instinctively placed a hand on each of his kids’ shoulders, ready to flee if things went south.

“You alright?” Red Hood asked, his voice rough but not unkind. He seemed to soften at the sight of the kids, his posture relaxing ever so slightly.

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Danny replied, his tone cautious. “Just heading home.”

Red Hood’s gaze flicked between Danny and the children, and Danny could almost feel the wheels turning behind that mask. This was Gotham, after all, a city full of dark secrets. A young man, barely an adult, with two small kids in tow—it wasn’t hard to jump to conclusions.

“You live around here?” Red Hood pressed, the curiosity in his voice making Danny’s stomach tighten.

“Not far,” Danny answered, hoping to end the conversation quickly. “Just trying to keep my family safe.”

Red Hood nodded slowly, as if weighing his next words. “Gotham’s not exactly the best place to raise kids, especially if you’re... alone.”

Danny’s jaw clenched, recognizing the underlying question. “We manage.”

Before Red Hood could probe further, Ellie stepped forward, her usual boldness taking over. “He’s the best dad ever! And we don’t need any help, mister.”

Red Hood chuckled softly, the sound almost disarming. “I’m sure he is, kid. But just in case, you should know there are people around here who can help... if you ever need it.”

Danny forced a tight smile, grateful for Ellie’s fierce loyalty but wary of the attention they’d attracted. “Thanks, but we’re good.”

Red Hood seemed to accept this, though the suspicion in his stance didn’t entirely fade. “Take care of yourself,” he said finally, before turning and vanishing into the shadows as quickly as he’d appeared.

Danny let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. The encounter had been brief, but he knew it wouldn’t be the last. The Bat Family had eyes everywhere, and their curiosity was piqued.

“Let’s get home,” Danny murmured, guiding Ellie and Dan down the street with renewed urgency.

They reached their apartment without further incident, the familiar creak of the stairs a welcome sound. Once inside, Danny locked the door and sagged against it, the weight of their precarious situation pressing down on him.

Ellie flopped onto the worn couch, her earlier bravado replaced with concern. “Are we in trouble, Dad?”

Danny ruffled her hair affectionately. “No, Ellie. We’re just... being careful. That’s all.”

Dan sat quietly at the kitchen table, his eyes distant as he processed the night’s events. “He was one of the Bats, wasn’t he?”

Danny nodded, joining Dan at the table. “Yeah, Red Hood. He’s... complicated. But we should be alright if we keep a low profile.”

The night passed uneventfully, but the encounter with Red Hood lingered in Danny’s mind. He knew that living in Gotham meant constant vigilance, but the thought of the Bat Family watching them added a new layer of stress.

---

Meanwhile, across town, the Bat Family gathered in the Batcave, the massive space filled with the glow of computer screens and the quiet hum of machinery.

“Interesting case tonight,” Red Hood—Jason Todd—began as he removed his helmet, revealing the slightly tousled dark hair underneath. “Ran into a guy with two kids. They seemed... out of place.”

“Out of place in Gotham?” Dick Grayson, quipped from where he was perched on the edge of the Batcomputer’s console. “That’s pretty much everyone.”

Jason shot him a look. “Not like that. The guy was young, barely in his twenties. The kids were ten and eight, maybe. And something about them just... felt off.”

Bruce Wayne, Batman, looked up from the screen, his expression unreadable. “Off how?”

Jason hesitated, searching for the right words. “I don’t know. There’s something he’s not saying. And those kids—they’re attached to him, but it’s like they’re all trying to stay under the radar.”

Damian Wayne, the current Robin, scoffed. “Plenty of people try to stay out of sight in this city. It’s not our problem unless they break the law.”

“Yeah, but...” Jason trailed off, running a hand through his hair. “There’s a chance that guy’s a victim. The way the girl talked about him, it was like she was protecting him.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “Do you think the children are in danger?”

Jason frowned, shaking his head. “Not from him. I think they’re all running from something.”

Silence settled over the Batcave as they considered the implications. Bruce stood, his presence commanding as ever. “Keep an eye on them. Gotham has a way of uncovering secrets, and we can’t afford to overlook anything.”

---

Back at the apartment, Danny lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The shadows played tricks in the dim light, reminding him of the life he left behind. He had taken on more than just the role of a father—he had become a protector, a shield against the darkness that sought to consume them.

But Gotham was relentless, and he knew their time in the shadows was running out.

---

🧌

[malusokay]

Little things to upgrade your morning routine

Always start your morning with a nice drink like a coffee, matcha, or tea.

Say good morning to your pets, you can also text your friends and maybe, make some plans!! <3

Set an alarm so you wake up on time and don't feel rushed, for me, it's usually enough to just sleep with my blinds open!! :)

Open your windows to let some fresh air in, also make sure to check if any of your plants need water!!

Make-up and music. I love doing my make-up while listening to one of my playlists, it's the perfect way to set the mood <3

Positive affirmations!! You can write them on sticky notes and put them on your mirror so you'll see them while getting ready!! :)

Prepare a cute outfit the night before, and make sure to check the weather so you can plan ahead!

Don't skip breakfast, If you are busy, you can meal prep some overnight oat or chia pudding the night before.

Try reading at least 10 pages in the morning, it will help you feel more refreshed.

Make sure to check your bag, so you don't forget things like your lip combo, keys, and headphones!! Nothing worse than sitting on the subway without headphones (me rn) :((

As always, please feel free to share your own suggestions and tips in the comments!! I hope you all have a beautiful Monday/Week <3

✩‧₊*:・love ya ･:*₊‧✩

[fikelove]

SUNDAY RESET

what is a ‘sunday reset’?

a sunday reset is essentially an opportunity to reflect on the past week, on your achievements, challenges, and lessons you’ve learned. this will help you make room for improvement and growth by setting new goals and dedicating a day to relax and enjoy a fresh start.

TIPS FOR A SUNDAY RESET

MORNING ROUTINE

SLEEP IN: take your time!! allow your body to wake up naturally.

SET GOALS: keep a journal close to your bed so that you can write down your thoughts, feelings and goals for the upcoming day/week. i recommend buying the ‘5 minute journal’ (or a dupe) as it provides short prompts and quotes each day! of course this is optional, what’s more important is the fact that you’re processing your emotions and setting your intentions for the week.

STRETCH: as soon as your feet hit the ground try some morning yoga, this is a great habit to get into as it boosts your energy levels, reduces stress, enhances mood, etc. this will automatically get you on track for a productive day!

EAT: enhance your sunday reset with a tasty, balanced breakfast to fill you with energy for the day ahead! do not skip the most important meal of the day!! if you’re unsure of what to eat, here are a few ideas:

avocado toast, any form of eggs, açai bowl, yogurt + fruit, oatmeal, banana pancakes

SELFCARE

RELAX: take a break from scrolling by unwinding with a book you’ve been longing to read, take a long bath, practice mindfulness, engage in a hobby

EXERCISE: do some form of physical activity! whether it’s going on a small walk, jogging, cycling or the gym, any movement is better than none!

[wileys-russo]

maternal instinct (4) II a.russo

(1) (2) (3) maternal instinct (4) II a.russo

"thanks for the shirt big foot! i like red." bella beamed as alessia began to unbuckle her from the car seat with a smile, clad in a small arsenal jersey on top of the hoodie and sweats alessia had to fight her to put on underneath given the cooler weather.

"good. red is the best!" alessia winked, honking the five year olds nose and making her giggle before helping her out of the seat. "i can carry it! you have your bag already." bella held her arms out for her backpack as alessia assisted her to shrug it on, tugging her hood out from beneath it.

"i've never watched a football game! mummy doesn't like sports and my daddy prefers cricket which is so boring. is football boring? whats it like?" bella asked, bouncing excitedly on the heels of her feet as alessia popped the trunk and grabbed out her own bags.

"definitely not boring!" the blonde promised slinging her gymbag over her shoulder and pushing the trunk closed before holding her hand out for bella.

"so there's two teams-" alessia began to explain football, simplifying it as much as she could for the small girl tightly clinging onto her hand who hung off of her every word.

"-and then whatever team scores the most goals, wins." alessia finished her story right as she arrived inside, having taken the long route through from the back of the stadium to avoid anyone seeing bella, knowing how seriously you took her privacy.

"ohhh, and that will be you!" bella grinned as alessia chuckled. "i hope so. when i score i've been told i make airplane arms, like this-" alessia let go of her hand and straightened her arms out like a plane, bella collapsing into giggles at the sight.

"she does! air russo we call her." alessia looked up at the new voice, leah appearing from one of the physio rooms with laura in tow, the two of them with fresh strapping on their knees. "leah!" bella waved happily, pausing for a moment to look up at alessia.

"you can go say hi." alessia murmured with a nod, patting the girls back in encouragement as she skipped forward. "i'm isabella but everyone calls me bella!" she greeted laura who seemed a bit taken aback, looking between the five year old and alessia with a confused frown.

"would you like to come see the change rooms?" leah offered, addressing alessia more so than bella, the blonde quickly checking the time and nodding. you were due to meet them in around a half hour, before pitch inspection and before the crowds all really came rolling into meadow park.

"is she-" laura started as leah took bella's hand and continued on forward, alessia shaking her head with an amused smile. "no, she's my friends kid, i've been babysitting for the weekend." alessia explained as the austrian nodded in understanding, the pair falling into conversation as they followed where leah had gone.

not at all to alessia's surprise by the time she arrived to the change room bella was busy talking a few of the girls ears off who listened eagerly, the blonde wincing slightly as she realised bella was recounting the story of her head lice.

she'd of course already checked with you as many things ahead of time as she could think of, going as far as to type out a list of questions and sending them to you around one in the morning last night, getting a reply not long after eight this morning with some answers and that you were just leaving.

you understood bella would be around her team and her friends and had no issues with this, assuring alessia repeatedly that you trusted her and knew bella was in safe hands, still finding her nerves and uncertainty endearing as always.

which is how you found her a little while later, eyes canning the horizon nervously, bella chattering away as usual but you could see the blonde wasn't really listening.

then, she spotted you, relief flooding her features as her body visibly sagged a little and she squatted down, pointing you out to your daughter whose whole face brightened making you grin.

you were still a fair few metres away but bella cleared them in seconds flat, throwing herself at you as you caught her easily and spun her around like you did when she was much younger and smaller.

"i missed you so so so so so so so so so-" bella started as you threw your head back with a laugh. "babe breathe!" you tickled as she paused and inhaled deeply. "-so much!" she finished as you attacked her face with kisses, her giggling filling the air as you headed over toward alessia.

"hi." you greeted the footballer, eyes quickly raking up and down taking her in in her uniform, smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"hi." the blonde echoed back with a slightly shy smile of her own, the pair of you hugging as well as you could with bella dangling off your hip who wound up joining in, looping an arm around either of your necks.

"mummy leah said i could inspect the pitch with her. can i?" bella asked, busting out her best puppy dog eyes which you always struggled to really say no to. "yeah you can go, but come right back here after so we can find our seats." you placed her down, watching as she raced over to a blonde stood a few feet away, tugging on her hand.

you caught the girls eye and she raised her hand in a wave which you returned. "thats leah, the pizza thief and gatecrasher from the other night. i think bella might even like her more than me!" alessia rolled her eyes playfully as your daughter headed onto the field with a couple of unfamiliar girls all in the same uniform as the blonde in front of you.

"so should i take her to dinner tonight instead?" you questioned with a smile, alessia's mouth widening into a small o. "not funny, seriously not funny." the taller girl warned as you shook your head, tugging her in for another hug now you didn't have a five year old hanging off you.

"thank you so much for looking after her less, seriously. it takes a lot for me to trust someone like that and you just proved me right to trust you." you mumbled, feeling her squeeze you a little tighter.

"thank you for trusting me." alessia mumbled back, hand rubbing circles on your back as you nearly melted into her. "and the head lice! god i am so sorry about the head lice." you winced as the pair of you pulled away causing the taller girl to laugh.

"hey no need to apologize, my hairs never been cleaner."

~

"-and then which ever team scores most, wins." bella finished recounting how football worked to you, after the game had finished with arsenal winning 3-1. "oh really? well thank you bell, i finally understand now!" you sighed hitting your palm against your forehead.

at alessia's request you were waiting for her to come find the pair of you, since she still had bella's booster seat you'd left your car back at your apartment and ubered to the game.

you'd been given a lanyard by the blonde earlier on, a family and friends pass that meant you were able to wait by the players lot, sending slightly nervous smiles to those who passed you clearly a little wary of who you were.

though it was obvious bella had made her splash with more than a few of the players coming to say bye as they made their way to the cars, not that it surprised you given bella was a chronic chatterbox, something she got from her father.

"hey bell." you sat down beside her on the railing you were hanging by waiting for alessia, the girl looking up from where she was pretending a stick was a magic wand, kicking rocks about and chanting at them.

"so you know how daddy and olivia live together." you started, referring to her fathers long term girlfriend, your daughter nodding. "you like olivia right? you guys are friends?" you continued as bella nodded yeah. "yeah and she's daddys special friend." bella chirped as you now nodded.

"well. what would you think if alessia was mummys special friend?" you asked a little nervously, looking at her as the girl seemed to pause and tick things over. "would she come live with us?" she asked with a small frown.

"no, she'd still live across the hall. but it means she would come over more, maybe sometimes she might have sleepovers, we could all go do fun stuff together the three of us." you explained gently as bella nodded slowly.

"like what?" "mm well like go to the movies, go for dinner, go to the park, go bowling. whatever we want! but it means she would be around a lot more, and if you don't want that i need you to tell me okay? i won't be upset." you promised sincerely, always ready to put your daughters needs above your own much as it might hurt.

"i like big foot. but if she's your special friend, does that mean i can't be friends with her anymore?" bella asked, standing and going back to poking at rocks with her stick. "not at all, the two of you still get to be friends, and spend even more time together. did you have a good time with her this weekend?" you asked, watching with a small chuckle as she waved her stick around with a yell and a dance.

"yeah really fun! we got to wear special hats, i flew a rocket, we made pizza and watched bluey, and she even gave my teddys a bath and taught them how to breathe underwater!" bella glanced at you with a face eating grin which you couldn't help but mirror.

"sounds very cool. so, you're okay if alessia and i are special friends?" you confirmed, bella nodding with a hum and swinging her stick around, hitting it into the railing and groaning as it snapped in half.

though as she picked up one half and hurried off to grab the other someone beat her to it. "woah mutant! you didn't tell me you knew magic?" alessia gasped holding the snapped stick in her hand.

"she calls me mutant, its my nickname like hers is big feet." bella explained to you over her shoulder as you pulled a face and nodded in understanding.

"bella have i ever told you how i got these big feet?" alessia quirked an eyebrow dramatically as you stood and grabbed your daughters bag.

"...from a spell that went horribly wrong!" you smiled as alessia lunged at the five year old who squealed and raced off, the blonde chasing after her as they both used their snapped sticks to cast pretend spells at one another.

"great, guess i'm going to dinner with my kid and my big kid." you chuckled to yourself, following after them to the car as they hid behind things trying to shoot one another with their newfound magic.

~

"i could have carried her less, you just played a full ninety minutes." you whispered quietly where the three of you stood together in the elevator headed on up to your floor.

"i told you its fine, and that i could have taken her and my bag." the blonde smiled nodding to her arsenal gym bag slung over your shoulder, both of you pausing for a moment as bella stirred but didn't move.

the two of you fell silent as you reached your floor, your keys plucked from your pocket as alessia very carefully carried bella inside once the door was unlocked, following after you to her bedroom once it was closed.

tugging down the covers with one hand alessia lowered the five year old into bed with the other, moving aside so you could tuck her in, flicking on the star lamp by the base of her bed.

you brushed bella's hair out of her face and chuckled at the way her mouth hung open as she slept soundly with a shake of your head, kissing her forehead and backing up, alessia stepping out of the way as you both hovered in the door frame for a moment.

"she's so perfect." you sighed with a soft smile, alessia mirroring it beside you. "yeah, must get that from her dad." you gave her a playful side eye and pushed her, very slowly pulling the door shut with the quietest of clicks.

"safe." you sighed after pausing by her door for a minute, no little footsteps or voice crying out your name meaning bella was indeed out like a light.

"you know for a tiny girl she packs away food, must be that ghastly tummy monster." alessia tutted as the pair of you returned to the living room.

"well you did a pretty good job working up her appetite with all those magic spells, one of them must have been for hunger!" you teased, grinning at the way the strikers cheeks blushed.

"don't apologize, it was cute. very cute." you cut her off before she could speak, arms winding around her neck as you looked up at the taller girl with a fond smile, pecking her lips a few times.

"you're really good with her less, and she really likes you. which is why-" you let her go with a small sigh. "i'm giving you once more chance to walk away. if all of this is too much for you, i would understand, and i'd never hold it against you." you promised sincerely taking a little step back.

"honestly?" alessia questioned as you nodded. "honestly."

"well honestly-" the footballer took a step forward clearing the gap you'd just made. "-i am absolutely crazy about both of you, and i'm in, all in. if you'll have me." the girl chewed her bottom lip, apprehension filling her features.

"yeah? "yeah. so..." the girls hands settled themselves on your hips as she paused to take a deep breath, bright blue eyes locked with yours.

"will you be my girlfriend?" "i'd be honoured."

~

"but what do you mean you've not seen man on fire?" alessia scoffed, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at you where she stood in the kitchen awaiting the popcorn to finish.

"exactly that. i've not seen it!" you laughed, having repeated yourself five times now much to the strikers horror each time. "well that simply won't do. we're watching it, its on prime!" the blonde nodded toward the tv.

"but what about anyone but you? babe we were supposed to have a cheesy rom com night!" you protested from the lounge, raising an eyebrow at her as she pulled the popcorn out, opening the bag and yanking her head back as hot air pillowed out.

"change of plans. you need a movie education my girl!" alessia tutted, pouring the popcorn into a bowl as you groaned. "if i knew you were such a film bro it might have changed my answer when you asked me out." you muttered, grabbing the remote none the less.

"hey! i'm not a film bro, i don't even know what that means!" the blonde gasped in offence, grabbing the snacks and moving back to the lounge. "wait! get me a hoodie." you held a hand up after she'd placed the food down and was about to flop herself down on top of you.

"get you a hoodie..." "...now?"

"mother mutant!" alessia rolled her eyes, flicking a piece of popcorn at you but heading off to fulfill your wishes none the less. with bella at her dads for the weekend it meant the two of you could spend some quality time together.

which meant you got your girlfriend to yourself for once without her teaming up with your own daughter against you, the two having become quite the inseparable pair and alessia loving nothing more than teasing you about it.

though as much as she might be a big kid at heart you really couldn't deny the way alessia had stepped up to help you with bella too.

she hadn't missed a single school event since the two of you started going out, a bright smiling face bella always found easily in the crowd when you were often needed backstage given you were a teacher yourself.

she came along to any doctors appointments knowing how nervous they made bella, distracting her with silly voices and made up games while you pretended not to notice the chocolates slipped from her pocket.

there was no good cop bad cop routine either.

at first the blonde did struggle a little to find where she sat with discipline, never doing anything without consulting you or checking in but with time and trust she grew into her own relationship with bella as more than just your special friend.

and her insticts grew too.

you were in alessia's apartment for dinner, pizza night a much loved and somewhat demanded routine every friday night now, and nothing made you melt more than watching how kind and patient alessia was with bella when they cooked together.

you were sat at the island plugging away at your yearly class reports, bopping your head along to the music alessia had floating around the apartment as her and bella prepped.

"mummy what do you want on your pizza!" you felt a tug on your hoodie and looked down, laughing as bella handed you a piece of paper with a bunch of ingredients listed with small tick boxes.

"her idea, i just helped." alessia winked seeing you send her a smile at the little menu. "here." bella handed you a pen as you booped her on the nose with it and ticked off a few things, placing both back into her eager hands.

"thank you!" the girl bowed making you laugh before scurrying off into the kitchen where alessia was waiting. you'd gone back to your laptop, assuming the blonde had everything under control.

"bella no!" was all you heard, looking up to see a blonde blur sprint across the room, scooping up your daughter out of the way as the knife block toppled and they all fell right where she'd been standing.

"i'm sorry! i just wanted to get the tray for you." bella's bottom lip began to wobble as alessia exhaled shakily and sat her up on the counter as you appeared and very carefully picked up the knives.

"hey hey hey no mutant don't cry. i'm sorry for yelling, you just scared me a little bit but i know you didn't mean to." alessia engulfed the girl into a hug, rubbing her back as tiny sniffles sounded and you met the blondes panicked gaze.

"its okay, she's okay. thank you!" you mouthed, nodding reassuringly as alessia sighed, still holding your daughter tightly as her own heart rate steadied itself, trying not to think of what might have happened if she wasn't paying attention.

bella had even signed up for her very first team sport, which of course just so happened to be football.

alessia drove her to and stayed at every single practice, making arrangements with her own team to leave training early every wednesday to do so, and arriving late on saturday mornings so she could be at as many of the games as she could.

though much to her hidden heartbreak bella was following down more of a defensive pathway rather than like the striker alessia had tried tirelessly to build her up to be.

then after around nine months of the two of you dating and not long after alessia had ended her lease and finally moved in, it happened.

you were at one of bella's games, alessia's taller form pressed tightly behind you, both of you wearing a multitude of layers and hugging tightly as the chilly winter frost nipped at your noses.

much to her dismay alessia had wrestled bella into an undershirt, though you could already see how bright red her nose was getting as you prayed she wouldn't get sick.

it had all happened too fast for anyone to really process, bella played in an all girls league but with their opposition short one of the girls brothers was filling in, a year younger but a head taller than all of them.

you knew deep down he hadn't meant to do it, likely only trying to copy one of his footballing idols he'd seen do the same thing every week on tv in the premier league, but still it happened.

bella was dribbling the ball down the right side as everyone else hovered right by her, you and alessia often quietly joking they were like a little pack of seagulls chasing a chip the way they hovered together in a tight little huddle.

but the boy had gone sliding in for the ball, only it was very poorly timed and he collected bella instead, sending her crashing down to the ground as a gasp echoed through the crowd.

your eyes widened and you felt alessia's arms clamp even tighter around you, her own sharp inhale of breath heard right by your ear.

then came the crying, and the yelling, and the same word repeated over and over.

"mama! mama! mama!" you'd gone into fight or flight mode ready to race onto the tiny pitch, but then it clicked, that wasn't you, you were mummy, it wasn't you she was calling for.

"go, less go!" you pulled away from your girlfriend who gave you a confused look. "she's not calling for me, she wants you. go!" you pushed her with a nod, alessia opening and closing her mouth like a stunned fish but stumbling over none the less.

now of course a part of you had been jealous, it was you bella was supposed to want when she was hurt, you who were supposed to comfort her, you were her mother.

but there was a larger part that just felt something much warmer, softer, tinglier. the feeling that now bella had two of you to look out for her, two of you she trusted to comfort her when upset and help bandage her up while hurt.

you were finally a family.

[dumbbitchenergy17]

Awards Night

Plot: A very important night for yourself and your close friends on who will be taking home an Emmy and changes in your life.

Word Count: 9K

Pairing: Paul Mescal x Reader

Warnings: little makeout scene, sweet "father-daughter" moments, laughter giggles, just general fluff

------

Energy fills the Los Angeles air as you sit out on the balcony with a fresh cup of coffee letting the sound of traffic try and soothe your nerves, the sun has just started rising hits of orange peeking over the horizon of buildings and mountains. You hear the sliding door beside you open and can sense his presence next to you.

“You’re up early,” He comments while taking a sip of his cup of coffee and you only hum in response keeping your gaze focused on the cars below seeing there was already traffic this early. “Nervous?” He asks and you shrug.

“I guess so. My body realized what today was and didn’t want me potentially sleeping through my alarm.” You say glancing over at Paul who rests his arms on the balcony railing only dressed in a tank and sleep pants, his hands fiddling with the cup that hangs over the edge.

“It’ll be fine. Whatever happens tonight you’ll still be my favorite actress. Plus I’m sure Pedro is dying to see you since New Year's,” He says with a slight chuckle which you can’t help but join in, despite it only being a few weeks you were used to your dear co-star and father figure’s clinginess.

“Yeah I’m sure he was so sad to stay in gorgeous Malta while I had to go back to New York for rehearsals for SNL,” You roll your eyes bringing your gaze back to the LA skyline, “God this place is boring I’m so glad I stayed in New York and didn’t listen to my old manager.”

Paul lets out a snort of laughter, “You are a New York City girl it’s funny seeing you stand out back in London and West Cork.” He says while coming to sit on the floor, grabbing your free hand and pressing a kiss to each knuckle. You smile pushing his face away from you which only makes him chuckle grab your hand again and repeat the action. He stops looking up at you as you share a moment of silence before he reaches forward and smooths away the wrinkle from your furrowed brows.

“Tonight we’ll be fine and if anything we skip the after-party and just relax back here and watch movies.” He says his hand trailing from your brows to cup your cheek and you settle into it.

“Just so you can watch Thelma and Louise.” You raise your brow at him and he flushes with a caught expression.

“Hey, it’s a good film and you know it,” He defends himself before raising himself from his haunches to press a kiss to your lips which you melt into. Your free hand strokes his beard as you kiss. He pours all his love for you and what you need to soothe the pit of anxiety inside until you feel nothing but calm. Paul pulls away not before pressing one last kiss to your nose which you scrunch up.

“It’ll be fine.” His voice is soothing as you both enjoy each other’s presence before the very busy day you have ahead of you.

Frank Ocean drifts through a speaker as you sit in a makeup chair, leftovers of brunch still on the dining table in the hotel you shared with Paul and the rest of your team.  Paul in the bedroom with his team getting ready allowing you the large living room to get ready. Your amazing manager had brought you a collaboration with ELLE Magazine for a ‘Getting Ready with Me’ video, currently, the camera and sound team working fluidly alongside your hair and makeup team as you speak to the camera.

“I’ve been in this chair for about…three hours now?” You say as your hairstylist Elvira works her magic on your hair and René your talented makeup artist brings you to life with his skills. One of your hands is being painted in nudes and gold while your other hand is currently in a UV lamp being cured. “As you can see every part of my body is being handled so all I can do is just sit and listen to Frank Ocean play. I’m excited though surprised I’ve never been to the Emmys before so I do have a bit of nerves running through me.” You say shyly.

“You also have a nomination!” Paul’s voice comes from the other room making everyone in the room laugh and cheer at his comment as your face grows flush.

“Yeah…I do have one so it only heightens the nerves so I’m hoping I just get distracted during the whole time and have a drink or two as liquid courage.” You say as your hand in the UV lamp beeps ending its cycle and you use that chance to grab your smoothie to take a sip.

“Are you excited to see your friends and cast mates from previous work?” The interviewer asks and your eyes sparkle and you nod excitedly not before being scolded slightly by Elvira and René.

“Yes, most of these people I haven’t seen in months with work and life being so busy between all of us. I texted Bella this morning about how excited I was to see them since we last saw each other at the Met Gala we’ve Facetime and keep in touch but it’ll be good to see them in person.” You say as you switch hands to start curing the nail polish.

“Are you excited to see Pedro?” They ask cheekily and you smile widely.

“Oh god yes. Even though I saw him two weeks ago for New Year’s he has been nonstop texting about us seeing each other tonight. He fully freaked when he heard we had seats near each other,” You say, and almost on cue your phone gets a Facetime call the ringtone playing ‘Purple Rain’, “Speak of the devil.” You see the camera team swing around to get a view of your phone screen as you answer the call.

“Sup loser!” You greet the older man whose face is extremely close to the camera.

“Happy Emmys Day!” He shouts at the camera and you can’t help to giggle, “Happy Emmys Day to you too, getting ready I assume?” You ask as he pulls back the camera revealing Coco who is working on his hair. She sends a wave to the camera which you smile in return.

“Yep! Chilling getting all dolled up alongside Lux,” He says casually and you can easily spot the lie in his tone, and even Coco gives him a look.

“Pedro, you’re freaking out aren’t you?”

“Yes! What if I trip and fall and hurt my other shoulder then I get a double sling and look like an idiot? Or I say the wrong name on the card and it’s La la Land and Moonlight all over again.” He starts rambling getting himself all worked up and stressed.

“P you’ll be fine. You’re not gonna trip and look like an idiot or say the wrong name. I’m gonna be there, your sister, Bella, Paul, heck even fucking Kieran Culkin would probably run up there and catch you,” Your comment about his fellow nominee makes him laugh but does the job of getting his mind off it.

“Thanks, chiquita,” He says and it seems like he’s trying to spot anyone in the background of your Facetime call, “Yo where’s Ireland’s princess?” The sound of footsteps coming to the double doors separating the living room to the bedroom.

“I’m here Pedro!” His voice comes through the doorway and Pedro makes a weird face and you answer his silent question,

“We’re surprising each other with our looks tonight…well one of us is trying to.” You explain. Paul was getting antsy to see you and spend time with you. He had tried coming up with excuses to come out even getting to a point where he almost opened the door if you hadn’t thrown your slipper at the door and he closed it.

“You are so weird,” Pedro comments and you stick your tongue out at him, “Alright I shall leave you be and I look forward to seeing you tonight!”

“Bye P!”

“Bye Y/nnnnnn.” The call ends and you bring your attention back to the camera crew.

“You and Pedro have a very close relationship you practically act like your blood related.” The interviewer says

“Yeah, it’s crazy I've known him over five years and he’s practically my second father like I call him or my dad for the stupidest stuff if either doesn’t reply,” You say with a smile, “My dad finds it funny and comments how he’s glad someone is finally tagging in after the ‘retirement-inducing stress’ I put him through before I joined the Mandalorian.” The crew and your team chuckle at that story.

After getting your hair and makeup completed with your hair pinned up in a beautiful updo, your fabulous stylist Juliano had somehow struck gold with your outfit even working with Paul’s stylist to make sure the pair of you look stunning together.

“We were lucky enough from the archives to get this 1998 Spring Givenchy by Alexander McQueen,” Juliano explains as the camera shoots the gorgeous dress the shimmering silk on the top down to the skirt. The flower appliques on a sheer fabric to look like they were on your skin, “We decided to keep the makeup very similar to look natural with a shine and hints of color resembling the flower embellishments. To the accessories, we decided to keep Y/n’s hands minimal with just a pair of Bvlgari statement rings on her hands, and her earrings being from Bulgari Fiorever pieces keeping the floral delicate looking continue even down to the shoes with custom So-Kate Louboutin that matches the dress perfectly and brings the whole look together.”

The camera captures your excited expression as you are now fully dressed, clapping your hands together, “I’m literally in awe. I love Alexander McQueen’s fashion and I am honored to be wearing this gorgeous piece.” The sound of footsteps coming to the double doors again.

“Are you finally done?” Paul’s voice sounds like it’s practically pressed against the door and the crew laughs and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“Yes I’m done but come out with your eyes closed. I want you to have the full experience,” You say quickly closing your eyes. You hear him groan before the sound of the door opens. You hear shuffling as someone guides him to the right position.

“Can I open?” He asks rocking on his heels.

“Wait I gotta get in position!” You say almost tripping as Elvira guides you to stand a bit in front of him so you both are the first things either of you see. The camera crew gets ready, one facing you while the other is facing Paul to get both of your reactions.

“Okay on three,” You say and start counting, “One…two…three!” You both open your eyes and the crew laughs at each of your reactions. You immediately squeal seeing his attire; his blazer is a crisp white that matches the color of your dress and is embroidered on the hem, lapels, and the cuffs of the coat is a recreation of the flower appliques on your dress, he has white button-down with a black bowtie and black wide slacks with black boots, Paul has that tiny gold hoop in his ear and he’s wearing the watch you got him for Christmas. Paul’s reaction is pure awe taking in how nicely the dress fits you almost as if Alexander McQueen made the dress for you, your hair perfectly framing your face with tiny strands hanging freely around your hair and the makeup making you look completely radiant.

“Ah! You look so good Paul,” You gush rushing up to him and looking over all the tiny little details what you don’t see but the cameras and the fans who will later eat this all up is the pure love and adoration in his eyes looking down at you fawning over him.

“You…are completely stunning,” He breathes and your face flushes at the genuine compliment as he takes your hands in his and fiddles with your rings a cheesy grin on his face. The team and crew ‘awe’ at the scene only makes you more flustered which makes Paul laugh wrapping his arms around you and pressing a kiss to your crown. An alarm goes off from both of your managers’ phones a cue that it is time to start prepping to leave soon.

Turning to face the camera you give it a wave, “Thank ELLE for coming and seeing us get ready for the Emmys let’s hope we take home an award,” You say crossing your fingers and making both teams cheer. Paul gives a wave and you blow a kiss before you turn facing each other and you pull a funny face and he bursts into laughter as the cameras stop rolling.

“Alright I think we got what we needed, so great meeting you guys, and best of luck tonight,” The interviewer says and you smile thanking them as they head out to pack up. Your manager comes up looking over her iPad that has the schedule.

“Alright we have a bit of time for photos and then the car will be pulling up to take us to the venue,” She says, and Paul helps guide you to the balcony as you grab the train of your dress. It’s fun and casual between yours and Paul’s team bouncing off each other. The first round of photos starts with you posing out on the balcony getting the professional photos done and throwing in a few funny poses when you see Paul whip out his film camera to take a few pictures. Then it switches to Paul who seamlessly starts posing and you take a few pictures on your phone before getting a decent one from his camera, he ends up breaking into waves of laughter as you keep hollering and sending him whistles as he poses. The pair of you do photos together some looking at the camera others looking at each other. Both your managers posting little teasers on each of your Instagram stories for the night ahead the photos already going viral.

From the hotel room to the car felt like a blur and you didn’t even realize you were pulling into the venue and entering the conga line of cars to the red carpet. Your leg shakes restlessly until Paul rests his hand on your knee making you look at him.

“Breathe,” He makes the gesture of letting out a big breath of air which you copy feeling your body stop vibrating with nerves, “It’ll be fine.”

You nod though the pit in your stomach still hasn't left now that you are so close, “I feel less nervous about the awards but this is our first time together like in spotlight public.” You take his hands playing with his fingers to help with your nerves, “Just nerves what they are gonna say is all.”

Paul nods understanding. It was a huge secret when you both first got together, not that you both were ashamed of each other but you both respected your privacy very much. Even when you were younger you were very cautious about what you put out on the internet perfectly curating posts and appearances so people didn’t have anything negative to say. It definitely freed up the older you got and the more secure you felt in your career but still, there were certain subjects you didn’t want the whole world to know. You prided yourself in keeping your relationships locked tight the only people aware of them being your family and close friends. It reached a point in some scenarios where the public and fans assumed the people you were with were just close friends given how that was the case most of the time. You were lucky for Paul to understand your hesitancy being so quiet about the two of you and it worked out in your favor. You were able to enjoy the starting of your relationship just the time together between the two of you and not the whole world focused on you all. Even telling Pedro was something you were worried about entering the relationship with Paul, he was his co-worker, some would call it a bit of an age difference with him being a few years older than you, you were still what people would consider their early 20s and him in his late 20s but neither of you noticed or cared for it. You remember it clear the day you told Pedro well more of him finding out.

It was during the time Gladiator 2 was on pause due to some production issues so Paul had decided to visit and spend the week with you in New York, this is about 3 months of you guys dating. For context you love Pedro and have such a close bond with each other that you have keys for each other and know everything about each other. What you didn’t think was him being back in New York as well and assuming he was on the West Coast or anywhere but New York. So you and Paul had just obviously given the time apart..had sex since being reunited and ordered pizza, after you showered and he was currently in the shower while you picked out a movie. The doorbell rang assuming it was the deliveryman going to answer shocked seeing Pedro there instead of holding the pizza and letting himself in.

“Luigi’s Pizza you know how to plan a dinner, I have so much to talk about Malta and Morrocco,” Pedro says and the immediate fear on your face and before you could stop the nuclear bomb that was about to go off as the familiar voice of the man you were with and an oddly familiar voice to Pedro comes from down the hall.

Paul comes around the wall with the confidence of a man who just got laid still wet from the shower only dressed in very loose sweats that hung sinfully low on his hips, “Baby did the food show u—” His words cut off as he see Pedro standing there with equally wide eyes as his gaze darts from both you and Paul the pieces quickly coming together.

Paul takes your hand placing a kiss on the back of it right as the car in front of you pulls up about to be next in line, “Ignore what they say. None of it matters, it’s just us and our friends celebrating an amazing night together.” You take in his words before nodding in agreement right as the car pulls up. Paul flashes you a smile before pressing a light kiss to not ruin your makeup.

“Ready?” He asks and you nod giving an assured smile and he returns with an even wider smile. A knock on the car before the door unlocks and the muffled sounds of the fan and the red carpet get louder. The door opens fully and Paul steps out and the crowd of fans screech he turns grabbing your hand as you scooch to the open door. Grabbing Paul’s hand you immediately see the uproar as you exit the car the scream of fans in their section. Waving at them together as your managers guide you towards the little waiting area before the red carpet. It wasn’t long until you were called next to walk the carpet.

“Ready?” You ask Paul and he smiles pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“Let’s go.”

Shouts and flashes of both yours and Paul’s name as you posed for solo shots. Over the scream of photographers, your gaze always finds itself back to Paul who was looking over at you too.

“Paul! Y/n! Let’s get a photo together,” A photographer shouts and it’s instant the shouts for you two to pose together and questions thrown at the pair of you. It’s easy to find one another his hand keeping a reassuring contact on your waist as you smile at the cameras. Your managers have to practically drag you two off the carpet as the paparazzi keep yelling more comments and get final photos.

“A few interviews then we’ll get you guys inside for the ceremony,” Your manager says and you nod as both you and Paul are brought to different networks to conduct interviews.

“Y/n so nice to meet you,” The interviewer from E! News greets warmly, “You look stunning tonight!”

“So nice to me you and thank you so much!” You respond holding the microphone between your hands as you speak to her.

“It seems you have caught the attention of many people tonight for one of your first Emmy nominations, especially at your age! If you win tonight, you will have become the youngest winner in your category at twenty-three, just a year younger than past winner Zendaya, who also happens to be presenting tonight for that award,” she says, and you give a nervous smile.

“I am definitely nervous now that you mentioned it,” You cringe making the both of you laugh, “But I’m so honored to be nominated, there are so many talented actresses in this category that all deserve this award. I really couldn’t tell you who it’s going to.” You speak honestly.

“Well, we’re hoping for the best for everyone tonight and even if you aren’t taking home an award you aren’t leaving empty-handed. It seems you have graced all of us who have been dying to see you and your partner in public.” She says and you laugh, “Anything to say on that?”

“Well, Paul and I are very grateful for all the support our friends, family, and lovely fans have given us.” You say a small smile. You truly were grateful for all the support those close to you have given especially with how crazy the industry is and how on-air every moment of your life has been. “Paul has also just been an amazing support in my life I’m so blessed to have known him.” You keep your piece on Paul short and sweet knowing you would ramble off on how amazing he is as a person and actor, just going off on a complete tangent.

“That is so sweet, you two are amazing together I’m sure he’ll enjoy your praise,” The interviewer coos and you chuckle.

“He’ll probably try to one-up me in the compliments he’s too humble at accepting them and so will dish a plentiful of compliments,” You retort making the pair of you laugh.

“If I see him I’ll be sure to pass off your message,” She smiles, “Thank you so much, enjoy the rest of your night, and best of luck.” You thank her before your manager guides you off to do a couple more interviewers since you are nominated in a category. As your manager leads you to the next interview you spot a very familiar figure speaking to another person.

“Lux!” You call out and she turns spotting you amongst celebrities and managers as you make your way past people quickly accepting the embrace from her. “You look gorgeous tonight!” Your praise has her smiling and she rests her hands on your shoulders looking you over.

“Says you! You look stunning and where is the lucky man?” Lux asks looking over your shoulder expecting your partner somewhere near.

“I think still doing interviews, if we didn’t meet up during the interviews we both would just head inside,” You say looking around yourself but for a different person.

“If you’re looking for Pedro he’s over there with Vanity Fair,” She points a finger over and you spot the back of his curly head, “He’s be antsy looking for you and Bella tonight.” You smile thanking her with a quick hug and plan to meet inside before having your manager already used to your antics and guide you over to Pedro. Luckily he hadn’t noticed you and his manager spots you with a friendly smile seeing the mischievous look on your face also used to your antics from the Mandalorian.

“I’m excited for tonight not even for the nomination just to be able to see friends and coworkers of mine I haven’t seen since we wrapped films,” You hear Pedro say as you slowly walk into view of the camera and interviewer who spots you. You drop your mouth and point at Pedro who is in front of you.

“Oh my god is that Pedro?” Pretending to fangirl as you mouth with faux awe. The interviewer chuckles and you don’t see Pedro’s confused expression until he turns around and sees you there with a cheesy grin.

“Pedro I’m such a big fan you are literally so zaddy!” Your voice is all shaky fanning back fake tears and the belly laugh that comes from him as he pulls you into a hug with his free hand pressing a kiss to your crown.

“Ah, father and daughter reunited!” The interviewer says as Pedro pulls out of the hug a still shocked look on his face as he takes in your outfit. “Y/n pleasure to meet you!”

“You look so beautiful!” Pedro’s praise warms you up and you flush waving him off.

“You look great too! Giving very professor vibes with the sweater and glasses,” You point at the large frames covering his face. He snorts rolling his eyes.

“Like a professor that got his ass whooped.” He says shrugging his sling arm making you and the interviewer laugh. “Thought I was gonna miss you on the carpet until we got inside.”

“Ran into your sister and she pointed me in your direction,” You say and you see your manager pointing at her watch and you send a brief nod, “Well I better head before Paul sends a search party. Nice to meet you!” You say to the interviewer who repeats the sentiments. A quick hug from Pedro with a kiss on the cheek before waving them off.

“See you soon chiquita.”

“Bye P! I’ll see you inside!” You wave him off before you and your manager continue your trek once more inside.

“Alright you are all good on interviews and photos, I will see you after the show enjoy the night, and good luck!” Your manager says looking over her to-do list for tonight and you give a nervous smile, “You’ll be alright you win great, you don’t, no biggie you’re young and have plenty of opportunities,” She squeezes your hands. She looks a bit past you before she continues,

“I’m sure he’ll keep reminding you. You too have fun.” You feel an arm snake around your waist pulling you gently to lean against his chest, feeling your nerves slip away. Your manager waves before walking off joining Paul’s manager and you turn looking up at him already seeing the look on his face.

“I know…I know stop stressing and enjoy my night.” You roll your eyes and he hums satisfied with you already knowing what he is going to tell you.

“You love me.” He smirks taking your hand and guiding you to the line of celebrities waiting to be ushered to their seats. You scoff your words holding no weight.

“Ugh, you wish.”

It’s easy to find your seats finding yourself near actors and actresses you’ve heard of but glad to see you were put in seats near Pedro and Bella. Bella sat in the row in front of you and Paul with Pedro and Lux sitting behind you guys. The show went on accordingly with the categories going through cheering for the nominees and winners of each category. When the category for Best Supporting Actor in a Drama Series Pedro had you and the audience in laughter.

“It’s my shoulder, not my arm and I’m here to set the record straight,” He says so plainly, “Kieran Culkin beat the shit out of me.” You almost choked on your spit at his comment your laughter only growing louder seeing Kieran’s reaction so serious before him and Pedro break with laughter as the award is presented. When the award for Best Actor in a Drama Series was announced you reached your hand back feeling Pedro’s hand grab you as each actor is called out. Cheering loudly when his name was announced with a quick snippet of his character in ‘The Last of Us’. While his name wasn’t called out you still smile squeezing his hand before clapping for Kieran Culkin who goes up to accept the award.

“Now presenting the award for Best Actress in a Drama Series, Zendaya and Jodie Foster!” The announcement comes through the speakers immediately filled with nerves feeling Paul’s hand resting on your thigh drawing circles and calming you slightly.

“And now for the nominees,” Zendaya says into the microphone and you clap as each actress is announced.

“Sarah Snook; Succession, Sharon Horgan; Bad Sisters, Melanie Lynskey; Yellowjackets, Elisabeth Moss; The Handmaid's Tale, Bella Ramsey; The Last of Us,” You clap a cheer extra loud for them and then continue calling out the nominees, “Keri Russell; The Diplomat, Y/n L/n; The Mandolrian” You hear the cheering around you as your name along with small clips of your character Tiya is shown on screen. In your peripheral, you can see the camera capture your reaction as Paul grabs your hand squeezing it. You don’t dare move your gaze from Jodie Foster and Zendaya as they speak.

“And the Emmy goes to,” You watch Jodie Foster open the card your hand probably cutting the circulation out of Paul’s hand. Zendaya smiles before she speaks.

“Y/n L/n, The Mandalorian.”

The roar of cheers from all around you as you sit there frozen for a second before it registers to you.

You won.

You stand up as the others do looking over at Paul who has the widest grin, “Holy fuck I won!” You say to him who nods enthusiastically and you can’t help but kiss him. It’s such a quick kiss but it means everything to the two of you as you pull away turn to Pedro who is cheering loudly and instantly pulling you into a hug pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I’m so proud of you!” He mumbles as you pull away Lux smiles widely at you as you quickly hug Bella who’s practically jumping with joy before finally walking down the aisle as your fellow actors applaud for you. It’s an almost out-of-body experience climbing up those steps and accepting the award from Jodie Foster and Zendaya who give you brief hugs before you stand before the microphone the heavy award in your hands.

“Hi..oh my god I didn’t plan at all what to say,” That makes the audience laugh your gaze sweeping through the crowd of people finding your group. “I want to thank my amazing team who got me this job, my friends and family back at home I love you so much, to the Mandalorian Team, Jon Favreau and Dave Filoni thank you for giving me this opportunity to bring Tiya to life, there are so many people I want to thank uh Pedro,” You gaze locks with him. You already see him getting teary-eyed making your words shaky.

“I’ve worked and grown with you over five years, you’re my second dad I love you so much. I also want to thank my partner, Paul,” Your gaze moves to Paul who has the proudest look on his face and you can feel tears burning at the back of your eyes, “I love you so much, you are my rock, my best friend, I’m so grateful you are in my life I could keep rambling on until they drag me off.” That makes Paul and the crowd laugh. “Alright, I’m gonna go before I start crying.” Your voice is already shaky enough as the audience cheers hearing loud whistles from Pedro as Jodie and Zendaya guide you off. Once you disappear backstage seeing allowed paparazzi taking photos of the three of you. Your manager already backstage pulls you into a hug and you let out a shaky exhale.

“No tears or René will have my head for letting an Emmy winner ruin her makeup,” Her words make you laugh leaning your head back and blinking back tears, “Alright we’ll get some quick photos and interviews before you’ll be set to head back for the ceremony.”

It’s a blur of heading to where the other winners are to get their photos taken. You probably have the widest grin as you hold your Emmy up. The flash of cameras as they shout congratulations and where to look at. Then it was the interviews with various media outlets each hungry for the latest news of your career this Emmy win special now being the youngest female Emmy winner in your category. During a commercial break, you were ushered back to your seats a cheesy grin across your face when your friends spot your return. You’re shuffling as face as you can in your dress and heels immediately welcomed with hugs and kisses of second congratulation.

“I completely blacked out up there did I make a fool of myself?” You ask seriously making Lux and Bella laugh as you all sit down.

“Not at all. You had Pedro crying like a baby with you up there,” Bella states and you laugh leaning against Paul.

“I was not!” Pedro still red with tears defends himself and Lux shakes her head.

“It was pretty bad,” Paul says and Lux gives him a look.

“Don’t act all innocent I saw a few tears from you too mister,” She pokes his shoulder and Paul flushed with embarrassment, “I got the whole video of both of their reactions with Pedro crying and your boyfriend all teary-eyed.”

“Awww you two getting all sappy,” You tease poking your partner and making him roll his eyes, “You do love me.”

“Of course I do,” Paul scoffs looks at you and your teasing smile softens seeing the pure adoration and love in his eyes.

Bella makes a disgusted sound, “You too are so cheesy it makes me sick,” That makes you all laugh and over the speakers, it’s announced the commercial break would be ending now. As the ceremony returns with the audience applauding your hand grabs Paul giving it a squeeze that he returns.

With the awards over it was such a whirlwind of afterparties and receptions, Pedro, Lux, and Bella were going to the HBO Reception Party while you and Paul were headed to the Disney Reception Party. It was so exciting taking group photos with all the winners at the Emmys Ceremony before you all left living on that high of winning. Your thumb traces the engraving of your name on the plaque still in awe as you and Paul ride back to the hotel room.

“Congratulations!” Your teams cheer confetti bursts from party poppers as your team hollers and cheers as you and Paul enter. You smile brightly seeing some recording as you hold up your Emmy bouncing with excitement.

“I won a fucking Emmy!” You shout and your teams cheer and laugh at your very animated reaction.

“Alright!” Your manager calls out drawing all of your attention, “We got two afterparties to attend now let’s get you both all set up so you can fully enjoy your win tonight.” Both your teams quickly get to work Paul is taken to change into his after-party attire and you to change into another Alexander McQueen archival piece from the same collection. This a much shorter beautiful baby blue draped dress you wear over an ivory satin button-up jacket with a shawl collar that feels cool on your skin, paired with Givenchy ivory kitten heels. Both Elvira and René work efficiently revamping your hair and makeup when Paul comes out in his afterparty attire. It was the same outfit beside his button-down and tie replaced with a loose white scoop neckline tank showing off his collarbones. He smirks seeing you drink in his appearance from your chair as René reapplies your lipstick and he throws you a wink making you flush looking forward.

“All pretty and ready,” René puts down the setting spray looking you over with a smile.

“Thank you Elviraaaa. Thank you Renééééé.” You cheese as you stand and reapply your favorite perfume on your wrists and neck.

“We’re ready when you are, Emmy winner.” Your manager says and you check your appearance one last time in the mirror before grabbing your clutch and award.

“Ready!”

The Walt Disney Awards Party was a fun time being united with other Star Wars costars and seeing some of the other winners in other categories. Attending felt more obligational given it was the company your show was a part of it was mainly small talk and photos taken with the other winners from your network. After some time a perfectly timed call from Pedro who was heading over to the Netflix Afterparty with the others asking when Paul and you were heading over.

The van hits a pothole but that doesn’t distract the two of you preoccupied in the backseat. Thank god for the privacy divider. Paul practically devours you with his lips barely able to get a breath in. One hand is deep in the nape of his neck pulling him closer the other clutching to his bicep that is wrapped around your waist keeping you flush against him.

“You have…no idea how beautiful…you looked tonight,” Paul mutters between kisses, your award digging into your waist but you pay no mind. His other hand cups your face to pull away to catch your breath before pulling your right back in.

“Paul we’re almost there,” You try to say as he keeps kissing you only one thought on his mind.

His lips are soft and warm but fierce as he bites your lip drawing a sharp gasp and allowing him to slip his tongue inside. Your body is searing, your heartbeat in your ears letting him complete control gripping his coat tighter.

“If we didn’t have to go there are so many things I want to do to you,” His words light your body on fire a light whimper comes from the back of your throat as he pulls back letting you catch your breath. “But,” He starts pressing another kiss to your lips.

“I want you to enjoy tonight you deserve.” He pulls back looking down at your flustered appearance chuckling slightly fixing your hair slightly, “I think I took it a bit too far…” He gives a sheepish look and your jaw drops seeing the stain of your lipstick on his lips quickly whipping out your phone and seeing your smudged lips.

“Paul Colm Mic-” You start but he quickly kisses you mumbling ‘I’m sorry baby,’ and you quickly pull away opening up your clutch and pulling out travel makeup wipes and the lipstick shade, “You are so lucky you’re hot Paul,” You say using a wipe to clean his face before he takes it himself to allow you to fix your lips. He chuckles slightly at the pout as you clean yourself up and reapply your lipstick. Thank god René gave you an extra lipstick. He had to have known you’d do something stupid like makeout with your ridiculous attractive boyfriend before going to a party.

“I love you Y/n.” He says pressing a kiss with his clean lips against your temple as you give a final swipe of color to your lips. He moves to press another kiss to your lips but you swerve pressing a finger to his lips.

“Yeah no…you are like banned the entire night from kissing me and messing up my makeup more.” You see him pout and at that moment the car stops having arrived at the party.

“Seriously?” He asks and you give him a look saying ‘I’m so serious,’. He groans letting his head fall back on the headrest but quickly fixes himself as the door opens and he’s quick to plaster a forced smile as you both exit the car.

This afterparty was a lot more freeing allowing yourself to let loose, one hand was your award the other a drink as you stood beside Lux who had her drink of choice watching Paul dance with Bella twirling them around, Pedro off somewhere to mingle or getting himself into trouble. Paul catches your gaze his face reading to spare him but you only raise your glass as a toast making him throw his head back with a sigh before returning his focus to Bella.

“What’s got him looking like a dog in the doghouse,” Lux asks as you both take sips of your drinks.

“He fucking ruined my lipstick on the car ride over so he’s now banned for the rest of the night.” You explain and Lux bursts into laughter at the confession.

“The car ride over you naughty girl,” She slaps your shoulder and you flush gulping your drink and feeling the alcohol settle in your stomach.

“Chiquita!” You hear Pedro's voice call out easily spotting him as he heads over, “Look who I found!” You smile widely seeing Giancarlo Esposito following behind Pedro.

“There’s the winning lady!” Giancarlo says as he hugs you, pressing a kiss against your cheek, and you return one. “Alright, let's see it.” You smile before showing off the award, and he lets out a whistle, and Pedro gives a small whoop.

“Congratulations you deserve this with all your hard work.” He praises and you return a sincere smile from his compliment not just from a coworker but a well-esteemed actor.

“It looks like a party,” Bella says, bounding over and grabbing her drink from the hightop you all stood around. Following behind is Paul, who smiles and slides to be at your side.

“Ah, the infamous boyfriend. You know I’m basically her uncle,” Giancarlo says, shaking Paul’s hand, which makes you snort and roll your eyes.

“Real funny guys,” You say making them all laugh as Giancarlo bids goodbyes to you all. Paul’s arm is over your shoulder drawing circles into your arm while taking a sip from his drink.

With a sigh, you rest your award on the table, “God this thing is heavy as fuck. I’m supposed to carry it around all night,” You groan.

“If you’re giving it away I’ll gladly take it,” Pedro creeps towards it and you bat his hand away.

“Klepto! I don’t need you stealing more of my shit,” You point at him and he holds his uninjured hand in the air in defense.

“It was one time!” He retorts not wanting to go down this rabbit hole of a conversation again. A new song comes over the speakers making Bella perk up recognizing it.

“I love this song, who’s joining?” Bella the youngest of the group holds their hand out looking at each of you expectedly. Pedro groans grabbing his shoulder in fake pain.

“Ah my old bones can’t take a dance,” Bella rolls their eyes moving to the next person there Paul holding his hands up having already been subjected to dancing. Lux rolls her eyes finishing her drink and taking Bella’s hand who smiles widely.

“Come on leave the old men to their groveling,” She holds her hand now out to you expectedly and you chug your drink needing the liquid courage to dance will many people potentially watching you.

“You old men have fun,” The sudden rush of alcohol makes you giggle as you lean up quickly pressing a kiss to Paul. You slip away before he can deepen the kiss he’s been craving laughing as you join Bella and Lux on the dance floor. You let the young actor twirl you around having to bend slightly to turn under Bella’s arms Lux laughing recording the pair of you on her phone. The two men watch at the table where the drinks and your award are seeing the enjoyment from all of you.

“You’re good for her you know,” Pedro says suddenly making Paul look away from you dancing under the colored lights to look at the older man.

Paul shrugs at the compliment swirling his drink with a self-deprecating tone, “I try not to mess things up.”

“Mess things up? You’re perfect for her, Paul. I’ve seen her in relationships where she wasn’t happy and this is far from that. You too are honestly nauseating with how into each other you are,” Pedro groans making Paul laugh slightly both their gazes focused on the dance floor where you are. The pair cringe at your very bad dance moves but you don’t seem to care, completely focused on the music and being with Bella and Lux.

“I appreciate that Pedro,” Paul says genuinely, “She looks up to you a lot, and always finds a way to mention you somehow.” That makes Pedro chuckle slightly but feel all warm inside at the information.

“Seems like she has a habit of always talking about the men she cares for in her life,” Pedro responds, “She’s always gushing over you like some lovesick teen.”

Paul flushes at that taking a sip of his drink to quell his nerves. “I only hope I can keep making her as happy as she makes me.” There was so much he wanted to do with you in his life. Maybe a few things that still needed time but had he already pictured them yes now just waiting for the right moment. Pedro rests his hand on his shoulder giving it a comforting squeeze.

“You are,” He says before raising his drink in a toast, “To you guys and your futures together.” Paul smiles clinking his glass against Pedro’s both looking back at you cheering on Bella as they dance your gaze darts to Paul a smile naturally crawls up your face as you mouth to him, ‘I love you,’ which he responds in turn with his own.

‘I love you more,’

The night quickly wanes to a close as you bid goodbye to your friends barely stifling back a yawn the liquor tiring you out. You give Bella a big hug that they return with equal amounts.

“When you are back in New York we’ll try to meet up,” You say and they nod excitedly but still a bit tired. You then move onto Lux who hugs you pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Bye, pretty lady.” You smile at Lux’s comment before moving over to Pedro as he easily scoops you in his free arm his warmth making your eyes droop.

“Night P, I’ll you in a few days.” You say and you hear him hum pressing a kiss to your head.

“Looking forward to whatever you have planned for SNL chiquita,” He pulls back chuckling as you blink slowly grinning.

“It’s gonna be sooooo good,” You slip into the valley girl's vocal fry making him belly laugh giving you a final hug and sending a look over at Paul who holds your award in one hand. He comes over coaxing you off Pedro as you rest against his side stifling a yawn.

“Bye, guys love you!” You give your last bits of energy as they wave you and Paul off as you head to your ride to the hotel. Your head rests in the crook of Paul’s neck during the car ride home his hand tracing circles into your scalp only making you doze off even more. Paul has to guide you through the hotel as you try waking up enough to get to your hotel room.

Once back in your room the energy from the whole day completely wipes you, standing in the middle of the room with your eyes closed. Paul laughs seeing you sleeping while standing up.

“Come on let’s get you ready for bed,” He says guiding you to the bedroom and helping you with your nighttime routine. You give him a sleepy smile as he helps from taking off your shoes to removing the pins in your hair and groaning as he massages your scalp with your hair now free from the updo. You’d fix yourself completely tomorrow with a shower letting your hair be a mess. Sitting on the bathroom counter you lean into his touch he uses a cloth with makeup remover to take off your makeup.

“You’re amazing you know that,” You mumble as he gently wipes your eyeshadow off your face his other hand holding your chin to keep you steady. He hums as he removes the last of it pressing a kiss to your tired lips.

“You can say that more often,” He smirks even in your tired state you still roll your eyes at his comment. He’s a godsent going through your nighttime skincare his hands soothing and delicate as he goes through each of your steps. Guided out of the bathroom he helps you out of your clothing with soft hands and kisses along your shoulders as he dresses you in one of his shirts and a pair of your shorts before settling you into bed. It’s almost instant as you knock out the events of the day draining and the bed quickly drawing you to sleep.

You blink open still seeing it dark from the digital clock on the nightstand reading almost four am. Rolling over to cuddle with Paul you find his side empty and cold. Sitting up vision is still blurry trying to wake up fully to find your boyfriend when you spot the curtain covering the balcony door moving slightly in the breeze.

Paul leans against the balcony railing letting the smoke rest in his lungs before slowly breathing it out, tapping away the ash from the cigarette. Despite the time the streets still seem busy the roads filled with lights of car traffic.

“You’re up late,” Your voice drifts through the night as he glances behind him seeing you stand there rubbing your bare arms from the slight chill in the air. He holds his arm out and you come over instantly feeling the warmth from him as he holds you close. It’s quiet between you two as he continues to smoke with you in his arms.

“Are you alright?” You ask looking up at him a bit of concern in your eyes that he finds comforting.

“I’m good just a few things on my mind,” He says before taking another hit letting his hand with the cig rest against the railing. He doesn’t fight you as you take it from him taking your hit and letting it rest in your lungs before blowing it out into the Los Angeles night.

“Anything I can help with,” You ask looking up at him. He can’t help the slightly anxious look to cross his features that have you perking up in concern turning to fully face him your hand holding his face, “What’s up?”

Paul lets out a shaky breath, taking the cig and getting a much-needed hit before speaking, “I’m so proud of you and I’m still so grateful to call you mine.” You smile softly at his words letting him take his time to process each thing he was to say.

“Just seeing you up there I didn’t want that high for you to ever end. I want to be there for every win, every award show, every moment,” He grabs your hand rubbing circles with his thumb a habit he’s done often.

“I want to be there for you too,” You respond honestly and he smiles at that.

“I love you,” He blurts the phrase familiar but with such a heavy meaning, “So much, probably more than I should or more than you do.” You give him a look at his words.

“Anyways I know we haven’t been together long and I was gonna ask when we were,” His words start making you anxious about what he’s trying to say.

“I was wondering well wanting..” He stumbles over his words cursing his inability to just speak.

“You’re making me nervous Paul,” You can’t help but laugh nervously, “Just tell me.”

“Will you move in with me?” He catches you off guard as you both stand in silence taking in his words.

“Move in with you…” Paul can’t help but anxiously nod but you have a small smile growing on your face.

His cheeks flushed. “Yeah. I know it’s… a lot. But I love being with you, Y/n. Every minute. And I can’t imagine not waking up next to you every morning.”

You kiss him and he eagerly accepts feeling his nerves slip away his hand cupping your face as you pour your love and all your feelings into it. You pull back still close the smoky taste and lingering alcohol on the both of you.

“I’d love to move in with you.” You smile widely and he can’t help but kiss you again with a promise of forever between you too, “Where’d we live?” You’re mind already running off what’d you both do, how’d you live together, what it would look like?

“We’ll figure that all out as long as I’m with you.” He says and your heart bursts with joy wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulder the cigarette long forgotten and burnt out. The only focus was on each other and your plans for the future together.

[rhiannonsknife]

Thinking about boss!rhiannon and secretary!r where Rhiannon isn't used to this kind of power and wants to keep it professional so badly... But it's not her fault that you're just so sweet, and your cheerful compliance just does things to her... And before she knows it, she's keeping you around in the office longer than usual, she's finding excuses to call you in to talk to her when it's not needed, she's even distracted watching you move about the office, doing little tasks...

So she calls you in again, making sure your progress report lasts a little over work hours, and that's when things get interesting...

-🔆

— BOSS!RHIANNON & SECRETARY!READER

— summary: boss!rhiannon & secretary!reader hcs

— warnings: coworkers(?) to lovers. fem!reader. nsfw content. mdni.

rhiannon who’s new to this whole “being the boss” thing…

…and determined to prove herself by keeping things strictly professional. when she first meets you though, she’s completely unprepared for just how sweet you are. you’re efficient, and always one step ahead too, which should technically make her life easier, but instead, it leaves her flustered. she’s so not used to someone anticipating her needs that it is unnerving. obviously, she resolves to keep things strictly business, but the way you cheerfully ask, “is there anything else i can do for you, ms. lewis?” makes her heart skip every single time.

at first, rhiannon keeps your interactions short and professional.

she sticks to emails and curtly worded requests, but every time you pop into her office with a stack of papers or a fresh cup of coffee, she can’t help her gaze from lingering. there’s a subtle warmth to your presence that she can’t seem to ignore. whether it’s the way you organize her desk without being asked or how you always knock softly before entering her office, rhiannon starts to notice all the little things about you that make her day just a bit better.

but soon enough, rhiannon can’t help herself anymore…

…it starts innocently enough: she finds herself lingering on your emails longer than she should, rereading them even when they don’t need a reply. she catches herself looking forward to hearing your voice when you call to confirm her appointments or when you enter her office to hand her her coffee order.

she starts finding excuses to interact with you more often: a task that could easily be emailed becomes a reason to call you into her office. a question that isn’t urgent becomes an opportunity to stop by your desk. the first time she catches herself staring at you, really staring, while you’re bent over her desk explaining a report, she jolts back like she’s been burned.

your first late night with rhiannon…

…happens by accident. she’s so caught up in work she doesn’t realize you’ve stayed back to help. when she glances up and sees you at your desk, she’s surprised to find that you’ve stayed back to help. “you didn’t have to stay,” rhiannon says, leaning against the doorway to your office. “i didn’t mind, ms. lewis,” you assure, tugging a strand of hair behind your ear.

from this point forward, every week, there’s a new reason for you to stay late. whether it’s a ‘last-minute report’ or ‘urgent filing,’ she keeps you in her orbit well past office hours. rhiannon even goes as far as inventing tasks that don’t really need to be done, like asking you to reorganize a cabinet she just had you sort the day before or pretending she needs a second opinion on a document she’s already reviewed. she schedules unnecessary one-on-one meetings that drag on far longer than they should, and halfway through, she’ll forget what the meeting was even about because she’s too distracted by how intently you’re listening to her.

rhiannon, who eventually reaches her breaking point.

it happens late one evening, during another of her so-called ‘progress report’ meetings. you’re sitting across from her, flipping through a file as you explain the details of a project. she isn’t even pretending to listen anymore, her gaze glued to you.

when you glance up and catch her staring, your brows furrow. “ms. lewis? are you okay?” she inhales sharply at your question, barely managing a clipped, “i’m fine. keep going!” you hesitate before continuing, but the tension in the room is palpable now. her hands clench into fists on her desk, and her eyes flicker to your lips every time you pause.

finally, when you finish your report and move to leave, rhiannon’s voice stops you: “wait!” she blurts. you turn back, confused. “is there something else?” she stands abruptly, her chair forcefully scraping against the floor, and rounds her desk, coming to stand just a foot away from you. “you need to stop being so…” she trails off, visibly struggling.

“so what…?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, heart pounding. her hands twitch at her sides and she crosses her arms over her chest in a sudden movement as she looks for the right words. “so…kind. so sweet. so…you!”

you blink at her, stunned. “i- i don’t understand. did i do something wrong?”

“no,” she says quickly, almost desperately. then, quieter: “you didn’t do anything wrong. that’s the problem…” there’s a beat of silence where neither of you moves, the tension in the air so thick it’s suffocating. then, rhiannon steps closer, her hand reaching out but hovering just shy of touching your arm.

“we shouldn’t…” she murmurs, more to herself than to you.

“shouldn’t what?”

rhiannon finally looks into your eyes, and whatever restraint she had left shatters. before you can respond, she closes the distance, her lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s equal parts desperate and hesitant, as though she’s still testing the waters despite the need to have you. for a moment, you freeze, too shocked to even react. when her hands finally settle on your waist, pulling you closer, you melt into her touch, your own hands finding their way to her shoulders.

when she finally pulls away, her breathing is ragged. “we should not have done that,” she pants, reaching out to fix her hair. “i know,” you reply, your voice equally unsteady. neither of you moves to step away. her thumb brushes against your side absentmindedly as she adds, “i can’t- i’m your boss!”

“then why did you kiss me?” you demand softly.

“i couldn’t not kiss you anymore!” rhiannon reasons breathlessly.

rhiannon, who tries (and fails) to maintain some semblance of professionalism.

every time she sees you, her mind instantly flashes back to the memories of that night you fucked in her office kissed and she has to bite her lip to keep from smiling like an idiot. from this point forward, she’s touchier with you. she puts her hand on your thigh underneath the table, or rubs your back in passing. rhiannon starts leaving little notes for you on your desk as well, seemingly about work tasks, but the messages always end with something personal like: ‘you look amazing from where i’m sitting. just saying! xx’

you, giddy from the moment you read her note, obviously play along and send her your responses via email. ‘should i put ‘amazing’ in the subject line for future progress reports?’

rhiannon who starts calling you into her office more frequently.

things spiral fast after that first night together. “i just need you to clarify something in this report,” rhiannon tells you one afternoon. yet when you step inside and close the door behind you, she’s already standing, her hands reaching for you as the report lies forgotten on her desk.

“you’re a terrible liar,” you tease, wrapping your arms around the back of her neck as she pulls you close. “shut up,” rhiannon mutters playfully as her lips find yours. you both learn exactly how to rile the other up in a short time, even in the most inconvenient moments.

rhiannon who loves the secrecy.

there’s something so thrilling to her about the stolen moments in the office, the hurried, desperate kisses behind closed doors, the way she sneaks glances at you during meetings when no one else is watching you, knowing she’ll have you bent over this very desk later. still, rhiannon struggles with the power dynamic between you, often worrying that she’s taking advantage of her position.

“i don’t want you to feel like you have to-” she starts one night, but you interrupt immediately: “i don’t feel like i ‘have to do’ or anything,” you assure, your hand resting gently on her cheek. “i’m here because i want to be!”

rhiannon who somehow knows exactly what she’s doing.

you’re not sure how many women she’s slept with before, but she’s a natural either way. her touch is better than anything you’ve ever known, her fingers confident in the way they flick over your clit in one of the many hurried office hour escapades. she’ll sit you down on the edge of her desk, the door shut and locked securely, spread you wide open for her, and then put her head between your legs.

and she enjoys it!! she might not get any physical pleasure from it herself but -god- does she love the taste of you on her tongue, eating you out like a woman starved every single time.

“you taste so good,” she whispers against your pussy, her eyes darting up to look at you, her tongue flicking your clit simultaneously. you have to sink your teeth into your bottom lip until you can taste blood to avoid screaming through the entire office and give yourself away.

rhiannon who uses you as her personal stress relief, rather than a secretary.

whether it is subconscious or not, after every single stressful meeting or business call that has tested her patience, rhiannon calls you into her office to blow off some steam. you’re not even sure if she’s aware and you’d never tell, but you love it when she gets like that: when she bends you over her table without another word, pulls down your panties from beneath your skirt, and pounds her fingers into you relentlessly. she’ll just go on and on about how terrible everything went and how incompetent some of her colleagues are while fucking you dumb from behind until your knees give out.

rhiannon who wears a strap to work.

when you first spot the slight bulge in her trousers, you convince yourself that you’re just seeing things. surely, there’s no way your boss would show up wearing a strap-on in the office, right?

yet, when she brushes up against you from behind, rhiannon makes sure you feel the silicone pressing against your center through your clothes. you can hear the way her lips curl up in a satisfied smile when she catches your surprised gasp. “come on,” she whispers, already pulling you along by the wrist.

rhiannon, who loves to watch you ride her in her chair.

whether it is during office hours, where she has to cover your mouth so you won’t be too loud, or after everyone has left and it is just the two of you, she loves to just sit back and watch you work for it. “look at me,” she gently instructs, tilting your head so you’re holding her gaze as you bounce on it. “that’s it,” rhiannon praises, reaching between your legs to rub your stiff clit simultaneously.

sometimes, she doesn’t stop after making you cum for the first time. she only maneuvers you so you’re sitting on the edge of the table, and she can fuck you with your legs wrapped around her waist. and rhiannon is relentless, not letting up despite your ragged moans against the crook of her neck.

also, after you’ve come down from your height and she’s slumped back into her chair, she’ll spread her legs so you can see the way the toy is glistening with your release.

“clean it up,” she urges. you hardly have any time to recover at all, immediately falling to your knees before her to suck her clean until you’re gagging on it.

rhiannon who loves to have you all over the place after all your coworkers have gone home.

whether you’re bent over her rhiannon’s desk, pressed against the window at night, or in that one colleague’s chair who’s been trying to flirt with you for the past weeks…she just wants to claim you in all these different spots. you love it though: you love becoming your boss’s personal fuck toy over time. you love it when rhiannon fucks you -hard and fast-when she makes you cry out her name in pleasure.

rhiannon, who knows that your relationship is not sustainable.

and she knows that you’re aware of it too. you tell her one night, as you’re sitting on her lap, facing her. rhiannon’s hand gently caresses your back, tracing the outline of your spine when you speak: “you know this isn’t sustainable, right?” you murmur against the side of her neck.

“mhm i know,” rhiannon murmurs. “let’s just…not think about that right now, okay?”

you nod, your fingers finding her free hand as you sit together in the quiet.

[ilys00ga]

𝗢𝗡𝗖𝗘 𝗨𝗣𝗢𝗡 𝗔 𝗙𝗨𝗟𝗟𝗠𝗢𝗢𝗡.

PAIR: yoongi x f reader

TAGS/WARNINGS: strangers to lovers, 'love at first sight' (I tried, okay?), producer!yoongi, producer!reader, fluff, I don't really know how to tag anymore, oh yeah no warnings just smoking ig, cats <3 this is very cheesy but op requested that sooo!!

A/N: requested <333 this is not my proudest work. and to be honest, I don't think I like it that much. but this is the best I can provide atm :,) I hope yall like it. don't forget yo leave ur feedback and comments! lots of love <333

SYNOPSIS: the one where yoongi falls in love at first sight on the streets of his city.

PS. ignore all mistakes people, thank u. I can't believe I even managed to finish and post this !

It all started one breezy Tuesday night—The first time Yoongi felt his heart leap in his chest because of a complete stranger.

The tune he had been stuck dealing with for the previous couple of hours was an endless loop echoing in his head, a desperate effort of his brain to solve his headaches for himself.

Being a significant producer-songwriter for many, he was often locked up in his studio for entire days, sometimes even weeks, but that's when he can tell he's on the verge of plunging into insanity—the irony of choosing to do the one thing he loved the most in this world—if he didn’t pick up his keys and his phone, headed towards the door and walked the tension between his bones away.

On his way back home that night, he let his legs bring him to a park by the edge of a vast river. It was fairly late into the night, but some humans lingered there and about.

He sat on a lonely bench, drawing some of the fresh air into his lungs before leaning back and making himself comfortable against his seat. Usually, he’d go for less crowded places, places where solitude spoke to his mind and put it to rest in the middle of the chaos his life was. That night, he found himself watching people existing on the edge of that river, where the water spoke the language of the sky and painted an image of the bright moon and city lights.

On their little picnic mats were couples sharing delicate intimacy and friend groups laughing and chatting amongst themselves, while cyclists drifted by. A perfect picture of humans basking in the moment.

And Yoongi? He had a cigarette burning between his fingers to keep him company.

His thoughts ran with a mind of their very own, he almost didn't notice her.

The stranger passed by him like the gentle whispers of breeze that played with his hair strands. A nearby cat caught her attention, she crouched down and petted it.

“You're hungry, aren't you? Me too, me too. I only had lunch today. Coffee for breakfast. I'm working on a new project these days. It's always hectic, you know? You probably don't. You're just a cute fluff ball. Wandering around. Surviving.”

Such were the soft words he heard the human say. It seemed like a natural conversation to any passing-by ear. He wouldn't have guessed a cat was at the receiving end if he weren't at a short proximity from them, but the simple interaction painted a faint smile on his face. It was endearingly pleasant.

Shifting his gaze to the scenery ahead of himself, he took long, thorough drags of his cigarette, and let his thoughts consume him.

“Hey, can I sit here?” He heard her voice again. Yoongi looked up, almost startled. The first thought that came to his mind was that her friendly smile reminded him of Sakura leaves dripping from the sky.

She pointed to the other end of the bench he sat on, waiting for his response.

“Yes, of course.” He replied, ignoring the way his heart dramatically skipped a beat in his chest, and the way the sound of the world existing around him faded into a blissful quiet once their gazes met.

She sat down quietly, her smell lingered in the air between them, and spoke again, “Cats hate the smell of cigarettes, you know.”

He looked at her again, the warm streetlamps kissed all over her features, giving him a better view of her face.

Her eyes, Yoongi thought he finally found something new to write a song about.

Regardless of the gentleness of her voice—almost as soft as the distant sound of the waves dancing across the shore—he glanced down at the cigarette in his hand with a weird sense of embarrassment.

“My bad.” He muttered, doing a quick job of pressing the burning cigarette to the sole of his shoe. Its once alive flame slowly died into a lifeless gray dust, before being tossed into a trash bin nearby.

She smiled, “It's okay. Have you ever owned a cat?”

He shifted awkwardly in his seat and answered with a short ‘yes’.

“Then you should know they don't appreciate it when people ruin their lungs like that.” She added, her tone light-hearted.

That made him release a soft chuckle into the air. His heart fluttered in his chest when she chuckled along, and then she proceeded to tell him that she too, although rarely, smoked as well.

“I always keep cat food in my bag just in case.” She said, bringing out a pack of cat food from her bag and showing it to him.

“Why?” He asked. He knew why, of course he did, but he'd never felt so at ease with a stranger before. He had the urge to initiate any form of conversation with the stranger to hear pieces of her mind for some longer.

“Because all cats deserve food and love. Especially the stray ones.” It was not hard to pick up on the shift that happened to her tone. The lightness that was once present on her features quickly faded into faint dullness. It almost made a frown of his own appear on his face.

She added, “Sadly, that's not common in the world we live in.”

“Keep doing that.” He said. “The thing you said you always do, keep doing it. Maybe one day you'll influence someone, and that someone will influence another someone. More cats will be fed and taken care of..”

The words floated in the air for a while. She smiled, a genuine, grateful one that gave him a sense of satisfaction.

The pair sat in silence following that. Neither of them deemed the need to fill the comfortable quiet that sat on the bench between them to be necessary.

An ‘Oh!’ from between her lips broke the silence between them. The stranger's brows tugged together as she checked her watch, and she muttered something about the time going so fast and her being late for something.

He never liked to admit it to himself, but he felt a tinge of disappointment pop inside his chest at the thought of her leaving.

He silently watched as she stood up and hoisted her bag’s strap onto her shoulder, then asked about his name. He answered as casually as he could muster.

“Yoongi..” She repeated, as if savoring the name on her own tongue, and smiled, “I'm _. It was really nice meeting you.”

And just like that, she was gone, fading into the faint chatter of the people surrounding him, and he was left in the park with a cat rubbing its body against his legs. It reminded him of her, the only thing that he had left of someone he thought he would never see again.

He made sure to feed and pet the creature some more, before scooping it up in his arms and taking them home. His mother would take good care of him, he thought.

The next day, he spent an embarrassing amount of time wondering if he'd find her warm smile and affection towards strays if he were to go to that park again. He missed her eyes, her smile, the way she'd spoken to him so naturally and so easily.

He was trying to push those thoughts off his plate and focus on his work, when she walked into his studio and introduced herself as his new, awaited co-producer.

The best part of it all was the excitement she displayed upon seeing him. It felt like he was reencountered with an old friend, except that an old friend wasn't supposed to make you feel like a teenager catching the glimpse of their crush in the distance.

“Hi! It’s you again! Sorry for being late. I had a crazy morning and just when I thought I was making it I-” She proceeded to talk, but he cut her little rant off with a gentle question.

“You met another cat?”

The small but amused smile on his lips grew a little bigger when the faint blush on her cheeks became more apparent.

“Well, yeah, I kind of did..” she trailed off, tilting her head to the side in embarrassment.

It wasn't hard for them to find a common ground to stand on after that. She liked to talk, the words kept coming naturally out of her mouth, and Yoongi, he liked to listen, and he didn't mind her talking his ears off one bit.

One day after another, hours spent in the studio together. It slowly became something very familiar to him, the feelings her presence gave him. They shared takeout meals on his uncomfortable studio couch and many cups of coffee at late hours of the night. The project they worked on continued to link his heart to hers. On days she would walk in with a deep frown on her face or tears staining her cheeks, she would sit on that couch and mope, and he would wordlessly open a can of beer and put it in front of her, then sit to work next to her until she decided life was worth living again.

From a stranger, to a ‘friend’, to someone he couldn’t stop thinking about. She was not only a good hearted person, but an incredibly smart and talented producer.

If feeding cats together did not push him over the edge of what he thought he would never come to experience again, then working with her surely did.

Sure, he didn’t have his answers. He didn’t know if it was going to be a long lasting thing, or just one more of those phases where his lonesome heart clung onto something other than the thing he loves the most, music, before deciding it had enough. He didn’t know what to do with the feelings that kept growing in his chest and the stupid butterflies he felt in his guts every time she so much as smiled at him. But he knew that spending hours at work and feeding stray cats became things he looked up to every single morning.

More importantly, he had a feeling that whatever he was feeling didn't come from his part alone, but it was all left unsaid for the sake of keeping a fine line between work and personal emotions.

And then it happened, their first, tipsy kiss. When they shared a bottle of liquor and celebrated the wrap-up of their project. The faint blush on her cheeks every time their eyes met made him feel like screaming at the top of his lungs.

He tasted the alcohol on her cherry lips, and oh, how he loved the taste on his tongue.

He thought he'd reached the peak of helplessness when he wrote poems for her eyes, but then he wrote some more for her lips, then her smile, then her hair, then her hands… and then there was no going back.

[hoe4hotchner]

The Perfect Pumpkin | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!reader (x Jack Hotchner) CW: Nothing but tooth rotting fluff and mentions of halloween WC: 1.6k

Happy Halloween to all those who celebrate

           The crisp autumn air filled your lungs as you, Aaron, and Jack stepped out of the car, the pumpkin patch spread out before you like a scene from a cozy fall postcard from up north. Golden and red leaves crunched beneath your feet, and the scent of fresh hay hung in the breeze. Jack was practically bouncing with excitement, his eyes scanning the field for the perfect pumpkin.

           Aaron reached for your hand, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. "Ready for some pumpkin hunting?" he asked with a soft smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that always made your heart skip a beat.

           You nodded, grinning as you watched Jack dart ahead, already inspecting the rows of bright orange pumpkins scattered across the patch. “I think Jack’s got a head start,” you teased, watching the boy crouch down to examine the first pumpkin he saw.

           Aaron chuckled, “He’s been talking about this for weeks. I think he’s more excited about this than Halloween itself.”

           You smiled, your gaze shifting to Jack, who was now holding up a pumpkin almost as big as he was. His face was lit up with joy, his enthusiasm contagious.

           "Hey! What about this one?" Jack called out, his voice full of excitement as he showed you both his find.

           You walked over with Aaron, pretending to give the pumpkin a thorough inspection. “Hmm,” you said thoughtfully, crouching down beside Jack. “It’s a pretty good one, but how about we keep looking for a bit? We want to make sure we pick the perfect ones.” Truth be told none of you were sure how you would manage to carve a pumpkin that size.

           Jack nodded, his expression serious as if this were the most important decision of the day. “Okay, but I’m gonna keep this one in mind.” You almost burst into laughter, loving how serious the boy was about his pumpkins

           Aaron stood beside you, arms crossed as he watched the two of you. He looked relaxed - at ease in this simple moment, far from the chaos of his usual work life.

           As you wandered through the patch, the three of you shared laughs and moments of quiet contentment. Jack darted between the pumpkins, inspecting each one with the utmost seriousness, while you and Aaron strolled hand in hand, occasionally exchanging glances that felt like small, unspoken secrets between the two of you.

           At one point, Jack found a particularly lopsided pumpkin and proudly showed it to Aaron, who pretended to be deeply impressed by its unique shape. "I think this one’s got some character," Aaron said with a smile, giving Jack a playful nudge.

           After a while, you finally came across a pumpkin that caught your eye. It was round, perfectly sized, and had a rich orange color. “What do you think, Jack?” you asked, holding it up for his approval.

           Jack came over, giving the pumpkin a critical look before grinning. “That one’s awesome!”

           Aaron leaned in, his voice soft as he whispered in your ear, “Looks like we’ve got a winner.”

           The warmth of his breath sent a shiver down your spine, and you smiled, feeling a surge of happiness wash over you. These moments - simple, sweet, and filled with love - were what you cherished the most.

           With your pumpkins chosen, the three of you made your way to the check-out, Jack happily talking about the designs he wanted to carve. Aaron carried the pumpkins with ease, while Jack excitedly swung your hand back and forth as you walked.

           As you left the pumpkin patch, the sky began to turn a soft shade of pink, the sun setting behind the rows of trees in the distance. The day had been simple, yet perfect, full of laughter, warmth, and the promise of more moments like this to come. You couldn’t wait to get home, carve the pumpkins together, and continue creating memories with the two people who meant the world to you.

           The fall breeze ruffled your hair as you climbed into the car, Jack still chatting about the spooky faces he wanted to carve into his pumpkin, and Aaron glanced at you with a soft smile - the kind that said everything without needing to say a word. You leaned back in your seat, content and happy.

           As you walked into the cozy warmth of your home, the smell of cinnamon and nutmeg lingering from the candles lit earlier filled the air, wrapping you in a comforting embrace. Jack dashed ahead, already setting up his carving station at the kitchen table, his excitement palpable. You and Aaron exchanged amused glances, and he placed the pumpkins down with a soft thud, shaking his head with a smile.

           “Looks like we’ve got a true artist on our hands,” Aaron said, ruffling Jack’s hair as he joined him at the table.

           Jack beamed up at his dad, pulling out a small carving kit. “I’m gonna make mine super spooky!” he declared, his eyes shining with determination. He picked up the smaller of the pumpkins and set it before him, his tiny fingers eagerly searching for the best spot to begin.

           You settled next to Jack, your own pumpkin resting on the table. “What do you think we should carve?” you asked, leaning over to give him a playful nudge.

           Jack thought for a moment, tapping his chin dramatically. “How about a ghost? Or a monster with lots of teeth?”

           You chuckled at his enthusiasm. “Both sound great! But how about I carve a friendly ghost, and you can make a monster? That way we’ll have a spooky friend and a scary one!”

           Jack’s eyes lit up. “Yeah! And I’ll make mine really big with sharp teeth!”

           As you gathered your carving tools, Aaron leaned back against the counter, watching you both with a soft smile. He loved these moments - seeing Jack so animated, the way you encouraged him, and the warmth that filled the room.

           You picked up your pumpkin, examining its smooth surface. With a pencil, you sketched out a simple yet cheerful ghost. “I want him to be smiling,” you said as you drew the outline. “What do you think, Jack?”

           Jack nodded vigorously, already busy sketching his own design - a monster with exaggerated features, wide eyes, and a toothy grin. “Mine’s gonna be the scariest!”

           As you began carving, you carefully cut into the pumpkin, the blade sawing through the flesh as you focused on bringing your ghost to life. The rhythmic sound of the knife punctuated the room, mingling with Jack’s excited chatter about his creation.

           “Look, Dad!” Jack called, holding up his pumpkin. “What do you think?”

           Aaron stepped closer, his smile broadening as he examined the monster’s jagged teeth and wild eyes. “That looks awesome, buddy! It’s definitely going to scare anyone who comes to our door,” he replied, pride evident in his voice.

           You glanced up, watching the interaction. It was moments like these - seeing the bond between father and son - that made everything feel complete. You turned back to your pumpkin, carving out the top of it, imagining the delight it would bring to Jack on Halloween night.

           Once you finished the outline, you set the knife down and pulled out a small scoop, starting to remove the insides of the pumpkin. Jack watched intently, his curiosity piqued. “Can I help?” he asked, his eyes wide with anticipation.

           “Of course!” you replied, handing him the scoop. “Here, you can scoop out the insides and then we’ll clean them up together.”

           With that, the three of you worked in harmony as Aaron took over Jack's pumpkin for a little while, laughter filling the kitchen as Jack giggled at the squishy guts of the pumpkin. “This is so gross!” he exclaimed, dramatically pretending to gag, which made you and Aaron laugh even harder.

           Aaron scooped out some of the insides of his pumpkin. “You know, it’s not Halloween without a little mess,” he said, looking at Jack with a smirk.

           The atmosphere was filled with warmth and joy, and the soft glow of the candles flickered around the room, casting playful shadows. You glanced at Aaron, catching his eye, and felt a rush of happiness. Watching him interact with Jack - seeing the laughter and love they shared - filled your heart to the brim.

           As the pumpkins began to take shape, you started to add the final details to your ghost, giving it a playful expression. Jack’s monster was turning out wonderfully, its features exaggerated in the best way possible.

           “Look at my monster!” Jack said proudly, showing off his work, eyes sparkling with glee.

           “It’s perfect, Jack!” you praised, leaning closer to inspect the details he had added. “I can’t wait to see how they look all lit up.”

           Once both pumpkins were carved, you placed a small candle inside each one and lit the wicks. The glow illuminated the kitchen, casting a warm, inviting light. You admired the friendly ghost and the menacing monster side by side, feeling a swell of pride.

           Aaron reached for your hand, his thumb brushing against your skin as he gazed at the pumpkins. “You both did an amazing job. I think we’ve got the best pumpkins in all of Virginia,” he said, his voice full of affection.

           “Now we have to put them outside!” Jack exclaimed, hopping off the chair. He darted toward the door, clearly eager to show off the fruits of your labor to all your neighbors.

           You and Aaron followed the excitement bubbling within you. Outside, the stars began to twinkle overhead, and a soft blanket of darkness had settled over the town as you had worked away in the kitchen. As you arranged the pumpkins on the porch, the soft flickering light danced in the night, illuminating the orange shell.

           As you stood together, watching the glowing pumpkins, a sense of peace enveloped you, a beautiful night spent with your two favorite people, filled with laughter, love, and the magic of Halloween.

[playboysaleen]

Through Ash and Iron (9)

Jinx x Reader x Caitlyn

Summary: Through Ash and Iron plunges you into the heart of Piltover’s gritty streets, where you’ve always felt the weight of your family’s failures. Rejected from the Junior Enforcer Program, your anger burns brighter than ever—until one fateful punch changes everything. The eyes of Piltover’s elite may look down on you, but it’s the wild eyes of Jinx that truly see you. She’s chaos personified, and you’re drawn to the destruction she promises. But that’s not all. Caitlyn Kiramman, a poised enforcer with a soft spot for rebels like you, offers you a chance to rewrite your future—if you can control the rage you can’t seem to escape.Torn between the order Caitlyn represents and the dangerous freedom Jinx offers, you stand at the crossroads of two worlds. As your power grows, so does the tension between these two women. One promises a chance at belonging, while the other ignites a fire you didn’t know you had. But the choices you make will change everything—not just for you, but for both cities teetering on the edge of war. Who will you choose? And how much of yourself will you lose along the way?

Warnings: Violence duh, gay panic(lol), cursing, all that jazz (whatever you seen in Arcane is what you gon see here)This is also a slight AU.(She/her)

Word Count: 5.6k

________________

The air in the Undercity had always felt heavy, but tonight, it was different. It was like the weight of the world was just a little lighter, as though the very ground beneath your feet had shifted in subtle ways. You walked along the outskirts of the city with purpose, your cloak drawn around you, hiding the glowing remnants of your eyes beneath the fabric’s shadow. Your hand was in Isha’s, her tiny fingers clasped around yours, her energy a contrast to your quietude. She skipped ahead, her enthusiasm infectious, pointing at the little lights that flickered throughout the ruins of the Undercity. The children, the ones who ran freely through the streets, were a reminder of what was still worth protecting in this place.

Behind you, Caitlyn and Jinx followed, though they kept their distance—Jinx was filled with excitement, her eyes darting from you to Isha as the girl pulled you along like a little magnet. Caitlyn, though quieter, remained steadfast, her gaze ever so watchful over the group. She had grown accustomed to seeing this side of you, but there was still something about it that made her heart ache. This wasn’t the person you used to be—not the one who had fought, struggled, and often retreated into darkness—but a gentler version, one who had learned the value of peace and healing.

As you continued your walk, you could feel the weight of the moment. You were here to make a change—one that started with the children. The orphans who lived and played here, in the field by the ruins, had little in the way of hope. But here, now, with every step you took, you felt something stirring in you—an unwavering determination to bring peace to those who needed it most.

When you reached the field, the children were scattered, laughing and playing among the debris. There was joy here, simple and untamed, like a breath of fresh air that hadn’t been stifled yet by the harshness of the world. But it wasn’t just joy that you saw in their eyes—it was hope. Hope that things could be better.

Your gaze swept across them, glowing gray eyes taking in every detail, and then a small figure limped toward you, his steps slow but steady. You knelt in front of him, your hand outstretched, waiting for him to come closer. His face was drawn, his tiny body wearing the marks of a life already heavy with struggle. When he reached you, he looked up, his eyes wide, filled with wonder and a quiet sadness that you couldn’t ignore.

“What’s your name?” you asked, your voice soft, the words almost like a whisper between you both.

The boy hesitated before answering, his voice barely above a murmur. “Milo.”

You smiled down at him, your eyes locking with his, and in that moment, something passed between you—something unspoken, something that made the air around you feel warmer. His eyes shimmered, glistening with unshed tears, and he gave a shaky smile. His lips parted, but before he could speak, you leaned closer, your tone gentle but cryptic.

“If I bring you peace, will you spread it?”

Milo looked up at you, confusion clouding his features for a moment, then he nodded, a single tear falling down his cheek. “I will… I promise.”

You wrapped your arms around him gently, pulling him into a soft embrace. The feeling of his small body against yours, of a life weighed down by the world’s cruelty, made your chest ache. Slowly, you placed one hand on his leg, feeling the warmth of his body beneath your touch. Your eyes closed, and as you focused on the energy that surged through your veins, a soft glow began to emerge around the two of you, lighting up the field like a beacon of hope.

The light that enveloped you both was bright, pure, almost blinding. For a moment, it was as if the world around you had frozen in place. Jinx and Caitlyn stood by your side, eyes wide with a mix of awe and confusion, but they couldn’t see what you saw. They couldn’t feel what you felt.

But Isha saw. She blinked away the brightness, her small face lit with confusion and then awe as she sprinted toward you. When the light faded and you stood, a soft gasp escaped from Isha’s lips. Milo, the small boy who had limped toward you, was now standing tall, his face lit with joy. He laughed, and within moments, he was running back to the other children, joining their play, free of the burden that had weighed him down.

Jinx and Caitlyn watched him, their mouths slightly open, unsure of what had just happened. But you simply stood there, your hand outstretched, waiting for them to understand.

“He was dying,” you said, your voice quiet. “Cancer. He had only a few weeks left. But now, he has more time. Time to grow, to live. Time to spread the peace I gave him.”

Caitlyn’s brow furrowed, her gaze moving from you to the boy and back again. “You healed him? But… how? I saw nothing wrong with him…”

You smiled, the glow still lingering in your eyes as you looked down at your hand. A faint pulse of light pulsed beneath your skin, and you raised your hand to reveal the faintest dark shimmer, like the shadows of the world had found their way into your touch.

“His body was dimming,” you said, your voice calm but heavy with the weight of understanding. “The darkness had already begun to consume him. But the light I gave him… it countered that darkness. He will live now. For a while. Until it’s his time.”

Jinx looked at you, her eyes wide, not quite understanding but in awe nonetheless. “So you… just healed him like that? No effort?”

You shook your head. “It wasn’t without effort. But he needed something more than just medicine. He needed something that could only come from peace… and love. The kind that heals what can’t be seen.”

The wind shifted slightly, rustling your cloak as the children’s laughter echoed in the distance. It felt like the world was slowly turning, beginning to right itself. And though there was still so much to be done, in this moment, for the first time, you truly believed that peace—your peace—was possible.

You watched as Milo joined the other children, playing without the limp that once held him back, and your chest swelled with a quiet joy. This was the beginning. The first step. The start of something new.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, Caitlyn and Jinx stood by your side, their gazes unwavering. They didn’t need to speak to understand that this moment—this quiet victory—meant something far greater than just healing one child. It was the first ripple in a much larger change. One that would spread across Piltover, across the Undercity. Across the world.

And as the night settled in, you knew that whatever came next, you were ready for it. Together, you could change the world.

Weeks passed, and the world seemed to breathe a little easier. There were still struggles, still moments of hardship, but for the first time, there was hope in the Undercity. You had healed lives—children, families, those burdened by pain. Your touch brought peace. It wasn’t just the physical ailments you had mended, but the broken spirits, the shattered hearts. The people began to see the shift, the change. The city was starting to wake from its long, oppressive slumber.

But something was changing within you.

You couldn’t ignore it.

The light inside you—the energy that once burned bright and fierce—began to flicker, dimming in ways you couldn’t understand. At first, it was small. A slight heaviness in your chest. A brief twinge of discomfort when you healed someone too long or too deeply. Then came the limping. A soft ache that lingered in your legs, one you’d try to hide from Jinx and Caitlyn. They didn’t need to worry. They had enough on their plates. But the pain grew, slowly at first, like a quiet shadow that refused to be ignored.

You kept your distance, locking yourself away when the feeling became too much to bear. You stayed hidden from everyone, away from the light, the sounds, the calls for you. Isha, the one who had always been so full of energy and life, began to ask for you. She’d run to your door, her small hands knocking urgently, her lips trembling when she couldn’t find you.

“Where’s Spark? Where’s Spark?” her big eyes scanning the streets.

But you stayed inside, and the world outside continued without you.

Until one evening, Jinx and Caitlyn couldn’t ignore it anymore.

The distance between you was growing too large for them to pretend it wasn’t there. They exchanged worried glances, but neither of them had the answers. So, they made a decision together. They would figure out what was happening to you. No more avoiding the truth. No more pretending.

The two of them met at the base of your apartment, looking up at the rooftop. Caitlyn’s face was full of resolve, her jaw set tight. Jinx, on the other hand, couldn’t hide the fear that danced in her wild, chaotic eyes. She was nervous. You’d always been her constant, her tether to reality. But now… something was wrong. Too much had changed too fast.

They climbed the stairs to your apartment, the silence between them stretching thick in the air. When they reached your door, Caitlyn’s hand paused on the handle.

“Are you ready?” she asked, though her voice barely disguised her concern.

Jinx didn’t answer right away. She could feel the weight of the moment pressing on her chest. After everything you’d done, everything you’d been through, she didn’t want to face the possibility that you were slipping away. But she nodded. “Yeah… let’s go.”

The door creaked open.

You were there, slumped against the wall in a corner of your room, unconscious. The sight hit them like a cold slap to the face. You weren’t moving. You weren’t breathing as you should be. There was something so wrong about the stillness in the air that made both Caitlyn and Jinx’s hearts skip a beat.

“Oh no… no, no, no…” Jinx whispered, rushing to your side. Her hands shook as she cradled your face, her lips trembling with every word. “Come on, Spark. Wake up. Please.”

Caitlyn immediately pushed her aside. There was no time to waste.

“Call Ekko. Now!” she ordered, her voice sharp with urgency.

Jinx didn’t hesitate. She scrambled to the rooftop, her mind racing as she fumbled with the flare gun in her hands. Without thinking, she fired three flares—blue, green, and red—into the sky. They illuminated the night, streaking through the darkness with a silent cry for help.

The seconds felt like hours as Jinx paced on the rooftop, her heart hammering in her chest. But finally, a distant hoverboard cut through the night air, its low hum filling the empty spaces around them. Ekko arrived, his face tight with concern, his eyes flicking between the two women before settling on you.

Without wasting another moment, he rushed to your side, lifting you with ease and placing you on the hoverboard. The engine hummed louder as he pushed it forward, a blur of motion as he sped toward the laboratory—the place where it all began. The place where you had become more than you were. The place where he, along with Heimerdinger, had watched you fight and grow.

But now, it was a place where only questions remained.

Ekko arrived, his heart racing as he carefully laid you on the table in the familiar lab. The machines hummed quietly, blinking sporadically as the staff rushed to assist him. Heimerdinger was already there, eyes wide with alarm. The tiny scientist darted around, his thoughts moving faster than his hands as he began to assess the situation.

“What happened to her?” Heimerdinger asked, more to himself than anyone else.

Ekko didn’t have an answer. He could only look at you, the woman who had once stood tall and resolute, now pale and unresponsive. He clenched his fists in frustration.

Jinx and Caitlyn stood behind, their worry palpable in the air, each of them watching you like you were already lost. The fear in Jinx’s eyes was hard to hide, and Caitlyn’s jaw tightened, trying to hold herself together.

But it wasn’t just worry that lingered in the room—it was confusion. The peace you had brought to the world now seemed to have a price, one that no one understood.

Heimerdinger adjusted his glasses, scanning your vitals on the screen.

“Her condition is… troubling,” he murmured, his voice thick with concern. “She’s not just physically drained… there’s something else going on here.”

Ekko stepped forward, watching as the scientist fiddled with the machines. “What do you mean?”

“There’s a strange fluctuation in her neural activity,” Heimerdinger said, his tone low and cautious. “It’s as if something is siphoning her energy from the inside out. This isn’t just exhaustion or trauma… it’s something much more complex.”

Jinx’s voice trembled as she spoke up, “What are you saying? Is she gonna—?”

“We don’t know yet,” Heimerdinger interrupted, his gaze focused on the screen. “But if we don’t figure this out soon, we may lose her for good.”

Caitlyn stepped forward, her hands clenched at her sides. “We can’t lose her. We just got her back.”

There was silence as everyone stared at the still figure of the woman who had given so much of herself for the world. Everyone in the room knew that they couldn’t let this be the end.

Back in the darkness, you still drifted.

Viktor’s voice echoed softly, a guiding whisper in the abyss. You had heard it before, but now, it felt different. He was close, yet impossibly far away. The world felt as though it was slipping from your grasp.

“You are not lost,” Viktor’s voice said, his words reverberating through the void. “This is just another test. The power inside you… it requires balance. But you will find it. You must.”

You didn’t understand. You didn’t know how much more you could endure.

But Viktor was right.

“Come,” he whispered, “You’re almost there. It’s not the end, it’s the beginning. Let go of the pain. Embrace the change.”

And with those words, you felt something stir within you once more.

The Abyss was silent, its vast emptiness pressing in on you as you followed Viktor, each step heavier than the last. You had been walking beside him for what felt like eternity, the flickering light of his riddles casting strange shadows on the edges of your mind. His words were endless, a constant flow of cryptic phrases that swirled around you like the smoke from a dying fire. You didn’t always understand, but you trusted him, didn’t you?

You had to, right?

But something was changing in you. With each step, you could feel the weight of the truth slipping into your mind, a whisper that grew louder with each passing moment.

His voice broke the silence again, cool and calculated. “You’ve done well, you know. You have the power, the ability to make this world what it could be… if only you accept your role.”

You tilted your head, listening closely, trying to read the layers of meaning behind his words. “What role?” you asked softly, your voice tinged with hesitation. The riddles were becoming harder to piece together.

He smiled, a cruel curve of his lips that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “To be my right hand. Together, we will make the world a better place… for me.”

And in that moment, everything clicked.

The puzzle pieces you’d been trying to fit together for so long finally fell into place, and with them, the truth crashed over you like a tidal wave.

You were never meant to be the healer.

No, you were a tool. A pawn. A pawn in Viktor’s game. Everything you had done, everything you had healed, was never about bringing peace to the world. It was about him—his vision, his hunger for power.

You had been draining yourself. You were fueling him.

The realization struck you like lightning. Every time you healed, every time you gave of yourself, you were siphoning away your own life force to feed the darkness inside him. The shimmering light you had believed to be your gift, your purpose, had been nothing more than a leash wrapped around your soul, a way for Viktor to use your power for his own means.

You felt sick.

Your breath hitched, and your hand instinctively shot to your chest, feeling the emptiness inside. The energy you had thought was yours, the hope you’d built in the Undercity… it had all been nothing but a mask. You weren’t a savior. You were the fuel for his twisted ambitions.

As Viktor continued, his voice so smug and assured, you felt the rage stir in you, igniting like a wildfire in your chest. “You don’t understand,” he continued with his usual calm tone, oblivious to the storm brewing in you. “You think you’re healing the world, but it was always going to be this way. I have always known, and now… you know too.”

The world around you seemed to collapse, like a lens cracking under pressure. And then, Viktor’s voice rose to a higher pitch. “You’re mine. You always have been. You’ve helped me become who I was meant to be. And now… you’ll help me bring this world into its true order.”

At that moment, your anger burned hotter than anything you’d ever known. Every instinct in you screamed to fight, to break free. Your mind was no longer foggy with the effects of manipulation—it was clear. Your eyes, once a dull gray, burned with a fierce purple hue. The rage bubbled up inside you, taking form in a wave of violent energy.

“No.” Your voice was low and dangerous, a rumble that shook the very ground beneath you. “It’s time you learned how the real world works.”

Without warning, you charged.

Viktor’s smug smile vanished in an instant, his eyes widening as you barreled toward him. He tried to sidestep, but the sheer force of your anger knocked him back. You tackled him with all the power you could muster, sending his body crashing to the ground with an impact that reverberated through the Abyss.

In the chaos of that moment, something strange happened.

The connection between your body in the Abyss and your real form was severed for the briefest of moments. You felt yourself slipping back into your body, as though you were being pulled from the depths of this nightmare and thrust back into your skin.

Your eyes flashed open, the familiar white-hot pain of being pulled back into the physical world filling your senses. The laboratory rushed into view, the cool metallic walls and the quiet hum of machines.

But Viktor wasn’t the only one who had been affected.

The collision between you and him broke through the veil of reality, and everything around you seemed to slow to a crawl. In the lab, Ekko’s eyes widened as he watched you struggle against Viktor’s influence, the purple light in your eyes flashing brighter, more intense with each passing second. He knew something was wrong—this wasn’t just another manipulation. This was a battle for your soul.

The machines beeped and whirred as the flares—red, green, and blue—shot up into the sky from the laboratory roof. The emergency signals cut through the air, the city skyline illuminated by the light, a cry for help that reached the farthest corners of Piltover and the Undercity.

Jinx, Caitlyn, and Sevika all saw the flares, and the urgency in the air could no longer be ignored. They began to move, quickly, toward the one place they knew you would be—back to where everything had started.

In the Abyss, the world around you swirled as you dropped Viktor onto the cold ground. His form crumpled, but he wasn’t down for long. He stood quickly, his body moving with mechanical precision as he got into his stance, prepared for the standoff that would follow.

His voice was calm, but there was a hint of frustration in it now. “You don’t understand,” he hissed. “You can’t defeat me. I have been planning this for too long. Your role in this is… already written.”

But you were no longer the same person you had been. The calm, peaceful soul who had once healed the world had been replaced by something far more dangerous. You were a force of nature now, and Viktor’s riddles had no power over you.

The ground trembled as you squared off against him, your purple eyes glowing brighter than ever, the energy crackling in the air around you.

“I’m not your pawn anymore,” you spat, your voice laced with venom. “This is where your game ends.”

And with that, you lunged forward, the energy around you crackling like electricity, ready to rewrite the world.

In the laboratory, Ekko watched, his heart racing as he pressed a button, setting off the alarms. The flares were only the beginning—he needed to make sure everyone knew the stakes. Jinx, Caitlyn, and Sevika were already on their way.

But would they make it in time? Would they be able to save you from the darkness that Viktor had sewn so deeply into your soul?

The world held its breath.

The roar of the explosion ripped through the air, sending a shockwave that reverberated across the bridge between Piltover and the Undercity. Jinx, Caitlyn, and Sevika sprinted toward the lab, their hearts pounding in their chests. Just as the building’s rooftop came into view, a massive sphere of fire erupted into the sky, the shockwave hurling them back several feet. 

Jinx hit the ground hard, shielding Isha from debris. Caitlyn groaned as she pushed herself to her feet, her hand instinctively going to the rifle slung over her back. Sevika stood, using her metal arm to shield her face from the heat. The three froze, their eyes widening as a figure descended in the chaos—a dark mass flung from the rooftop like a meteor crashing to earth.

The ball of fire slammed into the street several meters away, the impact sending dirt and smoke spiraling into the air. Caitlyn coughed, waving her hand in front of her face to clear the debris. Jinx pulled Isha closer, her pulse racing as she tried to see through the haze.

Out of the smoldering wreckage, they could just barely make out Viktor. His body was limp, sprawled in a heap on the cracked pavement. His once pristine metal enhancements sparked erratically, the eerie glow of his Hexcore flickering weakly. He coughed, blood trickling from his lips, and his eyes fluttered as he struggled to stay conscious.

Then, from the smoke, a shadow emerged.

The ground trembled beneath your feet as you walked forward, dragging Viktor by his hair, his lifeless limbs trailing behind him. The smoke clung to you like a veil, your hood fallen back to reveal the grim determination etched into your face. Your glowing purple eyes pierced through the haze, bright and menacing, a color that sent a chill down the spines of everyone watching.

Jinx froze, her breath catching in her throat. Caitlyn’s hand tightened around her weapon, but she didn’t raise it. Sevika stood still, her mechanical arm twitching slightly, as if ready to intervene but unsure how. 

The laboratory doors burst open, and Ekko and Heimerdinger rushed out, skidding to a halt at the sight before them. The once calm, composed healer they had come to know was now an embodiment of raw fury. 

You stopped in the middle of the street, the smoke swirling around you like a storm. With one swift motion, you flung Viktor’s body forward, letting it slump to the ground in front of everyone. His head lolled to the side, his eyes half-lidded as he coughed weakly, too broken to speak. 

You straightened, your chest rising and falling with deep, controlled breaths. Your voice cut through the tension like a blade, low and sharp: 

"All my life, I’ve been a pawn. Used. Manipulated. You all saw me as a beacon, as hope—but behind every step I took, there was someone like him pulling the strings." You gestured to Viktor with disgust, your voice rising as anger surged through you. 

"He wanted me to believe I was making a difference. Healing lives. Bringing peace. But all I was doing was fueling his ambition, killing myself for his vision."

You turned, your piercing gaze locking onto each person in the crowd. “No more. No one will take what I love from me. No one will take who I love from me. Not him, not anyone. I am not a pawn anymore.”

Jinx’s fingers twitched, her usual chaotic energy replaced with an uncharacteristic stillness. Caitlyn’s lips parted as she watched you, her heart sinking at the sight of your pain and anger. Ekko took a cautious step forward, but Heimerdinger stopped him, shaking his head gravely.

The tension snapped like a bowstring as Viktor stirred, groaning weakly. You turned back to him, your expression darkening. His lips curled into a defiant smirk, despite his broken state. “You… don’t understand…” he rasped, his voice barely audible. “You can’t… stop this… I am the future.”

You didn’t reply with words. Instead, you lunged at him, your fist colliding with his chest in a burst of purple and gold light. The force of the blow sent him skidding back across the ground, sparks flying from his metallic limbs.

The fight was on.

Viktor rose unsteadily, his Hexcore flaring to life as he charged at you with surprising speed. The clash of power lit up the street like a firework display, bright flashes of purple and electric blue reflecting in the wide eyes of the onlookers. Each punch you landed sent a ripple of energy through the air, shaking the ground beneath your feet. 

But Viktor wasn’t defenseless. His metallic arm shot out, striking you in the ribs with enough force to make you stagger. A spray of purple blood escaped your lips, splattering onto the ground. You wiped it away with the back of your hand, your eyes narrowing as the swirling violet in your irises deepened.

The blows came faster, more brutal. Viktor’s movements were calculated, precise, but you were driven by raw emotion, your strikes fueled by years of pain, betrayal, and rage. Each hit you landed cracked the air like thunder, while every counterattack from Viktor sent shards of pain lancing through your body.

The crowd watched in stunned silence. Jinx clutched Isha tightly, her nails digging into the girl’s small shoulders as she tried to hold back tears. Caitlyn’s hands shook as she held her rifle, torn between stepping in and trusting you to handle this. 

Finally, Viktor staggered back, his energy faltering. His Hexcore dimmed, the once-bright light within it reduced to a flicker. You stood tall, bloodied and bruised, but unyielding. 

“You wanted a future,” you said, your voice cold and steady. “But I’m going to make sure you’re not part of it.”

With a final surge of energy, you raised your hand, a swirl of purple and white light gathering in your palm. Viktor’s eyes widened as he realized what was coming, but he was too weak to stop it.

The light exploded from your hand, engulfing him in a blinding flash. When it faded, Viktor lay motionless on the ground, his body battered and broken. 

You turned to the crowd, your breathing heavy, your purple eyes still glowing with residual energy. “This is not the end,” you said, your voice softer now but no less resolute. “We will rebuild. We will heal. But I will never let anyone control me again.”

As the others began to move toward you cautiously, Jinx and Caitlyn exchanged a glance. Whatever came next, they knew this was only the beginning of a new chapter in your story.

The aftermath was deafeningly silent. Viktor's body lay motionless on the ground, faint sparks sputtering from his lifeless Hexcore. Smoke curled in the air, and the acrid scent of burning ozone clung to everything. You stood there, the faint hum of energy still radiating from your battered form. But something was wrong.

Your knees buckled suddenly, and you collapsed to the ground. A sharp gasp escaped you as your body convulsed, the familiar glow of electric purple flickering in your veins. It clashed violently with streaks of white light, the two energies warring for dominance within you.

Jinx took an instinctive step forward, her eyes wide with panic. “No—hey, hey! You’re okay, right? You’re fine!” She reached for you, but you raised a trembling hand to stop her, your voice hoarse but firm.

"Stay back," you rasped, your words a command, laced with the strain of holding yourself together.

Caitlyn, despite her usual composure, found herself stepping forward as well, desperation flickering in her blue eyes. “You don’t have to do this alone—”

"Don’t come near me!" you bellowed, your voice cracking with the weight of your anguish. The sound echoed off the broken walls of the laboratory, freezing everyone in their tracks. The pain in your tone was palpable, and it cut through Caitlyn like a knife.

Heimerdinger stepped forward, his small frame trembling as he analyzed the glow emanating from your body. His voice was calm but grave. “They mustn’t interfere. The Arcane and shimmer within you… they’re battling for dominance. If she falters now, she could lose herself entirely.”

Your head dropped, your hands digging into the dirt as your body shook. The fight inside you was tearing you apart. White light flashed in your eyes one moment, then the ominous purple the next, each consuming the other in rapid succession. The chaotic struggle of colors made the veins on your hands and neck stand out, glowing like rivers of raw energy.

Minutes passed like hours. Jinx clenched her fists so tightly her nails drew blood, her whole body trembling with the effort not to run to you. Caitlyn’s heart thundered painfully in her chest as she whispered, “Please... don’t let go.”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the glow began to fade. The clashing lights dimmed until a quiet stillness settled over you. Your head drooped forward, your breathing ragged. Slowly, you lifted your face, revealing your eyes. They were the soft gray of before, calm and steady, but with faint swirls of violet threading through them—a reminder of the battle you’d just survived.

You groaned softly, lifting a hand to your head, and then, as if on instinct, you smiled. It wasn’t a grin fueled by bravado or defiance, but something softer, something real. Your lips curled into a teasing smirk as you shook your head faintly.

"God, it feels good to be back," you said, your voice hoarse but full of warmth.

Jinx’s knees gave out as tears streamed down her cheeks. She half-laughed, half-sobbed, covering her mouth as she sank to the ground. Caitlyn let out a shaky breath, her lips parting in disbelief. Sevika crossed her arms, exhaling sharply as if she'd been holding her breath the entire time.

Ekko knelt beside Heimerdinger, whispering, “She did it.”

The old yordle nodded slowly, stroking his mustache with relief. “Indeed. She’s won her first battle… but the war may not yet be over.”

Despite the exhaustion weighing on you, your smile grew as you turned your gaze to Jinx and Caitlyn. You lifted a hand weakly, gesturing them closer. “You two gonna just stand there, or are you finally gonna help me up?” you joked.

The two women exchanged glances before rushing forward, each taking a side to lift you to your feet. Jinx’s grip on your arm was firm but trembling, while Caitlyn’s touch was steady, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. You looked between them, your smile softening.

"I told you I’d come back," you murmured, earning a choked laugh from Jinx and a watery smile from Caitlyn.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, peace settled over you—fragile, perhaps temporary, but it was there. 

As you stood there, the soft gray of your eyes clouded by tears, you pulled both Jinx and Caitlyn into your arms. They didn’t resist, their own tears falling freely. For a moment, the world melted away, and it was just the three of you—together, alive, and whole. Then your gaze shifted to Isha, standing a few feet away, her helmet tilted as if she were hesitating.  

You knelt despite your exhaustion, opening your arms toward her. Isha hesitated only for a second before running into your embrace. You lifted her with trembling strength, holding her close to your chest. She nuzzled against you, her tiny hands clutching your shoulders.  

That’s when it hit you—a wave of emotion you could no longer hold back. Tears streamed down your cheeks, but they weren’t ordinary tears. They shimmered faintly, streaks of electric purple and silver falling like liquid stardust. You buried your face against Isha’s helmet, shaking with quiet sobs as Jinx and Caitlyn rested their hands on your back, grounding you.  

You whispered through your tears, “I’m here. I’m finally here.” 

The silence was heavy but comforting as they helped you to your feet. Jinx moved to your left, Caitlyn to your right, and Isha nestled against your chest. Together, they supported you as you made your way down the debris-laden streets toward your apartment.  

--------------------

Problem solved.....right? Vik had to GO idc, my girl jinx would be alive RN if it wasnt for- ight lemme chill

[sinkovia]

Coffee Shop: VIII

Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

You work at a small cafe that Simon starts visiting when he’s not deployed.

Coffee shop Masterlist

In the following weeks that passed after you went over to Simon’s house, a subtle but noticeable shift occurred in the routine. Simon found himself lingering longer at the cafe, no longer constrained by a schedule. Conveniently, he managed to time his departures to coincide with the end of your shift, providing an opportunity to walk you home. 

Simon couldn't ignore the routine he'd established—walking you home, exchanging casual conversation, and the comforting warmth that enveloped him when you smiled.

In the beginning, he clung to the excuse that he merely enjoyed the way you made tea. He wasn't interested; he repeated the words like a mantra. But the days blurred, and a subtle transformation occurred. A small smile appeared unbidden on his face when you spoke, and your laughter became a melody that lingered in his thoughts.

As the weeks passed, he noticed a lightness in his chest, an unfamiliar sensation. 

Love. 

It took him a while to accept the truth. Denial crumbled like sand, revealing a simple reality—he was falling for you. Every day spent with you became a cherished moment, and he couldn't deny the truth any longer. You had woven your way into his heart, and he was grateful for the joy you brought into his life. His chest felt lighter, his heart seemed to skip a beat in your presence, and he couldn't deny the warmth that enveloped him whenever you were near. 

You made him happy, and, more importantly, you made him feel in ways he hadn't allowed himself to acknowledge before.

A week after Simon deployed again, you found yourself on the couch, surrounded by the comforting presence of Riley and Missy. To your surprise, the two pets, despite their differences, got along remarkably well. You couldn't resist capturing the moment, snapping a picture of them sleeping peacefully. You decided to share the moment with Simon, sending him the photo.

In the rec room at the base, Simon received the picture. A smile played on his lips, though his expression was hidden behind his balaclava. Johnny, his keen eyes catching the subtle change, teased Simon about you.

"How’s the missus?" Simon put down his phone and met Johnny's gaze with a poker face.

“She’s not my missus,” His tone betraying little.

“When you asking her out then?” Johnny grinned, fully aware of the dynamics at play. Simon fell silent, the notion of pursuing a relationship with you lingering in his thoughts. He contemplated whether you would even want someone with his scars and emotional baggage.

“I'm not,” 

“Why’d you have to think about it?” Johnny's smile grew wider, prompting Simon to huff in mild frustration. He abruptly stood up and left the rec room, Johnny calling after him.

“L.t she likes you, don't overthink it!” Johnny's words echoed as Simon disappeared back into his room, contemplating the possibilities that lay ahead.

A few days later, after getting out of the shower, Simon received a Facetime call from you. He quickly threw on a black shirt and answered. As the call connected, he saw Riley on the screen and smiled when he heard the dog whine.

“Miss me, Riley?” Riley whined again, and then your face came into view, a breath of fresh air after not seeing you for two weeks.

“How has he been?” you set up the camera so both you and Riley were in the frame as you sat on your couch. “He’s been good, he destroyed one of his toys.” You flipped the camera to the shredded stuffed penguin, the remains scattered around. Simon laughed, and you smiled, feeling warmth and lightness in your chest.

You flipped the camera back, “How have you been?” Simon set you down on the sink counter, drying his hair with a towel as he looked at you, not wanting to waste a second admiring you before the call ended.

“Been alright, wrapping up a mission tomorrow. I’ll be back in a week.” You smiled, and Simon noticed the way your eyes lit up.

“How have you been, love? How’s work been?” You rambled about a rude customer and then about the snowfall, covering your garden to protect the vegetables. Simon just smiled, loving to hear you talk, finding ease in your voice.

“There’s this book convention in two weeks, they raffle off a five hundred dollar Barnes and Noble gift card. Some authors go, and you can get your books signed too!”

“Five hundred dollars? Sounds like a steal.” You lay down on the couch with Riley taking up most of the camera.

“It is! You could tag along with me… if that’s something you’re interested in.” You nervously started petting Riley, and Simon smiled. “I’d love to, it’ll give me something to look forward to when I get back.”

“Okay, sounds like a plan.” You smiled, continuing to pet Riley. Simon’s attention shifted to his door, where Johnny called out that the captain wanted them in the debriefing room.

“I have to go, love. I’ll talk to you later?” You sat up and smiled, Simon's eyes lingering on it. He tried to burn the image in his mind, your hand going to Riley again, aggressively petting his head.

“Yeah, be safe, Si.” He smiled at the nickname you had been using for the past few weeks, relishing in the warmth it brought.

“I will, love.” You smiled and held up Riley, waving his paw. Simon laughed before hanging up the call. He sat for a moment in his room, the silence deafening. Was this really what his life was like before he met you?

Depressing?

You had truly become the light in his life.

His mission went by in a blur, and before he knew it, the day of the convention arrived, and Simon found himself on your front doorstep. He asked if you wanted to tag along while he took Riley to the park in the morning. 

Simon dropped the leash, and Riley ran around in the grass, chasing a small butterfly on a flower. He bit a dandelion before wiggling around in the grass. You laughed as you watched Riley, but Simon's eyes were on you as he smiled.

After taking some pictures of Riley on the slide and letting a few kids pet him, you decided it was time to head back. On the drive home, you pointed out a diner that had really good milkshakes and recommended it to him if he ever had the craving. Simon changed lanes and turned into the parking lot of the diner.

“Could I get fries and a vanilla malt?”

“What do you want, love?” he turned to you and caught you smiling up at him, to which he only smiled. Caught in the moment, the cashier cleared their throat, and you quickly muttered out what you wanted.

You sat in the booth across from Simon, admiring the retro-style diner. "Forever" by The Little Dippers was playing on the jukebox, and he smiled as he gazed at you playing with Riley in your lap. The waitress brought over a small cup filled with whipped cream for Riley, and you both conversed about random things as Riley destroyed the whipped cream next to you on the floor.

You checked the time on your phone after you both finished your food. “We still have a little over two hours before the convention starts.” Simon sat back in the booth, thinking for a moment. What could the both of you do for two hours?

“Is there a theater nearby?” You nodded and put your napkin on your tray. “Yeah, there is actually one right next to the convention.”

“Wanna catch a movie?” You smiled and got up from the booth. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

Simon drove back to his house and dropped Riley off before making his way to the theater. There was a showtime in about ten minutes, so you decided on watching "Priscilla." You both stood in line for concessions. Simon ordered you a Coca Cola slushie and nachos before you walked side by side to the theater, which was fairly empty. After the movie, you rambled on about how awful Elvis Presley was, telling him you hoped he was rotting some where.

“God, what an asshole. The way he whistled when that girl told him she wore Chanel, and Priscilla literally wears the same perfume!” You went on a whole rant as you waited in line to enter the convention, and Simon just laughed as you dragged Elvis through the mud.

You walked up to the raffle stand and wrote your names down with your contact information on small pieces of paper and slipped them into the big bowl.

“May the odds be ever in your favor, Si.” you smiled, and Simon quirked his brow, “You want me to win?” You opened your mouth, shocked.

“The Hunger Games?”

“Never heard of it.” You lightly slapped his arm with the back of your hand, “We need to watch them; they are the best movies. A Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes came out a few months ago, so it's perfect!” Simon smiled and nodded. He didn't know what a ballad had to do with the movies, but he was just happy that he was going to have another excuse to hang out with you.

For the next few hours, you and Simon walked around the convention, buying a few books and getting some signed by the authors. Simon wasn’t a book fanatic like you, but he loved the way your eyes lit up and the smile you had after an author signed a book you purchased. You would say how cool it was and even show him the signature, even though he was standing next to watching them sign it.

Simon observed from a distance as you eagerly approached the booth where another author sat, ready to get your book signed. His eyes narrowed with an unreadable intensity as he watched the author engage you in conversation. The author's questions seemed to linger a bit too long, and Simon, ever vigilant, detected subtle undercurrents of flirtation that you, in your excitement, remained blissfully unaware of.

Unbeknownst to you, Simon had subtly positioned himself right behind you, an almost protective aura surrounding him as he kept a watchful eye on the exchange. His gaze hardened when he noticed the author beginning to write something other than a typical autograph—numbers, perhaps. The scratch of the pen abruptly stopped as Simon cleared his throat.

Simon loomed over your shoulder, an unmistakable death glare fixed upon the author. The author's smile wavered as he met Simon's intense gaze. Hesitatingly, he put his pen down and closed the book, offering a swift, somewhat forced farewell, sensing the change in atmosphere. 

Simon's protective stance remained, sending a clear message that your excitement was to be respected, but not exploited. His hand subconcously went to your upper back as he guided you away from the table. 

You showed him the autograph, and he hummed before checking his watch, “The raffle is about to start; we should go to the main room.” You nodded, and you both walked over to where everyone was gathered. They began calling out the names for the smaller prizes, the gift baskets, and fifty-dollar gift cards. Neither of you won those, which was good since the people who got those prizes could no longer win the grand prize.

“We will now pull the name of the winner of the five hundred dollar grand prize!” The room was silent as everyone watched him reach into the bowl and grab a slip of paper. He opened it and paused for a few seconds.

“Simon Riley!”

You gasped and turned to him, hugging his arm and shaking it, “Si, you won! Oh my god!”

“Everyone whose name was called can pick up their prize before leaving at the main desk.”

“Bloody hell, I did,” Simon smiled as you shook his arm again, “You just won five hundred dollars to Barnes and Noble! Do you know how many books you can get?!” Simon laughed at the fact that you were more excited than he was. He had already told himself that if he won, he would give it to you since he had more than enough money to buy books.

You were now on your way back home, going back and forth after Simon told you to keep the gift card. “Si, you won the raffle; I can't take it from you.”

“Love, I insist. I don't need it; I know you go through books quickly.”

“Si, I'll feel bad if I take it from you.”

“You can't refuse a gift, love.” You opened your mouth to protest but then sighed. He was right; if you tried gifting him something and he refused, it would break your heart.

“Fine, but I'll make it up to you.”

“Mm, maybe tea on the house?” You laughed and nodded, “Fine, tea on the house.”

As Simon pulled into your driveway, a slight sinking feeling settled in your chest, knowing that your time together was coming to an end. The day had been nothing short of amazing, and over the past month, you and Simon had grown remarkably close. Now, with the engine humming to a stop, you wondered whether it was the right time to express your feelings.

Thoughts swirled in your mind, wondering if he felt the same way. The connection you felt with Simon was special, and you found yourself yearning to spend more time in his company. His smile, his voice—everything about him seemed to captivate you. 

As he walked you to the door, you turned around and looked up at him, a smile playing on your lips. The moment felt significant, and you couldn't bear the thought of going another day without telling him how you felt. 

"I had such an amazing day today," you began, meeting his eyes with sincerity. "Thank you for everything. I honestly can't remember the last time I had this much fun... Your company means a lot to me."

Simon's smile softened, and he looked at you attentively. "I'm glad you had a good time”

Say it Simon, say you enjoyed being with her too.

“...I um… I enjoy spending time with you too," Simon's expression remained warm, and for a moment, it felt like time stood still.

Encouraged by his response, you both find yourselves face to face, the air charged with a subtle tension. Simon stands extremely close to you as he gazes down, and you meet his eyes, feeling a connection.

The moment seems to stretch on forever, and in the warmth of the shared silence, you decide to make the first move.

As you slightly leaned in, hoping to bridge the gap with a kiss, Simon unexpectedly leaned back on instinct, causing you to pull back, your heart sinking a bit.

The air shifted, and you took a step back, searching for clues in his eyes. There was a pause, a moment of uncertainty hanging between you. Simon's wide gaze remained fixed on yours, leaving the unspoken tension lingering in the air.

Simon watched as the pain of rejection etched itself onto your face, and in that moment, a whirlwind of thoughts raced through his mind. Why had he pulled away? Was it fear? Fear of letting himself be vulnerable to love? Fear of admitting that he cared deeply for someone? Fear that if you knew the real him, you might turn your back on him? Fear of not being good enough for someone as perfect as you?

Seeing the hurt in your eyes, Simon felt an ache in his chest, and the weight of his actions pressed down on him. He tried to find the right words, his brain going a million miles per hour, but all he managed to utter was a sincere, "I'm sorry."

The apology hung in the air, and Simon desperately wished he could articulate the maelstrom of emotions within him. The fear that had driven him to pull away now seemed like a barrier between what he desired and what he feared.

In that vulnerable moment, he struggled to make sense of his own feelings and reconcile them with the connection he felt with you. The air between you was heavy with unspoken words, and Simon knew he owed you an explanation.

He takes a step forward, desperation in his eyes, but you instinctively take a step back, your hand raised as if to stop him. "No, it's okay," you assure him, managing a small, understanding smile. "I understand."

Simon, desperately wanting to explain, takes a breath, "It's not what you think—"

Cutting him off gently, you shake your head, "It's okay. You don't need to explain yourself. I understand." Despite your attempt to hold back the tears, your eyes water, reflecting a mix of understanding and hurt.

“Thank you again for today simon, goodnight.”

Simon's heart splits as he sees your eyes water, and he's left standing there on your doorstep, feeling the weight of his choices. Silently, you turn away, leaving him outside as you retreat into the comfort of your home. Behind closed doors, you let the tears flow, the soft sobs muffled against your pillow.

[en-gelic]

— ANGEL'S KISSES !

an angel's kisses are a delicate feeling 1111 cw. skinship, injuries, smoking heeseung x (f) reader ʚɞ BOOKSHELF! ⋆ an. MEMORABILIA HAS ME ON MY KNEES

The hallways bustle with energy as you scurried across the school. Your chest heaved up and down as you panted out of breath, cursing your terrible stamina. Slowing down, you made it to the back of the school where you found Heeseung, grey smoke tumbling out of his mouth. He crushed it quickly at the sight of you and pretended to recite the homework you gave him the evening before.

“I saw you so don't even try." You warned, pulling a face at the smoky smell filling your lungs. He grinned his perfect smile at you as though to distract you from his lack of obedience. "Your rank is still the same after I spend four days of my week to tutor you-" You began.

"You're so pretty." He interrupted, leading his dreamy gaze to you. "Are you even listening?" You questioned, irritated with the boys' lack of cooperation.

"Not at all, pretty girl." His overused nickname still made your heart skip a beat as you scolded him to stop using the nickname on you.

"Then which one do you prefer?" Grinning, he leaned down, his breath blowing loose strands of your hair. "Princess? Baby? My love?" Fighting the urge to hold your breath, you stepped back. "Listening while I'm talking is a start."

Hearing footsteps, you silently demand his cigarette box. He handed it to you in confusion, your hand buzzing with the electricity that felt like it was running through his hand when you grazed it.

"What are you doing students?" The teacher asked, trying to peak at the cigarette box you were holding behind your skirt. Muttering a curse word under your breath, you smiled politely. "Nothing, just remembering formulas before math class." Nervously glancing at the teacher, you could see that he didn't look convinced whatsoever. "And what's behind your back?" He pressed on, sensing inaccuracy in your sentence. Being the worst liar, you pulled a face, ready to get caught by the teacher with cigarettes that weren't even yours.

"Condoms." Heeseung blurted as your eyes shot open in horror at his sentence. The teacher looked astounded as a blush tinted his cheeks. He droned on about having inappropriate material at school, but he let you keep the supposed "condoms" and granted a warning and detention for the end of the day. Not to mention, the only detention you were ever given.

When the teacher finally disappeared, you shot the boy a look and shoved the cigarettes back in his hand. "Does that mean there's no tutoring today?" He called, lighting another cigarette. "My house at seven after detention."

Dreading the evening ahead, you delegated duties to the class before heading to your worst nightmare. Surprisingly, you were first as you took your seat, the teachers' face staining pink after seeing you. Trying to hide the embarrassment exploding through you, you quickly finished your homework, turning your gaze to the window, losing yourself in the amber sunset peeking through the trees and turning the light in the room a deep shade of yellow. Movement rustled beside you as you returned from your daze to look at the boy who took his seat, fresh injuries marking his angelic features.

"What happened to you?" You question, analyzing his scars and concluding that he got into a fist fight. By his lack of reply, you stood up, viewing the quantity of the scars and opened your bag, retrieving the first aid kit. He groaned in retaliation as you held his face still while you treated the injuries on the side of his mouth.

"Who brings a first aid kit to school?" He started, wincing from the sting.

"Because I know an idiot who gets himself into fights and leaves his wounds open to infection and gets me into detention."

"Your idiot, princess." He corrected. "As if being an idiot is a good thing." Despite the red staining his features, he still looked attractive as he grinned his signature smile at you. "Being an idiot for you is." You sighed, ignoring his sentence and bringing your hand to the bruise on his cheekbone. "Care to explain who got you into this mess?"

"You." His hand caught your wrist as you hesitated to meet his eyes. Feeling the tension wafting in the room, the teacher silently exited, closing the door behind him. You continued wiping the blood away until he tugged you onto his lap, the cotton shooting out of your hands.

Desire spread through his features as you subconsciously inched closer to his lips, finally connecting them, brushing your nose against his cheek. It would be embarrassing to tell him that it was your first time, so your only result was imitating his actions, resulting in a breathtaking kiss.

A throat cleared behind you as the teacher appeared by the door, standing awkwardly. Flushed, you got up from his lap apologizing repeatedly to the teacher and moving back to your seat. Detention dismissed briskly as you hurried through the vacant halls, avoiding Heeseung as your embarrassment flared up at the thought of him. Finding a mirror, you noticed your swollen lips from his teeth nibbling your bottom one. You couldn't bring yourself to think about how awkward the rest of the evening would be and quickly freshened yourself in the bathroom before he came over.

He found you sitting by your desk, finalizing projects with your headphones on, unaware of your surroundings. He leaned down, the action going unnoticed by you who was still in your own bubble.

"What are you listening to?" He questioned, swiftly removing your headphones and resting them on your neck. Your stomach flipped at the feeling of his lip resting on your ear, feeling as it curved into a smile. Turning to face him, the weight of his stare made the words you practiced earlier disappear into thin air.

"What's with that look, doll?" He pressed, leaning his hands on the arms of your chair. His eyes moved to your lips, sliding a finger across your bottom lip which was still swollen. Leaning into you, your breaths mingled as your eyes fluttered shut, waiting for his lips to press on yours. He let out a brief chuckle before your lips connected, moving in sync as the air in your lungs languidly vanished.

"Does this mean no tutoring today?" He repeated the question he asked earlier, circling a part of your neck with his index finger. You answered by delicately kissing the area around where his bruises were, ending it off with a light kiss on his lips. Reconnecting his lips with yours, you made a mental note to give him extra homework for the damage he achieved today.

✸ perm taglist (open) : @cholexc @07sleepykatz @bunnbam (ask or comment to be added !)

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[1-800-hot-n-funn]

ALL OF ME FOR ALL OF YOU! n. kamo

pairing: husband!noritoshi kamo x female!reader

《sypnosis》 it's you. You're it for him. He's gonna love you forever.

Warnings: slightly ooc!noritoshi, terms of endearment (my love) noritoshi being completely whipped and in love.

author's note : I've made it my mission to write noritoshi because nobody writes him at all! Feel free to send request, not just with him but anyone else!

It was late at night. You were walking around the streets of Kyoto with Noritoshi after one of your many dates. You were walking around in a deserted park, talking about nothing and everything. You kept your eyes ahead as you spoke, but Noritoshi kept his eyes only on you. To him, you were a breath of fresh air after what felt like drowning forever. To you, he was the person you could call home. He was everything you needed and vice versa. Noritoshi wasn't one to go for looks, but he smiled softly as the moonlight hit your face at the perfect angle.

A cool breeze brushed through, goosebumps trailing across your skin. Noritoshi noticed and took his jacked off in a swift motion. He wrapped it around your shoulders. Instead of arguing you closed it around, because you knew that arguing would be pointless. You looked at him and smiled. That smile, oh heavens that smile. That prefect, beautiful, irresistible, bewitching smile. It was a smile filled with love and affection reserved only for him. It was a smile that made his heart skip several beats, to the point that he thought that if he died, then the last thing he wanted to see was that smile.

You glaced at him, and found him looking at you already. "Whats on your mind?",you asked. Noritoshi stopped walking and stood in front of you. "You're it for me my love, you know that? It's always going to be you.",he said as gazed deep into your eyes. He wrapped his arms around your torso and stepped closer to you. You wrapped your arms around his neck and sighed in content.

"All of me loves all of you. Always and forever.", he said. He gazed at you with all the love in the world. You were the only thing that mattered to him. To him, you were the only thing worth protecting. "I know. There isn't a single reality where I wouldn't love you with every fibre of my being", you say, your voice barely above a whisper, just for him to hear. You eyes softened as you continued,"The truth is, I don't think I could every imagine living a life without you. You've been a part of me for so long, I don't remember what life was before you. I don't want to"

"I don't want to either", he whispered. He brought one of hands up and placed it on your cheek and pulled you in for a kiss. It was soft, sweet, and filled with unconditional love. You smiled in between the kiss as he pulled away and rested his forehead on yours. He closed his eyes and pressed a soft kiss on your forehead.

Soon, it started to snow. It was the first snow of the season. As the snowflakes fell from the sky, you said to him, "you know, I read somewhere that couples who experience the first snow together, stay together forever." He brought his head down on your forehead and said,"Thats good. Because I'm never leaving you. I'm always going to be with you. No matter what."