#teenage girl all alone at the store

[beanxiv]

HELP?? i was at costco running a few errands, and as i'm in line to checkout i look behind me and see this middle aged ginger white man (with a child) pointing his phone at me and as soon as i turned towards him he like kinds gasped and like his phone shot down and he started looking around

i dont wanna assume he was recording me but like?? i hope i dont end up on some weird ass website or something cus he looked so weird, the way he was looking at me and the way he reacted when i noticed him.. 😭😭

[tteokdoroki]

ೀ⋆OCT 1ST PRINCESS DIARIES ━━ satoru gojo + breeding !

୨୧ — caution, you are now watching. satoru gojo + breeding. thirty days until you become queen, thirty days to get married and thirty days to stop sneaking around with the man trying to steal your crown… (5.2K)

୨୧ — rated r. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, royalty!au, enemies to lovers (?), forbidden romance, infidelity and cheating, spit kink, breeding kink, daddy kink, pregnancy kink, breast play, agoraphilia, baby trapping, oral sex (f!recieving), unprotected sex, princess + fem!reader, lord!satoru gojo.

୨୧ — director’s note. woo happy spooky season my loves. welcome back to another tteokdoroki kinktober! im excited for you to see whats in store this year, hope you enjoy this fic to start off mwah! - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ✧

you have thirty days to get married.

being from a small town, somewhere that’s not even on the map — you never expected your family name to carry much meaning aside from the one you carved out for yourself. let alone expect your name to come from royalty.

if you thought discovering how to be a teenager at sixteen was hard, then try discovering how to be a princess at sixteen on for size. everything you’ve ever done since finding out you were royalty has been for your family. you’ve kept your head down, out of the spotlight aside for the occasional appearance and charitable events. you’ve studied hard, double-majoring in international relations alongside political science and diplomacy. 

you’ve prepared yourself thoroughly enough to feel ready to take the mantle of queen — especially with your grandmother planning to step down. all of your accomplishments have been leading up to this very moment — it’s so close that you can practically feel the weight of the crown on your head. 

except there’s one itty, bitty, little problem.

you still have to get married in thirty days. otherwise, your family title will be poached from right beneath your nose.

satoru gojo (aka public enemy number one) is the nephew of a member of parliament who just so conveniently knows genovian law better than your grandmother does. since satoru came of age before you did, and he’s lived in genovia for longer than you have, and has some random distant relative in connection to the first king — the men of parliament have decided that he too is in line for the throne. 

especially if you, the princess, do not marry before your coronation. 

how ridiculous is that? 

and not only is this satoru gojo an evil, conniving, crown-stealing bastard. but he’s charming, a silver tongue wrapped around each and every one of his words. charming, like a prince (blegh) he’s also stupidly attractive. with deep sapphire blue eyes that are gorgeous enough to make the crown jewellers weak in the knees and a smile so sweet it feels like a sugar rush whenever he looks at you. there’s something so unique about the frostiness to his soft white hair, matching his unfairly long lashes — the ones you know girls back home would kill for. 

it angers you to know that you’d been dancing with your rival at your welcome ball, pains you to know that you’ll never forget his slender fingers splayed out against the small of your back to guide your every movement. if you had been back in college (and had a few litres of hard liquor in your system), perhaps gojo would have been the type of guy you’d have snuck into the dorms for a night of fun and an NDA in the morning — your secret signed away from the paparazzi’s keen eyes. 

alas, these are very different circumstances and there’s a lot riding on you being sensible about the situation. yet, satoru proves himself to be a problem every chance that he gets — cornering you in closets with his breath hot against your ear, trapping you against the walls while the ghost of his touch feels like heaven against your skin… on the staircase too, insistent on reminding you of the passionate dance you once shared.

all while you’re set to marry the duke of another country so you can keep your fucking crown (pardon the language, your highness).

suguru geto would be the perfect king consort if you managed not to mess this up. he is warm, where satoru is a flip between disastrously hot and frustratingly cold. he balances you out, a mellowness to your clumsiness whilst understanding your need for a rushed proposal and wedding. raised a gentleman, suguru is mindful of you in every action he takes. he doesn’t stare too long but smiles when you think he’s not looking and he’s a wonder with your grandmother — the parents, too. his family gem (a serpentine, making you feel much like a snake) sits heavy on your ring finger, dazzling under camera flashes at your engagement dinner…. and he recognises duty and honour above anything else too. 

if satoru is your enemy, then guilt is your friend. no matter what either of the men in your life do, you find yourself comparing their every move. when you’re with suguru your mind is away chasing the fairies, imagining the touch of another man who sets your heart alight in a cool blaze — like gasoline trickling through your veins waiting for its candle match. when you’re with satoru, all you can think about is how wrong this is. how geto doesn’t deserve this. but you’re an addict without a cure, and your drug is satoru gojo and you don’t see yourself ever  quitting him.

you're in desperate need of a wake up call and a nicotine patch, the cocky yet lecherous air about him almost acting like a smog in your healthy and capable lungs. sometimes through the fog, you wonder if satoru knows how much he weighs heavy on your mind— though if he did, you’d never hear the end of it. 

the current queen tells you not to worry about the white haired man that’s slowly freezing over the four chambers of your heart. you tell yourself that suguru geto is the only man that you need, one that could help you rule and create a beautiful and better kingdom for many years to come. geto tells you that he loves you, that he can’t wait to marry you in two or three weeks time and you respond with equal (yet, faux) excitement.

perhaps that’s why you find yourself sneaking away from this respectful, loving man to be with the one trying to ruin your life?

why are you following satoru gojo deep into the royal gardens, where the rose bushes are the only witness to your sick and twisted sins?

your back hits the jagged pattern of tree bark before your brain can catch up — causing a little wet whimper to bubble up on your pinky-peach tainted lips. the flutter of pain just beneath your skin only lasts for a second before it’s replaced by the sensation of satoru’s fingers traversing up the dips and curves of your body. he soothes you where it hurts the most, rough fingertips leaving bruising marks made with affection along your thighs and small of your back while he swallows your sweet gasps — licking into the wet cavern of your mouth to taste you. 

“you’re not even…” his words spill into you, adding fuel to the spark of lust beginning to form a pit in your stomach. “you’re not even attracted to him,” he spews, surging forward like a storm knocking on your door to press his greedy spit slicked lips to yours. his tongue, syrupy and wet, intertwined with your own, filling you up and giving you something to suck on. 

before you can even think of kissing your rival back, he retreats and takes his swollen lips with him — latching onto your neck and weaponizing his teeth against it. you gasp, your angel’s song tipping out into the rose garden while your fingers tangle in silver-moon locks and let him work against you, claiming you just below the neckline of your dress where no one will be able to see. 

except for maybe your fiancé and only god knows how you’ll be able to explain the marks to him tonight. ‘oh you know me, suguru. i’m way too clumsy for my own good.’ you’ll say, all while thinking about how the man after your crown blew your back out at your engagement party. 

you know why satoru’s acting such a fool — taking risks that he wouldn’t normally. the dress you’re wearing, the colour of his eyes, drives him fucking insane. you can’t say that you didn’t ask for this, like it wasn’t on purpose. 

“can’t fucking stand you,” gojo groans against your skin, nose pressed to your collarbone as he inhales the candied notes of your perfume. “been giving me those angel eyes all day. knowing that i can’t take my fucking eyes off of you when you wear that colour, princess.” 

he’s insufferable, but here you find yourself at the mercy of his touch — offering up your body to satoru gojo like a sacrificial lamb as your back arches away from the tree and presses your chest into his eager strawberry tongue. it leaves a slimy track over your neck and dips between the cleavage of your dress while gojo makes his descent down to hell — tasting the shimmering crystals of salt on your skin. 

satoru gojo belongs on his knees. 

kneeling before you with the royal blue tule of your dress between his shaking hands. you can tell he’s trying not to rip it off of you. born to worship you.  mirth weighs down his lashes and desire dances between the navy blue flecks in his sapphire eyes — he needs you so bad it might kill him. from this position he can practically smell how turned on you are, he’d recognise the mouth-watering aroma of your drooling cunt anywhere, slick gathering in the crotch of your barely there panties. 

there’s a depraved, royal treasure hidden between the string of fabric that runs between your juicy pussy lips — swollen and waiting to be devoured by your enemy. not that you’d ever admit that to him. “i think you should be referring to me as your queen.” you manage between ragged breaths, satoru eyeing the way your chest heaves from beneath the bust of your dress. 

instead of responding, his head unceremoniously dips beneath your skirts and he drags a thigh over the width of his broad shoulders. “watch your mouth,” the lord purrs salaciously as he licks up your inner thigh, the vibrations shooting straight to your swollen clit. “let’s remind you of who’s really in charge.” the both of you feel it, the aching throb of your pussy against gojo’s lips as he wedges his face right between your thighs. you can’t help but grind against him in wanton, desperate to be filled up with fingers, tongue whatever your sworn enemy has to offer up to the crown. 

but your warmth and wetness does nothing to coax satoru into tongue fucking his way past your clenching, creaming entrance. rather, he draws his head back just a touch and rubs at your cunt like he loves you, dips his fingers just into your quivering hole and then — smack !

juices run down satoru’s arms as if he’s taken a bite into the fruit that tempted eve while he laughs in awe of just how fucking sloppy you are between your thighs. the spank to your puffy folds makes you jolt in surprise, causing you to scratch your back against the jagged tree bark. 

“gojo!” you squeak in warning as your thighs close around his veiny hand. 

he sticks his tongue into his cheek, smirking in amusement before prying your shaky legs apart. “that’s not quite right, try again for me, princess...” gojo repeats the process, running between your slick folds and spanking you against them when you fail to respond. “you know my name, baby. c’mon it’s easy, i’ll even say it with you. d…d…” 

you refuse to stoop so low, to let demeaning words escape from underneath your tongue but not having satoru’s mouth on you is like torture — just his breath against your cunt is akin to dangling a carrot in front of a starving horse. you know what that pleasure is like, you crave it and you’re not above begging no matter how royal you may be. 

“f-fuck, daddy!” you whinge defiantly, screwing your eyes shut and letting your head fall back against the tree. satoru wastes no more time then, slotting his hot mouth against the entire length of your silken slit. the first thing he does is moan, the vibrations shooting twinges of ecstasy from your clit through the rest of your body and even reaching your head — making the world around you spin. 

the tip of his tongue teases its way past your entrance, squirming around to brush up against pleasure spots your little fingers can’t even reach. “that’s right princess, knew you could do it. you’re not just some stuck up little girl.” the white haired lord praises, drawing back from your quivering hole — connected to you by a string of your glistening slick. 

“shut up, just… put your mouth to good use.” you grunt, your hips canterint down onto gojo’s face to keep him quiet. your fingers take root in his silvery moon locks, dragging the man and his pink tongue onto your sex once more. gojo takes the hint, making your cute little clit his next victim as he rolls it between perfect rows of pearly whites and sends your eyes into the dark depths of your skull. 

the sinful and salacious sensation provides a welcomed distraction from your responsibilities as the crown princess. if your grandmother could see you now, you know that all she’d feel is disappointment— especially if she knew her granddaughter was fucking the biggest threat to the crown. and suguru, your poor fiancé — he was probably stuck mingling with guests he didn’t even know, looking for your eyes in the crowd like he always did. 

shame should be burning through your veins, not the white hot trickle of desire that you’re filled with as satoru slurps your juices from between your fat pussy lips. the needy groans he lets out against you inch down your spine, drown you in stormy waves of lust and you find yourself addicted to the bob of gojo’s head from underneath your tule skirts. you’re just so wet, pouring the royal family’s riches, liquid gold straight into the man’s greedy mouth as he drinks you in.

your nectar glazes his cheeks and chin in a devilish shine, brighter than the crown set to sit atop your head — his mouth barely parts from your ravaged and swollen romping as if he’s married to eating you out, tongue licking you up and down before your juices even have a chance to drip to the ground. you can only imagine what would happen if the press found out, your life would be over and so would satoru’s. but you don’t care, because every second that gojo spends between your thighs dragging you to orgasm is worth it. every single time. 

he grips at your ass, pulling you back onto his tongue as it flickers in and out of you. the whole ordeal is disgusting and delightful and you never want it to end. pleasure mounts high within you, evident in the shakiness of your gripes and grouses, lust laden in its tune. 

“s-satoru…satoru. i’m gonna… g’na fuckin’ cum!” a high pitch squeal tears in your throat like music to gojo’s ears — now working relentlessly to get you off just like you need. he doesn’t care if he’s suffocating, at least he’ll die a happy man between the thighs of a princess. 

he chuckles against your sex. “such a dirty mouth for such a proper lady.” the lord says as if he’s a scolding you.

but you can barely hear him, for static rings in your ears as your body loses the war to your orgasm. your release bubbles up on his tongue like the fresh pop of champagne, while your brain fizzles and clears itself of all logical thought. guilt is replaced by bouts of lust, making you realise that this cycle of avoiding and fucking gojo will never end. you’re too addicted to him and he’s too obsessed with you, as long as things remain that way — sex with him will always be on the agenda. 

you can’t promise yourself, your grandmother or suguru that this will be the last time. 

dopamine dances across gojo’s brain as he drinks in the tangy-honey flavour of your release, letting it splatter against his puffy lips as they encircle your clit to prolong your orgasm. you gush as if you’re a rushing erotic river, spilling into satoru’s earnest mouth while he licks you clean with wanton.

“look at that… oh look at you. cumming for me already.” 

“f-fuck you.”

“fuck me?” he smirks, making your gut lurch with wanton. “fuck you. i’m the one that’s working on it, princess.” satoru slowly rises to his feet, licking a nasty spit-slicked trail from your hole to the cleavage peeking out from underneath your dress. he doesn’t even stand to his full height, his large frame towering over you as he yanks down the front of your dress to lick and suck and play with your breasts until you can’t tell what’s up or down anymore.

his perfect teeth graze a pert nipple which makes you gasp and cry, loosely looping your arms around satoru’s neck while his ravaging mouth works your sensitive breasts, even going as far to swipe his tongue over the spot where each one meets your ribcage. he doesn’t leave any marks, you’re not his to keep. large and rough hands replace the warmth of his mouth on you to toy with your mounds of flesh — pinching and pulling as satoru kisses you senseless. you groan at the taste of your slick on his tongue and salt of your skin as well, tugging him closer so that there’s no space between your heated bodies. 

“don’t cry,” satoru comments softly against your swollen, cherry-bitten lips — cupping your face between his fingers. blinking slowly, you allow your frenzied brain the chance to catch up to reality  and you don’t realise the tears that wet your cheeks until he points them out. why are you even crying? “you’re too pretty for that.” his compliments do nothing to clear the lustful, confused fog settling over your mind like a dark cloud so you follow your body’s instincts and reach for the metal clasp on his belt. 

nimble fingers make their way down the front of gojo’s dress pants and he hisses at the quick pumps of his perfectly hard cock before you’re dragging up your skirts and guiding him towards your entrance. “baby, wait—“

you push his pants down enough to let his erection spring free, pulsing with need and standing at full mast against the cotton blouse covering his tummy. “i need you.” you sniff, dropping your panties to your ankles. “please.” 

the thing about sex with satoru is that it never feels like just sex. he tenderly hikes the meat of your thigh over his slender hips, lets his dribbly, sticky cockhead twitch forward and ease past the salaciously slick barriers of your empty hole, and presses your bodies so close together that you think you might forget how to breathe. satoru makes love to you each and every time — and it’s terrible. 

like eating too much sugar or indulging in a bad smoking habit. you’re not supposed to be in love with him and the way he fucks up into you, chest to chest, pelvis to pelvis even with all of the fabric in the way. “don’t cry for him, f-fuck,” the both of you look down, your pupils dilating at the sight of your pussy swallowing his lengthy shaft whole — catching on the ridges of each blue vein spiralling around him. “cry for me, princess. i’m the one that’s ruining you.” 

with his forehead pressed to yours, silver hair matted down by the line of perspiration against it — satoru braces a hand against the tree above your head and sets stream to his passionate thrusts, fluid like water under a bridge. it’s not fair, how wrong this is and how good it feels to have gojo lick over the parts of you he would bite down on if you were his. your pulse point, your neck, the spot just under your ear that’s way too sensitive for your own good. it should be suguru fucking you like this, your fiancé. 

yet, there’s no room for self-loathing and despair between the rough tree and satoru gojo above you. nothing aside for the thick curtain of lust that protects you from prying eyes in the rose garden, floral scents twisting with the raw, aphrodisiac-like smell of sex and sweat while he pounds away at your swollen pussy, grinding his cock wetly against the sweet spots dotted along your ribbed walls. 

“i should put a baby in you,” he says suddenly, just barely audible over the wet pap, pap, pap of your sexes working together. embarrassment burns bright under the surface of your cheeks because you’re that wet and it’s that loud, the remainders of your previous orgasm making it easier for satoru’s cock to glide in and out of you. “leave you with a little gift. a present — reminder of our time together, yeah?” he knows that he’s not making any sense, leaving his confession behind sex and sultry words. he would never admit to how much he loves you, he’s already ruined you enough. he’s already taken more than enough from you too. “i’ll get to the crown either fuckin’ way.” 

satoru talks with his dick and you fucking like it, squeezing the damn daylights out of him. he can barely pull back with you locked down on like that, his seedy tip snug between your ruined folds — clinging into him by viscous ropes of your last orgasm and freshly formed globs of his white hot precum. “you like that, don’t you princess?” he coos down to you condescendingly, picking up the pace of his hips as he rams into you mercilessly. the tree shakes from the force, sprinkling pretty and innocent petals over you both. “you wanna make me a daddy? my queen? give me a little prince or princess.”

“fuck yes, satoru!” nodding your head with wanton, you press yourself into his neck and squeeze him close by the ass cheeks so the only place your lover can go is deeper. you want to be able to feel him in your guts, hot in your womb like an iron rod — anything to forget the trickle of betrayal filling you up like a glass of wine. “i want it, i want it…i want—“

you cut yourself of with an abrasive sob, as you moan your agreements. i want you. you feel the words on the tip of your tongue, drowned out by the slippery sounds of sex and creaking tree trunk. you’ve never wanted anyone as much as you’ve wanted satoru gojo.

but he’s the wrong person, in the wrong place, at the wrong time. 

“i know you do, i know,” you can feel gojo move to slobber over your chest, pacifying his whistle tone whimpers with your nipples bouncing in his mouth. he looks up at you with vacant cerulean eyes that shimmer like the skies above, the crude mix of your arousals slinging at the point at which your bodies join. “tell me how much you love daddy’s cock, princess.” 

he goads because he craves your attention. satoru can feel you slipping from between his fingers, the guilt that rolls off of you in waves as he languidly rams into your cunt. he’s asking a lot of someone who’s too stimulated, too fucked out to speak — your tongue barely staying in your mouth. 

“sato—!”

“c’mon… answer me, fuck, there we go.”

that’s when he hikes you up in his arms, lifting you a little to feverishly thrust up into you — dragging you closer to another high. your nails dig deep into his taut ass, nudging his dick against your g-spot. suguru would never be this rough with you, would never want to fuck you so good that the pleasure hurts.

shaking your head, your eyes glisten but the denial doesn’t stop small streams of arousal from squirting out and webbing against gojo’s soft pubes. “i-i can’t! i don’t—“ satoru bites down on your nipple, hard, cutting through your train of blurry thought. “i love…h-him!” 

you love your fiancé, but you both know that’s a lie.

“yeah, sure you do. that’s why your pussy’s huggin’ my cock so tight. you don’t wanna let me go, baby.” even while he’s a mess for you, your rival still finds it in him to be such an egotistical prick. you can’t even tell him that he’s wrong, because you never ever want to be without satoru, without this immensely overwhelming feeling of ecstasy fluttering through your entire body. it’s all too much, he’s too much, stretching you wide and filling you with the love (and cum) you should be getting from suguru. 

thunder cracks above your head, lightning flashes through the trees as if the higher power up above is bearing witness — growing distraught at your sins. it’s not long before the heavens open up on you both and your sweaty, sex slicked bodies are doused in rain. but it doesn’t stop you, doesn’t stop satoru from dragging down your bottom lip to lovingly spit into your mouth. 

he kisses you as if it’s not enough, rocking his hips into you so he can bully your insides and mark them with his pre. “bet he’s lookin’ for you right now, hm? his precious wife to be…drenched in my cum ‘n drenched in the rain.” satoru heaves, letting the patter of the rain drown out the sound of his tightening balls slapping against your ass. “bet he wishes he could fuck you like i do.” 

you can’t tell if it’s the tears of guilt and longing or the rain that blurs your vision. “h-he doesn’t get to!” you cry like a dirty porn-star, hardly becoming of a soon to be queen. “o-only you!” 

“only me, hm? i’m flattered.” he seems elated, hiding his flushed face and happy smile in the junction between your neck and shoulder. his wet hair tickles your skin. “too bad he doesn’t know his princess comes used and abused between her pretty legs, huh?”

the rain is cold against your skin, seeping through your clothes, ruining your makeup — but the way satoru licks up your hot streaky tears and the droplets of water against your skin as if to sooth you… the way he does it fills you with warmth. 

your limbs become heavy from your water-logged clothes and exhaustion, your whole body slumped against satoru’s strength but you still manage to rake your nails down his back as if you can’t be any closer. gojo doesn’t let your hips run from his either.  his mind races, stuck on the idea of asking you to run away with him because he can’t just let you go back to geto. not again. 

he can’t let you marry someone you’re not in love with. 

it would be selfish of him to ask you to stay, even when you wrap your legs around him and have him plug up your tiny little hole with sticky white. he sees it in your eyes how much you care for him, even through the rain. he’s ruining you, from the inside out, knocking the crown from your head and he hates it.

“daddy loves this pussy,” he wishes for the moment to last forever, but you’re already so close — crying from every hole, suffocating his throbbing cock. neither of you can hold back. “he loves you. i love you.”

the confession nearly tears your world in two — but it’s all you need to hear before everything comes crashing down on you. “i-i love you!” you tell him, wailing the words loud and proud as you release on him for a second time, gushing obscene amounts against gojo’s tummy smooshed up on your clit. “sato—! satoru! cum with me, cum inside me!” scratching down his back and screwing your eyes shut, you tilt your head up to capture his lips in a passionate kiss. 

the taste of salt on your cupid’s bow throws gojo over the edge too — his cockhead pours viscous white directly into your womb. “fuuuck, you’re so good princess…” and even though you know you should tell him to pull out, you don’t want him too. you want his baby, want his cum, want him always. even if that’s greedy of you.“fuckin’ take it…take all of me. all of that cum’s for you.” he slurs, beyond brainless.

lewd clapping noises echo between your bodies like the thunder up above as satoru fucks you through the rest of your highs, nose nudging your cheeks tenderly to soothe your tears. moaning, and crying against one another’s swollen lip. when his slow grinds come to a stop and your breathing recovers, the white haired lord gently sets you back in the ground — tenderly helping you to fix your drenched clothes back into place. 

your thighs are completely bruised and his back is completely torn up. the last marks you’ll ever leave with each other.

“so about—“

“we… we can’t do this anymore, satoru.” you say almost immediately, shaky as if you’re in the verge of panic. 

for the first time since you started doing this, sneaking off with one another, gojo notices the glint  on your ring finger. and you feel the very same weight of that ring. 

he shrugs you off, pulling up his pants and smirking. “that’s what you said last time—

“no satoru, i mean it now. we can’t.” it’s like you’ve come to your senses, realised the gravity of it all and what’s at stake. thirty days to get married, thirty days to become queen. “i’m going to become queen, your queen, in a matter of weeks and to do that i need to be married to him. i can’t mess this up. we have to stop.”

“but you don’t even want him,” he growls like a petulant child, roaring above the rain that cascades down on you both. “you want me. i want you. who gives a fuck about anything else?”

“duty gives a fuck! i have to marry him!”

throwing his hands up in defeat, satoru steps towards you, loud and intimidating, and you step back towards the tree. “you can’t even say his fucking name.” 

“his name is suguru geto and i will marry him because you forced me to.” you spit, going toe to toe with him — chest heaving but tight from your heart break. “if you and your stupid higher ups had just stayed out my way. maybe there could have been a chance for us. but they didn’t and here we are and duty freaking calls, gojo.” 

you storm off shortly after, be before he can see you cry again (for real this time). from his place hidden in the royal gardens, gojo watches sullenly as you approach your grandmother and fiancé — the elder queen disappointed in your current state and suguru clearly worried that the rain might make you catch a cold. 

the perfect alibi to cover up the fact that you’d just fucked satoru gojo. 

but the entire time, you never look back. 

you don’t even look at gojo — and  that’s how he knows you meant it. you always look back, always look for him in the crowd. 

the knowledge hits him like a strike of lightning. he’s royally fucked up — you’re marrying for the crown, all because of him. and there’s no room for loving when you’ve got the weight of the nation on your shoulders.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[allurilove]

Teenager Yandere Husband x teenager you

“What would happen if you went to the same school as him?”

Rated 16 + — regular ol’ short content !

Teen!Yandere Husband had a major scene phase starting sophomore year. It was his way of saying ‘fuck you’ to his old man, and he started to grow as his own person. He was finally able to express himself in a way his father tried to repress. His father was interested in fashion, creating multiple pieces and clothing that had made it to the runways, but he made sure teen!yandere husband looked proper. Not dressing him in the eccentric and world stopping outfits his father was known for, but the cookie cutter boy you see in those movies about snobby rich people. His dad thought his new bright hair was hideous, and when he started to cut up holes in his jeans— he got a whooping that night. That didn’t stop teen!yandere husband, it only fueled him to go all out. He had black eyeliner on his waterline, multiple rhinestone belts on his hips, and wore long striped socks with his boots. He donated all of his old polo shirts, cream white sweaters, and traded his name brand shoes for a pair of converses.

Teen!Yandere Husband enjoyed listening to My Chemical Romance, 3OH!3, and Get Scared. He had all of their latest music downloaded onto his mp3 player, and he listened to it with his girlfriend at the time. They both shared an earbud, and his arm was around her shoulders. She was just the type of girl he liked: she had those skunk extensions in her hair, long eyelashes, fishnets on her arms, and she smelled like a record store (idk if that’s a compliment). But alas, all mildly good things came to an end when he was broken up with. She wanted an alternative man by her side, and he wasn’t enough for her.

Teen!Yandere Husband started to grow out his hair junior year. He had to constantly brush his bangs out of his face, blowing at the strands whenever they poked at his eyes. He was this tall six foot two guy, bumping into people in the hallways with his wide shoulders. And he had an attitude. He didn’t apologize, just grunting out a ‘watch it’ before he stomped his way to his class. Teen!yandere husband also picked fights with anyone that tried to comment on his appearance. He knew how to throw a mean punch, and he learned it all from his great aunt. Breaking peoples noses and fingers were easier than he thought, and getting away with it was just as sweet than the thrill he felt. His father made constant excuses for teen!yandere husband, saying that it was just a phase and he was just a boy, and if that didn’t work… well a gracious donation would be sent to the school.

Teen!Yandere Husband got his dick pierced the summer before senior year. It was a risky move, his father was already on the brink of snapping at him and kicking him to the curb. But, thankfully his aunt was cool about it, and signed the paperwork. While he was at it, he got his ears and belly button done too.

Teen!Yandere Husband noticed you around senior year. He was cleaning up his ‘bad boy’ act, trying to get on people’s good side before the year ended. While he was on his apology tour, he saw you sitting at the library alone. He doesn’t remember if he had done anything horrible to you, and if he did, he would absolutely beat himself up for it. He was about to approach you, but then he suddenly remembered his appearance, and was self conscious about the way he looked. Who would love to be with a mess of a man like him? Surely, you already had people lining up to be with you.

Teen!Yandere Husband made his first move by asking you to sign his yearbook. You had made him nervous. Just your presence alone was making him sweat. He held brief eye contact with you when he asked, leaning against the white bricked wall with a blush to his cheeks. His voice soft and yet baritone, and he held up the yearbook for you to write your name in.

“Ah yeah… I think we had like one class together? With that really grumpy man that’s about to retire soon.”

You smiled, a little snort coming from you. He watched you add a little heart into your name. “You’re gonna have to be specific. That’s like half the teachers here.”

“You know,” he was totally talking out of his ass, “the teach that shakes his fist whenever he sees teens running down the halls.”

“Really? That’s odd. I never had a male teacher.”

“W-What? Oh-“ he gulped, adverting his eyes towards the ground. He shoved his hands into his pockets, and he awkwardly shifted between his weight. “Maybe I’m misremembering things.”

“If we took a class together… I definitely would have remembered.”

That left him speechless. Did you mean that in a good way?

“You’re sort of hard to forget… you kind of look like Sam Monroe from Life as a House.” you bit your lip, and your eyes took in the sight of his dark but colorful clothing. He had this scent that made him smell like fresh rain and wood.

He hadn’t seen that movie, but he was gonna guess on a whim that might’ve been your way of saying he’s … cute?

Teen!Yandere Husband got your number and followed you around all summer. He was actually shy when he got to hang out with you outside of school. Hours before he met you, he walked back and forth in front of his mirror, trying to give himself a pep talk before the hangout. He wasn’t this nervous before, and he started to fret about his appearance. He had put on his best jeans, clean shoes, and the classic sort of fancy tee. He picked you up in his red corvette, playing music from the radio incase you didn’t like what he usually listened to. He was determined to make this “hang out that’s totally not a date” perfect.

Teen!Yandere Husband casually paid for your things, and opened all the doors for you. He totally thought he was winning in the ‘gentleman’ department. He gave you compliments that teetered between the lines of flirtation, and just being friendly. He actively listened to whatever you had told him, making mental notes to bring them up in later conversations. That seemed to make you happy. You two had stopped by a carnival he coincidentally had tickets for. He tried his hardest to help you at any game, and he was pretty good at throwing darts. He happily smiled for whatever photo booth you brought him into, not once complaining when you wanted to use props.

Teen!Yandere Husband had genuinely smiled whenever he was around you. You just made life better. You were his little comedian, his best friend that’ll he never forget.

Full fics: these fics are an aged up version of yandere husband obvs, and it contains smut.

#1 #2 #3 #4 (coming soon)

Allure: this would be soo him if he were to text reader.

[chosove]

*tw!!! daddy kink!!! + a lotttt of size kink stuff!!! fem bodied reader*

I know he gets such a like…almost ‘selfish lover’ rep but in my humble daddy issue biased opinion, toji would 100% talk you through it like…

Everyone already finds him so intimidating, if not from his stature and general appearance, its his gruff voice and combative personality. He doesnt even mean to do it, he just always has that trademark scowl on his face that makes people afraid to say excuse me in grocery stores :(

Not you though, you still served him with your bright smile as he checked out of the store. You asked how he was and giggled at his flirty response of ‘why, ya wanna make my day better?’. I mean…other than his kids he never had people willingly make small talk with him, let alone laugh at his old man jokes.

Godddd he just gets so flustered when you look at him with your big doe eyes and say have a fantastic day :(

Thats why when he sees you on the dating app megumi downloaded for him (against his will), he feels his heart skip a beat. I just know he’s all nervous, thinking how dirty he is as a self proclaimed ‘old man’ finding such a pretty young thing attractive- i mean you could literally be his daughter. All these worried thoughts flitted through his head while he tried to decide, not realizing his thumb was just a littttttlllleeeee too close to the screen as he accidentally matched with you.

Oh.

Oh.

I mean it was an accident for him, but was it an accident for you? It couldnt be if you were texting him already, a message reading “hey there stranger :)” popping up on his phone.

And when you liked his simple response of “Hello.”, responding with “anything i can do to make your night better, toji?”, that couldnt just be a typo or misclick, right?

You made him feel like a teenager again, the butterflies he felt only becoming more intense when you asked him to come over n’ tell you in person :( he nearly jumped out of his skin trying to get ready, hands fumbling with that pinstripe button-up he’d been saving for something special (gumi’s grad or….i guess his first date in forever). It was only at times like this he wished he had someone to call to help him chill out.

Maybe after tonight that’d be you though? He hoped so at least, and even when you pulled him into your apartment, pushing him on the couch while he stuttered about getting to know each other first, he knew you were the girl for him.

It did take a while for him to actually get up to your speed- he didnt wanna break you or anything. You were just so, so desperate for him, tugging at his shirt while you grinded your clothed cunt against his beefy thighs, filthy words coming out of your mouth only making it harder for toji to take it slow with you.

“God you’re so big toji, feel like even jus’ your fingers can split me in half.”

“Couldn’t stop thinking about you, knew you’d treat me better than all the guys my age. Ya gonna fuck me right toji? Please?”

“C’mon toji…know you wanna breed me, bet it’ll only take one time for me to give you a baby. D’you want that daddy?”

It was no later you said that word that he was picking you up, throwing you onto the tiny mattress your studio apartment held. Yeah, he definitely wasnt getting out of this alive- but neither were you judging by the way his big hands began to unbuckle his belt, unzipping the pants you so graciously left a giant wet stain on, the outline of his cock in his boxers making your mouth water.

“See what ya do to me, pretty?” His deep voice spoke, one hand giving his throbbing dick a few much-needed strokes while he stared down at you like a wolf. “Nothin’ to say anymore, hm? C’mon, i liked hearing it all.”

He hadnt even pressed himself against you before you let out a whine, his hands resting themselves on your sides already being enough to make your hips jump. If it weren’t for the fact he was now intent on hearing more of those pretty sounds from you, he’d have let out a whine himself from how soft your skin felt against his worked hands. And when he slowly pulled your panties down your thighs, clenching his jaw at the sight of strands of wetness sticking to your pussy, he nearly came in his pants.

“Poor girl, bet this sweet pussy hasnt been treated right in forever hm?” The question nearly brought tears to your eyes, both from the truth of it and from the fact he began to thumb at your glistening cunt, the rough pad of his finger being the exact pressure you needed on your pulsing bundle of nerves. “T-toji i might cum alr-”you began, but you werent able to get your sentence out before his hand came down to slap against your cunt.

“What happened to my good girl from earlier? Y’know not to call me toji, little bird. Whats my name?” He whispered against the shell of your ear, fingers covered in your wetness now coming to play with your hard nipples.

Clinging to his shaggy hair like it was your lifeline, you nearly cried out as you came undone for him, the desperate moan of ‘thank you daddy’ falling from your lips. He smiled as you writhed below him, your body convulsing while he let you ride what would be the first of many orgasms that night.

[jlheon]

୨୧ — kiki the cat (psh)

pairing. brothers best friend! park sunghoon x fem! reader genre. college au f2l fluff wc. 5410 notes. ft. hyung line & chaewon, profanity library.

synopsis. you've liked your brother jay's best friend since you were five. you now go to the same college and one night on the way to the store, you stumble across a kitten. you want to keep it but aren’t allowed pets in the dorms. impulsively, you show up to sunghoon's apartment in hopes he'll let you keep it at his apartment for the rest of the semester.

JUST AS SUNGHOON SETTLED IN BED, SOMEONE RANG HIS DOORBELL.

he let out a loud groan, sitting back up and contemplating wether or not he was going to answer it.

maybe the person would leave him alone if he pretended he wasn’t home. he was about to lay back down when he heard the doorbell being pushed five times in a row.

“hoon!!” a muffled voice called out to him, then doing your signature knock.

it was you. his best friend jay’s little sister, or as heeseung liked to call you: the original sunghoon fangirl. 

as humble as sunghoon seemed to be, he could not ignore the line of girls who swooned over him on campus. as cliche as it is, it was true that many girls had eyes for him. they sized him up as either some untouchable god or a complete fuck boy.

but neither of those was true. you knew that best of course as the first girl to ever like sunghoon, or at least you hoped. 

at the ripe age of five, you declared your and sunghoon’s marriage, or rather future marriage.

your eyes flickered over the three boys your brother brought home with him from school, eyes coming to a halt and staring a little too hard once they landed on sunghoon.

once your eyes landed on sunghoon you decided your search for a boyfriend was over, because the perfect one was sitting next to you in the back seat. all thanks to jay.

whispering to the older boy that when you grew up you would fall in love and get married. he awkwardly nodded, not wanting to upset you because his mother told him never to argue with younger kids as they get angry easily. 

now at nineteen and twenty, you were still very adamant about your ‘pact’. even though it was only a statement since sunghoon never verbally agreed.

over the years it had been an ongoing joke between him, jake, heeseung, and jay that you were the reason sunghoon’s relationships were never long term.

which of course wasn’t fully true, but many girls just felt like he couldn’t fully commit to them. though the problem never being you, since you avoided him at all costs when applicable.

sure, you were down horrendous for sunghoon and wanted to fight every girl that looked his way (because they didn’t know him like you did), but when it came to his love life you never dared to interfere.

though when he was single, which was the majority of the time, you made constant remarks and jokes regarding your feelings for sunghoon. all four of them chalking them to be an ‘inside joke’ since they believed you only said those things to honor five-year-old ____’s dream. they all even played into it.

unfortunately it wasn’t a joke and you were undoubtedly in love with sunghoon.

of course, it was seemingly unrequited but you didn’t let yourself fall into a pit of teenage angst. instead, you let your feelings stay the same, holding onto some hope and the fact that in college you could meet a guy who liked you as much as you liked sunghoon.

a year after jay and his friends graduated you had gotten accepted into the same college as sunghoon. 

jay and his other friends going to a neighboring campus a forty-minute drive away. 

following many extensive meetings with your guidance counselor, you and your mother decided it was the best fit for you.

though you couldn’t deny that sunghoon being there was an added a bonus.

you texted him the night you had made your final decision, jokingly saying it was fate. 

he’d liked the message, and for a few minutes didn’t respond. you fell back on your bed in defeat, grabbing the nearest pillow and screaming into it. 

your phone then pinged, sunghoon finally responding with a short ‘it’ll be nice to have another familiar face around’. 

you felt a blush spreading on your cheeks and again reached for the same pillow to scream. 

you and sunghoon had had semi matching contacts for each other ever since you had received your first phone. again he passed it off as a joke, while it fed into your delusions.

you had him saved as husband, while he had you saved as ‘self-proclaimed wife.”

you’d rather it just be wife, but it was a start.

though he had changed it every time he had a girlfriend which was understandable, but would always somehow remember to change it back when they broke up.

you hoped that it meant something.

now that you had settled in and been going to school with him for a year, the two of you had gotten closer. as you saw each other frequently, around school, or even on rare occasions when you hung out at his apartment when your brother came to visit.

you had finally gotten as close enough to sunghoon to where you could stop complaining over how he didn’t like you and was content being a friend if anything.

IT ALL LED YOU TO BE OUTSIDE SUNGHOON’S DOOR AT ELEVEN AT NIGHT.

once he’d recognized your knock he got up and made his way to let you in. opening the door he felt an unfamiliar feeling bubbling up in his chest when he saw you in your pajamas cradling a baby cat in your arms staring up at him.

“who’s cat is that?” he made space for you to walk past him into his home, shutting the door. 

“it can be ours.” you sat down on his couch.

“i was going to buy a small cake roll for my roommate because she had a bad day and then i got distracted and saw this cute little cat and she’s allergic to cats so now i’m here because i want to keep it.” you rambled even more.

“did you walk all the way here? didn’t i tell you it’s not safe for you to be out alone after dark?” he scolded, sitting down in the empty spot next to you. 

“does your roommate know you are here and did you bring the pepper spray jay gave you?” 

“yes hoon i did all of that! i just came here because you live off campus so you’re allowed to have pets here!”

“what if i don’t want it ____? did you consider that?”

“you can’t say no to me, my birthday is coming up soon!” you sulked, holding the kitten out for him to see. 

“how do we even know that it doesn’t have diseases..” he argued. 

“because i found the nearest vet and we are taking it tomorrow!” you grinned. “can we please keep her hoon? you know i’ve always wanted a cat since we were kids!” 

he did know that. he remembered more things about you than you could ever imagine.

“we can keep him for now but if the vet says otherwise we are releasing him,” he said sternly. “but since you walked here i don’t want you going back alone so you’re staying here.”

your heart fluttered at the fact you were going to get to sleep at his place for the first time without the presence of your older brother. 

but that fluttering came to an abrupt stop right when he added “it’s what jay would want”. 

he motioned for you to come with him to his room so you could both go to bed. you followed behind him still cradling the cat.

“wait hoon we need to feed her and give her a place to sleep!” you paused in your tracks. 

he sighed but wordlessly went to his kitchen to get a small bowl of milk and an old blanket. He returned to the bedroom, settling the bowl onto the ground and making a makeshift bed for the baby kitten. he gently took the animal from your hands, setting it down on the floor, guiding it towards the milk.

you kneeled next to him watching the scene in front of you, eyes glimmering with envy for the cat at how gently sunghoon treated it. 

he looked over at you already staring at him and smiled softly.

“what will we name it,” he asked you softly.

“i want to wait until we know if we can keep it.”

with that you both stood up, sunghoon letting you take his bed while he tried to prepare to sleep on the couch. which you quickly shut down, saying there was more than enough space left for him, which was true.

after bickering for five minutes about where sunghoon would sleep he finally caved and laid down on the empty spot of the bed, hoping jay would never hear of this. he would be teased till the ends of the earth.

“goodnight ____,” he said from his side of the bed.

“goodnight hoonie,” you yawned. 

hugging a pillow you had put in between you two, you wished you didn’t have to sleep and could embrace the only time you would ever be in this situation with him. but alas your eyelids betrayed you. 

sunghoon struggled to fall asleep, extremely hyper-aware of the small proximity. right before he finally drifted off into slumber you mumbled a curt, ‘i love you’ in your sleep. 

he knew he shouldn’t assume that it was directed towards him and that you could very well just sleep talking. he told himself he shouldn’t think so hard about what you said. though the warmth spread throughout his body begged to differ.

however, one thing he knew for sure was that wasn’t going to fall asleep now. 

YOU WOKE UP TO FIND SUNGHOON ALREADY STARING AT YOU.

you quickly shut your eyes again feeling like you were crazy, while sunghoon cleared his throat.

he immediately stood up, went to the corner where you had placed the cat the night before and brought it back to you on the bed. you sat up, resting your back on his headboard.

he wordlessly handed you the kitten so you could cuddle it. then reached over to unplug your phone from his charger and give it to you.

your screen was full of a myriad of messages from your roommate chaewon. from asking if you were okay staying at sunghoon’s, if you wanted her to pick you up, if the cat was cute, and more. 

you hadn’t checked your phone since getting here last night. 

you told her you would tell her everything when you got home, not wanting to actively geek out about sunghoon while you were with him. 

fifteen minutes later you ended up in the kitchen. making some pancakes for the both of you while sunghoon got ready. 

“what time does the vet open?” he finally spoke up.

“like twelve?” you replied. “you mind dropping me off right?”

“i’m going with you ____, i’d like to be there if this cat is going to be living with me until you can figure out what to with it.”

“you’re really going to let me keep her?” 

sunghoon swore your eyes were shining when you looked at him. he needed to take care of this cat for you. 

since you had showed up last night with just your phone and kitten in hand, he needed to drive you to your dorm so you could get ready. 

both of you quietly eating the chocolate chip pancakes you made and heading out to his car.

reaching your dorm, he unlocked the car waiting for you to get out, expecting to just wait in the car.

“are you not coming in?” you hopped down from the passenger's side.

“oh,” he started. “i wasn’t sure if you wanted me to.”

“no, it’s okay! you let me sleep over and keep a cat so…”

you both headed inside and took the stairs up to your room. sunghoon held the kitten while you unlocked the door. walking in you saw chaewon at her desk finishing up some assignments before her first class.

“____, i said no cat.” chaewon said bluntly.

“i thought you had class!” you defended yourself.

“i don’t, and also the fur!”

“it’s fine, the cat is going to live with me,” sunghoon interjected.

chaewon finally registered you had brought someone with you. her eyes flickering between you and sunghoon.

“well i’m leaving now,” she started collecting her stuff. “i do not want an allergic reaction so make sure to borrow hanni’s vacuum.”

“where are you going if you don’t have class?” you sat down at your desk, directing sunghoon to sit on your bed.

“i’m going out with,” she coughed, not wanting to say the name out loud. 

“oh my gosh really?” you stood up, shaking her by the shoulders.

“yes! she asked me to go downtown with her-” sneezing before finishing her sentence. she pushed you away due to you being covered in cat fur.

“oh sorry, have fun though! send me pictures! oh my gosh did she imply it was a date?” you rambled as she put on her shoes and rushed out the door.

“bye ____!”

“bye chae good luck!”

you turned back to sunghoon sitting on your bed, cuddling the cat while he scrolled on his phone. unconsciously breaking into a smile at the sight.

“hoon, what time is it?” you asked, looking through your drawers for something to wear.

“11:04” he looked up from his phone.

“okay, give me like 20 minutes.” taking steps towards the bathroom to wash your face and get changed. in a couple of minutes, your makeup was done and you informed sunghoon that you were ready to go. 

THE KITTEN DID NOT HAVE ANY DISEASES.

sunghoon felt conflicted after getting the green light that the cat could be turned into a housecat after getting some vaccines. the veterinarian had suggested some food brands and tips on how to take care of the kitten, and before he knew it the appointment was over.

both silently entering the car. the car ride was silent. you sat there trying to figure out a name. sunghoon sat there wondering why his whole body had felt incredibly warm since you had shown up at his door last night.

he started going through a pros and cons list the entire drive home in his head. 

the pro he kept coming back to was you would be over at his house more often. 

but it felt weird to think of that as a pro. not because he wouldn’t want you to spend time with more but because you were to put it simply, just jay’s little sister. so why did he catch himself stealing glances at you every time he reached a red light?

a quick trip to the pet store getting, a bed, bowls, canned cat food, and some small toys you insisted on getting. you quickly paid, not wanting sunghoon to since a small kitten now inhabited his house that he would now co-parent. 

when getting back to his apartment the both of you set up the cat’s stuff. staying for a while before chaewon came to drive you home. 

“so, how was it?” she smirked, pulling out of the parking lot.

“i could ask you the same thing.”

looking down at your phone, it read: “sunghoon sent you money.”

sighing as he paid the exact amount as the receipt on your lap.

SUNGHOON WAS STARTING TO FEEL INSANE.

once he was alone in his apartment he texted jake. voicing his concerns but not name-dropping as jake would laugh in his face, telling him that he knew it was bound to happen sooner or later.

jake had quickly got fed up not knowing who sunghoon was talking about so he pressed the call button without hesitation.  

“you like ____ don’t you,” jake giggled from the other side of the line. “i saw her post that cat you were describing.”

“i don’t know!” sunghoon groaned. “i think i might, but she’s jay’s little sister.”

“so what! she isn’t your little sister! has jay has never told you she was off limits?” jake argued.

“no,” sunghoon mumbled. “but you could have worded that better you know.”

“i mean there's something between y’all,” jake advised. “she’s been in love with you since we were six.”

“she’s just joking.”

“yeah and i can drive.”

“no, you can’t-”

“i’m saying you're wrong and in denial..” the boy on the phone sighed. “how about you see what happens while you take care of your new child.”

“not my child.” sunghoon rolled his eyes.

“cat co-parent. gaeul would be furious.” 

gaeul would be if she could talk. sunghoon abruptly hung up. maybe he did like you to an extent, he was taking care of a cat for you for crying out loud.

THE NEXT TIME JAY AND JAKE CAME TO VISIT, SUNGHOON WAS UNDENIABLY ON EDGE.

for the past month you had frequented his apartment more than you could count on your fingers. coming after classes and staying until after dinner. 

it was starting to feel so domestic, thinking about how this is what it could be like if you and sunghoon were dating. indulging on the fact this was the closest you’ve ever been to him.

when jay saw the kitten sitting on your lap when he walked in the front door he thought he was seeing things. sunghoon had been an avid cat hater ever since his family got gaeul, and seeing that cat only further confirmed what jake had told him a couple of weeks back.

he was only waiting for sunghoon to come to him now.

“what’s its name?” jay asked, patting the gray cat on its head.

“her name is kiki!” you exclaimed. “you are now an uncle, this is my daughter.”

“so is sunghoon the dad?” jake giggled mischievously.

“um.. well i mean i’ve never asked?”

“i guess i am since she’s with me almost 24/7”

“____ or the cat-” sunghoon muffled jake with a pillow. 

THE SEMESTER WAS ENDING AND SUNGHOON STILL HADN’T TOLD YOU ABOUT HOW HE FELT.

the weeks full of rain soon turned into warm days. the tulips around campus had sprouted. an assortment of pink, blue, and purple flowers filling the grass. summer was right around the corner. 

though spring and summer only meant one thing, finals.

sunghoon had not seen you for about a week at this point. his finals had been done for a couple of days while you had all of yours during the last stretch before break. he stayed home most of the time thinking about how he could confess to you. 

from the time you had spent together, his apartment was your second home.

he didn’t realize the sense of normalcy having you around provided until you could no longer stay with him and kiki.

kiki had been doing great. she was no longer the scrawny little kitten she first was. she had healthily gained some pounds through her recommended diet, slowly warming up to sunghoon more as his only roommate.

sunghoon had given you a copy of his key so you could come while he was gone to spend time with kiki whenever you pleased.

his favorite sight to come home to was seeing you and kiki snuggled up on his bed sound asleep. sometimes he would even join you two. you intentionally never slept in the dead middle of his bed, always leaving room for him in case he came home, not wanting to be a bother if he also felt tired and wanted to lay down.

but as the semester came to an end, he knew that you would soon be able to buy an apartment and take the cat for yourself.

he couldn’t stand thinking of you not being there when he got home nine times out of ten.

he wished that he could just wake up one day from one of your afternoon naps with you snuggled up against him. 

SUNGHOON WAS TOTALLY FUCKED.

finals were over. sunghoon had procrastinated to the very last second, and now you were on your way to pick up kiki and head home for the summer.

if he couldn’t just get it out today once you walked in the door he would genuinely go insane. 

he had gone through a practice confession three times last night with jake on call. jay refused to sit and listen to it, but he did give sunghoon the go that he trusted him with his sister. 

he was pacing around his living room, failing miserably to calm his nerves.

“kiki what if your mom doesn’t like me back?” he knelt in front of the couch, the kitten becoming eye level with him. she got closer to sunghoon and sat in front of him, meowing as if she was responding.

“yea i hope so too, i don’t want you to become a child of divorce.” sunghoon sighed, stroking kiki on her head. 

“hoon why are you talking to the cat..” you spoke up, sunghoon being too immersed in his conversation with kiki to notice the door being unlocked.

“oh hi ____,” sunghoon stood back up, scratching his neck and facing you.

“hi hoon,” you took off your jacket and shoes. “are you okay hoon? you look a little warm.”

“no i’m not! um i mean i am but-” he tripped over his words. “i don’t even know anymore.”

“do you need anything?” you walked up to him, feeling his forehead.

“no, but can we talk?” he sat down on the couch, he gestured for you to sit down next to him, kiki climbed into your lap.

sensing the awkward tension in the room, you also began to feel worried. sunghoon looked undeniably nervous which then rubbed off on you.

what if he found out you liked him, that the ongoing joke was never a joke in the first place? 

“i’m going to say something,” he shakily breathed out. “and i want you to listen to it all before considering hitting me or something.”

“okay,” you nodded. “should i be scared?” and awkwardly laughed. 

“trust me i’m more scared than you.”

yo moved so that you were fully facing him, letting kiki down from your lap so she could roam and not interrupt. tilting your head to connect your eyes with his and give him your full attention. which was never hard for you since you stared at his face often. he cleared his throat and mirrored your actions, now face-to-face with no distractions.

“i practiced this but i think i might just wing it.” he started, avoiding eye contact. 

“i like coming home to you and kiki asleep on my bed, i like how you leave a spot for me on the bed even if you don’t notice it,” you felt like you were dreaming, watching all the words seventeen-year-old you yearned to hear before he left for college leave his lips. 

“i like how i was the first person you came to with kiki when you have plenty of other friends who live off campus, i like how you’ve never been shy to show you like me ever since we were kids,” he grabbed your hands, and you felt your stomach churn. 

“i like you ____.” he breathed out, searching for any sign of return of feelings. 

you felt like you were going to collapse. your clothes starting to feel like millions of layers of itchy fabric. the collar on your shirt felt tight around your neck. the room began to appear extremely fuzzy, with complete silence, only accompanied by the pounding in your head. 

desperately trying to find words but they failed to come up in your head, and your mouth was muted.

“____? i’m sorry, please say something.” sunghoon worried, feeling you grip his hand tighter. 

“oh my god i thought you were going to tell me that you don’t want to help with kiki anymore because she gonna live with me now.” you let out the breath you were holding.

“why would i do that?” he asked in a confused tone.

“i don’t know it must be annoying having your best friend's little sister come over every day to check on her cat,” you replied. “you probably couldn’t have any girls over.”

“i don’t need any girls over but you,” he relaxed back on the couch.

“you’re so cheesy,” you elbowed him. “i like you too, i think everyone knows.” copying him you sunk into the couch cushion and leaned on his shoulder.

“is jay going to kill you now?” you turned your head towards the black-haired boy next to you.

“you underestimate me,” he said, resting his head on yours. “i asked him three months ago!”

“you’ve liked me for three months now?” eyes threatening to fall out of their sockets.

he grabbed you by your waist and brought you into his lap. resting his forehead on your head and inhaling your strawberry shampoo. 

“well came to terms with it..” he mumbled into your hair.

“i win! I’ve liked you since i was five.”

“i know, but i was in denial since we joked so casually about it.”

kiki hopped up onto the couch, making herself comfortable in your lap. purring as you gazed down on her and stroked her fur. you smiled, finally, your dreams were semi-true. you had a kitten and sunghoon all to yourself. you were starting to feel your eyes burn. 

“kiki you will not be a child of a divorce!” sunghoon told the kitten, bringing his free arm around to pet the small cat.

the thought of you not seeing sunghoon now that you’d be able to take kiki off his hands if he hadn’t confessed made the stinging in your eyes turn into small water droplets. the tiniest tear sliding down your right cheek was enough for you to turn your head away as far as possible to wipe the stray tear.

sunghoon noticed immediately, cupping your face and bringing it towards him.

“ew sorry i’m being dramatic,” you sniffled, avoiding his eyes by putting your hand in front of your eyes.

“no you’re not,” he wiped some stray tears. “but why are you crying?”

“i don’t know! i’m just feeling a little overwhelmed..” 

“i know i have that effect on people,” sunghoon joked, planting a kiss on your cheek, resulting in you taking kiki and jumping off his lap. “where are you going?” 

he watched you take the gray kitten and make a run for it to his room, trying to shut the door on him. standing up simultaneously and chasing after you, blocking you from closing the door with his left arm. 

putting kiki on her bed, you flopped onto sunghoons bed and slipped underneath the duvet. sunghoon follows after you, but not before approaching the cat in the corner of the room, muttering a quick goodnight like he did every night. he never knew he would like having a cat this much, but it being your idea gave some bias.

it wasn’t the first time you’ve slept over at sunghoon’s house, but it was the first time falling asleep in his arms. 

YOU WOKE UP TO THE LOUD VOICES IN THE KITCHEN.

sunghoon had forgotten that jay and jake would be there in the morning the next day, but he wasn’t expecting to hear his doorbell ring at nine. he gently slid his arms out from underneath you and let them in.

“why are you guys here so early” he squinted, rubbing his eyes.

“why were you still asleep? i told you nine,” jay said, walking straight to the kitchen.

“because ____ is still asleep.” sunghoon retorted.

“not anymore,” you yawned from the corridor, walking closer to greet your brother. you gave him a brief hug before moving onto to sleepily bury your face in sunghoon’s chest.

“gross. it's already started,” jake made a face of disgust, laying his head flat on the dining room table.

“hi to you too jake.” you looked up and waving at him.

jay had made the four of you breakfast and gave you both a whole speech about how he would do very bad things if sunghoon were to mess things up with you. also going into depth about things that made jake stuff his mouthful of food and cover his ears. you wished you did the same.

perhaps the nearly sixteen years of pining for your older brother's best friend was worth it.

BUT ONE THING YOU DID KNOW FOR SURE WAD THAT YOU NEEDED TO CALL YOUR MOTHER.

kiki's first birthday! (extra)

the apartment was decorated, maybe even over-decorated. pink and yellow streamers going from one side of the kitchen to the other. hanging from the ceiling was a string of letters reading ‘happy first birthday kiki’ in pink letters. 

“hoon!” you came in from the front door holding a cake. “you bought candles right?”

“yup!” sunghoon walked over to you from his spot in the kitchen.

he took the cake, giving you a quick peck. you trailed behind him admiring his decoration skills. sunghoon placed the cake on the dining table and opened the lid. inside the white box was a small white cake, piped with pink icing, and writing that matched the banner. 

you took the candles from the kitchen counter and took the cake out. then placed the number one candle on the center back. 

both of you admiring the cake, before being interrupted by a ring on the doorbell.

leaving sunghoon in the kitchen, you opened the door. chaewon greeted you on the other side with a small present wrapped in white paper. she also held a mini headband small enough for kiki to wear. though you weren’t sure if you would even get it on kiki.

“i got the birthday girl something to wear!” the blonde-haired girl grinned, waving around the headband. 

she walked inside and set the present on the coffee table and walked over to kiki resting on the floor. chaewon sat down beside the kitten, pulling out a mask, glasses, and gloves from her bag. she put them on skillfully and quickly.

you and sunghoon shared a glance and let out laughs.

“hey! you can’t blame me for wanting to be safe.” chaewon huffed and crossed her arms. 

following after was another sound from the door. rather than ringing the doorbell jake opted on forcefully banging on the doors like a maniac. causing all three of you to roll your eyes. sunghoon taking one for the team, walked up to the door, and let the three guys outside in. 

“hi guys!” jake smiled, carrying his present for the cat unwrapped. “i couldn’t find a bag sorry..”

jay and heeseung following closely behind, heeseung with a pale blue bag, and jay with nothing.

“why didn’t you bring your niece a gift?” you chided your empty handed older brother.

“i’m bringing her on a shopping spree!” jay picked up the cat, spinning her around. “i’m the best uncle ever!”

“she can’t go out in public,” sunghoon deadpanned.

“i’m bringing you two on a shopping spree!” jay corrected himself, sitting down on the smaller couch.

“why is the girl on the couch suited up like someone is sick..” heeseung whispered to you. 

“that’s chaewon,” you whispered back. “she’s allergic to cats.”

an hour later you found yourselves in the kitchen surrounding the cake and wearing party hats. you holding kiki in your arms while sunghoon held the cake in front of the gray kitten. just as you predicted, kiki put up a fight while you tried to coerce her into wearing the party chaewon bought. resulting in some scratched littered around your arms.

after singing happy birthday you held kiki in front to blow out the candles from behind her. 

sunghoon and you were glad that it was kiki’s birthday. more like the anniversary of the day you had brought her home, but birthday sounded better. the day finally arrived and you were relieved, as you had avoided cutting her nails for a week so she could go crazy when opening her presents. 

she received a mouse toy from chaewon, some oddly expensive cat food from heeseung, and a plushie that eerily resembled gaeul a lot.

once everything was done and everyone was ready to leave, jay shouted that he would send sunghoon’s mom the pictures to show gaeul. 

you were to blame for sunghoon’s one-sided beef with the whole cat population for no particular reason finally coming to an end.

[literaila]

worth

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: the past comes back to haunt you, as it usually does.

warnings: angst, allusions to disassociation, hurt/comfort, mama is sad

last part | next part

*

year five.

"wait for me," satoru tells megumi, as soon as he starts walking away. 

you're watching as megumi hangs his head, looking like he'd failed at his one objective--escaping--and turns around, glaring at satoru. 

you've all been out shopping for the past two hours. getting the kids new clothes, shoes, whatever else satoru swears they need... 

honestly, he's kind of cute running around like a maniac from store to store. showing tsumiki a cute dress she could wear, or teasing megumi into trying on a sweatshirt that matches his. 

it's quite possibly the only reason you haven't complained. 

or pointed out that both of the kids are on the verge of whining all the way home. or that he doesn't need to spend 100,000 yen to make them happy. 

"hurry up," megumi tells the man, basically growling at him. 

satoru grins and ruffles his hair, resting a hand on his back as the two of them begin to navigate through the crowd. mostly likely, neither of them knows where they're going. 

you're not even sure where a bathroom is in this district. 

"we'll wait here," you call out, nudging tsumiki. satoru turns briefly to give you a little peace sign, a little grin, and then he murmurs something to megumi you can't hear and they're both gone. 

you're a little worried about them being alone together in this state but you ignore it.

"guess it's just you and me, miki," you say to the little girl at your side. she beams up at you, nodding. "do you want to sit down? how do the shoes feel?" 

"mmm," she looks down, blinking at the sparkly shoes satoru insisted were perfect for her. "they're rubbing at my ankles a little." 

"we can get some new socks, too. that should help. c'mon, i think there's a bench over there." 

she grabs your hand as you begin towards the bench, humming something under her breath. 

you look down to smile at her and don't notice the person walking by, accidentally bumping into them. "oh, i'm sorry, excuse us--" you turn and your entire body lurches away from you. 

for a brief moment, you're not yourself. your conscious moves in an instant, ready to defend itself from everything, anything. you're not yourself, but someone else. someone you used to know very well. 

"i--" you breathe, freezing at the person in front of you. 

tsumiki pulls on your hand a little, confused when you stop suddenly. she looks to the woman standing in front of you, with a bizarre look on her face, and then tsumiki's brown eyes go back to you, her face riddled with curiosity. 

"y/n?"

i don't remember a lot about her but i remember hugging her when she got home from work, and the way she said my name-- 

you want to forget it all. 

it's clear now, several years later, that you would rather forget everything about her--about this woman standing in front of you, basically a reflection of yourself--than have to do this all over again. then have to face the memories of what she did to you. then put that child through any of it. 

"hi--hey," you say because you have to. 

here's the thing about seeing your mom for the first time in a decade: you can't just pretend you didn't. 

you'd like to turn right around and walk away. you'd like to pretend that you've grown sometime in the past nine years, that you've turned into someone who doesn't need to stay and talk to her. you'd like to think that you're someone who can cut her right out of your life and feel all of the better for it. 

but you're not. 

you can't run away from your mother. you can't apologize for bumping into her and turn around with tsumiki's hand in yours and forget about it. actually, you can't even move right now. 

because there's still this girl inside of you.

there's still this child, a teenager who tried so desperately to earn the approval of this woman and never got it. who tried so hard to be everything that this woman wanted, but could never try enough. 

and she's clinging to your chest right now, breathing into your skin like a toxin, digging her nails into your heart and begging you to try again. telling you that you've got another shot, a chance she couldn't have--

so you can't leave now. not when you owe it to her, to yourself to try, to trick yourself into believing that it was just a fault of your own, that your childhood memories are only the result of some flaws you've already fixed. 

you can't walk away when your mind is stuck on her, her, and--tsumiki. 

your broken eyes turn to her.

your little girl who is standing right beside you, waiting for your next move. if you told her to run, she would. if you told her to stay by your side and say nothing, to hide behind you, she would. she wouldn't even ask you what was going on. 

but for no reason at all, you can't tell tsumiki anything. you can't whisper to her that it's fine, that everything is fine. you can't introduce her or drag her away. 

you can't do anything and it's never felt worse. 

"i thought that was you," your mother says, tilting her head at you. she's staring like this is just a casual bump in. like you're colleagues who haven't seen each other since she went on vacation. "you look... grown." 

you feel naive. there's nothing you can say to this woman to prove to her that you're better than you were. that you're far too good for her.

"thanks," you whisper, even though you know it's not a compliment. it's an instinct to appeal to her. to be polite and perfect.

your mom clasps her hands together. if you were looking at her--which you're not, you wouldn't dare--you might be able to tell that she's uncomfortable with you being there. almost surprised. 

maybe she just assumed that you'd die as soon as you left the comfort of your childhood home. maybe she thought that they would've kicked you out of jujutsu high a day after you arrived, leaving you to starve on the street just like she did. 

"well, how are you?" 

you swallow. "i'm good." 

she nods, and then she looks to your side and finally notices tsumiki there. 

tsumiki, with her precious face, her beautiful brown eyes, and carefully organized hair. 

you're not sure what your mother sees when she looks at her.

you wish more than anything that you could hide her. you don't want your mom's--you don't want this woman's eyes on her. you don't want her to say a single word to your daughter. 

"and who's this?" 

but you can't just send her away. you have no idea where satoru went, and tsumiki can't walk around on her own. not right now, not when you're so preoccupied. 

you just can't walk away. 

tsumiki holds her hand out, just like you taught her. "i'm tsumiki fushiguro." 

"it's nice to meet you," your mother answers, shaking her hand warily like she's certain that she might get an infection from tsumiki's skin. and then she looks at you, not daring to ask what she wants to.

you clench your jaw, wanting to slap her hand away from tsumiki. 

you should've put up a barrier a minute ago. the only possible block between you and a woman who doesn't deserve the pleasure of meeting tsumiki. who deserves no explanations from you. 

but your cursed energy is frozen in place, and you know that if you shut yourself in, you'll never get back out. 

"my daughter," you add, a bit louder now. 

your mom's eyebrows raise immediately and she pauses, looking between the two of you, searching for some useless resemblance. like it isn't obvious that you share a bond, just from the way your hands are intertwined. like it's not obvious that you braided tsumiki's hair, or helped her pick out the shoes she's wearing. 

like it might not be true. 

still, she asks tsumiki, "how old are you?" 

"twelve." 

and you know where her mind goes immediately. thinking that it can't be possible. she knew you when you were twelve, and you certainly weren't pregnant with the little girl standing beside you. you certainly weren't developing any maternal skills locked away in your room, with only the curse that liked to hide in the walls to teach you.

it brings that resentment to the surface of your core, threatening to burst through your skin. you feel suddenly so angry you can't bear it. 

and you're not that girl anymore, you realize. you haven't been since you met nanami and haibara and satoru. 

since you learned that you were only a child and not a trophy that needed to live up to its name. 

"well," your mom sighs, shaking her head. "i can't say this is what i expected." 

"excuse me?" 

"really, what do you know about children, y/n? don't you think you're a little young?" 

tsumiki looks up at you with a frown, about to ask what she means when you stop her. 

you squeeze her hand and look away, into the eyes of the woman who created you--who has that string of biology she just judged you and tsumiki for lacking--and still didn't care. 

she is nothing if not the proof that dna means absolutely nothing. 

"what do you know about children, mom?" you repeat, rhetorically. "at least i know that a ten-year-old shouldn't spend every hour of the day locked in their room, waiting for someone to come let them out." 

"i'm shocked that you--" 

"at least i know that a child is a gift and not a toy to hide away when you get bored of it." 

your mom scoffs. "i can't believe this--"

"neither can i," you say and look to your daughter, who's got wide brown eyes and a confused sort of fear on her face. she doesn't need to hear anything else you have to say to this woman. you smile at her, soft as ever. "go look for dad, okay? he shouldn't be far." 

it's been five minutes, and satoru's probably right around the corner, you rationalize. he's going to come pick up tsumiki and rescue you any second now. 

tsumiki nods immediately, letting go of your hand. she turns to go do what you said, but before she can there's a strong hand on your shoulder, a body right beside yours, and you almost gasp in relief. 

"found him," tsumiki tells you, softly. 

you turn to satoru, wanting to beg him to carry you away from her, to get you away from her--but the words won't come. you're too struck by the view of his face, and the knowledge that when you finally escape from this, he's going to be right there. 

satoru was there the first time, and he'll linger for the second. 

his shaded eyes look back at you, observing for a second, reading your mind, and then he turns. 

megumi is trailing at his side, holding a shopping bag. he looks between this stranger and you, a cautious look on his face. 

tsumiki is telling him something without any words. 

"hello," satoru says, smoothly, breaking the silence. "i don't believe we've met. do you know y/n?" 

your mother frowns, scoffing. "i'm her mother." 

you can see it when satoru reels back, looking between the two of you for a moment, an intense realization on his face. 

maybe he can see the resemblance. the face that might be your own in just a few years. 

or maybe, finally, he can feel the horrors of being raised by her. all of the things you've never dared to tell him. 

you're pleading satoru for something with your eyes but you're not even sure what.

"there's another one?" your mom asks, almost disgusted, as satoru processes. "how old are you?" 

megumi frowns. he walks over to tsumiki, who's already picked up your hand, and asks you: "this is your mom?" 

you nod at him, relieved more than anything that he's there, with the rest of you. and that if you can't explain, satoru will handle it. 

megumi considers it for a second. "are you sure?" 

and you want to laugh so abruptly that it shocks you. you want to grab him by the face and kiss all across his cheeks. 

tsumiki is already smiling at you like she knows this. her grip is strong against yours.

satoru smiles at your mom, a vicious ugly thing. "did you need something from her?" 

"i--no, we just ran into each other," she tells him, seemingly confused by his entire presence. she looks at you. "who is he? another child of yours?" 

satoru licks his lips. "not quite." 

you're about to answer when he grabs your empty hand, shaking his head. "i don't think there's anything y/n needs to say to you," he tells her, coldly. then he looks at you. "is there?" 

"no," you whisper, coveting the feeling of his hand in yours. the two children at your side, who know what it's like to be loved. megumi and tsumiki, who will never feel unwanted, as long as you have a say in it. 

satoru nods, guffly, and turns. "it was a pleasure to meet you," he says, and he moves all of you away. you can almost feel it when he shields the three of you from the rest of the world.

with his hand in yours, the other in tsumiki's, and megumi on the other side of her, satoru leads you all away from her. 

and you let him. because the three of them are more of a family--a better, safer one--than that woman ever was. 

you can't thank them all for being there, being yours, in this moment, but you will. 

at least you know that. 

*

satoru has been watching you for hours. 

since you all got home and the kids' questions began. 

that was your mom? 

yes. 

why haven't we met her before? 

i haven't seen her in a long time. 

was she upset? 

yes. 

why? 

because i'm happier than she thought i'd be, you said, i have a better family. 

are we going to see her again? 

absolutely not. 

after that, the two of them quieted. satoru could tell that they had more questions, that megumi was curious and tsumiki was worried--but neither of them continued. 

it was almost unspoken that you couldn't take much more. that you needed a break from it, even if you wouldn't say. so they both moved on, resuming their usual antics and talking about the clothes they got, when and where they'd wear them. 

well, mostly tsumiki. but megumi entertained her thoughts for a while at least. 

satoru just watched you. the tiny break within your eyes, the gap between you and the rest of the world. you've remained all the same since you got home. cursed energy small, unchanging. your face in one position like it'll kill you to move it. 

satoru can't stand it, but he doesn't want to intrude. he doesn't want you to push him away too. 

so he only sat there, trying to fill your role (which was impossible) at the dinner table. 

and several hours later, after dinner, after space, satoru still hasn't brought it up. 

but he doesn't get the chance to. because as soon as you've put both of them to bed--insisting on tucking them in and talking to them both separately tonight, like you're making up for something--you're sneaking into satoru's room. 

and he's waiting like he always is. his arms are wide open when you walk into the room, and there's not a moment of hesitation before you fall into them. you don't blink or breathe before you're right against him, keeping yourself up with nothing more than blood and bone. 

satoru hugs you close to him, trying to let everything he feels go, just for you. 

(because he's just angry. 

he's angry that she showed up and ruined your day. he's angry that he wasn't there to keep it from happening. he's angry that when he walked over he could tell there was something wrong because you were frozen--because you were almost barren. no cursed energy, no expression. nothing to draw him to you like usual. 

and he's so angry that he can't do anything to fix it. 

so angry that being the strongest sorcerer of the modern age means nothing when he really needs it to. 

satoru isn't a person who hates. he never hated the people who attempted to tie him down as a kid so he couldn't escape observation. he didn't hate toji when he cut him through the throat. he didn't hate suguru for leaving, or yaga for asking why he didn't stop him. 

he doesn't hate. 

but he hates her.

for taking your face and twisting it around. for stealing your childhood and pretending like she didn't. for holding your precious heart in her hands and acting like it was nothing of value.

he hates her.) 

you both sit there, rocking back and forth, sinking together for a moment. 

and then you sniff, and satoru closes his eyes against your head, not sure what to say to make it all better. 

what he can do to erase this feeling from your body. what he can do to prove to you that you're worth so much more. 

"do you think i'm a good mom?" you whisper to him, as he moves back and forth. 

his heart pauses, needing a moment to consider this. to not feel a fire in his soul at the very suggestion. 

satoru pulls back, frowning. and he makes sure that your eyes are on his when he says, "there's not a person in the world who could take better care of them than you do," he swears, feeling like it's the most honest thing he's ever said. 

he wants to brand the words into your skin just so you never ask such a ridiculous question again. 

"thank you," you say, voice breaking, and satoru wipes the tears falling down your cheeks away. each one a different memory, a terrible moment where someone showed you that you didn't matter. 

and when they continue to fall, satoru continues to wipe them away. 

"do you want to talk about it?" he asks, almost hesitating. he's not sure that he can handle hearing about it--but he would if you needed him to. 

"not tonight," you whisper and fall against him again. 

satoru holds you close. 

and he swears, to whoever is listening, that he'll love you enough to make up for that woman. he'll love you enough to make up for everything.

he loves you enough to be sure of it. 

*

next part | series masterlist

[millenianthemums]

I wanted to share the official playlist I made for this fic! I always make playlists for stories of mine, but I honestly really like this one and wanted to share it. I went way overboard on the cover, but it was still fun. I’ll probably reuse it when I post the first chapter of the fic, which I’m hoping will happen in the next couple weeks!

tracklist under the cut! the songs don’t map directly onto the plot or anything, they’re just vibe-based. there’s a lot of cheesy pop and angsty stuff right next to each other, because i feel like that’s gonna be the tone of the fic in general.

* Ruler of Everything - Tally Hall

* The Saga of You, Confused Destroyer of Planets - Lemon Demon

* Kiss Me, Son of God - They Might Be Giants

* Beady Eyes on the Horizon - Jukebox the Ghost

* The Next Dimension - Lemon Demon

* Look Who’s Inside Again - Bo Burnham

* Hollywood Baby - 100 gecs

* Problems - Mother Mother

* Something Glowing - Lemon Demon

* The Guide to Success - Joe Iconis / Eric William Morris

* Flap Flap - Patricia Taxxon

* Hot Air Balloon - Owl City

* Baby One More Time - Britney Spears

* Cilantro - Patricia Taxxon

* Shooting Star - Owl City

* Mamma Mia - ABBA

* Swear To God the Devil Made Me Do It - The Front Bottoms

* Teenagers - My Chemical Romance

* Big Wheel - Patricia Taxxon

* Fine - Lemon Demon

* Perfect - Marianas Trench

* Alone Together - Fall Out Boy

* Modern Day Cain - I Don’t Know How But They Found Me

* Bloodeater - Girls Rituals

* Against the Kitchen Floor - Will Wood

* Kill All Your Friends - My Chemical Romance

* Scare Me - Ludo

* September - Earth Wind & Fire

* Wow Wow - Neil Cicierega

* Have It All - Jason Mraz

* I’m Still Here - John Rzeznik

* Yellow Horse - cats millionaire

* Honest - Patricia Taxxon

* Son of a Gun - Joe Iconis / Eric William Morris

* Peach - The Front Bottoms

* …well, better than the alternative - Will Wood

* Candy Store - Heathers

* When the Chips are Down - Hadestown

* Aurora Borealis - Lemon Demon

* Goodbye - Bo Burnham

* Twin Size Mattress - The Front Bottoms

* Dumbest Girl Alive - 100 gecs

* Killer in the Mirror - Set It Off

* A Sadness Runs Through Him - The Hoosiers

* Bad Guy - Set It Off

* My Alcoholic Friends - Dresden Dolls

* SAD - Lemon Demon

* Happily Ever After - He Is We

* True Kinda Love - Steven Universe

* Everything Stays - Adventure Time

* I Bet on Losing Dogs - Mitski

* Love Love Love - The Mountain Goats

* Goodbye to a World - Porter Robinson

* King - Lauren Aquiliana

* Stand By You - Rachel Platton

* Ready Now - Dodie

* Seventeen (Reprise) - Heathers

* Gone, Gone, Gone - Phillip Phillips

* Time To Pretend - MGMT

* Die Young - Kesha

* Good Time - Owl City

* Anything For You - Ludo

* Monster - Adventure Time

* You Love Me - Kimya Dawson

[snoopychris]

harvard

warnings: lying, two LEGAL teenagers who like each other, mentions of making out

in which… nerd!matt receives a letter that would change his life

matt was nervous.

that was the entire truth. there was multiple things that he could blame it on. he could blame it on all of the projects he had to turn in. he could blame it on his missing package. he could blame it on the letter from Harvard sitting in front of him. he could blame it on you. he opts for the letter.

he’s licking his lips as he stares down at it. he so desperately wants to open the letter, but he promised himself that he wouldn’t do it alone. he told himself that he was going to have someone else there “for support.” deep down he just wanted to show off that he got into Harvard. when he got a letter instead of one of the big welcome packages, he panicked. he’s pacing around his bedroom waiting for someone, anyone, to save him from his thoughts.

relief washes through him when his front door opens and shuts, alerting him of someone’s arrival. he sprints downstairs and skips as many steps as he can. matt swears that he’s never been more relieved to see his brothers and their dumbass friend. nate smirks at the sight of the triplet running down the stairs, letting out a small laugh. “waiting for a girl or something, sturniolo?” matt shakes his head, looking directly at his brothers. he begins to speak but then the door opens again, and in walks his kryptonite.

your ponytail is swaying and you’re carrying multiple different bags from multiple different stores. “yeah sure i got it. let’s alllllll leave the girl to get all the bags.” you mumble, glaring between the three boys who had walked in before you. the bags are set on the floor as you scoff quietly. your look softens when you eye matt, sending him a wide smile. “hi matt…” you whispers, tucking your hair behind your ears. chris groans at your actions and takes a seat on the couch, taking almost full custody of it. he doesn’t know anything about all of the things you and matt have been up to as of late. it was overall a mutual decision to not tell chris about the making out in the car.

or the late night trips to the beach. or the study sessions that you’d been at the library. or the visits to gamestop you had when matt was working. or the calls you’d be on until 3am when time permitted. or the way you’d occasionally ditch your friends during lunch to hang out in Mr. Harrison’s classroom.

nick knew. he only knew because matt felt like he had to tell someone. matt promised him to drive him wherever he wanted if he kept it from chris.

nate knew. he only knew because he caught you and matt in the science room after forgetting his headphones in there one day. you still owe him a few grams of weed for his silence.

nate and nick join him on the array of couches, leaving a spot for you on the opposite end of the couch chris was on. you take your seat as matt swallows, tucking the letter away in his back pocket. a puzzled look covers your face at the action, but you get pulled away from the thoughts when chris throws a pillow at you.

“are you even listening to me right now?” you cough and shake your head, throwing the pillow right back and delving into the conversation. “yeah sorry. no i think it’d be a great idea if you asked sadie to prom… in 5 months when it actually is prom season.” matt knows that he’s just been sidelined but it’s not the end of the world for him. he’ll just wait for later to open the letter, preferably with his mom and dad around. he makes his way back to his bedroom and begins looking for ways to distract himself.

he wishes he could take you to the beach and just talk the way you’ve been doing almost every night lately, but he knows his brother is unfortunately occupying too much space in your mind right now.

he’s only organizing his pokémon binder for about ten minute when you knock on his door. “what are you up to, nerd?” you joke, walking over to him. you take a seat on his thigh and wrap an arm around his shoulder, laying your head so yours is touching his. “just thinking…” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your cheek. you smile at the simple action, gently scratching his head. “about?” you prod, glancing to the door. chris was fast asleep downstairs, but you were still slightly worried about getting caught. “got a letter from Harvard in the mail today.” he whispers, glancing at the table that was on his desk. you shoot up from your spot on his lap, matt frowning at the lack of touch.

“are you serious? did you open it? what does it say? am i gonna have to start wearing burgundy?” matt chuckles and adjusts his glasses, gripping onto your hand. “haven’t opened it yet.” you frown at his response, twisting your face. “why not?”

“was waiting for my mom or something… i’m nervous i guess.” he whispers, his grip on your hand tightening, almost like he was trying his best to prevent you from leaving. you nod at his words in understanding as you sit back down on his lap, burying your face into his neck. “look if i get in… you say the word and i’ll stay.” your eyes widen at his words and you pull away, a breath getting stuck in your throat.

“you’d stay for me?” “course i’d stay. you’re my girlfriend after all.” he whispers, pulling away when he realizes the words that just left his mouth. your mouth is dropped wide open, blinking rapidly. matt looks at you and tries deciphering your face for any sign of anything other than the blank stare you were giving his pillows. he shakes you a few times, eyes widening. “i mean… if you’ll be… my girlfriend that is.” he asks, eyebrows lifting up at you. he almost regrets the question when you don’t answer him. he feels like he’s messed everything up and his nerves spike more than ever before. you notice the expression on his face and grip onto his hand.

“do y’think girlfriends get to sit on their boyfriends lap while they make out in his gaming chair or no?”

matt’s nervous. he’s blaming it all on Harvard. but Harvard can wait.

taglist(comment or message to be added): @ifwdominicfike @frankoceanfanpage @mattssslutbby @sophand4n4 @matthewsturnsgf @izzylovesmatt @m11rx @chris-hallelujah @sturniolotoast @mattsbrat @wastelandzella @le4hsblog @mattsd0llfac3 @st7rnioioss @yuppocarzy @isabellewhatt @gamerchrissgf

a/n: at the airport rnnnnn hope u guys #wantedthis. if u didn’t. oh well. i am setting this shit up for so much angst. kiss kiss! -gen.

dividers by @bernardsbendystraws !

[urrockstar-xe]

3 teen boys vs 1 pretty girl - j.m x fem!reader

posted feb 10th, 2024 10:24 pm

heres another belated v day post!! :D im working my way up guys look at me go, im running out of valentine themed songs though if you have recs and see this before the 14th pls send them to me!!

summary: John B and Pope have to help out JJ when he's under too much stress over a pretty girl, not proofread, use of Y/n.

masterlist

wordcount: 1.0k

JJ wasn’t one for romantics, never was, never will be. He’s never witnessed real romance outside of TV shows and movies, although now that he has, with his best friend falling in love, JJ still just didn’t quite get it.

Until he met You, of course, because every sweet, enchanting, and cheesy love story has to start with the player meeting the one.

The one that broke down every little wall with a soft smile and pretty eyes. The one who saves everything while simultaneously ruining it all. 

At least in JJ’s eyes. 

“Dude, just admit you like her” Pope’s words went in one ear and out the other as JJ groaned into the old pillow, dramatically falling onto John B’s couch. “I think he did, just not in a comprehensible way” John B chuckled, shoving JJ’s feet off of his lap.

JJ groaned once more before shifting positions and sitting up on the opposite end of JB. “I don’t know what it is, man. She comes in, introduces herself with a pretty little voice, batting her pretty little eyelashes, smiling a pretty little smile on her pretty little face.” JJ’s voice was laced with irritation, his friends just laughed in response. 

“I think JJ thinks Y/n is pretty, Pope.” “No way, really?” Another round of laughter between the two boys made JJ scoff before chuckling a bit as well, he rubbed at his eyes. 

JJ’s laughter ended with a sigh, “She’s makin’ me crazy.” John B smiled at his friend, nudging his shoulder. “They have that effect huh?” JB remarked, sharing a knowing look with Pope before Pope pulled JJ up off the couch.

“What am I gonna do? I mean, I gotta really wow this girl, man I mean, she’s perfect” JJ gushed as he stared back at his friend who merely smiled back and shook his head. “Valentine’s Day is tomorrow, why don’t you go work that out with John B and I’ll continue studying.” Pope proposed the idea as JB stood up, patting JJ on the back before nearly dragging him out of the chateau by the back of his hoodie. 

“C’mon, we’re gonna make sure you get your girl by tomorrow night”

JJ and John B loaded up into the Twinkie, heading straight for the closest convenience store. JB distracted his lovelorn friend with loud music that the two teenage boys happily and obnoxiously sang along to. Once they finally pulled up to the store and went inside, John B led JJ to the aisle filled with red and pink colored cardboard, and heart-shaped candies.

“Dude, I don’t even know what kind of candy she likes,” JJ sighed, both boys scanning the wall of options. “This is gonna be harder than I thought.” John B mumbled. 

“It’s all just one big guessing game-” John B got cut off by the store clerk noticing them. 

“Maybank, I better not catch you stealin’ nothin'.” His gruffy booming voice caught their attention, heads turning towards the sound in sync. “Course not, Mr. Wade!” JJ waved, a small smile on his lips as the clerk shook his head and went back to his initial goal, leaving them alone once more. 

JJ watched as John B grabbed one of the blue baskets and started throwing random candy boxes into it. “What are you doing?” JJ furrowed his eyebrows. “She’s gotta like at least one of these, let’s just buy it all” John B shrugged, handing the basket to JJ who turned his attention towards the box full of small stuffed animals. 

JJ picked up a small cat before looking at the little dog holding a love heart. “Do you think she’s more of a dog person or a cat person?” “Which one do you want her to be?” 

JJ abandoned the cat and threw the dog in the basket, just as John B grabbed a pink bag covered in white hearts and threw it on top of their Valentine's treasures. 

“This should be enough right?” John B asked, earning a slightly concerned look from JJ. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be the professional here? I’m just the student!” JJ followed him to the counter and helped throw everything in front of Mr. Wade. 

“JJ, I don’t think people see either of us and think of the word professional.” and of course, he couldn’t argue with that.

JJ was left to his own devices the rest of the night, John B had a date with Sarah. 

He did his best at setting up the bag of goodies, before deciding it was good enough because nothing would be as perfect as you no matter how much he tried. 

Finally, Wednesday had come and right around the time you made it outside of your school building you were met with the sight of the Twinkie, eyes watching it as you laughed at something one of your friends said. You said your goodbyes before making your way to the old van just as JJ Maybank came out of the driver’s side and leaned on the passenger’s door. 

“Thought you dropped out, JJ.” You smiled at the blond, who happily mirrored you as he approached him. “You know, gotta come back every once in a while, see how the place is holdin’ up without me.” He shrugged, earning a chuckle from you.

JJ cleared his throat, standing up straight. “I wanted to surprise you. Ask you to be my Valentine.” Your smile got softer, that sweet look on your face almost making JJ chicken out but now he was too deep in. 

“So ask me,” you said softly, after a moment of waiting for him to continue. JJ laughed, shaking his head. “Right, yeah, sorry. Will you be my Valentine, pretty lady?” His voice was quieter than you were used to hearing, you couldn’t help but cover your face as you felt heat spread across your cheeks. JJ chuckled at your reaction before leaning forward just enough to remove your hands from your face. 

“Whadya say?” You smiled at him as he held onto your hands, whispering now that you were so close. “I’ll be your Valentine any day of the week, J.” He smiled back, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before letting go of your hands and opening the passenger door, revealing the very same bag that was currently overflowing. 

“Awh, babe.” You smiled at the sight, picking up the little dog plush. 

“Hope you’re a dog person,” He said, grabbing the bag’s handles so you could get in the van. 

“And that you have a severe sweet tooth.” 

[midnightstar-90]

In Charge

Cooper Family x Fem!Reader | Georgie Copper x Fem!Reader Taglist | Requests | Wattpad Main Masterlist | Other Actors and Characters Masterlist Requested Anonymously: “hi honey! i have no idea if your still taking requests but if you are, could you do a georgie cooper x fem!reader (where they are already dating), and that missy some how convinces everyone to pretend to be a family (like georgie’s the dad, y/n is the mum, sheldon and missy are the kids) and at the end when y/n stays over georgie tells them how great of a mum she would be and how he wants to start a family with her? just pure fluff? love your work so so much <333” Summary: The reader’s in charge and all she wants is Peace, which leads to an interesting conversation between her and Georgie. Warnings: None, really. I mean, there's fluff, but other than that... nothing really A/N: My ADHD is allowing me to write today, so that is what I shall do. This will be based before Georgie drops out of school and has a kid. And because it was an anonymous request, I couldn’t ask, but instead of playing house, I made it as the reader babysitting. That’s kind of like playing house right? I just didn’t know how to make it about them playing house without it basically being Y/N and Georgie babysitting. If you requested this and didn’t like it, I will rewrite it as them all playing house, just privately DM me, if you’d like to remain anonymous. Words: 2.4K

“Alright, everyone, I’m headed to the store,” Mary said as she exited her room. She made her way through the living room seeing Y/N and Georgie cuddled up on the couch, flipping through channels with no one else in sight.

Mary turned to Georgie and asked, “Where’s your father?”

Georgie’s eyes stayed glued to the TV screen as he gave his mother a shrug of the shoulders. Y/N saw this and slapped Georgie’s shoulder with a hard glare. “Georgie, it’s disrespectful to ignore your mother,” the teenage girl said sternly.

“Ow!” Georgie exclaimed, looking away from the TV to observe his arm for a bruise. When he realized he was okay, he looked up, looking between his girlfriend and his mother. “I didn’t ignore her. I said that I didn’t know.”

Y/N glared and rolled her eyes at the boy before looking over at her boyfriend’s mother. “I don’t know where he went, but he was grumbling about having a hard day,” She said, answering Mary for Georgie. Mary thanked the girl before continuing into the kitchen with a scoff. She mumbled her husband’s name, annoyed, and called out, “Y/N’s in charge.” Georgie’s eyes instantly went wide in shock as he stared wide-eyed at the kitchen entrance, unable to actually see his mother from his current position. Y/N sat next to him with a smirk as they heard the sound of keys jingling and a door closing.

As soon as the door closed, Sheldon stormed out of his room, looking as if he was about to blow his top. “Mom!” He loudly called out, not receiving an answer. 

Georgie paid no mind to the boy, instead bringing him back to the television as if nothing happened. Y/N looked over at the boy with caring eyes and said, “She just left. What’s up, bud.”

“Do you know when she’ll be back?” Sheldon asked frantically.

“No, I don’t. I’m sorry. Is it something I can help with?”

Sheldon hesitated, not knowing if he trusted Y/N enough to help him. He wasn’t used to going to people outside of his family for help. He huffed, “Missy took my Flash action figure, and she won’t give it back.”

Y/N stood from her spot on the couch. Georgie gave her a quick look and then turned back to the TV. “I’m sure Missy wasn’t trying to intentionally upset you, Sheldon,” The girl reassured him in a soft voice.

Sheldon gave Y/N a blank stare. “Have you met my sister?”

She chuckled and said, “Come on. Let’s see for ourselves.”

She followed Sheldon to his shared room, leaving Georgie alone on the couch. As they entered, the two spotted Missy sitting on her bed playing with a Barbie doll and Sheldon’s Flash action figure.”

“See!” Sheldon exclaimed, pointing directly at his twin.

Y/N let out a small “mhm” as she moved to sit on Missy’s bed, next to her. “Hi, Missy.”

“Hi,” She responded, continuing to play with the doll and action figure. (I know there are people who would ridicule me if I put the action figure in the “dolls” category, so I’ll leave it at that.)

“Whatcha doing?”

“Playing.”

Y/N heard a frustrated groan behind her and quietly sighed.

“Missy?” Y/N spoke a bit more sternly than before.

“Hmm.” Missy looked up at the older girl.

“Did you take Sheldon’s to-”

“Action figure,” Sheldon cut the girl off to correct her.

“Did you take your brother’s Action Figure without asking?” Y/N asked. The younger girl gave the teenager an apologetic frown as she slowly placed the dolls on the bed. Sheldon swooped in behind the girl and snatched his Flash action figure from off of his twin’s bed.

“It’s not very nice to take people’s things without asking. What if Sheldon did it to you?”

“I’d punch him in the face,” Missy Responded. 

Y/N scolded Missy, causing her to shy away. “Apologise to your brother.”

“But-”

“I said apologise.”

“This isn’t fair.”

“That doesn’t sound like an apology to me,” Y/N said, still scolding the child in front of her. She heard a snicker behind her and slowly turned to face Sheldon. Sheldon jumped. His smile was replaced with a look of fright. “Something funny?” Y/N asked the boy. She was now scolding him, but it was the frightening position the girl was in that really scared him. Her body was facing his sister, whilst her head faced him. He felt as if he were staring into the eyes of an owl that looked like his brother’s girlfriend.

He quickly shook his head. “No. No problem.”

“I don’t think laughing at someone who is trying to apologize is really respectful. I think you both should apologize to each other,” She ordered. The room went silent for a second before the two suddenly began to speak, simultaneously.

“I’m sorry for taking your stupid doll without asking.”

“I’m sorry for laughing at your terrible excuse for an apology.”

Y/N looked between the two in utter shock. How can they both be this bad at apologizing? She shrugged it off as she stood up from her sitting position. “Well, it wasn’t the best, but we’ll get there.  For now, I don’t want to hear any more about this Flash doll-”

“Action figure.”

“Whatever! I don’t want to hear about it anymore, okay? The two nodded and the girl took that as her cue to go. She went back into the living room to see Georgie still watching TV. She scoffed, rolling her eyes at her boyfriend.

As she approached her spot on the couch, Georgie looked up, finally noticing her. “Hey, you’re back,” Georgie said with a smile. “I kept your seat warm for you.” He patted the spot where she sat, earlier. 

Y/N looked down at the couch cushion in disgust. “Literally or figuratively, because I told you last time that that was gro-”

“Relax. It was figurative. Geez, you do one thing as a joke, and suddenly you’re labeled for life.”

Y/N laughed at her boyfriend's dramatics as she joined him on the couch. Georgie looked over at the girl, admiring everything about her. In his mind, he saw Y/N as the prettiest girl in the universe. No one compared to the girl when it came to looks, smarts, and her nurturing personality. 

He wrapped his arm around the girl and pulled her into his chest. “You know, I think you would make an amazing mother one day,” Georgie said, catching Y/N off guard. She lifted her head off of her boyfriend’s chest so that she could look at him.

“Wow! Where did that come from?”

“I’ve seen you with my family, and despite how messed up it is, you manage to wedge yourself into everyone’s heart one way or another. Not to mention the fact that I heard how you handled Sheldon and Missy, just now. That’s something I’ve only seen my mother do and succeed. But in my opinion, you did it best,” Georgie said. Y/N’s heart was racing as watched and listened to Georgie speak about her. Tears brimmed her eyes as she gave the boy a loving smile before giving him a quick kiss.

“Awe, Georgie. That’s the sweetest thing anyone has said to me.”

“Well, it’s true.”

“If it’s any consolation, I think you’ll be an amazing father.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Y/N chuckled. The two pulled each other in super close for a tight hug. Y/N’s head, once again rested on Georgie’s chest. She closed her eyes as she took in the aroma of her boyfriend’s cologne. Georgie placed a kiss on top of her head, wishing that this moment would never end.

When they pulled out of the hug, Y/N moved slightly away from the boy, so that she could get a better look at him. She wore a mischievous smirk as she asked, “When you thought of me as a mother, what did you envision?”

She chuckled as she watched Georgie think for a second. “I saw you… as my wife. And in your arms, we have a son, who you can never put down because he loves his momma so much that if you try to put him down, he screams. And don’t get me started on the sleeping situation.” Y/N laughed, making Georgie smile. She motioned for Georgie to continue. “Okay, well we also have 4 other kids.”

Y/N’s eyes went wide in astonishment. “5 kids? You think of us having 5 kids?” 

“And a dog. Anyways there’s little Joanne, but she goes by “Jo”. She’s a tomboy and a daddy’s girl at the same time. Then there is Tommy. He’s a year older than Jo, and he’s tough. If you mess with his siblings you are in a world of hurt.”

Y/N nodded her head, saying a small “okay,” as she continued to listen. “The oldest two are Fawn and Sam. Their completely different, but the two are always together, which sometimes leads to fighting. That’s where you, the mamma bear come in. You know all your kids, and you know how to easily tame them.”

“I like it,” Y/N chuckled. “Now I don’t know if I can handle 5 kids, but I love your idea of what our family would look like in about 20-30 years.”

“Hold on. You want to wait until we're in our 30’s and 40’s to have kids?”

“Sorta. I mean having all those kids is gonna take time. And how will we support them if we aren’t stable? You can take care of kids all day, but who is gonna provide? Kids are expensive, Georgie. You gotta feed them, clothe them, put them through school, take them to the doctor. You need money for all of those things.”

“And I can do that,” Georgie added. “I’m gonna be the moneymaker. I’ll have a job that pays well, and move us into a nice, big house.”

“What about me?”

“What about you?”

“I don’t want to be a housewife. I want to have my own job. And why do you get to be the main source of income?” 

“First off, I didn’t say you had to be a housewife. You can have a job, but I want to be the one who gives you everything you want. I want to take care of you and to do that, I work hard, maybe even owning my own company.”

“Businessman. I can somewhat see it.”

“Well, I will be. That’s how we can afford everything because my business is booming,” Georgie assured the girl. Her smile remained on her face, getting wider and wider as they went deeper into their hypothetical future together.

The two continue to talk for a few more minutes as the sound of feet walking across the floor gets closer and closer to them. The sound eventually stops behind Y/N. Georgie looks up and glares at the person who interrupted their moment together. “What now, Sheldon?” Georgie asked with a touch of irritation.

“I’m hungry,” Sheldon spoke. Y/N turned to look at the boy.

Georgie responded to Sheldon, “You’re smart, don’t you know how to make you a sandwich?” Y/N kicked Georgie’s leg, receiving a small “ow” from the older boy.

“Sheldon, your mom went to the store. I’m sure she’ll be back soon and she will start on dinner.”

“But I’m hungry now.”

“Sheldon, if you eat now, then you are gonna spoil your appetite. And you know more than anyone that it takes longer than an hour or two to digest your food, so why don’t you go back in your room, and wait.”

“Okay,” Sheldon sighed as he made his way back to his room.

“See! You just tamed a wild Sheldon, that’s almost impossible.” Y/N rolled her eyes at Georgie’s comment.

“Y/N!” Missy called out walking into the living room. Y/N watched the younger girl walk in with an arm full of dolls. “Y/N, will you play with me? I’m bored, and I have no one to play with.”

“Sure,” Y/N agreed, giving Missy a beaming smile. She moved off the couch. “What? Nooo! Where are you going?” Georgie asked, frowning up at his girlfriend as she moved farther and farther away from him. Missy quickly grabbed Y/N’s hand with her free hand and started pulling her toward her room. Y/N looked back at Georgie and whispered “Sorry,” whilst laughing at Georgie’s expression.

Georgie eventually left the couch and went to his room. He was jealous of the fact that Missy and Sheldon had basically hogged up all their time together. He aggressively flopped on his bed and opened up the magazine he was reading before Y/N came over.

His door was open, in case Y/N got bored of playing dolls with Missy and wanted to join him. So when Mary walked into the house and dropped her keys in the key bowl, Georgie heard it. Y/N must have heard also, because as soon as he heard his mother grunt, probably from bringing in groceries, Y/N rushed out of the room and graciously helped the woman.

Georgie stood from his bed and curiously entered the kitchen. He watched Mary and Y/N laugh as they walked back into the house with the groceries. “I must admit Y/N since Georgie has started seeing you, he’s been different.” Y/N looked up at the woman with a frown. “No! Not in a bad way. He’s kinder and a bit more respectful. And look at this house! Usually, I come home and there is something that needs cleaning up, and today, it’s just as I left it.”

“Well, thank you, Mrs. Cooper. We did have some issues, but it was quickly resolved and the peace was restored.”

“Oh, you don’t have to think of me. You did an excellent job. I hope one day I get to call you my daughter-in-law.”

“Awe. Stop Mrs. Copper. You’re gonna make me cry,” She said, fanning her bright red face. Georgie saw the tears lining her eyes from where he stood.

The front door opened, revealing George walking into the house in his work clothes. He saw Georgie standing in the kitchen watching his mother and girlfriend interact. “What are you doing?” He asked his son as he approached.

“Mom and Y/N are… bonding? I don’t actually know what’s happening,” Georgie said with a shrug of his shoulders.

George chuckled and clapped his hand against his son’s back. “From me to you, good luck. You’re gonna need it.” And with that, George was gone, leaving a confused Georgie alone with his thoughts.

Taglist: @buckysmainhxe , @esposadomd , @natalia12700, @siriusstwelveyears , @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 , @countrymusiclover , @bellarkeselection , @alexxavicry , @xivilivix, @idontknowwhat2type , @ietss

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[hollowed-theory-hall]

Harry Potter is Really Magically Powerful

So, in continuation to this post, and my desire to show some love to Harry James Potter, this post is dedicated to showing how magically powerful Harry actually is in the books — which is insanely powerful. Harry doesn't think of himself as a great wizard, but he is — definitely powerful enough to be Voldemort's equal (and Dumbledore's for that matter).

Under the cut are some quotes from the books that prove this.

Accidental Magic

Let's start with Harry's childhood accidental magic. Tom was considered prodigious for being able to steal things with magic and make animals obey him intentionally. Neville, as a late bloomer, bounced when thrown, which is the bare minimum of childhood accidental magic young witches and wizards should be doing.

Now he came to think about it…every odd thing that had ever made his aunt and uncle furious with him had happened when he, Harry, had been upset or angry…chased by Dudley’s gang, he had somehow found himself out of their reach…dreading going to school with that ridiculous haircut, he’d managed to make it grow back…and the very last time Dudley had hit him, hadn’t he got his revenge, without even realizing he was doing it? Hadn’t he set a boa constrictor on him?

(Philosopher's Stone, page 44)

Harry has:

Apparated out of Dudley's reach when in danger to get away - advanced magic only allowed to practice from the age of 16!

Growing back all his hair from not liking the bad haircut.

Disappearing the glass of the Boa Constrictor case and leashing it

not even when he’d had to take a school report home to the Dursleys saying that he’d somehow turned his teacher’s wig blue.

(Philosopher's Stone, page 84)

4. Turning his teacher's hair blue.

We see Harry is capable of aparation, transfiguration, and various charms at a level that is considered prodigious. Harry was incredibly advanced as a child according to his feats of magic before even knowing magic was real. And while he wasn't as intentional as Tom, he was aware enough to know odd things happened when he was "furious or upset" that the odd things responded to him.

Intuitive Casting

I wrote later in this post about this, but I do want to write a whole essay about how magic works in the Wizarding world, but like, really in short, emotion and intention matter in magic. A lot.

And we see Harry make use of this fact to great effect. Using spells with intention to change the way they behave and they work for him because of how magically prodigious he is.

Harry raised his own wand. “Protego!” Snape staggered; his wand flew upward, away from Harry — and suddenly Harry’s mind was teeming with memories that were not his — a hook-nosed man was shouting at a cowering woman, while a small dark-haired boy cried in a corner. . . . A greasy-haired teenager sat alone in a dark bedroom, pointing his wand at the ceiling, shooting down flies. . . . A girl was laughing as a scrawny boy tried to mount a bucking broomstick — “ENOUGH!” Harry felt as though he had been pushed hard in the chest; he took several staggering steps backward, hit some of the shelves covering Snape’s walls and heard something crack. Snape was shaking slightly, very white in the face.

(Order of the Phoenix, page 591)

This is from the last of Harry's and Snape's Occlumancy lessons. What's interesting here is that from Snape's words, it seems the protego spell isn't supposed to work like that. Harry is magically powerful enough to make protego (shield charm) to defend him from Legilamancy, turn the Legilamancy onto Snape and disarm Snape.

No wonder Snape is shocked, it really isn't supposed to work. Unless you're Harry Potter, that is.

He did say in their first lesson the rules of magic don't seem to apply to Harry.

“Reparo!” hissed Snape, and the jar sealed itself once more. “Well, Potter . . . that was certainly an improvement. . . .” Panting slightly, Snape straightened the Pensieve in which he had again stored some of his thoughts before starting the lesson, almost as though checking that they were still there. “I don’t remember telling you to use a Shield Charm . . . but there is no doubt that it was effective. . . .”

(Order of the Phoenix, page 591)

What I marked here is the fact in all their occlumancy lessons, even the first, Snape always placed a few memories in the pensive. He chose memories he didn't want Harry to see and place them there.

Okay... so why is that a big deal?

Snape repeatedly belittles Harry's magical skills, and yet, he fears Harry would turn the Legilemancy connection back on him. Legilemancy as Snape explained is no easy skill:

“Only Muggles talk of ‘mind reading.’ The mind is not a book, to be opened at will and examined at leisure. Thoughts are not etched on the inside of skulls, to be perused by any invader. The mind is a complex and many-layered thing, Potter . . . or at least, most minds are. . . .” He smirked. “It is true, however, that those who have mastered Legilimency are able, under certain conditions, to delve into the minds of their victims and to interpret their findings correctly...”

(Order of the Phoenix, pages 350-351)

As such, he doesn't expect Harry to be capable of it. But that’s a lie. He clearly thinks Harry is skilled enough to be a threat in this situation. That Harry just might be able to turn this around and glimpse his own memories, which is no easy feat.

And Snape is many things, but stupid isn't one of them. If he thinks Harry is uniquely magically prodigious to be capable of this, then Harry probably is. Especially considering how much Snape hates Harry and how much he'd rather think he's stupid, useless, and unskilled.

“SHE KILLED SIRIUS!” bellowed Harry. “SHE KILLED HIM — I’LL KILL HER!” And he was off, scrambling up the stone benches. People were shouting behind him but he did not care. The hem of Bellatrix’s robes whipped out of sight ahead and they were back in the room where the brains were swimming. . . . She aimed a curse over her shoulder. The tank rose into the air and tipped. Harry was deluged in the foul-smelling potion within. The brains slipped and slid over him and began spinning their long, colored tentacles, but he shouted, “Wingardium Leviosa!” and they flew into the air away from him. Slipping and sliding he ran on toward the door.

(Order of the Phoenix, page 809)

Okay, so can we talk about this Levitation Charm? Please?

Like, get this, he uses Wingardium Leviosa, like a shield charm that sends multiple magical projectiles away from him. This isn't how this charm works, but it is if you're Harry Potter. (again, this is that intention use I mentioned)

The point is, that Harry is magically powerful enough to bend the way spells are meant to work to fit his will and situation.

And when Voldemort possesses him at the end of the fight in Order of the Phoenix:

He was gone from the hall, he was locked in the coils of a creature with red eyes, so tightly bound that Harry did not know where his body ended and the creature’s began. They were fused together, bound by pain, and there was no escape — And when the creature spoke, it used Harry’s mouth, so that in his agony he felt his jaw move. . . . “Kill me now, Dumbledore. . . .” Blinded and dying, every part of him screaming for release, Harry felt the creature use him again. . . . “If death is nothing, Dumbledore, kill the boy. . . .” Let the pain stop, thought Harry. Let him kill us. . . . End it, Dumbledore. . . . Death is nothing compared to this. . . . And I’ll see Sirius again. . . . And as Harry’s heart filled with emotion, the creature’s coils loosened, the pain was gone, Harry was lying facedown on the floor, his glasses gone, shivering as though he lay upon ice, not wood. . . .

(Order of the Phoenix, page 816)

Harry kicks Voldemort out.

As I mentioned, I have a a whole theory I'm drafting about magical theory and how magic works in the Wizarding World, but emotion as Harry describes in this scene is part of it. Emotion drives childhood accidental magic. Emotion is required to cast the Patronus charm and any of the unforgivable. Because of how emotion is tied to magic in this world, this instance is Harry's magic kicking Voldemort in his full power out of his mind.

Which is an impressive feat of magic.

Advanced Charmwork

“Oh — yeah —” said Harry, quickly forcing his thoughts back to that first broom ride. “Expecto patrono — no, patronum — sorry — expecto patronum, expecto patronum —” Something whooshed suddenly out of the end of his wand; it looked like a wisp of silvery gas. “Did you see that?” said Harry excitedly. “Something happened!”

(Prisoner of Azkaban, page 238)

This is the first time Harry cast a Patronus Charm. On his very first try of this complex charm, most adult wizards fail at — he succeeds. It isn't a perfect casting. His happy memory isn't happy enough, but the problem isn't Harry's skill.

The fact he succeeded in casting it at all with how crap his life has been up to this point is a testament to his magical talent.

Hatred rose in Harry such as he had never known before. He flung himself out from behind the fountain and bellowed “Crucio!” Bellatrix screamed. The spell had knocked her off her feet, but she did not writhe and shriek with pain as Neville had — she was already on her feet again, breathless, no longer laughing.

(Order of the Phoenix, page 810)

Harry, at age fifteen, casts the Cruciatus Curse for the first time. An advanced piece of dark magic that is tricky to cast. Sure, it wasn't the best cast Crucio, but it did work.

It did land.

It worked enough for Bellatrix to stop laughing and start taking Harry seriously.

Harry raised the hawthorn wand beneath the cloak, pointed it at the old goblin, and whispered, for the first time in his life, “Imperio!” A curious sensation shot down Harry’s arm, a feeling of tingling, warmth that seemed to flow from his mind, down the sinews and veins connecting him to the wand and the curse it had just cast.

(Deathly Hollows, page 452)

Like with the Cruciatus Curse, Harry succeeds in the Imperius curse on his first try (and the second try that happens immediately after). In general, Harry learns to cast most spells (even the advanced ones) incredibly quickly — like, on his first try. That's insane!

As Amycus spun around, Harry shouted, “Crucio!” The Death Eater was lifted off his feet. He writhed through the air like a drowning man, thrashing and howling in pain, and then, with a crunch and a shattering of glass, he smashed into the front of a bookcase and crumpled, insensible, to the floor. “I see what Bellatrix meant,” said Harry, the blood thundering through his brain, “you need to really mean it.”

(Deathly Hollows, page 502)

And he gets better over time, both with the Cruciatus Curse, as we see here and his fully corporeal Patronus which is considered an unbelievable feat for a fifteen-year-old:

“Your Patronus had a clearly defined form? I mean to say, it was more than vapor or smoke?” “Yes,” said Harry, feeling both impatient and slightly desperate, “it’s a stag, it’s always a stag.” “Always?” boomed Madam Bones. “You have produced a Patronus before now?” “Yes,” said Harry, “I’ve been doing it for over a year —” “And you are fifteen years old?” “Yes, and —” “You learned this at school?” “Yes, Professor Lupin taught me in my third year, because of the —” “Impressive,” said Madam Bones, staring down at him, “a true Patronus at that age . . . very impressive indeed.”

(Order of the Phoenix, page 141)

I agree Madam Bones, Harry is impressive and is Voldemort's equal magically. Harry isn't just Expelliarmos. he's clever and talented and very magically capable with every spell he tries his hand in.

[haruriin]

VALENTINE EVE'S NIGHTMARE ♡ * ˖ ࣪ CH. O1

★ synopsis: every teenage girl has her own struggles, so naturally, you found a way to escape yours! though you never thought you would bump into a pretty boy who had the same habit as you...oh, he's actually in the same school as you? and you two share the same taste in movies too...? wow, lucky you!

*✧·˚ cw. rin itoshi x f!reader, this is a smau & written fic! reader has family issues, so does rin, reader is 16, reader is a smoker, this is angst for like 2 chapters the rest is pure crack/fluff trust, language.

after making sure you're carrying your headphones, keys, and —just in case— some spare coins inside your jacket pocket, you finally zip it up and carefully exit your room, opting to carry the few cat food cans that had been hiding under your bed in your hands, since carrying a bag for such a short trip would be a hassle anyways.

except the soft music blaring through your headphones and into your ears, the streets are mostly quiet except for the occasional sound of a car driving through the road every now and then. your neighborhood is relatively safe, so you haven't ever really worried much about going out alone, still, you make sure to be as close as possible to your home (even if being away is what you want the most) whenever you do.

when you get to the small park right next to the convenience store, there you see him, in all of his glory: mr. chonkers rolling around on his back without a care in the world. truly, you started sneaking out of your house late at night just to be able to breathe when your house got way too suffocating to do so, meeting the calico cat was pure coincidence, but he gave you an excuse to not make the people around you worry about your escapades, and honestly, you loved the (massive) little ball of fur, it kept you company when your mom wasn't there when you needed her, and when all your brother seemed to feel toward you was indifference.

"i could hear the mighty rumbles of your stomach from miles away" you kneel down in front of the cat, opening the cans of food and gently petting his fur while he gobbles them down.

you are lost in your thoughts, hugging your knees absentmindedly and resting your head against them when the soft breeze of the spring night envelops you, feeling at ease until you realize someone's very tall unmoving shadow looming over you...

"oh!" you gasp bringing your hand to your chest, your heart is beating faster than it ever has, thinking you were about to get robbed or something similar (at least you won't let anything bad happen to mr. chonkers!) and when you turn around, your heart beats twice as fast for an entirely different reason

there, what you think must be the most beautiful man you've ever seen, is standing with his hands inside the pockets of his hoodie, intently looking at...mr chonkers? as if you weren't even there.

"hm, that's why he was getting so fat huh" the stranger mutters under his breath while you try to pull yourself out of the trance that his beautifully long lashes have you in.

"um...is mr. chonkers yours?"

"mr. what..?" he seems to finally acknowledge your presence, turning to look at you with one eyebrow raised and a puzzled look on his face, you suddenly feel extremely self-conscious under his scrutinizing gaze...and you just embarrassed yourself too! truly, you didn't think the cat would have an owner, so you just went ahead and named him mr. chonk-

"it's not mine." the boy's voice brings you out of your mental rant "i just feed him sometimes."

oh...that certainly explains why mr. chonkers is so...chunky.

you stare at your feet for a bit, thinking about what your next move should be, you've been coming here almost every night ever since you moved here but it's your first time seeing this guy, maybe he's new here? shouldn't you ask for his number or something? you really should...he's so pretty too! okay, you definitely can do this!

"hey, since you've been feeding mr. chonkers too, we could take turns, can you give me your-" you stopped when you finally turned around to look at him, only to find that he wasn't there anymore! curse you, he probably just left thinking you were weird as hell while you were mentally preparing to ask for his number...

sigh. you kneel down again "you could've at least let me know you had someone else feeding you too, y'know?"

"meow?" you giggle when the cat starts rolling around happily in front of you, and you bend down some more to sratch on his tummy and chin before standing up and making your way back home.

you light up a cigarette and bring it to your lips while walking back to the house, deciding to take the longer way so you could take in the scenery while listening to your music.

even though your mind was flooded with images of the pretty stranger and the way you embarrassed yourself in front of him, so you couldn't really focus on anything else...

⟡ * ˖ ࣪ m.list ⟡ *˖ ࣪ profiles ⟡ * ˖ ࣪ taglist: @x3nafix @taefanclub @lukapurin @vertejay @levihanmyotp @lovelymeguru @chigiri-luvr @kaz-0e @t3chn0chan @yiiscorner @sfwrin @yuukiririix @solaqes @nevvynev @beepbopzlorp (ask 2 be added!)

a/n: finally got the courage to start posting fics again LMAO im so excited ab this one...hopefully i can post ch. 2 tomorrow🤞🏻

© haruriin 2025.

[losers-clvb]

i love you, i'm sorry // sam winchester

pairing: sam winchester x bobby's daughter!reader

summary: a teenaged sam left you broken. now he's back and you're not sure what to do.

content: angst, some swearing but it's not overdone, heartache, both reader and sam are in the wrong in a way (but mostly sam), reader is bobby's daughter, big brother figure dean winchester, reader has confusion over her feelings

word count: 4k

note: this was going to be one long fic, but i felt it would be better as two parts seeing how the total word count is nearing 11k. the second part will be out this week and will have smut. the title is from "i love you, i'm sorry" by gracie abrams, but no direct inspiration was taken from the song. i interchange the use of "your father" and "bobby" but keep in mind they are intended to be the same person. enjoy!

masterlist part two

----

It had been years since the Winchester boys had come to stay with the Singers. Life, or hunting more like, had gotten in the way. They knew they had somewhere to come home to, or at least that was what you and Bobby had hoped. Bobby was your father, and you his little girl, no matter how old you got. He hadn’t wanted to be a father growing up, but once he held you in his arms, he knew you had him wrapped around your finger. It had been only months after you were born that your mother died, killed by your father in a desperate attempt to keep you safe. He had begun a life of hunting after that. He knew he needed to find some way for all of this pain to make sense. Somewhere along the way, he had met John and, in turn, Sam and Dean.

You had been sandwiched in between the boys for what seemed like all your life. They were your honorary family, though your relationship with Sam had blossomed into something more. It had been your sixteenth birthday - Sam was 17 - when he had gotten you alone to give you your gift. It was small, just a necklace that he had found at a convenience store on the way to Bobby’s, but you still wore it everyday. Your response to this gift was, naturally, to kiss him. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t thought of doing it before, you just never had the chance to. His response was, naturally, to kiss you back like you were his lifeline.

A whirlwind romance, hidden from your father and Dean, ensued until he had run away to college. Somehow him leaving had meant leaving everything, even you, behind.  You had cared, of course, but you couldn’t tell anyone. You cried every night for days. Bobby had noticed something was off. He always noticed when his girl wasn’t herself. He tried to cheer you up with those dad jokes he had been using on you since you were born. He tried chocolates and flowers and every little trinket he saw that reminded him of you. Nothing worked. You had pulled yourself out of the spell of heartbreak at some point. You knew it was silly to cry over a boy. Even if that boy was the love of your life.

Life had been normal for a while. John and Dean would visit once in a while for dinner or lunch. Your heart leaped every time the door opened, hoping Sam would come through it. He never did. You helped Bobby research and sorted papers. You cooked meals and baked desserts, humming while you did so, which pulled at Bobby’s heartstrings in a bittersweet kind of way. You were starting to consider looking for someone else to spend the rest of your life with, someone who could make you feel even half of what you felt for Sam.

Then he appeared in your life again. There he was, standing in the entryway of your house with a shaggy haircut and those puppy dog eyes that hadn’t changed in the five years since you had last seen him.

You knew he had begun hunting again. How could you not? Dean called what seemed like every day to ask for help with a case. You had been happy to help like always until you caught the low sound of a second male voice in the background. You promptly hung the phone up. From that day forward, you waited until your dad confirmed that it was anyone but the Winchester boys calling. Both Bobby and Dean had questioned you, but you knew better than to tell them the true reason for it. You just hoped you would never have to face Sam again.

But here he was. Your hands, holding a stack of books you were returning to their correct home, trembled when he said your name. You could feel tingling in your fingertips, a sure sign you were about to cry. Neither of you moved, as if your feet were cemented to the floor. You both stared at each other, eyes locked and waiting for the other to make the first move.

“Sam, get in here.” The sound of your dad’s voice from his study cured you of your paralysis. Before Sam could get another word in, you dashed to your room. The slam of the door was heard through the house, startling Dean and Bobby.

“What the hell was that?” Dean barked out. When Sam had responded with your name, the looks of confusion on the two men in front of him deepened.

“Why?” Bobby asked, eyeing Sam like he had done something to you. And he had. It just wasn’t something that he had done recently.

“I don’t know.” Sam breathed out. He knew. Of course he knew. How could he not, when for the first two years of college he had spent every night wanting to call you and apologize. He knew he hurt you. He knew he was still in love with you, just as he had been many years before. He also knew that some part of you still loved him. The necklace. The glinting metal was the first thing his eyes caught when he had entered the house. You still wore the necklace he had given you. The sight of it made his heart reach for you.

----

You hadn’t made an appearance for lunch or dinner. You had locked yourself up in your room, only letting your dad inside when he had knocked softly. You made up something about feeling sick. He hadn’t believed you, but knew if you needed something you would go to him. He left your room after giving you a kiss on the forehead.

That had been hours ago. The moonlight shone through your window while you listened with attentive ears to try to decide if it was safe to venture downstairs for some food. The three men had called it a night around 45 minutes ago, and you hoped they were fast sleepers.

Five minutes of pure silence passed before you dared to try to leave. You had changed into your pajamas, a light purple tank top and matching shorts, and your socked feet were quiet on the hardwood flooring. You tiptoed down the stairs, gripping onto the railing.

Once making a sandwich, you took the food to the table to eat. You were quiet with your chewing, stopping occasionally when you heard the noises of the house settling. You were alone, yes, but you needed the time. Your eyes drooped low as you ate, fighting the sleep your brain needed after the emotional day. You had finished eating when you told yourself you could just close your eyes for a few seconds before getting up.

----

Sam had decided, after hours of tossing and turning in an attempt to sleep, that he had to see you. He had to apologize, had to make things right. He had crept up to your door, knocking in the chance that you were awake at that time of night. When you hadn’t answered, he had poked his head inside. He just needed to know you were there, but your empty bed made him stop. You were gone. Not in your room, which meant either you had fallen asleep elsewhere or something had taken you. He hoped for the former, though there was a small chance of the latter. A quick search had led him to the kitchen where you were slumped on the table, eyes closed and breath steady. There you were. The sight pulled a somber sigh from Sam. An image of you from earlier flashed across his mind. Your panicked expression, trembling hands, and wide eyes. You had obviously not been expecting to see him, though he had thought that Bobby would have told you before his arrival.

Sam walked to you, careful to make sure his footsteps were as quiet as possible. He didn’t want to leave you sleeping on the table. It wasn’t right and he knew that you would have regretted it in the morning. So, he scooped you up in his arms and carried you to your room. You seemed to curl into him in your sleep, much like you had all those years ago when he would sneak to your room at night.

The weightlessness of being carried woke you. At first, you believed you were dreaming. Then, the scent of coffee and cedar brought your eyes open. Sam. Sam Winchester was carrying you up the stairs and into your room. Your heartbeat quickened, panicking. What would you say to him? Thank you? Go away? What would he say to you? It was when Sam readjusted his hold on you that you had decided to just pretend you were still sleeping. He was the same as you remembered. The smell, the warmth, the careful but secure hold. All of it was the same.

You felt yourself being lowered onto what you presumed to be your bed. It was the same full sized bed you had since you were a kid. You knew your bed. The chill of night air was swept away by the weight of your blankets. Sam was tucking you in. He was taking the time and effort to tuck you into your bed. You felt a calloused hand brushed hair away from your forehead.

“I’m sorry.”

The words made your heart ache. You felt the honesty in them. It didn’t make what he did any less painful, but it made you remember why you had decided to internally forgive him only a year after he had left. His hand lingered on the side of your head for a few moments before he left you to sleep.

----

The morning came and you woke to the sound of birds chirping. Though you couldn't have gotten more than a few hours of sleep all together, you pulled yourself out of bed to make breakfast for the house. If you didn't do it, Bobby would and it would end up being overcooked scrambled eggs with slightly burnt toast. As you went about getting yourself ready for the day, you couldn't help but think of the last night. Sam, he smelled the same, held the same warmth. Even the way he handled you, like you were his everything, was the same.

The house was quiet. Too quiet. Usually, your dad would be awake and brewing a pot of coffee by this time. Though, he also put himself to bed earlier than he had the night before, so that could account for his absence. You figured someone would have been up by now. Preferably Dean to make your new found mission of ignoring Sam’s presence easier. You had decided this while brushing your teeth. You couldn’t hide away forever. You also couldn’t talk to him without choking on your own words. This was the better option.

While you began the simple breakfast of pancakes and bacon, you hummed to yourself. It was a habit you seemed to have picked up sometime in your teen years. The first few times you had caught your dad watching you with sad eyes, he had refused to tell you why he was so affected by the sound. You pestered him for months, yet the truth only came to light when a long time friend of his had come to visit. He had been sitting at the table while reading a newspaper when the words slipped out.

“You sound just like your mama.” The sentence made you stop in your tracks. The topic of your mother rarely came up between you and Bobby. You knew only the few stories he had let slip through on special occasions and the scraps of memories you could pull from his old friends. You had never told your father about the new information. Instead, you opted to continue on, knowing that the grief he felt initially was outweighed by the love for you having something in common with the mother you had never known.

The sound of footsteps pushed you back into reality. You kept your attention on the food you were making, assuming it would be Bobby finally making an appearance. That was until a figure in a worn down long sleeve and jeans slid into your line of sight. Sam. You tensed up yet continued your cooking. You could feel his eyes on you, flickering between your hands and your face. You both stayed like that for what felt like forever. No words, just Sam watching as you tried not to look at him.

That was until he said your name. He was trying to get you to look at him, to acknowledge he was there. You refused to give in. He didn't deserve your time. You hated him. Well, you didn't actually hate him, though you were sure you should. If you told yourself that you hated him enough times, maybe it would make that love for him go away. He said your name again, this time a bit louder with more effort.

“Please. Just look at me.” Sam was practically begging now. You flexed your jaw as you piled the last pancakes onto the large stack. You scooped up the plates of pancakes and bacon, delivering them to the middle of the dining table. Sam followed you around like a lost puppy, huffing out an irritated breath when you continued to ignore him. He just wanted you to turn your attention to him. He needed to say that he was sorry, needed to explain everything, and he needed to do it while he could get you alone. You just wouldn’t listen. He knew it was you trying to keep your pride, but it didn’t stop the instant frustration from bubbling up.

“I need to explain why I,” he breathed out, “why I did what I did.” Sam’s words were met with a scoff from you. You had moved past sad long ago and the panic you felt last night was simply because you felt like you were being cornered. Now you were angry. You pushed past Sam and grabbed a stack of plates and forks. The coffee you had started in the middle of your cooking had finally finished. You grabbed a mug and moved towards the pot, but Sam beat you to it. He made up a cup of coffee, two sugars and a splash of milk, before offering it to you. Of course he would remember how you liked your coffee. You stared at the cup for a moment before declining the peace offering by pouring coffee in the mug you held. You made it the same, but hoped the message got through to him: you were not interested in being friends.

“Seriously?” Sam asked incredulously. He was about to continue ranting when he heard a whistling growing closer. Bobby entered the kitchen with a smile, oblivious to what he had walked into.

“Morning.” Bobby greeted the two of you. He sat himself at the table, his usual spot that was worn down from years of occupancy. You followed his lead and sat in the chair next to him with a warm smile. Sam, obviously still upset from his failed attempt to speak to you, hadn’t moved from his spot at the counter. Dean, who had been like a bloodhound when he caught a scent of the food, entered the room cheerily. He poured his own coffee before sitting in the chair on your other side.

“Sammy, stop pouting and sit.” Dean ordered while piling pancakes and bacon onto his plate.

“Bring that pot over with ya.” Bobby added. Sam sighed as he did as he was told, grabbing a mug for Bobby on the way over. He took the last chair available. Unfortunately for you it was the one opposite from you. This meant a meal of avoiding catching his eyes with yours while Bobby and Dean spoke of their plans for the day.

----

You should probably apologize to the officer on the other end of the phone. She had called, courtesy of some hunter who needed the assistance, to verify that the FBI had actually been sent to investigate a crime. They hadn’t, of course, but the fact that it was a possible werewolf had led to a hunter being sent. When she questioned your authority, which you had none of but that wasn’t for her to know, you took out your pent up aggravation from Sam on her.

After the line clicked, signaling the end of the call, you swallowed harshly. It wasn’t fair. Why was Sam allowed to waltz back into your life right when you were beginning to move on? Why was he allowed to come and go as he pleased, yet you couldn’t stand to look him in the eyes? You let yourself sink into the office chair that was near the phones.

“What was all that about, sweetheart?” Dean. Of course he would come sniffing around for something to talk about. Your father and Sam had gone into town for something you failed to remember now. You looked up at him and narrowed your eyes at him.

“It was nothing.” You replied, not wanting to get into it all with him. Like your father, he didn’t know about you and Sam’s love affair. Or maybe he did. You couldn’t keep track of what Sam may or may not have said to him, but you knew that you had been silent about the whole thing. It was easier that way, not having to explain exactly what you were feeling.

“Is this about Sam?” Dean continued to push you. The words threw you off. You furrowed your eyebrows.

“What? He told you?” You weren’t angry about it. Well, maybe a little, but that had more to do with the fact that the relationship had been important enough to tell his brother about yet not important enough to keep alive. The spark in Dean’s eyes when you spoke told you that Sam had, in fact, not told him, but you just did. You looked away with burning cheeks.

“What’d he do? Try to get in your pants? Beat up your boyfriend?” Dean was teasing you now. He wanted the details. Despite what he may argue if ever asked, Dean Winchester was one of the biggest gossips you knew.

“No.” Your voice told Dean that you were angry about whatever it was, and you were on the verge of ranting about it.

“C’mon, sweetie, just tell big brother.” The words made you shoot him an annoyed but playful glare. There were many times growing up when Dean had played the big brother you never had. Somehow, you had never picked up on the bond with Sam. Now you kind of wished you had. It would have been much easier than this mess. You took in a breath before speaking.

“He left me.” You told the green eyed man. It was Dean’s turn to scrunch his eyebrows together in question.

“Yeah, join the club. What about it?”

“He kissed me. He called me every night when he wasn’t here. He made me laugh and blush and talked about a future. He told me he loved me. Then he left and I hadn’t heard his voice since.” Your words fell out of your mouth before you could stop them. You watched as Dean’s expression softened.

“Oh.” It was rare for Dean to be speechless but he didn’t know what else to say. He had picked up on something between the two of you when you were teens, but he figured it was just some good old fashioned mutual pining. He couldn’t have imagined Sam would be able to keep something like this from him.

You stood from the chair, certain that you could take a break from watching the phones that rarely rang. Dean stepped into the doorway to stop you from completely leaving the room.

“Listen, you can’t cry over him anymore. He’s not worth it.” Dean spoke, trying his best to console you. You were past that. You didn’t need comfort, you needed anger management.

“I hate him.” You looked into Dean’s eyes and he could see the defiant fire burning in them. He sighed and nodded.

“That works too, I guess.”

----

It was getting harder to ignore Sam. Not because you were tempted to have a conversation with him. You wanted to scream at him if anything. No, it was because your dad was too oblivious to the obvious discomfort between you two and kept assigning tasks for you and Sam to complete. Dean tried his best to replace you when this happened, but eventually Bobby gave him his own chores to complete.

You bounded out the door to your car. Sam followed you, grumbling to himself when you threw the door back into him. You waited for him to climb into the car with a blank expression on your face. The run to the store would hopefully be a quick one with no conversation. The silent drive lasted all of three minutes.

“Are you going to ignore me forever?” Sam asked, a mix of desperation and frustration in his voice. You kept your eyes on the road. The store was coming up soon. You just had to hold out until then.

“It’s my fault. Everything. All of it. Please… just… hear me out.” Apparently Sam no longer needed your direct attention to begin his apologizing. Your grip on the steering wheel tightened, but you still didn’t speak.

“It’s not an excuse, but,” Sam breathed in as if he was weighing the next words in his mind.

“I was going through a lot.” You were parking when you heard him. Thank God you were, because your immediate reaction was to turn your whole body to him. His eyes widened at the fury in your eyes.

“What about me? I was seventeen, dealing with stupid high schoolers and cranky hunters. All I looked forward to was you! I loved you and you decided I wasn’t even worth a call? Bullshit. All of it.” Maybe you were being mean. You knew what John Winchester was like. You had overheard enough phone calls between him and Bobby, had heard some stories from Sam and Dean. You understood his running from his father, but Sam could have at least called once. Or wrote a letter. Or sent a postcard. Anything but leave you in the dark.

Your words made his heart ache. He hated himself for never calling you. Hated himself for hurting you. For anything he had ever done to make you think he felt anything less than love towards you. He had no excuse for why he had done what he had done. His only line of defense against your anger was to respond to it with his own.

“And I was eighteen and running from a life of killing! I hated hunting. I hated my father. You know that! I never called because I needed to completely cut myself off from this world. I needed a normal life.” Sam wasn’t being completely fair. He knew that. His response was a weak attempt at trying to diminish the guilt he felt. Yes, he wanted a normal life. But look how that worked out. All that pain he had caused just to come back to what he was running from. You shook your head and opened your door.

“Fuck you Sam.” The anger seethed through you as you climbed out and made for the entrance of the grocery store. You had missed the way Sam’s own anger had broken with your final words. You had missed the way he physically shrank down. You had missed the way he followed you as he had earlier, but this time with less motivation. He wanted you to come back to him. He had never seen you so angry before. He missed the girl who would place light kisses on the tip of his nose, the one who would let him hold her all night long.

[ma1dita]

crazy little thing

a ‘partners in crime’ installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader prev -> bedtime stories | next -> anything you want words: 3.4k summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where he spends all his drachmas to make you smile. Sometimes, the Apollo kids are better matchmakers than Aphrodite herself. Everyone’s tired of you two dancing around each other. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader a/n: lil valentines day special though im working on more est. relationship fluff after this!! happy season 2 renewal babies (posted 2/9/24 unbetaed)

—

“Come on, you gotta admit—it’s kinda funny!” 

Luke is met with blank stares at the camp store after he places a few drachmas onto the folding table in front of the Apollo kids. They’re not sure if he’s trying to convince them, or himself.

Because yeah, that’s the excuse he goes for, wanting to spend his savings on having them sing to a certain head counselor instead of admitting his blatantly obvious feelings, so if you ask Lee Fletcher and his half-siblings, it’s kind of pathetic.

“What do we look like, a traveling mariachi band, Castellan?” he deadpans, watching the usually confident boy scratch the back of his neck with his face red like someone who’s been sitting out in the sun for too long. 

“I’m not saying to follow her around all day or whatever, just pick a random time to sing a song and catch her off-guard,” he insists, before meeting the judgmental look of one of Lee’s younger siblings.

Lee chuckles, ruffling his sister’s hair before looking at Luke quite seriously, “She’s a good friend. You’re gonna have to pay us more than that. Special song for a special lady after all.”

The son of Hermes knows he’s gonna regret this sooner or later, but proceeds to throw the rest of his meager earnings onto the table. He has other ways of being resourceful anyway, the box of chocolates he nicked from behind the store counter feeling heavy in his jacket pocket.

“Right… she’s just a friend.”

Luke’s hands fidget at his sides as he stands there, feeling a little stupid.

Lee’s little sister scoops up the coins from the table, her raised eyebrows and light aura mirroring that of her older brother. 

“What song were you thinking?” she asks, “Gotta make sure I know it if I’m singing it to your…friend.”

The 18-year-old boy tugs at his dark curls, getting more embarrassed and wanting to retreat with every minute that passes, but he’s never been one to back down from anything–swordfights, monsters, capture the flag, but this—trying to impress you...is a whole different story somehow.

Why are feelings so damn complicated? 

It feels like being at the butt of a joke, or more accurately—at the sharp edge of a sword, and Luke never lets his fights end in a draw.

“You guys got it covered. Just…surprise me too, I guess,” he sighs, walking off without finishing his sentence. He wishes he could pray a little harder to his dad for luck, even if he’s unsure of what exactly he’s wishing for (or if his dad will even listen).

“Castellan’s hopeless. You think he knows it yet?” the girl asks her brother, to which Lee laughs.

“I don’t think she does either, even though everyone else can see right through them. The new bets are on who’s gonna break first. Chiron’s been keeping track, but don’t tell Mr. D.”

If Luke wants a show, they’ll make sure he’ll get his money’s worth—and hopefully, it’ll push you two along faster. Lee bet on you two getting together before the summer after all, and he’ll be damned if he loses to Clarisse.

—

Valentine’s Day might be the day of love, but for you, someone who’s single (not by choice), and heavily busy with making sure people aren’t so…enamored in public (you’ve lost count of the reports you’ve written out due to indecent behavior this morning alone)---this just feels like another Wednesday, except with more hormonal teenagers with uncontrollable urges than usual. 

Oh, the joys of being the daughter of the camp director, also known as everyone’s favorite narc.

Honestly, love can suck it. With this much love in the air, you can feel it suffocating you like a plastic bag over your head. 

That’s an uncontrollable urge. Too much?

Maybe Silena was right, you do need to open yourself up more to romantic opportunities. But if you have to watch another person swap spit and get pawed at like they’re the last dinner roll at the table…. You might commit arson and set this place ablaze.

You just didn’t understand why people had to go all out today of all days. Shouldn’t love be shown year-round? Though you were a person of theatrics and enjoy a good show, it is amazing how much grandiose displays of affection make you cringe. It felt very performative, instead of genuine, and you would know, you’re the best actress at camp. You’ve acted out stories before, knowing all of the greatest romances and tragedies by heart. And you pride yourself on being a decent teacher to the campers, but for some of them, love still translates to a bad rendition of a ballad they heard on the radio.

Nothing gets past you at this point.

But that sucks too sometimes, you know?

Multiple failed flings and a heartbreak or two weigh down on you on days like this one, as you’re stuck being a bystander to outlandish displays put on by the Aphrodite kids being put to work. Love is their domain anyway, and yours…makes you feel a little less undesirable. Each demigod has their own strengths and weaknesses, but perhaps in the name of love, some of them don’t know how to take a hint. Several forgettable prose readings, a Sparknotes version of Eros and Psyche, and too many red roses to count have you reeling from exhaustion and a bit of disgust—-and it’s only lunchtime. 

So yeah, maybe you’re a little jealous; they could call you Nemesis at this point.

The only flowers you got today were from the little kids from along the path to the strawberry orchard, and though it’s sweet—the human side of you misses affection. 

Devotion. 

To be a daughter of Dionysus meant to deal in extremes, obsession or nothing, and there are very few people who can handle that. Always being too much to handle, or uninterested as a defense mechanism. Perhaps that’s what scares admirers away. 

That, or the fact that Luke Castellan is always attached to your hip. To be honest, you’ve always preferred it that way—the both of you working as a pair always gets things done faster around camp and he brightens your mood, whether you admit it or not. 

But you two are just friends. 

Really good friends who look for each other in crowded rooms, hands constantly brushing against the other for comfort, and able to pick up where the other one leaves off. Usually he’s the first person you see in the morning, and the last person you say goodnight to. You know how he likes his coffee and he cuts your apples for you as you two sit together in your unassigned seats in the dining pavilion. You watch each other’s workshops and if one of you is missing, everyone knows to ask the other to get an answer.

Right? That’s totally normal coworker/friend behavior.

If you were ever given immortality, perhaps they’d make you the goddess of denial.

You’re sweeping up confetti from the dining hall floor after an uncoordinated excuse of a flash mob was performed for one of the Demeter kids… and not to sound like a heinous bitch, but maybe next time they should use something biodegradable… or less messy. Sighing deeply, you feel someone’s eyes on you, and when you look up, Luke’s standing there with two full plates of food.

“Take a break, Trouble. No one’s paying you overtime,” he jokes, and you roll your eyes as you put the broom aside.

“No one’s paying me at all…” you groan, before taking the plate out of his hands and knocking your head against his shoulder in thanks. He snickers as his hand brushes the small of your back, tickling your spine as he leads you to sit at a table.

“Just another holiday. You know how it is.”

“It’d be nice to have a night off though. Sometimes I regret taking up the position,” you mumble through spoonfuls of soup. He throws his large hand over your shoulder, kneading some tension from your trapezius. Head jerking along with the movements, you giggle as soup dribbles off your spoon, which makes his lips quirk into a small smile. Being around you felt so thoughtless and easy that if you told him to jump off a bridge he’d do it without question, which should be more concerning—the hold you have on him is irrevocable. Feelings are way too difficult for his teenage brain to comprehend at this stage. It’s easier to wash dishes with lava or fight off a dragon (bad example, he knows, but there’s something about you that already makes him feel like he’s losing before anything’s even happened).

Luke is someone who fights until the end, a soldier who’s always trained and so ready for anything that sometimes it makes you wonder what war he’s preparing for. Infatuation, or the scarier, four-letter word was not something he was ever briefed on.

“No, you don’t. You’re a control freak,” he says with a grin. 

Luke watches you play with the pendant on your necklace, the dragon scale he fashioned into your favorite accessory glinting in your hand. Running your fingers back and forth over the smooth surface, your other hand puts the spoon down and you place your head on his shoulder. He thinks if he had to describe the four-letter word on the tip of his tongue, he’d tell whoever’s asking about the way you kissed his healing cheek after you both left the Garden of Hesperides. More than a year later, Luke is still unable to find the right words even if the weakness has made a home in his heart with your name written all over it.

“I swear if I have to hear another person croak out a lovesong I might just drown myself in the Long Island Sound,” you scoff as his fingers trace circles onto your waist.

There’s a low strum of a guitar that reaches your ears and your forehead meets the cool surface of the table as you shut your eyes and grumble. It’s Lee and his half-siblings, beginning to walk through the hall seconds away from singing until they see Luke shaking his head and dragging his finger across his throat to please, gods, stop. The Apollo kids swivel and 180, walking out of the hall as the music stops dissonantly, rolling their eyes and dragging their feet.

“That was quick,” you say inquisitively as your head pops up from the table to see Luke looking off in the distance.

“Heh… I think they were just practicing or something…”

He then had to run off and pay them more drachmas for the inconvenience. 

Fucking hustlers.

—

The sun sets quickly on Camp Half-Blood since it’s mid-February, and Luke finds you trying to calm your nerves as you look at the mess of glitter and paper mache that covers the arts and crafts hall from floor to ceiling.

“I can’t believe this!” you say in disbelief as you look at Luke, and he takes the can of Redbull out of your shaking hand.  

“There’s just no fucking way everyone decided to use glitter. It’s everywhere! I’m—CONNOR, PUT THE SCISSORS DOWN!”

Luke sighs as he holds his hand out for his younger brother to give up the craft scissors, which he relinquishes with a mischievous grin. 

“Guys, go find trouble somewhere else,” Luke mutters, pushing his head away, and where Connor goes, Travis quickly follows, tossing a canister of glitter back at him and not knowing it was still open.

“Oops.” 

Immediately, the both of you are showered in iridescent particles, floating over your heads and stuck in your hair as the older Stoll brother looks at the two of you wide-eyed.

“You've already got Trouble anyway,” he says teasingly, and this asshole winks at Luke before bolting out the door.

The room is silent now, and you pinch the bridge of your nose, before speaking, “I don’t care if he’s your brother, Luke. I might just fucking kill him.” You'd say more but your eyes are shut as you try not to breathe in glitter, and then the sound of the doorknob rattling catches your attention. Luke is standing there, finally faced with a door he can’t open, his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance–but the effect isn’t as menacing as it should be when he’s covered in red and pink sparkles.

“Not if I get to him first, the little bastard.”

“Just open the door,” you say panicked, running over and forcing his hands off the doorknob.

“I can’t if you won’t let me do it!” He grits, elbowing you and trying to unlock the door with both his inherited gift and brute strength.

“What kind of demigod even are you? Lockpicking is supposed to be your thing!”

“Well OBVIOUSLY, but it’s not working, now is it, Trouble?”

Luke finishes off the rest of your energy drink before throwing the can over his shoulder and he swears he can hear you cuss at him under your breath as you berate him about the mess, so he chooses to focus on busting the door down instead of looking at the glitter stuck in your eyelashes and thinking about how the idea of being stuck in a room with you makes him feel weak at the knees.

Through the window, his eyes meet the group of Apollo kids staring at the predicament you two are in (and the barricade of chairs the Stolls put in front of the door). He sighs, and Lee’s little sister flips him off as they start to walk away again, instruments in tow.

“You gonna charge him again?”

A tiny Will Solace looks at his elders for guidance as they walk along the path. As one of the youngest in the bunch, he especially idolizes anything his half-siblings do, going along with whatever they see fit.

“No, but we’re close enough to the archery range that I might just shoot them through their hearts myself. Eros and Aphrodite themselves are pretty much begging us to,” Lee grumbles.

“Why are we doing this again?” Will babbles, and his half-sister grabs his hand to help him walk faster.

“A crazy little thing called love. You’ll understand it better someday, kid.”

—

Thankfully, it all starts winding down after dinner. Luke finds you leaning against a tree flipping through your clipboard during the camp sing-along, so he tugs at your elbow to get your attention.

“Wanna get out of here?”

You look at him, slotting your pen behind your ear as you notice faint glitter particles still dotted along his cheeks. As your lips pull into a small smile, you say, "I still have a few things to do after this, don't you?"

"Cleared your schedule for the night," he mumbles, and whether it's the glow of the bonfire or he's actually blushing, a teasing expression crosses your face as you step closer and cross your arms at him.

"You cleared my schedule for the night. How on earth did you do that?"

Instead of a proper reply, he grabs your hand, tugging you out to the docks near the lake.

"Don't worry about it."

He's not going to tell you that he owes Chris and Annie a few favors before the end of the month to make up for the night shift they ended up taking. Instead, you both sit cross-legged at the edge of the dock, a gentle breeze brushing at your clothes and for the first time today, you're able to just exist.

"I hate Valentine's Day," you suddenly say, looking up at the night sky, and he's watching you closely as the gentle shine of the moon casts a cool glow on your face. Luke cringes at your statement, thinking he's already thrown away his shot.

"Why's that?"

"Tell me something Luke, am I unlikable? Like, is there anything wrong with me?"

He looks at you like you've told him you’re secretly a cyclops.

“The fuck? How many times do I have to tell you that everyone thinks you’re great?"

You don't even give him a chance to finish his sentence before you blurt, "I don’t want to be great, I want to be loved!" Reeling back a little, you lean back on your hands to create some distance.

 “Sorry... that was a lot, and I’m just...wanting to be noticed. It's nice to have people's attention sometimes, you know?”

You’ve got all of mine, he thinks, realizing he never stood a chance at fighting it—this four-letter feeling you give him is the first and only battle he’ll back down from, and you're the only person he’ll wholeheartedly surrender to.

In short, he’s fucked.

"I always notice you." He pulls out a dented box of chocolates from his jacket pocket, opening it up for the both of you to share, and the look of amusement on your face makes him glad that at least one thing somewhat went to plan today, even if the chocolate truffles are a bit smushed. You’re popping one into your mouth and his dark eyes follow the trail of your fingers to your mouth, feeling his heart beat a bit faster.

But then you both hear the soft strum of a guitar from near the trees, and the two of you turn to hear some of the Apollo kids singing beautifully along the coastline.

I'll be seeing you, in all the old, familiar places... That this heart of mine embraces...

You gasp, grabbing Luke’s arm to push yourself up so that the both of you can turn and face a small group of your closest Apollo friends singing to the both of you. Luke’s eyes soften further when he feels you grab his hand and squeeze, leaning against his shoulder as you listen.

“Did you do this?” you mumble, still entranced by the performance.

“Only if it makes you laugh.”

And you do, in the way that he loves—a bit crazy and too loud, and it’s perfect.

I’ll always think of you that way… I’ll find you in the morning sun….

Whether it’s fireflies or Will bouncing light off the water to look like small, glowing candles, Luke can’t tell—he’s too busy watching your lips pull into a smile so confectionery his sweet tooth starts to ache. The little kid was never good at archery like his other half-siblings, but as your eyes shimmer under the ambient lights, you think his added romantic gesture shot you straight through the heart.

“You know, sometimes I really do hate you, Luke Castellan,” you whisper, and it couldn’t be more far from the truth.

“No, you don’t.”

His eyes flicker to you again, but you’re already looking back at him.

“I don’t.”

And when the night is new, I’ll be looking at the moon… but I’ll be seeing you…

It’s quiet now, and you’re unsure of where the Apollonian ensemble disappeared to but instead of worrying about if they’ll make it back before curfew, you stand there in front of Luke with your guard down.

Getting a little closer than he expected, your noses brush before you pull the slightly crushed wildflowers from your jean pocket, the only physical reminder you’ve kept from today, and tuck them into his jacket pocket, sitting right above his heart. 

“Thank you.”

Luke doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until he feels your lips gently kiss the marred skin on his right cheek, the blemish having an uncanny resemblance to a stroke of lightning; it serves as a reminder of his weakness. The lines blur as his eyes close to savor it and he doesn’t know if weakness is your kisses or his scar—but he is vulnerable to it all the same, realizing there’s a crack in the otherwise perfect persona that he’s worked so hard on.

When his eyes open again, his Achilles’ heel has taken human form.

—

“This has got to be cheating,” Clarisse grumbles as she watches from the distance, hidden behind the trees.

“It’s not cheating if I’m winning. Silena’s gonna get a kick out of this,” Lee chuckles, ushering everyone back towards the cabins. It’s a bit harder to do this in the dark as they try to be quiet and not interrupt whatever will happen next between their favorite counselors.

“Well lucky for you, your gifts are cute and romantic, what am I supposed to do? They fight enough!”

“That’s what got them into this mess in the first place. Come on, curfew’s in 10. We’ll find out which of us wins the bet soon enough,” Chris mutters, pushing them along back onto the main path.

“Easy for you to say, Rodriguez, you live with Luke!”

“Would I ever lie to you, La Rue?” he says with a mischievous grin, and the Apollo kids giggle at the irony.

—

“My body ages,

my anger burns into a seam.

I am so annoyed by love

and still it comes.”

-Kate Baer

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[romana-after-dark]

Our Gentle Sins: Part 3 (formerly Be Quiet)

Dark!Logan Howlett x fem!reader

My god this header is ass but I was an emo kid what can I say

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Chapter summary: Past. You open up to Logan. Present. Logan opens up to you

Warnings: This fic features non con, pregnancy, and themes of religous trauma. I will not be saying everything that happens to warm you, by clicking read more you are prepared for extremely dark themes and that you at 18+. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

2.8 words

Before

Logan had tried to do as Charles requested. Tried. Honestly, he had but the place wasn’t THAT fucking big, and he kept running into you during all the times it was least oppretune, all the times he was aching for touch and tenderness as the soft skin only you could provide.

And he missed you. That little trip to the store had sent something burning in his, a spark of joy that ignited in his body that maybe this time, you would be different, everything could be different. You were fun, gentle, kind and soft and passive… He thought of how you were so scared of the man, he felt your fear drumming in your heart and at the moment all that mattered was protecting you. Still, you didn’t want him to hurt the man. Empathetic little thing.

Glancing up to find your eyes on him at diner hurt so much he tried to keep his eyes trained on the food at all times. He tried not leave his room for fear of running into you in the hall. Hell, sometimes he didn’t even want to be in the house because he could fucking smell you. He could smell when you were ovulating and on your period, in tune to everything you did despite trying to avoid you, leaving him him alone in his room to fuck his fist day after day, hour after hour humping a pillow because he couldn’t control himself like a horny teenager.

And Remy was no fucking help.

“Logan!” He called from down the hall. “I need a favor.”

He rolled his eyes. “Awful lot of favors with you, huh?”

Remy LeBeau laughed as if it was a joke. It wasn’t, Remy’s ‘favor’ had landed him in this predicament in the first place.

“I am supposed to eat lunch with notre ami,” he says with a smirk that makes Logan assume he’s not talking about Jean or Emma or Ellie. “But I’m afraid I’ve been called in another direction.”

“Is the other direction some girl’s pussy?”

A glint in his eyes. “Some man’s pussy, to be specific, cher, but a gentleman never tells. Anyway, I need you to let her know I can’t make it, send my apologies.” Remy already started walking away. 

Logan half shouts down the hall. “What, are you two going on dates now?”

“What’s it to you?”

Logan was fuming, absolutely livid. You and Remy? Fuck no. Not a chance in the world. Well sure, it would make sense. Remy was soft, kind, funny. He knew how to romance a girl. Or a guy. Or whatever it was he was sticking his dick into. He could wine and dine and woo his way into those little dresses with the right words, the right touches… He could be friendly, nice… but Remy LeBeau is not the kind of man to settle down. He’s a slut. You? You are a romantic, he could tell. Young and innocent and still believing in true love and Remy was the kind of guy to make you fall for it. Not intentionally…. Probably… but Remy didn’t understand you. Not like Logan did.

So, despite not telling Remy he would deliver the message, he went to find your classroom anyway.

*

It was early in the semester still, but fall was beginning to creep in on the New England days. Still, it was lovely out and the smell of oak made you happy, so you cracked a window. Air was good for the kids. 

You had an upper level class, literature, and were just finishing the discussion of The Count of Monte Christo. 

When you hear the door open, you expected Remy but instead saw Logan. This surprised you, considering how obvious it was he had been avoiding you, you give him a warm smile and turn back to your class who were just beginning a brand new discussion.

“But I don’t think he’s motivated by revenge, he’s motivated by love!” A young girl argues with her classmate.

“He killed people, Jess.”

You clapped your hands together, “Guys I’m so sorry but that’s our time! As much as I’m sure you’d rather skip lunch and discuss Dante’s true motivation,  I have to let you go. Come prepared to pick this right up tomorrow!” You said, thrilled this has gone so well. 

Students grab their things and file out, several saying good day and several more staring at Logan as they passed. Logan glared at one particularly bug eyed boy.

“Logan.” You call his attention from the kid, and as Logan steps to your desk the door shuts behind you. You gesture to a chair near the front of the class. “Forgive me, but my feet hurt from standing. Is it alright if I eat?”

“Of course.” He hurries to answer, scrambling around the desk to pull out your chair. He’d be damned if he was outdone by Remy. His movements were awkward and clunky. Logan wasn’t an animal, he was raised to be a proper high society man, and even though he left home young, he lived during much more… polite eras than now. While he preferred to live more rustic, he knew how to be a gentleman.

You smile up at him from the chair, thanking him quietly. Logan pulls up a chair to the front, sitting with you. 

“Remy ain’t coming.” He blurts out, ready to break the news of the date as bluntly as possible to make him look worse, but when he saw the worry on your face he read your mind. “He had to go take care of business, he’s fine though.” Watching the relief on your face made him annoyingly jealous. “Sorry he had to miss your uh…” Logan glanced around the room. “Date, I guess.”

He likes hearing you giggle, even if he thinks it might be at him. “Did he call it a date?”

“Well… no…” Why did he feel so flustered with you?

“Good. It’s hardly a date. I have higher standards than sharing a sandwich in my classroom.” Despite his protests, you lay half your sandwich on his side of the desk. He couldn't say no to you. “Remy eats lunch with me sometimes, keeps me company. As a friend, if you were wondering.”

He was.

There was a comfortable silence as Logan ate the sandwich you gave me, doing everything he could to not hum as he delighted in it. How did you make a simple caprese sandwich taste so good? How did he get roped into sharing a meal with you when he was supposed to keep his distance?

“You’re good with them.” He mumbles with his mouth half full. When you look up with confusion he elaborates. “The kids, I mean. They like you. I can see it, and I’ve heard others talking.”

This makes you blush, looking away as you deflect the compliment. “Thank you, it’s probably the only thing I’m qualified to do.”

“I’m sure that’s not true. Were you a teacher before you came here?”

“I wasn’t anything before I came here.”

Logan gestured for you to continue, so you set  down your sandwich and cleared your throat, still looking down. “I’m not really qualified to be here, honestly… It’s not like a secret or anything but… it’s not exactly something I’m shouting from the rooftops so… I mean you don’t gotta lie or anything…”

“I won’t say anything” His voice was soft, comforting. He made you trust him, so you let it all out.

“I didn’t graduate high school.” You fidget with the hem of the flower print dress that went past your knees. “I got married at 16.” When you glance up, you’re expecting to see his weirded out, uncomfortable, or maybe even disgust at you. Instead he looked concerned. 

“Jesus, doll. How the hell was that legal?”

You explain. “With parental consent and judicial approval, you can get married pretty young. My parents knew the judge.”

“And your parents were okay with this?”

Logan wasn’t stupid, he’s 200 years old and has seen plenty of teenagers getting married, but it wasn’t as common as you might think. By the time he was coming of age, marriage age, even for women, was going up. Teenagers were teenagers, he supposed.

“It was their idea… he was um… he was 20.” 

The realization dawned on him. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

You give a little shrug and go back to eating. “It was pretty normal in my circles. I didn’t realize how weird it was until I was 18 or 19 or something when the doctors- well, yeah.”

Curiosity crested on the topic of doctors, but Logan knew better than to push too hard. “And what are ‘your circles.’”

A little smile quips up on your lip and Logan notices a seed from the whole grain bread on the bottom lip. He wanted to kiss it off.

“Ever watch 19 kids and counting?”

Logan nearly cocked on a tomato. “What?”

You smirk at his reaction. “Yeah. We were IBLP, fundies I guess people say. I got 11 siblings, wore jean skirts, homeschooled, all that. I even met a Duggar once at a conference. Not the creep one. I don’t think.”

Your blase nature around your strange childhood was a defense. Every day you learned new things that you grew up in that weren’t normal, Remy and you spending hours walking the grounds, just talking. He is shocked you never watched spongebob, you are shocked he was allowed outside after dark. Both of you had a bond over failed arranged marriages and childhood abuse, but he was further along in the deconstruction path.

Nodding along, Logan tries not to freak out. Part of him wants to run away from this conversation. He doesn’t want you to open up, he doesn't want to feel pity or sympathy or learn anything that might endear you to him even more. Part of him wanted to rip out your family and your husbands throats.

“I assume that means you didn’t graduate?”

“Not even close. Homeschool was a loose term, honestly. My parents believed women didn’t need math or science, not that they believed in science, but they encouraged my read thank goodness. I spent a lot of time reading and writing, studying that stuff since we didn’t have a TV. When I say Mr. Xavier took in a stray, I meant it. I’d have absolutely no options, no social security card, no birth certificate, even. Not even McDonalds would have taken me.”

Logan frowned at that, popping the last bite into him mouth. “Why not?”

Despite it all, you laugh still. “I didn’t know that was a thing until I wondered into a Walmart asking for a job and they laughed in my face. Mr. Xavier explained all that. Listen…” You shift in your seat. “I taught all 11 of my siblings English, literature, poetry, reading, writing… I promise you, I might not have gone to college… but I know what I’m doing here.”

He shot you an assuring smile. “I didn’t doubt you for a second, Dolly.”

Logan spent the rest of your lunch break helping you cut out book themed decorations for your classroom. There was so much he wanted to learn, like why you can’t drive, how you left your husband, how you possibly gained the courage to do it knowing nothing of the world and what had happened to you to make you run like that? How brave you must be, for such a small, vulnerable thing, to do that. Logan found he greatly admired you. He had his healing powers, his strenth, speed, his claws to protect him. But you? Just out on your own.

He wouldn’t fuck you. He wouldn’t fall in love. He would do as he promised Charles, he swore it to himself…

But from now on, you didn’t need to be afraid of anything.

Logan would be your claws.

After

You banged on Logan’s door, not caring who heard.

“LOGAN!!!” You shout, continuing to bang even after he opened the door. You didn’t care. Fists pounding on the door turned into fists slamming on his chest. Logan didn’t seem phased, its not like you were strong. Instead, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into his room before closing the door. You knew you should fear he’d rape you again after what he did but you couldn’t care anymore. 

“Dolly-”

You throw the pregnancy test in his face, dried piss and all. “I hate you! I hate you!” You continue to scream at him and smack at his chest but he lets you. You scream, and scream and his and scream until there is nothing left in you and you fall to your knees crying.

Logan catches you, kneeling down and taking you into his arms and you just let him because fuck, you are so starved for affection, so desperate for touch it doesn’t matter that it came from him. You fit neatly in his lap, his chest warm against your head as he holds you to him.

He smells like oak.

When you calm down, you shove at him again and fall off. 

When he reaches for you, his worry stricken face trying to convince you he was the Logan you knew before, you shout, “No!” Pointing directly at him.

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Dolly. I am.”

“No, you’re not.” A sniffle alerts you of your runny nose, and you wipe it with your sleeve. “You knew what you were doing! You can’t- you apoligized while raping me, Logan!”

He winces. “Don’t say that…”

“What, rape?” 

That cringe again. “Don’t- don’t call it that!”

You scoff, a sardonic smile playing at your lips. “Oh, I’m sorry, that's upsetting to you? I can’t imagine how that feels, Logan.”

A moment of silence. Then he huffs a small laugh. You hated him, you hated how easy to was to fall back with him, to feel comfortable with him when he did something so horrible to you… and yet when you look at him now, sitting on the floor with the big eyes and little kitty ear hair as you called him, you didn’t see the man that raped you. You just saw Logan.

“I’ll get an abortion.” You say without much conviction.

“No, you won’t” He sounds more convinced than you were. Logan’s eyes were soft, patient, like a parent waiting for his childs fit to end.

You sit back against the wall, exhausted. “Yes, I will!”

He smirks. Is he making fun of you? “No, you will not”

“Or what, you’ll hurt me? You’ll follow me around everywhere?”

Logan chuckles at that. “No. I don’t need to do that. I’m not entirely convinced you would have taken that plan B, honestly.”

“Wha-” 

“How would you get there in the first place? You gonna ask fucking Remy to drive you to the abortion clinic?” He doesn’t give you a chance to answer. You and him both know what it is. Leaning in, Logan rests his elbows on his crossed legs, tight tank top straining against his pecs. “I know you, sweet baby doll. Better than Remy, better than anyone ever could. You may have left that world you lived in, may have left those beliefs and your parents and your husband and your pastor, but it hasn’t even been a year. Some stuff comes easier to digest, like realizing your husband doesn’t have the right to beat you with a switch. Some stuff, like what's going on in your womb… that gets a lot harder to sort through. I know you, and you just don’t have the guts to get an abortion”

You hated him. You hated him because he was right,

“That’s why you chose me, isn’t it.” The tears dripped down again, but softer this time. “Because you knew I wouldn’t.”

“No.” He sounded certain, final, almost deviated like it was important for him to know you understood what he was saying. “Dolly…” Logan leans over getting on his hands and knees. Slowly, he crawls across the floor to you, a cat hunting his prey, shoulder blades moving in time and jutting out of his shirt. His eyes were trained on you.

“I didn’t choose you, baby doll. None of this was my choice. The moment I saw you, every single choice was taken away from me.” He stalks closer, and you press your head against the door as your heart rate picks up again. “You were mine, I was yours, and everything that’s happened since has been fate pulling us together.”

Your lower lip quivers, making you whimper. “I didn’t want…” You almost say you, but can’t bring yourself to it. It wouldn’t be true. “I didn’t want that.”

His face is right up against you now, soft little breaths fanning your cheek and his eyes lidded with lust. “I didn’t want it to happen like that either, dolly.” His lips brush yours. “But I can’t deny fate any more than you can deny me.”

Logan might be a little ooc in this ill be real but shhhhhhhh

Also this is not hidden pro life agenda. I am pro choice.

I was raised Catholic and I remember even though a few years into deconstruction I couldn’t let go on the idea abortion was murder. I was assaulted and thought I was pregnant from it and spent hours sobbing in church because I wasn’t know what to do. Luckily it’s a choice I didn’t have to make in the end but please know whatever choice you made for your body was correct.

Want more yandere delulu logan?

Fan of this and also love joel?

Want soft logan, no dark?

If anyone else writes dark logan and wants to be fwends hmu <3 gotta be lgbt inclusive and general leftist stuff. I'll reblog your stuff!!!!!

Consider donating to doctors without borders to support gaza

If anyone knows more good dark logan writers hmu bc i just dont know anyone else!!!!

I appriciate you all supporting my logan work! keep on send them asks! I hav sunday off so i ll ge more then !

if you dont normally read my stuff, sometimes i do polls at the end of my fics. usually its about the story but i gotta do this for like....... well

I wrote the worng way and spent most of it regretting the name bc i just went with the first thing. Same here. this was initially a one shot! nut i fel the title is too simplistic

love yuh!!!

[cakesunflower]

lovelorn (and nobody knows) [rafe cameron au fic] chapter 4

Summary: Isla Carrera had planned for the summer before college to be focused on three things: helping out at her family’s restaurant (the helpful daughter), preparing for college (the good student), and having fun with the Pogues (the loyal friend). But one fateful night, where her car breaks down and her rescuer is none other than Rafe Cameron, seems to send her summer down a path she didn’t see coming–one teeming with a secret, illicit romance with the last person she expected. And if her friends and sister found out, Isla isn’t sure they’ll be so understanding, no matter what her feelings are.

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Isla is pushing a grocery cart down the snack aisle of the grocery store when she spots someone she is in no mood to interact with.

Her ex-boyfriend, Carlo, stands at the end of the aisle, peering at the shelf before him as he makes his snack selection. Thankfully, he’s oblivious to Isla’s presence as she slowly backs down to exit the aisle at the other end, hoping to disappear around the corner before he can spot her, her grip on the handlebar of the shopping cart tight as the wheels rattle with every spin.

Luckily, Isla is able to reach the end without bumping into anyone or anything, and pulls and pushes the cart down the side aisles instead, putting distance between herself and Carlo. She can just get the snacks at the end—anything to avoid risking running into him again.

The two of them had broken up a year ago, but Isla had to spend the entire school year seeing him, since they shared a few classes together. The breakup had been messy, to say the least; they’d dated all throughout sophomore year, the summer after, and a few months into their junior year. Except, Carlo had gone to New Jersey for that summer, visiting family, and it wasn’t until the school year had started that Isla found out he had been cheating on her with some girl he met during his vacation. The only way she found out was because the girl had discovered that he had been in a relationship with Isla, and reached out to her through Instagram to tell her of what Carlo did.

It had been devastating for Isla because, truly, she did love him—or, well, as much as a sixteen year old was capable of love. But the second his infidelity came to light, she had ended things—and he had the audacity to tell her that she was the one making a mistake by breaking up with him. As if the mistake hadn’t been made by him when he decided to spend his summer hooking up with a girl down at the Jersey Shore. And then for a long while after, he kept trying to win her back, as if she was some prize that slipped away from his fingers, despite Isla never giving him the time of day.

And although the idea of violence doesn’t exactly thrill Isla, she was relieved that when John B took it upon himself to threaten Carlo with physical harm if he didn’t leave Isla alone, her ex finally backed off. For the most part. Escaping his line of sight at the grocery store is her not wanting to really test those waters again.

She occupies herself by going to the other side of the store, getting her toiletry essentials that she’s running low on and hoping that by the time she goes back to the snack aisle, Carlo is gone. The party Sarah is throwing at her place is tonight, and Isla is in charge of buying snacks for the guests. Sarah’s going to end up ordering pizza at some point for everyone, but enough snacks should hold the rowdy, drunk teenagers for a good bit. 

As if on cue, Isla’s music playing through her headphones gets interrupted by an incoming call, and she pulls her phone out of her pocket to see Sarah’s name and a selfie of them two lighting up the screen. “Hey, are you on your way yet?” Sarah asks by way of greeting.

Isla huffs out a breath, placing her preferred coconut scented body wash into the cart. “In a bit. Hit a snag at the store and I gotta drop off my stuff at home before heading over.”

“A snag?” Sarah repeats. “What does that mean?”

Pursing her lips briefly, she confesses with a sardonic chuckle, “I saw Carlo in the snack aisle and bolted to the other side of the store.”

“Oh, crap,” her friend mutters. “Yeah, okay, take your time. Hope you don’t have to deal with him.”

“Me and you both, sister,” Isla mutters, pushing her way out of the aisle. “Are the others there yet?”

“Yeah, Kie and Cleo have been helping me move my parents’ valuables into the locked rooms,” Sarah snickers. It’s not their first time throwing a party in the Cameron household, so they’ve become experts in taking anything expensive that Ward and Rose Cameron hold dear and putting them away into a locked room so they don’t get destroyed during a party. “The guys just got here with the drinks.”

“Let me guess—JJ got his hands on a keg.”

“Two of them,” Sarah laughs. 

Isla whistles, smile burgeoning as she makes her way through the store, her gaze half sharp to look out for her ex. “Sounds like we’re in for a rager.” 

They hang up soon after that, and Isla braces herself to go back to the snack aisle and breathes out a sigh of relief when she doesn’t spot Carlo anywhere. She makes quick work of grabbing several party sized bags of chips before heading back to the front of the store. She feels a little paranoid, stupidly so, that she’s going to see Carlo, so she works quickly. Having any kind of conversation with him is not on her agenda for today—or ever—because why should she give the guy who cheated on the time of day? 

As much of a stretch as it may be, Isla is kind of hoping she never has to see him again now that school is over. It might not be realistic, since she’s going to college over on the mainland and the Cut isn’t that big, so running into him is totally a possibility. But a girl can dream, right?

Isla makes her escape quickly enough and is pulling up to Sarah’s house thirty minutes later. As she gets out of her car—finally back from the shop—Isla can’t help the way her gaze scans the Cameron’s gravel driveway in search of a certain guy’s motorcycle, heart thudding when she doesn’t spot it amongst Sarah’s own parked car and John B’s van. As she opens the trunk of her car, she’s not quite sure if she feels relief or disappointment when she doesn’t spot Rafe’s motorcycle, that in of itself is complicated as all hell. 

If only her friends heard that thought—they might think she’s gone insane. Maybe she has.

“I’m here!” Isla calls out, a tote bag filled with her outfit and makeup for tonight hanging off her shoulders while her hands grip the grocery bags. “A little help?!”

She hears footsteps as she makes her way to the kitchen in the bag, smiling in relief as Pope turns the corner and comes into view. “Here, I got you,” he says, helpfully taking some of the bags from her. “Jeez, how much did you get?”

“Hopefully enough to feed a houseful of people,” Isla answers with a snort, putting the remaining bags on the marble countertop. She and Pope begin taking out the several bags of chips, along with the packs of red solo cups Isla had also picked up upon Sarah’s request. “Where are JJ and John B?”

“Setting up the Christmas lights in the backyard,” Pope replies and off her arched eyebrow, he chuckles and explains, “Sarah wanted it to look pretty and colorful.” He puts air quotes around the words with a fond roll of his eyes. “Last I checked, they were still trying to untangle the whole thing.”

Isla hums in acknowledgement before asking, “When are people supposed to start coming?”

Pope glances at the digital watch on his wrist. “Like, two hours. Less than, I think.”

Isla grabs her tote. “I need to get ready.”

Her friend shakes his head, scoffing. “It should not take you two hours to get ready for a party.”

She flips her hair over her shoulder, already walking out of the kitchen as she tells him, “Perfection takes time, Pope.”

She takes the steps two at a time as she heads upstairs, hearing the girls’ chatter the closer she gets to Sarah’s room. Upon entering, Isla spots her sister in front of the mirror in the ensuite, leaning close to her reflection and lips parted as she applies mascara; Sarah’s in front of her vanity, blotting blush onto her cheeks, while Cleo sits cross legged in front of the floor length mirror as she slicks her dark hair back into a high ponytail.

“Damn, are there any mirrors left for me?” Isla teases, catching her friends’ attention.

She’s met with laughter while Kie calls from the bathroom, “I’m almost done!”

From her place on the floor on the other side of the room, Cleo asks her, “Whatcha wearin’ tonight?”

“I was thinking these,” Isla answers, gesturing to the distressed denim cut-offs she’s already got on while digging through her tote bag. “With this.”

She holds up the crocheted purple and black bralette top, a cute find she had discovered when she and Kie had gone to the mainland for some thrifting. “Very cute,” Sarah nods approvingly, cheeks a pretty pink glow. “Are you gonna swim?”

Isla shrugs, undecided. “Not sure.”

“Unless the guys throw you in the pool,” Kie says as she walks out of the bathroom, dressed in her own black denim shorts and a red tank top, the strings of her yellow bikini top tied around her neck.

“Only if they have a death wish,” Isla scoffs, grabbing her small makeup bag and heading to the bathroom. She doesn’t mind taking a swim, truthfully, but she’d hope the guys would give her enough time to empty her pockets; one of the last times they so lovingly tossed her in the pool, Isla’s phone was still in her pocket and she ended up needing to buy a new one. A bowl of rice definitely did not help.

Isla takes her time in getting ready, accompanied by conversations with her friends as she does her makeup under the bright lights of Sarah’s bathroom mirror. Truthfully, Isla is only half listening to Cleo’s story of how she chased out a would-be robber from Heywards’—an unsurprising pastime for Cleo—because her thoughts keep drifting to a certain guy with blue eyes and dark blonde hair whose face keeps flashing through her head.

Isla’s jaw clenches, movements slowing in buffing out her foundation as she gazes at her reflection, throat working. It unnerves her how frequently Rafe has been creeping through her thoughts since that night he helped her out when her car broke down. And then again when he let her borrow his shirt, before giving her a ride home to escape from the cops. She has interacted with him more just this last week than she has in an entire month in the past. Whatever their interactions, they shouldn’t have a lasting effect on Isla like they do. She keeps trying to remind herself that none of it is a big deal, and yet…

Shaking her head at herself, Isla continues on with her makeup and then brushes out her hair, her ears already decked out in jewelry. Her neck also adorns matching gold jewelry, necklaces layered together against her smooth brown skin. When she walks out of the bathroom to put her makeup bag back in the tote, Kie lets out a whistle and teasingly says, “You’re gonna drive your favorite touron crazy.”

The others giggle at Kiara’s statement, Isla forcing out a laugh of her own, skin warming at the fact that her stupidly foolish brain has only been focused on one guy—most likely the wrong guy.

When the girls are ready, it’s almost the time for when people will start coming, so they head downstairs and to the back, music already blaring through the speakers that have been set up. Isla is impressed by the set up, the Christmas lights wrapped around the trees and across the gable roof of the porch, also wrapping around the porch pillars. 

Letting out a whistle, Cleo says to Sarah, “Jeez, how many Christmas lights do you have?”

Sarah snickers. “Pretty sure we have some for every room in the house, plus for outside of the house.”

With the sun setting, the Camerons’ backyard is alight with different colors thanks to the lights the boys put up, along with the blue glow of the pool and some of the sconces lit up along the wall that separates the yard from the street they live on. The guys are already helping themselves to drinks, unsurprisingly, while playing beer pong on the opposite side of the yard across the pool. 

As they walk over to the guys, Sarah gasps and grabs Isla’s arm. “Oh, shit, wait, I forgot to ask! Did you manage to leave the store without Carlo seeing you?”

“Whoa, wait, what?” Kiara asks, stopping as she widens her eyes at her sister. “You saw Carlo?”

“Yeah. I guess he’s spending his summer in OBX,” Isla says, face scrunching up in distaste. He seemed to enjoy his summer out of North Carolina, so Isla has no qualms about him leaving again if it meant she could go a summer without running into him.

“Gross,” Kie mutters before throwing an arm around Isla’s shoulders, pulling her close. “Well, he’s irrelevant, so fuck him.”

Cleo snaps her fingers. “Amen.”

Fortunately, it isn’t long until people start arriving, the volume of the music turning up as more and more people come. It’s not long until Isla has a drink in her hand, taking a few shots with her friends before enjoying a High Noon since she’s not quite in the mood for beer tonight. Those shots, though, get the job going right away, and it’s not long until she’s in the backyard, dancing to the music pounding through the speakers with her friends.

She lets loose easily, giggling in between sips as they dance to songs by Sabrina Carpenter to Pitbull. There were loads of people splashing around in the pool, using the diving board to jump in, while others either danced or played games spread around the yard or inside the house. At one point, Isla takes part in an intense game of flip cup, laughing as JJ, standing next to her, yells in her ear to hurry up and flip the cup upright. She ends up laughing so hard, she needs to ditch and go to the bathroom, only to find both bathrooms downstairs occupied, so she ventures up the stairs.

Dodging and weaving past other partygoers, Isla finds the bathroom in the upstairs hallway and breathes a sigh of relief when she finds it empty. Locking the door behind her, she uses the toilet, the party muffled beyond the door as she takes a look at herself in the mirror, washing her hands. Her brown hair falls in messy waves around her shoulders, makeup still intact and a subtle glazed, glassiness to her eyes. She’s not drunk, at that point of tipsiness where she’s still aware of her faculties and surroundings, but it all does make the smile come onto her face easily.

When she exits the bathroom, someone else is waiting to go, practically shoving her out of the way to go inside. Isla stumbles, eyebrows furrowing as she glares at the door and shouts, “Rude!” before turning to head back down the hall.

And maybe she’s drunker than she thought, because surely she can’t have spotted Carlo at the end of the hall, chatting with some people. Isla freezes, blinking a couple of times as the distant sound of a Taylor Swift song plays outside, and praying that she’s only imagining things, because seeing Carlo at the store earlier had been enough.

But, nope, he’s right there, and he’s looking like he’s about to walk away from the people he’s talking to and head in her direction—even though he hasn’t spotted her yet. And Isla panics, knowing that if he sees her, he’s going to want to chat, and so her gaze darts around as she reaches the first door she finds, other than the now occupied bathroom, and shoves it open.

Slamming the door shut, Isla presses her back against it, blowing out a breath as she wills for the slight dizziness, as a result of moving so quickly, to stop. She squints, the room bathed in darkness, and feels along the wall until her fingers come across the lightswitch, flicking it on and pressing her lips together in realization when she sees not only that she’s in a bedroom—but it’s Rafe’s bedroom.

What are the Goddamn odds?

Rolling her lips into her mouth, Isla pushes away from the door and wanders further into the room. She’s never been in here before, never had a reason to, and her eyebrows raise in curiosity as she looks around. There’s a four poster bed to her right, and a set of glass doors that lead to a small balcony that looks over the backyard. A shelf is filled to the brim with all sorts of books, the mantle under the TV opposite of the bed holding some frames with pictures of Rafe with his family. There’s also a desk where his laptop sits, along with notebooks and folders and books, a cup filled with pens and pencils. The dark oak dresser by the closet has plenty of colognes, some watches, deodorant, lotion, and other belongings of Rafe placed neatly on top of it.

Everything is tidy and in its place, and Isla isn’t surprised that Rafe is kind of a neat freak—but she is surprised that she finds that attractive. Isla knows that she should leave instead of venturing further into Rafe’s room, that she shouldn’t be invading his privacy like this. She tries to tell herself she isn’t snooping per se—definitely just observing, maybe, as she takes in a breath and feels her mouth curve up when she inhales his familiar earthy, woody scent.

Isla wanders over towards the dresser, eyebrow ticking up curiously when she spots the bracelets sitting among his watches. She tilts her head, fingers brushing along the beaded bracelets, all in dark colors, that sit with his Rolex, Cartier, and Omega watches. It’s a stark difference, because the bracelets definitely look hand-made, and there’s quite a few of them. Matter of fact, Isla is pretty certain she has seen Rafe wearing them, along with the colorful ones Sarah occasionally wears.

Isla hums in curiosity, practically twirling on her heel to gaze out the window and mumbling a quiet, “oh,” when she gets a little too dizzy. “No spinning,” she mutters to herself, feeling more of the effects of alcohol sink into her blood. With a newfound urge to sit, she squeezes her eyes shut to keep the dizziness at bay while blindly grabbing the back of the desk chair, wheeling it towards her before sitting down. 

She tells herself she’s only going to sit for a few minutes, just enough to be steady on her feet again. She’s not sure, however, when she ends up drifting off to sleep.

*****

“Isla? Hey. Wake up, Isla.”

She’s being shaken gently, slowly being pulled out of her impromptu slumber. Her eyebrows furrow together, inhaling sharply as her body comes to the realization of the mildly uncomfortable position she’s in. Her arms are folded under her head, her cheek resting against them before slowly lifting her head as she blinks her eyes open. “What..?”

There’s a hand gently gripping her shoulder, warm, as Isla straightens in the chair and winces slightly at the subtle heaviness in her muscles. How long had she been asleep for? She remembers not to rub at her eyes, since she’s got on makeup, and resolves to cover her mouth with a hand as she yawns before asking, “What time is it?”

“Nine-forty-two,” comes the reply, a voice way too familiar and it’s possible Isla has sobered up now as she freezes where she’s sitting.

Slowly, Isla lifts her gaze, pulse quickening when her eyes meet a pair of blue ones. Bright and beautiful and tinged with both surprise and concern as Rafe stares down at her, most likely wondering what the hell she’s doing in his bedroom. 

Heat crawls up Isla’s neck and floods her cheeks, wishing she was drunk so she could be numb to any sort of embarrassment, but that, unfortunately, isn’t the case as she becomes keenly aware of his hand still on her shoulder, his skin touching hers thanks to the straps of her top. Looking up at him, Rafe arches an eyebrow and maybe she should consider herself lucky that he doesn’t look pissed that she’s found herself in his room, but it’s embarrassing all the same. The ten minute nap wasn’t worth it, even if it did sober her up a little.

“Um,” she sounds, trying not to cringe as she tries to think of something to say.

“You sure know how to party, huh?” comes Rafe’s response, and when she glances up at him, she sees a smirk dancing on the corners of his lips as he looks down at her, eyebrow arched. There’s no doubt there’s mirth dancing in those eyes, too.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” she defends, embarrassed, as she runs her hand through her hair. “Just needed to make an escape.”

“An escape?” Rafe repeats, stepping back as she gets to her feet. She tries not to miss the warmth of his hand. “From what?” Before she can answer, he scrunches his face in bewilderment and asks, “Why are you always running from something?”

Isla clamps her lips together, suppressing the sudden urge to laugh because, really, he’s not wrong. He’s been playing her rescuer the last few times they interacted, and it’s ironic that it’s his bedroom she found refuge in to keep out of Carlo’s sight. Her lips tremble until the laugh bursts free, hand clamping over her mouth as her shoulders shake. It’s really not that funny, but maybe Isla is still a little tipsy as she watches Rafe’s expression shift from incredulity and melt into amusement of his own, eyes lightening with mirth as he watches her laugh, his own lips tipping upwards.

“What the hell is so funny?” Rafe asks, though the words escape in between his own chuckles.

Isla shakes her head and shrugs. “I don’t know,” she answers, still giggling, cheeks flushed. Either from the alcohol or him, she doesn’t know. And, God, who would’ve thought that Rafe Cameron would be making her blush? Her laughter slowly subsides and, noting that Rafe is watching her, Isla bites the inside of her cheek before saying, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, like, invade your privacy.”

She gestures lamely to the room, lips pressing together. Rafe, in response, smirks as he lifts his chin and gives a one shouldered shrug. “You’re not invading anything,” he says coolly, surprising her. She definitely thought he’d be upset that she was finding refuge in his room. “It’s fine—so long as you tell me why you were hiding out in here,” he adds, arching his eyebrow.

She huffs out a breath, not surprised he isn’t dropping it. She gazes out the window to her right, taking note of the party going on out in the backyard. From where Isla stands, she can see JJ tossing Kie into the pool, just barely hearing her sister’s screech over the music, and Isla is glad she wasn’t down there to be the next victim.

Feeling Rafe’s expectant gaze on her, Isla answers, “My ex is here—don’t know why, since I know none of us invited him—and any sort of conversation with him is going to piss me off.” Not to mention, hurt with the reminder of what he did. “I saw him out in the hall and just ran into the first room I could find.”

Rafe arches a brow as he moves towards his bed, walking to the bedside table and grabbing the box of Marlboros Isla hadn’t noticed before, along with a lighter. “Ex, huh?” he muses, pulling out a cigarette and placing it between his lips as he walks back over to her, his gait casual. He tips the small pack towards her and Isla pulls a cigarette out for herself; not her preferred blunt, but it’d do, as Rafe opens the balcony door but doesn’t step outside. “What’d he do?” he asks, flicking the lighter on in one try and bringing the flame to the end of his cigarette.

Isla places her own between her lips, pulse quickening when Rafe holds the still flaming lighter towards her. Their eyes meet as she leans forward, cigarette between her middle and index fingers, bringing it closer to the flame until it catches. Straightening, Isla takes a drag, letting the nicotine fill her lungs with that familiar subtle burn as Rafe does the same, the end of his cigarette glowing ember.

She exhales, letting the smoke drift out the window, and answers, “Cheated on me.”

Blunt and to the point, and she tries not to flinch at the truth. It’s one she has accepted, but sometimes the sting still accompanies it whenever she thinks or talks about it. And, frankly, it’s a little humiliating to acknowledge that she wasn’t enough for someone, to the point where her boyfriend found someone else. That she was so lacking as a girlfriend, as someone to be wanted, that a guy that she loved gave his attention to another girl. It brought up insecurities Isla didn’t know she had, ones that she’s been fighting off ever since silently. 

But then Rafe stands in front of, watching her with a look in his eyes she can’t quite decipher, exhaling the smoke through his nose as he states, “You’re better off without a dumbass like that.”

His words bring forth a warmth that she should consider dangerous. Even still, Isla keeps her gaze locked with Rafe’s as she responds, “I know.”

He looses a rough chuckle before asking, “Your friends know you’re up here?”

Isla tilts her head slightly, peering up at him. God, he’s tall. A whole head, probably more, than her. “Do they know I’m up here in general, or that I’m up here with you?” she asks, bringing the cigarette back to her mouth.

Rafe smirks and her stomach tumbles. “If you’re asking, then you already know.”

Her skin is warm, but Isla knows it has nothing to do with the smoke in her lungs and everything to do with the man in front of her. “They don’t know where I am,” she admits, reaching her hand out to the side table where an ashtray sits, hovering her cigarette above it as she taps the ashes away. “But they’ll probably start looking for me.”

Rafe hums with an upwards tilt of his chin, and Isla has to force herself not to openly admire the sharp line of his jaw. “Guess you should probably go find them before they find you,” he drawls, and the look in his blue eyes is challenging, almost.

Isla blows a cloud of smoke out of her mouth, and it isn’t lost on her how at ease she feels in this moment with Rafe. If her friends found her here, they for sure would be confused as all hell. Maybe even mad. Betrayed? Seems dramatic, but not impossible. “Tired of having a Pogue in your room?” Isla finds herself taunting with a subtle tilt of her head, eyebrow raised.

To her surprise, Rafe’s expression shifts, a scoff escaping him as he rolls his eyes. “You and our sisters,” he starts with a shake of his head, tapping his cigarette over the ashtray, head ever so slightly ducked as his bangs frame his temples and forehead. “What’s so bad about where you’re from and what you have that the three of you would rather be from that side of the island?”

Instead of hearing any scorn in his tone, Isla mostly picks up bewilderment and incredulity, like he can’t possibly understand why she, Kie, and Sarah would rather be Pogues than Kooks. That’s always been a source of dissent between Sarah and Rafe, too. While her older brother is comfortable with the life they have, Sarah has always felt restless, which is why she found friendship and solace with Isla and her friends. It’s why they welcomed her with open arms, because Isla and Kiara were the same way, too.

They know they’re privileged, lucky enough to have what they have, which is more than what their friends do. It’s not that they’re ungrateful—far from it. But growing up on Figure Eight, within a wealthy society, comes with a set of expectations and pressure that neither Isla nor Kiara were good with handling. Their parents worked hard to give them a good life, which they’re thankful for, but that doesn’t mean giving up their freedom to put on masks and pretend to be someone they’re not. Isla’s parents raised her and Kiara to be themselves, to be independent, and they found a lot of that independence and freedom with their friends, who just so happen to be on the other side of the tax bracket.

Wealth has nothing to do with it. It’s all about living their lives the way they want to, without any sort of judgment and ridicule. For Isla, there is a lot of self-imposed academic pressure that she struggles, sometimes, under the weight of. When it comes to everything else, she would like as much freedom as she can—the kind of freedom and carefree lifestyle that isn’t possible living under the lens of Kooks.

“I don’t think you get it,” Isla says to Rafe, not being pity or scornful, but just wanting him to understand. When he looks at her expectantly, Isla shrugs, her smile small but soft. “It’s not about materialistic things or hating where we’re from. We know we’re lucky to have what we do. It’s honestly really just about our friends and how, at the end of the day, there’s no real divide between us.” She shrugs, cheeks heating under Rafe’s quiet gaze. “There’s no ego, no one’s trying to one-up the other. It’s just a real friendship between all of us and, personally, I never found that here. But with them, it’s easy. It’s right.”

Truthfully, Isla half expects Rafe to scoff in her face, to tell her she’s being a child and that it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. It would track, simply by the way he and her friends have interacted in the past, even if it would be a contrast to how he’s been acting around her recently. Her skin is on fire, feeling like an exposed livewire as she distracts herself by finishing off the rest of her cigarette, the walls of Rafe’s room vibrating slightly with the bass of the music playing outside. The party is louder now, thanks to the open balcony doors, though from where Isla stands, she can’t really see down to the backyard from over the balcony. 

“Well, when you put it like that,” Rafe begins, muttering slightly as he shrugs his broad shoulders, reluctantly meeting her gaze. “Doesn’t sound that unreasonable.” 

Isla blinks at him, surprise no doubt evident on her face upon hearing his words. Her lips part, but no words come out for a brief moment before she blurts, “Seriously?”

Rafe looks at her, raising an eyebrow. “It’s so hard to believe that I’d believe you?”

Is she being punked? Maybe this actually was a blunt. Or maybe she’s still drunk. “Um, a little,” she admits, blinking at him in bewilderment. “Because I’m sure Sarah’s probably told you the same thing, so why’re you taking my word for it and not your sister’s?”

He shoots her a flat look, though there may be a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. “She’s my younger sister. I’ve become an expert in tuning her out most of the time.” When Isla scowls at Sarah’s expense, Rafe chuckles. “Don’t worry. It goes both ways,” he tells her, moving around her and towards the dresser behind her.

Isla turns, following him with her gaze as he unclips the watch he’s wearing and places it on the dresser. Her head tilts in curiosity, gaze dropping to the surface of the table, and finds her gaze drinking in the sight of his tall, lean figure as she asks, “What’re those bracelets?”

Rafe glances at her over his shoulder before looking back down at his collection of bracelets. Her heart does something funny in her chest when Rafe’s fingers brush along the bracelets and a ghost of a smile touches his lips. “Wheezie went through a phase of making a bunch of these things,” he tells her. “These are the ones she made me.”

Isla presses her tongue to the floor of her mouth, his explanation one that makes her heart trip once again—a sensation that is slowly becoming exclusively just Rafe’s, which might be dangerous. But she can’t help it—not when she knows that those beaded bracelets she has seen him wearing in the past, ones she never really given much thought to, are ones his youngest sister made for him. She doesn’t want to admit it, but it begins to paint Rafe in a new light; not just the guy who gets into fights with her friends. Hell, Isla thinks her opinion of him was already slowly changing since that night he helped her when her car broke down, and now is the night she’s willing to admit it.

“That’s. . . Very cute,” Isla says, almost in wonder.

Rafe turns to look at her, mirth dancing in his eyes. “You calling me cute, Isla?”

Her cheeks heat, scoffing so she doesn’t look as flushed as she feels. “No,” she says vehemently, maybe a little too much so as Rafe cocks an eyebrow, that smirk appearing once more. “I meant the bracelets.” His smirk only widens and her pulse is racing to face as she stubs out the cigarette and says hastily, “I’m gonna go,” as she turns and heads towards the bedroom door, face on fire.

Her hand grasps the doorknob when she hears, “Isla.” She freezes at the sound of her name on his tongue again, turning to glance at him over her shoulder. He gives her a tiny smile. “I don’t mind having you in my room.”

Her eyes widen slightly, pulse skipping a beat or two as she makes sense of his words. “Is that—” She resists the urge to clear her throat. “An invite?”

That smile becomes his signature smirk, blue eyes light and so teasing. “Just a statement of fact.”Oh, God. She’s not sure what to say to that, if there is anything to even say. Words certainly don’t come to the tip of her tongue. Especially not when he’s watching her, like he’s expecting some sort of reaction. She doesn’t give it to him. Instead, Isla opens the door and leaves the room, willing her thundering heart to calm down as she goes to find her friends with the weight of Rafe’s gaze still heavy on her back.