#the one that fell harder got it all at once

[twirlyleafs]

“Professional girlfriend.”

Lando Norris x engineer! Reader

TW: nothing special I think

~~~~

Usually you were pretty good at separating your professional relationship with Lando from your personal one, but today it seemed to be tougher than usual. Everyone knew you and Lando were dating, you’d never tried to hide it, but you also never acted like a couple in the garage or around the other engineers. Not that you met too much during the workdays, since you worked principally on Oscars side. During debriefs or meetings you could sometimes catch Lando looking at you and he always offered a discreet wink, making you have to push down a smile as you quickly looked away again, but never more than that.

“Alright, today was obviously not our best.” Andrea spoke up from one end of the long line of tables. That was putting it lightly. Qualifying had been rough, straight out, with bad tyre temps, shitty strategies and yellow flags fucking everything up, making Oscar start seventh tomorrow and Lando down at tenth. From the second he stepped into the room you could tell he was beating himself up for it and you couldn’t help but feel the girlfriend side of you crumble a bit. Lando hadn’t met your gaze even once and as Andrea kept talking about the day you noted how his shoulders just kept slumping more and more. Taking a deep breath you pulled your gaze from your obviously upset boyfriend, trying to focus back on the data displayed on the screen in front of you. You gave your report, keeping it short and straight to the point, and then you leaned back in your chair and waited for the meeting to be over. When Andrea finally excused you, ending with some inspirational quote about tomorrow being a new day, you gathered up your things with a sigh. You saw Lando talking with some of his engineers and you decided to go and drop off your stuff before meeting up with him. Unfortunately you got caught up for a while, chatting with your colleagues, and when you were finally free you almost felt a bit stressed to get to Landos driver room, wanting to be there to comfort him before he spiraled to much.

“Lan?” You knocked softly on the door, trying the handle even though you didn’t get an answer. The door opened and it didn’t take you more than a couple of seconds to conclude that he wasn’t there. Sighing you hoisted your bag higher up on your shoulder, setting out to find your boyfriend. Everyone you met offered sympathetic smiles, they all knew you were the one who’d comfort Lando tonight, but when you asked them if they’d seen him they all shook their heads. No one knew where he was. For several minutes you walked around the unit until you almost bumped into Will.

“Hey!” The man’s gaze snapped up from the iPad he was carrying, surprised look softening into a tired smile when he saw you.

“Hey, you’re still here?”

“I can’t find Lando.” You mumbled, getting straight to the point, and Wills face fell slightly. When you raised your eyebrows he let out a soft sigh.

“I think he might still be in the conference room, he said he wanted to go over some things from today-“

“Will.” You practically groaned, shaking your head. You and Will had talked about this before, agreeing that it wasn’t good for anyone to let the drivers sit alone and nitpick things even if they wanted too. You said drivers, but it had basically never been an issue with Oscar. Lando, on the other hand, was an expert at staring himself blind on the data, ending up feeling worse the more he watched.

“I know, I know.” Will sighed, shaking his head. “I tried to tell him but he wouldn’t have it. He told me he’d talked to you about it already.”

“He definitely hasn’t.” You checked your phone to be sure but you knew there wouldn’t be a text from him. Looking back at Will you offered a crooked smile. “I’ll get him. Thank you. But you need to be harder on him when it comes to this.” At that Will couldn’t help but scoff, shrugging his shoulders.

“You know he doesn’t listen to anyone. Maybe you, a bit, definitely not me.”

You said goodbye to Will, quick steps taking you back towards where you last saw Lando. When you reached the conference room you first thought Will had been wrong, not seeing Lando through the glass wall. The lights were dimmed, most screens turned off, but as you got closer you could see the light from one computer still flickering in the room. Stopping just outside the door you watched the back of your boyfriend for a few seconds, feeling your chest clench at the way he sat with his shoulders slumped, staring at the screen. With a soft sigh you pushed the door open, carefully letting it click closed behind you again as you placed your bag down on the floor. Lando didn’t hear you, or if he did he didn’t react. You watched the back of his head for a moment, gaze trailing his tense shoulders before you slowly moved closer to him. The second your hands came in contact with his back, stroking over it gently, Lando flinched slightly.

“Sorry.” You mumbled quietly, feeling him relax under your touch. As your hands kept rubbing his back, moving up over his shoulders, Landos gaze never left the screen in front of him. It wasn’t until you finally wrapped your arms around his shoulders from behind, leaning down to press a couple of kisses against his ear and cheek, that he actually acknowledged you. It wasn’t much, but he lifted one hand to grab onto your arm across his chest, stroking it slowly with his thumb.

“Hey.” His voice was quiet and you could tell how down he was by just that one word. Not that you had expected anything else.

“Are you ready to go back to the hotel my love?”

“I don’t think so. Sorry.” His hand dropped from your arm.

“Come on baby, you know this isn’t good for you.”

“You can go, I’ll come later. Have some stuff I need to review.” You could tell by his voice that he wouldn’t listen to you, he wouldn’t leave. Despite just calling Will out for letting Lando make the decisions you couldn’t help but accept defeat, pausing for a second before slowly pulling away. A moment later you were seated in the chair next to him.

“What is it we need to review?”

“No, you don’t-“ he actually turned to look at you, pausing when he noted the expression on your face. Lando knew you well enough to realize you wouldn’t leave him alone and despite wanting to be left in his bubble of self hatred he couldn’t help but feel appreciative. As he hesitated you spoke up again.

“If you have things you want to look at, we’ll do it together. Then we leave together. I’m not letting you sit here alone and beat yourself up over today.” You tried to speak as softly as you could while still remaining stern, you wanted him to know you were on his side. Always. Lando waited for a moment but eventually nodded, taking a deep breath.

“Okay. Yeah, okay.” His hand swiped across the surface of the table, closer to you, and you were quick to wrap your fingers around his larger ones. Lando watched your hands for a second before his gaze flickered up to met yours. “Thank you.” At that you couldn’t help but smile softly, nodding as you squeezed his hand.

”Anytime.”

The two of you stayed for a while, looking through the data and discussing exactly what went wrong where. While you were always honest with Lando, agreeing that he had done some mistakes that probably cost him a couple positions, you were also quick to point out all the circumstances that he had nothing to do with. Team mistakes, flags, weather- you made sure he didn’t take the blame for more than he should. As the clocked ticked on you felt yourself slump more and more and soon enough you were leaning against your boyfriend, cheek pressed against his shoulder and eyes fixed on the screen.

“You tired?” Lando suddenly paused the video the two of you were currently looking at, glancing down at you. You blinked rapidly a few times, pulling away to force some energy back into your body.

“Me?” You shook your head. “I’m fine.” Lando stared at you, raising an eyebrow as he waited for you to tell him the truth. You wouldn’t, however you couldn’t stop the yawn escaping your lips and Lando let out a soft chuckle.

“Maybe it’s time to get out of here?”

“Yeah? You feel ready to pack up?”

“Yeah well,” Lando sighed. “You know I could sit here until tomorrow morning and pick at things���” he trailed off and you reached over to wrap your fingers around his wrist, stroking over his pulse point.

“But that wouldn’t help.”

“Probably not.” He turned to look at you again. You tilted your head, offering a sweet smile.

“If you’re ready to leave, I am too. I think it’ll be nice to get back to the hotel? Take a nice warm shower together? Order up some food, eat in bed…” you pulled your hand from his wrist to reach up and drag it through his curls, gently scratching down his neck. “I’ll give you some back rubs if you want?” Landos eyes were trained on you as you spoke and you loved the way the corners of his lips actually began to turn upwards.

“You had me at shower, honestly.” He mused quietly, earning a laugh from you.

”Alright, let’s go then big boy.” You gently patted his cheek, offering a quick wink before pulling away. Pushing your chair out from the table you stood up, stretching with a soft groan before turning around to grab your stuff from the floor. You didn’t make it more than a step before fingers wrapped around your arm and with a soft tug you were pulled back around to face your boyfriend. Before you could react his hand had found its place holding your jaw and barely a second later his lips were on yours, offering the sweetest kiss. You couldn’t stop the smile spreading across your face, hands snaking across his abdomen to squeeze his sides through the fireproofs as you kissed him back. When he eventually pulled away he did so barely an inch, eyes flickering between yours a few times before he offered a couple more hard pecks against your lips. You hummed out a giggle, leaning back to look up at him.

“Thank you.” Lando mumbled, the softest little smile on his face. Pursing your lips you shrugged your shoulders, snaking your arms around his torso.

“I’m just doing my job. As an engineer and a girlfriend. I take them equally serious.” That had Lando actually let out a small chuckle and the smile on your face widened.

“You’re a professional at both, I’d say.” He mumbled softly, leaning down to kiss you again. “Especially the latter.”

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Lost FLowers (Lucifer x Human!Reader)

CW: Sex pollen, compromised consent, smut, oral sex, fingering Rating: Adult Summary: Imps doing whatever the fuck they did dropped a sex flower in the human world and it's Lucifer's problem as the king of Hell to find it. When he finds it, picked up by you, he has a obligation to help you ride out the effects.

You walked through the streets, kicking rocks down the sidewalk. Anger seethed under your skin, making you feel like an ass. You were not mad at him. It wasn’t his fault he stood you up on your date. He couldn’t help getting murdered. 

Or maybe he could.

You didn’t know; it was too early to know for sure. 

All you knew was once again, the universe fucked you over. It had been months since your last date and you were excited. Fuck, you spent money to have your hair done up nice. You got your nails done, spending more money.

Just one night, that’s all you wanted. One night out on the town with someone to make you feel pretty, even for a little while. It had been so long. 

Just some affection, some flirting. Was that too much to ask? 

Clearly. 

“Fucking bullshit,” you snapped under your breath, kicking the rock down the sidewalk again. At least home wasn’t terribly far away. “I even shaved everything.” 

It was silly. Not only had you shaved everything you could, you spent money on a cute white and gold bra and panties set on the off chance that your multi month long dry spell would come to an end. 

“So much for that,” you continued, turning the corner. Home was just a block away. So close and yet so far away. 

On the ground, nearly crushed by your stomping heels, was a strange purple flower. Reaching down, you plucked it up, wrapping your fingers around the dark green steam. The petals were a shade of purple you’d only seen in fiction. It didn’t smell particularly strong when you brought it to your nose, but it wasn’t unpleasant.

“Well, at least the sidewalk can give me a flower today,” you sighed, tucking the unique bloom behind your ear as you marched home. 

Lucifer stomped his black boots as he pinched the bridge of his slight nose. “I can’t believe you dropped a sex flower in the living world.” 

“Look,” the small red imp had no right to be as sassy as he was being. “It’s one flower. I was on a time crunch. The fuck you want from me?”

“I want you to not be making my life harder with whatever it is you do.” 

“We’re assassins, Your Majesty.” Lucifer’s eyes only glanced at the other imp. 

“I don’t care,” he said while making a mental note to figure out why the fuck there were hell assassins coming to the human world.

“It wasn’t a fresh one,” the imp said again, waving his hand as if to brush the issue away. “There wasn’t enough pollen on it to kill a human. Whoever picked it up will be fine.” 

“They’ll be out of their mind with lust,” Lucifer corrected, shoulders sagging. “Fine. Fine. Get out of here. Don’t make your business my problem again or I will fuck you.” He paused for a moment before more words rushed out of his mouth. “I’ll fuck you up.” 

“Right, Your Majesty.” The imps all bowed, leaving him with the task of finding the flower while they ran off, tails between their legs. 

“‘Make imps!’ she said,” Lucifer grumbled to himself as he walked, trying to catch a hint of the magic he used to create everything in hell. It would feel different from the lingering traces of what he had expelled in the earth’s creation and all upon it. Then he was working with a pure divine power. After his fall, the threads of his magic felt different. They were tainted. 

“‘They’ll be fun!’ she said. Now where the fuck is she?” Lucifer was well onto a rant as he walked down the sidewalks. 

“Nice suit!” someone yelled from a passing car. 

Perking up, Lucifer smiled and turned, “Thank-” 

“Loser!” the voice added, the truck speeding away as Lucifer’s smile fell.

“Figures.” He kicked a rock as he made his way down the sidewalk, mentally reaching out for a sense of what was his. “That’s why you all end up down there, with me. Who’s fault is it, anyway? Hey, hey, hey! It’s mine.” 

You looked at the flower sitting in the medicine bottle turned tiny vase. It was dumb; you knew that. It was the only flower anyone had given you in over a year and it came from the streets. 

“Just like me,” you whispered. “Fuck, I’m losing it.” 

You flopped back on the bed, trying to put your wasted night out of your mind. It wasn’t fair. Loneliness clawed at you. 

Maybe you should get up, go out and get a few drinks. Someone would pay attention to you for a little while. Maybe someone would kiss you. Fuck, maybe someone would touch you. 

You rubbed your thighs together, skirt bunching as you laid back. You didn’t want some random man to spend some time fucking you. It would probably be unsatisfying. Deep down though, you knew Buzzy the vibrator or Cocky the dildo couldn’t scratch this lonely itch.

Your hand ran up your thigh as you gave in, pushing your skirt higher and higher. 

Lucifer paced on the landing between the apartment doors. He knew he needed to knock, go in and get the flower before it could cause too much trouble. If the imps- what the fuck was their names? He needed to remember so he could put them out of business or bury them in rubber ducks. 

If they were right, maybe the flower would hold no power. Maybe it wouldn’t be able to influence the living. 

“Ah, who the fuck am I kidding?” Lucifer pulled the hat from his head, running his hand through his hair as he looked at the door. “It’s going to have some pollen on it still.” 

He reached up and rapped his knuckles against the dented metal door. Hopefully, no one would be inside. If whoever had found the flower left, he could just let himself inside and take it. He waited before knocking again. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You ripped your hand from under your skirt as someone knocked on your door again. Fucking again. Was it not obvious enough that you didn’t want to be bothered when you didn’t answer the first fucking time?

Stomping over to the door, you threw open the door, “What the fuck do you want?” 

You blinked at the man, hardly taller than you wearing a rather comical white suit that looked to be more at place in a circus than on the city streets.

“Well,” the man chuckled lightly. “You have a purple flower in there. I- a friend of mine actually dropped it.”

“You’re here for a shitty flower?” You looked to the side, eyeing the make shift vase with the weird flower inside. “How do you know I have it?” 

“I do,” Lucifer smiled, “Don’t lie to me, I’m the first lier.” 

Saying the words stung. He hadn’t intended to corrupt the truth. He hadn’t lied to anyone, as far as he intended, yet that was one of the many crimes he had been accused of. 

Fine, they wanted to brand him a lier- he would embrace it. He embraced everything they charged him with. At least, that’s what he told himself. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You looked at the unnaturally pale man, his eyes looking yellow, jaundiced, felt unnatural. The high flush on his face stood in contrast to the near paper white of his skin. 

There was something wrong about the man standing in your doorway and yet you couldn’t stop your eyes from running over his body. You needed to get laid, you realized, as your eyes greedily took in the way his comically striped vest spread over his chest. 

“You have something that doesn’t belong here,” he said, stepping forward. Though he lacked anything resembling impressive height, his presence was powerful and you stepped back. “It’ll be better for you if we get rid of it.” 

“What’s wrong with it?” you asked as he crossed the threshold into your apartment. The door swung closed behind him, though he didn’t move a muscle to touch it. “What are you?”

“It’s a sex flower,” Lucifer answered, walking directly to the little purple flower. “I made them for my wife… ex-wife, I guess.”

“Sex flower?” You rubbed your thighs together under your skirt, sure you had lost your mind. 

“Yep,” He popped the p as he twitched his hand, fire sparking in the flower and spreading, quickly turning the bloom into ash. “My wife,” he sighed, “Ex-wife wanted something to spice things up.”

“What are you?” You asked again.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, turning to you. “The flower has some rather unique effects- works as an aphrodisiac but amped up through the roof. Hellborn tolerances are much higher than humans.”

“I’m sorry- what the fuck is going on?” 

“You’re horny,” Lucifer observed, eyeing the way you rubbed your thighs together. “That- that was rude, I’m sorry. The flower will influence you for the next eight to twelve hours. You should… you should call your boyfriend to ride it out with you.”

“I don’t have one,” you screamed at him, face ablaze.

“Oh!” He looked at you with wide eyes. “Girlfriend works too. You just need a partner- someone, not something.” 

“I don’t-” you realized he still hadn’t said who he was. Fear and arousal ran through you as you reached out, smacking the comical top hat off the man’s head. “You haven’t told me who the fuck you are.” 

“Was that- that was childish.” 

“So is not answering my question or calling someone horny,” you countered. 

“But you are,” He sighed, running his hand through his bright blond hair. “But you’re right. I’m sorry. My name is Lucifer.”

“Lucifer? Like the devil?” 

“The one, the only.” He said as if it was nothing. To him, it was no big deal. It was just who he was. 

“Lucifer, the devil.” You blinked. “Let me get this straight. I found Lucifer’s lost sex flower while walking home from getting stood up for a blind date I hoped would end my massive dry spell. Not really stood up- he got murdered on his way- and now the flower is going to make me horny as fuck and I’m doomed to suffer unless I have someone to fuck it out with?” 

“Well,” Lucifer started, surprised only to have you cut him off. 

“You’re serious?” You laughed, running your hands through your hair as you stepped away, turning your back to him only to round and face him again. “This is a fucked up dream.”

“You… you should call someone.” Lucifer watched as he questioned if your sanity could hold up to the information. 

“I don’t have someone to call,” you snapped. “If I did, I wouldn’t be in a six-month dry spell!” 

“Well, ah- have fun with that.” Lucifer picked up his at and stepped back.

“Where the fuck are you going?”

“Hell?” Lucifer answered, looking at you with an eyebrow raised.

“I’m horny,” you said, unashamed and deciding it was a dream. “And your stupid flower caused it. Shouldn’t you do something about it? You’re the fucking devil. Tempt me or something. You convinced Eve to eat the appl, for fuck’s sake.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” Lucifer set his hat down, stepping up to you. “Sit down and let me show you how I tempted her.” 

You did, everything feeling too real when he ran his forked tongue from between his lips. Lucifer watched as you sat stone still. He leaned forward, running his nearly nonexistent nose along your neck. 

“You do smell lovely,” he whispered, hands reaching out to touch you for the first time. 

You hadn’t been prepared for the way your body reacted to his touch. It was feather light and yet it had you sighing. Though he hardly touched you, it set your nerves alight. His hands reached up, resting on your shoulders and pulling a moan from your lips.

“What are you doing to me?” 

“Nothing,” he sighed, “It’s the flower.” 

The sound of the zipper gliding down your back was impossibly loud. Shudders racked through your body as his hands slipped under your dress, pushing the back open and guiding it to fall from your shoulders. 

“This… this isn’t a dream, is it?” Your voice came out breathy as he pulled you to stand slightly, letting the dress pool around your ankles before sitting you down again as he sank down to his knees. 

Looking up at you, you realized his eyes were red, “No, dear. No dreams.” His eyes left yours, roaming over your curves, white silk and red accents hugging your curves. It was as if you dressed just for him. 

“Are you going to kill me?” you trembled as you watched his eyes settle on your panties, sharp tipped black gloves running up your thighs. No, those were not gloves. It was his hands. “Are you going to take my soul? Take me to hell?” 

“No,” he laughed softly, “I’d like nothing more for you to never join the ranks of hell.” 

Fingers wrapped around the band of your underwear and guided them down your hips. Shamefully, you realized you were wet. Not a little wet, but body ready to slip over a cock without hesitation or resistance wet. 

“Red and white are my favorite colors,” Lucifer said as his eyes ran over you greedily. “You have a lovely apple. Nice and ready for me to take a bite.” 

There was no chance for you to second guess what you were doing or to back down, not that you could anyway. Need and desire ran through you as the flower’s influence took root. You had been sexually frustrated before but now there was no going back. 

“Are you, are you going to fuck me?” Terror and arousal were both thick in your voice. 

Lucifer pushed your thighs apart, forked tongue once again running over his lips as he glanced up at you one last time. “I’ll take care of you like this, give you some relief. You should be okay, then.” 

Long, thin tongue ran from his mouth, slithering up your soaked folds as you gasped loudly. Each pass of his tongue ended with a flick against your clit. He moaned as he leaned forward, focusing more intently on his work. The pointed tongue caught in your opening, slipping inside of you. 

It twisted, turned and caressed your walls as his face nudged your clit, pushing you closer and closer. Each touch felt like fire. Your chest rose and fell, breasts held perfectly in place by your new bra as he looked up at you with those dangerous, beautiful eyes. 

He let his tongue slip from your opening again, shifting on his knees. He wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking and nibbling on it. Your back arched as you moaned. 

Lucifer moaned with you, the taste of you coating his tongue. It had been years since he had tasted anyone. He forgot how good it had felt to give pleasure. It made him feel good to know he caused your thighs trembling under his touch, not from fear but from how good he was at what he did. 

He loved pleasure. He prided himself on his ability to give it.

It had been too long. 

“You taste divine,” Lucifer moaned into your folds as he ran a palm up your thigh. Your body jumped as he pressed a finger into your tight opening. Your walls twitched and tensed around him, so ready to send you over the edge. All you needed was a push. 

“Oh fuck,” you moaned as he added a second finger. Sweat rolled down your back as he worked the long digits in and out of your tense walls. “I’m so close.” 

He hummed in response, hips rocking on instinct against nothing, seeking friction. “Come on, angel,” Lucifer whispered, licking his lips as he took a moment to adjust his jaw. “You’ll sing for me, won’t you?” 

A second finger pushed into you as your body tightened around him. He matched each curl of his fingers with a harsh suck on your clit that had your hips bucking. A surprisingly strong hand pushed your hip down, pressure on your inner thigh. As his fingers pulled out from you, he ran his tongue over your clit just to suck hard on it again, fingers pushing and curling inside. 

“Fuck,” you cried out as he worked his fingers into and out of you, wet squelching highlighting the pace his fingers fucked into you with. It had been so long since anyone had touched you. 

“Fuck,” you said again, body wound tight. It had been so long since you had anyone had been inside you. “Oh, fuck. Please,” you begged. “Please, please.”

 Shudders ripped through your body as your orgasm crashed into you. Fingers reached down, tangled in the devil’s hair. You gripped him as you rode out your orgasm. He moaned as your grip pulled strands taught. 

“Better?” Lucifer asked as he pulled his slick face from your twitch cunt. 

“Worse,” you answered, realizing you were pulling the devil’s hair. “Sorry,” you let your grip go slack.

“Don’t need to be,” Lucifer said as he leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on your sensitive clit. “I’ll head out now,” 

“No,” you whined, leaning forward until you slipped off the couch. Arms wrapped around him as your knees landed between his. 

“Oh,” Lucifer held his hands out as you pressed your nearly naked body to his. The warmth of you soaked into his clothes. The soft mounds of your breasts, still held ever so nicely in position by the white and red bra pressed into his chest and hell, he forgot how good it felt to be held. 

“Please,” you whispered into the ear of the devil, tempting the tempter. “I feel like… like I haven’t been touched in a lifetime. I need you,” 

“S-sit back on the couch,” Lucifer’s hands hovered over your sides, a groan fighting its way out of his throat as you rubbed your thigh against the hardness he had been ignoring in his pants. “I’ll keep going. I’ll give you another.”

“No,” you looked at him with tears in your eyes. “It’s not enough.” 

“What?” He swallowed hard. “What do you need?”

He knew, of course. He had attended plenty of parties featuring the flowers, hosted by his own wife. Ex-wife. He knew how they worked, what it took to scratch the itch the flowers birthed. Orgasms would help, but it wouldn’t be enough, really, to buy you more than a few moments of peace. 

“Please, I need you,” you said, hands running up his chest and over his shoulders, slowly pushing his jacket from his sounders. “It’s been so long.”

“Has it?” Lucifer asked as he indulged in the feeling of your hands running over his arms. 

“Over six months,” you cooed, hands moving to run over his chest. “Please, I can’t stand it. I want more. I need more.” 

“Are you sure?” Lucifer asked, knowing full and well that you could not be sure, even if you thought you were. The power of the pollen clouded your mind, influenced what you wanted. He knew that, but he also knew how much he missed being wanted, the feeling of hands running over his body. “I’m the devil.”

“Who better?” you purred, hand moving down his abdomen. He groaned as your hand wrapped around his cock, caressing him through his pants. “Who better than the devil to break my dry spell?” 

“You want me?” Lucifer asked, face ever so close to yours. You could feel his breath, smell yourself on him. 

“I want you, Lucifer.” 

Lucifer was never a strong man. His heart and mind were weak, fickle things. That’s why he fell, ultimatum. He was too weak to resist the temptation of humanity. In turn, he tempted them. 

He wrapped his arms around you and stood, taking you with him. Once you were on your feet in front of him, he reached down and hooked his hands behind your knees. You jumped, trusting him to hold you. Legs wrapped tightly around his waist, pressing your naked, soaked core against his abdomen. 

He carried you through the small apartment, not needing directions to identify the one closed door that led to your bedroom. While he walked, you ground yourself against his body, seeking any stimulation against your sensitive core you could get. Trembling fingers worked at the buttons of his vest and shirt. 

He groaned as your fingers slipped under his shirt. Warm touches smoothed over firm muscles as he set you down on the bed. Hands left you as he pulled his vest and shirt up and off, throwing it to the side. 

He had hidden strong, lean muscles under the clothes. He was the devil. You should have expected that he would be well built. The suit, though it clung to his frame, obscured it. 

“Please,” you were whimpering now, watching as he worked his belt free.

A cock too long or thick for the size of the man it belonged to sprang free, slapping his stomach. Shamelessly, needily, your eyes ran over the vast amounts of exposed flesh. It was like you were looking at a marble statue.

“You okay?” he asked, sitting next to you on the bed. 

“Why don’t you look very devilish?” 

He could almost believe you were functioning without the influence of the flower, if not for the way you ran your hand over him. Need burned in your eyes as you explored his chest and shoulders. 

“Have to tone it down,” Lucifer sighed into the touch, gathering you into his lap only for you to straddle him eagerly. Wet heat soaked his cock as you ground yourself against him. 

“How?” 

“Magic,” he could feel his face flush golden.

“Wanna see it,” you whined, “Wanna see you before you go.” 

“We’ll see,” Lucifer said as you rose up, sliding his thick cock into your opening with ease. “Oh, hell,” he moaned, head falling back.

Leaning forward, you kissed his neck. Was it too much? Too forward? Too soft to do with the devil? You didn’t care. Your body needed what it needed. Using his shoulders as leverage, you worked yourself up and down his shaft, moaning at the stretch. 

“I’m not that great,” you laughed, only to have the sound die in a squeak. He threw you down, rolling his body with yours into a missionary position. 

Another deep moan left him as he thrust into you, pulling your hips to him. “You’re perfect,” he said. “You all are,” he thrust into you slowly again and again, cock dragging against sensitive walls, “so perfectly imperfect. That’s why I fell.” 

“Lucifer,” you moaned his name as he worked your body softly.

Fanged kisses dotted your neck as you clung to him. Your need for him only grew as he pushed you closer to your finish with each soft, steady thrust into you. His small nose nuzzled the soft skin under your ear as he kissed along your jaw. 

“Please,” you moaned, turning to him, lips begging for the kiss you were so scared to ask for. 

He indulged you, lips slanting over yours in a kiss that, while starting sweet, quickly turned passionate. His thin, forked tongue worked into your mouth, allowing him to swallow your soft moans as he pushed inside your warm walls again and again. 

“You feel so good,” Lucifer whispered as he ran his hands over you, cupping the soft swell of your breast through the silky bra. “So good, wrapped around me.” 

“Lucifer,” you moaned, body craving his touch, needing his kiss. “Please, Lucifer.” 

“You’re close,” his honey voice dropped nearly directly into your ear, “I can feel you tight you are. Every twitch of your muscles. Every wave of pleasure through your core.”

“Fuck, Luc-lucifer!” You cried out as he pushed you over the edge, diving into the rhythmic waves of your orgasm. Each contraction of your walls rippled around his cock, continuing to push into you as he prolonged your orgasm.

Only when your core stilled did Lucifer’s thrusts slow. Panting breaths ripped through your lungs as he kissed the collum of your neck. Just as he was starting to think you had been satisfied, you began to whine and rut against the cock still buried in you. 

“Better?” Lucifer asked, somewhat surprised to find your body seeking more from him. 

“More,” you looked at him with tears in your eyes. “Harder? More? It’s not enough.”

“Harder?” Lucifer asked, pulling back from you.

“Please,” you chased him, wanting his touch. It felt like you needed his touch to survive. Nothing he was giving you was enough. “I’m burning up. I need more. I need, fuck I need you.” 

“But you want it harder?” Lucifer kissed you softly as you chased his body.

“I want the devil to fuck me,” you spoke into the kiss. “Show me what you can do.” 

Lucifer chuckled, “Alright then- on your hands and knees, little dove.” 

You trembled in want and fear as you rolled over onto your stomach. Lucifer stood at the foot of the bed, watching as you moved. Slick ran down your thighs, evidence of your orgasm and the impacts of the flower’s pollen in your system. He didn’t want to hurt you, but it felt so good to be inside you. 

The bed jerked as Lucifer pulled it easily away from the wall. The feet scraped against the carpet as you squealed, looking back over your shoulder at him. He moved the heavy bad frame as if it was nothing. For him, it was nothing. The man you were desperate for the cock of was far from human. 

“What are you doing?” you whined, hips rocking side to side as you leaned forward, presenting your puffy folds to him. The slick poured from your opening. You could feel it running over your sensitive folds as gravity pulled it down your body. “Please, Lucifer. I want you. I need you back inside me.” 

“I thought your neighbors wouldn’t like the sound of the headboard banging the wall,” he said. 

“It burns,” you whimpered, hand reaching down to run along your soaked folds. 

The sight of your fingers entranced Lucifer. They glided over your clit, sinking deep into your fluttering opening. A breathy moan fell from your lips as you looked at him over your shoulder. “I want you. Fuck, I need you. Please, Lucifer. It hurts. I ache so bad. I need you back inside me.” 

“Fuck,” Lucifer groaned as he climbed into the bed, black hands running up your thighs. “I’m so sorry, Dove. You’re like this because of me. It’s my fault. I should have had better control over the imps. That flower should never have come here.” 

“Please,” you whimpered, “I need you.” A sob racked through your body, born of need, desire, and shame. “Fuck, I’m begging the devil for his cock. I’m going to hell for this, aren’t I?” 

“I don’t know.” Your skin was so soft under his hands. Warm palms ran up your back, smoothing skin and unclasping your bra with practiced hands. “I don’t make the rules. I fell before they were in place. Are you sure you want this? I can stay like this instead.”

“Please,” tears ran down your face, fire swallowing you alive. Slick squelching sounds never stopped as your fingers worked in and out of you. “Please, I want the devil.” 

“Don’t worry,” Lucifer purred, lineing his cock up with your opening. Your wet fingers reached out from between your legs, leaving the warm wet heat of your core to wrap around his shaft. It was a battle to reach, arm stretching to pump his shaft, still coated in your slick. “I’ll fuck you.” 

His voice was deeper, power radiating off each word. You watched as the flush on his cheeks deepened, skin growing whiter. The yellow of his eyes deepened and the rusty brown of his eyes changed, becoming a bright vermillion. 

Fear ran through you, eyes locked on him. The blunt head of his cock pushed into your waiting walls, parting them as you watched him change with wide eyes. Teeth grew pointed while a black spade tipped whip extended out from behind him. 

“Oh fuck,” you leaned down as he bottomed out, bra crushing under your chests. 

“If it gets to be too much,” Lucifer leaned down, whip-like tail wrapping around your thigh as he spoke directly into your ear, “Just say ducky.” 

“What?” You yelped as the spade tip of his tail smacked your ass. “Fuck, okay. Just fuck me, please.”

“Good girl,” he said, straightening up.

For a moment he was frozen, looking at the delicate human woman speared on his cock. Soft and wanting. Would you want him if not for the flower? Would you let him touch you if you had anyone else?

“Please,” you begged, and his tail tightened around your thigh. “Fuck me,” 

He smiled, a sharp, cutting look before pulling back from you. His cock dragged through your slick walls, slick coating his shaft in shiny ropes. The thrust that followed was hard, forcing your body to bounce as his hips connected with your ass. 

Each harsh thrust pushed you forward, hips kept up by the bruising grip of his hands. You moaned, eyes looking at him over your shoulder as you rested your head on the bed. The devil was fucking you, spreading you over his thick cock again and again, and it felt so good.

There was a thrill in the danger of it. The sin of submitting to the king of temptation. He filled you perfectly, stretching you around his girth as his tip pressed into your cervix again and again, just enough pressure to tell you he was there. 

“Oh,” you gasped as his balls slapped your clit, each thrust punctuating with it as he rammed his cock into you with a bruising pace. The tail wrapped around your leg caressed you, squeezing and releasing in time with each thrust. 

“Fuck,” you cried out, pushed closer and closer to your orgasm until his powerful thrusts shoved you off it. “Fuck, fuck. Oh, Lucifer, Fuck!” 

“That’s it,” Lucifer groaned, walls convulsing around his cock as he continued to fuck into you. He leaned over you, running his hands up your side as he wrapped his tail around your waist. Your breasts were hot in his hands as he indulged in their soft weight, pulling you up off the bed by them. 

Your orgasm wracked through you, shudders running down your spine and up your legs as he pulled you onto your knees, shoulders against his chest. Each thrust into your quivering walls had you moaning. 

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Lucifer whispered in your ear as your orgasm subsided. 

He continued to thrust into you, pace turning soft as you gasped for air. While he ran his hands over your front, twirling his fingers over your nipples and taking in the way your breasts moved with each thrust into you, his tail ran down your waist, spade finding your clit.

“How are you feeling?” Lucifer whispered into your ear, hips continuing to push into you at a lazy pace. Your slick dripped from his heavy balls, running down his thighs. 

“Good,” you whispered, head turning to look into the inhuman eyes of your lover. “So good.” 

Taking a chance, you leaned forward, slotting your lips over his. The kiss was sweet and thankful, catching Lucifer off guard. There was a rustling sound, drawing your eyes open again to witness a sea of feathers falling within your room.

“Sorry,” Lucifer whispered sheepishly as your lips left his. 

“You have wings?” You were in your post orgasm haze, a sea of fuzzy satisfaction that your brain floated on, lost in the Devil’s arms as his tail caressed your clit. Each soft pass of the smooth spade had your hips jerking, oversensitive. Pebbled nipples sent shocks of pleasure through your body. “With feathers?”

Lucifer smiled, plucking one from the bedsheet. When he crossed into the human world, he always shed more feathers. It was annoying, a mess, and yet you looked at them with wonder. Perhaps it was the flower. Perhaps it was the cock still wedged inside you. 

He wanted to believe it was just because he was him. 

“I do.” He ran the soft tip of the feather in his hand down your chest, teasing your nipple with it as you shivered in his arms. “I didn’t lose my wings when I fell. I’m the devil but still an angel.” 

“Oh,” you gasped, arching into his back as the feathers teased. 

“Are you done?” He asked, cock twitching inside you. 

He had no business continuing to touch you. Every caress just encouraged the flower’s influence rather than giving it a chance to fade. It was wrong, but he didn’t want you to be done yet. He wanted to finish inside you, with you, and not spill into his fist yet again. It felt good to be with another. 

“More.” you rutted your ass against him, begging with your body and your words. “I want more,” 

“Do you need more?” Lucifer asked, feather running over the bud of your nipple. 

“I want it,” you whimpered. “I want you.” 

“Want?” Lucifer teased, “Not need?” 

“Please,” you whimpered. In truth, you were not sure where want began and need ended. It didn’t feel like you’d burn up without his touch, but you were not ready to be without it yet either. “Please, don’t leave me yet. I want more, please.” 

“You want me,” Lucifer moaned, pulling from your gripping heat as he turned you in his arms. “You want me?” 

“Please,” you wrapped your arms around him, fingers caressing down his feathers as you pressed your body against him. His cock, soaked in your slick, pressed between your bodies. He rocked his hips, thrusting between you as he kissed you hungerly. 

Lucifer grabbed your thigh, lifting it around his waist. His tail slapped against your ass, the sound loud and sharp as he sank back into your wet heat. Sharp teeth scratched your tongue as it danced with the devil’s. Your breasts pressed into his strong chest. 

“So full,” you sighed as he fluttered his six wings forward, feathers caressing against your skin as he laid you back down. 

Fingers dug into your thigh as he pulled it up, higher and higher until he was hugging it to his chest. There was a beat of silence as he looked down at you. Eyes ran over your face, slack and flushed with the fire of pleasure. Breasts moved as you gasped for air, nipples standing out, begging him to run his tongue over them. 

You watched, the fire of the flower still burning through you as his eyes ran down your body, focusing in on where his cock was lodged into your cunt, spreading you wide.

“Please,” you begged, “Fuck me.” 

“You’re so greedy,” Lucifer teased, hips beginning to once again piston into you. Your back arched as his cock pressed against every sensitive tissue of your core, pushing against your stomach.

“Harder,” you moaned as he worked his cock in and out of you. He pulled your hips to him, each thrust brutal as your leg curled around his waist. The thin whip of his tail wrapped around your calf, holding it against the small of his back. “Please, harder.” 

There was a flash of fire as his eyes changed, black and yellow inverting. A loud moan ripped from your chest, nothing more than a pathetic mockery of a scream as tall red and white horns extended from his head. 

A simple small flame stood out between the points. He was terrifying and yet; you reached out for him. Fingers wrapped around his forearm, wanting to him as your body jerked with each powerful thrust. 

“Are you scared?” Lucifer asked, leaning down over you as he folded your leg, bringing it closer to your chest. “Fearful of the devil?”

“No,” you answered honestly, though you should have been. “More.” 

He fucked into you harshly, each powerful thrust driving the bed closer to the wall. Your hips ached. Your ass stung where his body slammed into yours again and again. He nipped and kissed your nipple, hips pushing you deeper and deeper into the mattress. 

“I’m so close,” you whimpered, fingers carding through his hair without care of the horns that brushed the side of your face. “Please, Lucifer, please.” 

“You’re so tight around me,” he moaned as your walls fluttered, a telltale sign that you were as close as you claimed. “Fuck, angel, you’re going to make me cum.” 

“Harder,” you begged, limbs tightening around him. 

“Just for you,” he whispered, strong hands flexing, fingers digging into flesh as he fucked you hard and fast, moaning curses each time his balls slapped against you. The pointed tip of his tail caressed your slick covered clit. 

“Fuck,” you moaned, nails digging into white marble skin as your body ripped apart at the seams, convulsions undoing everything you were, “Fuck, fuck! Lucifer! Fuck!” 

“I’m going to,” he moaned as fingers dug into his hair, pulling at his scalp with the force of your muscle spasms. He fucked into you, the pace harsh and wild as he drove himself closer and closer to his own finish. “Fuck, angel, let go or-” 

“Lucifer,” you moaned, limbs gripping him, breasts presented to him as your back arched. “Fuck, Lucifer! Fuck, Fuck! Don’t stop! Don’t fucking stop!” 

“I’m going to-” He moaned, head burying in the crook of your neck. 

“Don’t stop,” you moaned, his name a prayer on your lips as his punishing pace kept you on the tail edge of your orgasm, unsure if it was one long one or many hitting back to back. 

“Fuck,” Lucifer tried to rip himself from the tangle of your limbs, only to lift your back from the bed, body unwilling to part from him. “Going to-” he gasped out as wave after wave of convulsions gripped his cock, “I’m cuming, dove.” 

He slammed into you, wild and reckless. His cock exploded into you as the headboard slammed against the wall. Hot ropes painted your walls white as his cock swelled and twitched, depositing everything he had as he fucked his seed deeper and deeper. 

Only when he had nothing left to leave inside you did he still, panting as he looked down at you. Your limbs grew slack and fell from him. Dazed eyes gazed up at the devil. 

“Fuck,” you gasped, trying to shove air into your lungs. “I can’t take anymore.” 

“Good,” Lucifer said, smoothing some hair back from your face. “You’ll be able to rest now. When you wake, you’ll be back to normal. Won’t remember a thing.” 

“I want to though,” you whispered, body relaxing. 

Lucifer only chuckled. No human would want to remember being bed by the devil. “I’ll get you water,” he said instead of arguing. 

When he returned to the room, you were already asleep. Anxiety clawed at him, pushed deep down as he focused on what was in front of him. You lay, thighs spread with his seed leaking from your opening. Bruises dotted your skin and feathers were everywhere. 

The devil scooped you up into his arms, carrying you to the head of the bed. He used his tail to pull down the blanket, giving him room to set you down. Carefully, he covered your naked body. 

You slept peacefully, body spent as the devil moved around your room. Water was placed on your nightstand and feathers cleaned up. Lucifer took a moment, eyeing the medicine bottle that had housed the cursed flower and the feathers in his hand. 

He pointed at the bottle and it changed into a red and white vase, classical lines accented with gold. Inside, he tucked in the nicest of his shed feathers. It wasn’t flowers, but it was a token at least. 

Looking back at you, he knew he should wipe your memory. Humans didn’t need to know of the divine. You didn’t need to remember you had taken the devil himself into your bed. 

He needed to, but… the way your hands felt on him, the taste of your kiss made him want to believe in the way those touches felt.

“Good night, little dove.” 

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers including the first page of the next chapter of MisD a day early!!

[lvmoure]

Jump Then Fall CS55

Pairings: Carlos Sainz x childhoodbff!reader

Summary: In which you loved him the moment you turned 7 years old. In which she fell first but he fell harder.

Warnings: none, pure fluff

Part 2

You were only seven when it hit you for the first time: a fluttery feeling, soft and strange, but warm like a summer breeze. The source of this unexpected feeling was none other than Carlos Sainz, your best friend since you could remember. He was the boy who sat next to you in class, the one who chased you around the playground, and the one who always let you have the last cookie at lunch.

It was a sunny afternoon, the kind where the sunlight spilled across the playground in warm, lazy beams, illuminating everything in a golden hue. You and Carlos were at your favorite spot by the swings, taking turns seeing who could go the highest. Carlos grinned at you, his cheeks flushed from the thrill of the game, his laughter bright and unrestrained. You felt your heart race, pounding in a way that seemed strange and exciting all at once.

"Hey, are you even listening to me?" Carlos called out, waving his hand in front of your face. He was laughing, his eyes squinting with joy as the wind tossed his dark hair in every direction.

You snapped out of your thoughts, cheeks heating up as you stammered, "Of course I am! You were saying… uh, something about soccer?"

Carlos groaned, rolling his eyes dramatically. "I was talking about how we should form a team, and I was going to ask you to be my teammate. But now I'm not so sure, since you're off in dreamland!"

You felt your face warm even more, but you managed to laugh. "Fine, I'll be your teammate, but only if you promise to pass the ball sometimes!"

He laughed, pretending to consider your terms. "Deal," he said, reaching out his pinky. You linked yours with his, feeling a spark—a small, inexplicable jolt that made you freeze for just a second. But Carlos didn't seem to notice; he was already excitedly planning your imaginary soccer team's strategy.

As the two of you chattered away, you realized how much you loved moments like this. Little did you know, these small, simple moments would be the foundation of a love that would grow with you, one that would shape your every feeling for years to come.

Years passed, and the innocent feelings you had as a child grew complicated, layered with insecurities and fear of change. By the time you reached high school, Carlos was no longer just "that boy next to you." He had grown into someone everyone noticed, with his easy charm, his passion for sports, and the same unfiltered laugh that always made you feel like the only person in the room. It wasn't just the small things that made you realize you were in love with him; it was everything about him, the way he treated people, the way he never held back.

You watched him from across the cafeteria, trying not to be obvious. Carlos was surrounded by his friends, laughing and animated, and you could see why everyone liked him so much. But you kept your feelings locked away, never daring to say a word. You were terrified of what would happen if he knew—terrified of losing him, of the awkwardness that might come with a confession.

"Are you staring at Carlos again?" your friend teased, nudging you playfully.

You jolted, quickly looking down at your food, cheeks flaming. "No, I was… I was just lost in thought."

"Yeah, sure," she said with a smirk. "You've got it bad, and you know it."

You groaned, hiding your face. "I can’t tell him. It’d ruin everything."

"He’d probably be flattered," she said gently. "But I get it. Some things are scarier when it comes to best friends."

A part of you wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, he might feel the same way. But you couldn't risk it. So you kept quiet, holding your feelings close and letting them simmer in silence. There were moments when he looked at you, really looked, and you'd find yourself wondering if he could see the way you felt. But every time, he'd just flash you a grin or make a joke, and you’d brush it off, convincing yourself that he couldn’t possibly feel the same.

You told yourself that being close to him as his friend was enough, even if it hurt sometimes to keep the truth hidden.

The day he introduced his girlfriend to you, it felt like the world was crashing down around you. You plastered on a smile, trying to ignore the way your heart seemed to shatter into a million pieces.

"Hey, this is Isabela," Carlos said with a bright smile, his arm slung casually around her shoulders. "Isn't she amazing?"

You forced a laugh, pushing down the wave of jealousy and sadness that threatened to spill out. "Yeah, she seems great," you managed, feeling like every word you spoke was a lie.

Isabela was everything you weren’t—confident, beautiful, and effortlessly charming. She seemed to know Carlos in ways that you didn’t, ways that you wished you could. You watched them together, the way he looked at her, and it tore you apart. But you stayed by his side, putting on a brave face and pretending that you were fine.

"Are you okay?" Carlos asked one day, noticing the sadness in your eyes.

You forced a smile. "Of course, I’m just tired."

He gave you a long, searching look, as if he could see through your mask. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

But you couldn’t tell him this, not now. So you just nodded, hoping he’d never find out how deeply you were hurting.

Years passed, and one day, Carlos showed up at your door, his face pale and eyes rimmed red. Before he could even speak, you wrapped him in a hug, sensing the heartbreak he was carrying. Isabella had broken up with him, and he was devastated.

"I thought we had something real," he said, his voice breaking. "But she said she couldn’t handle it."

You held him close, soothing him with gentle words, even as your heart ached at the sight of his pain. Part of you felt relief—relief that he was no longer with her, that there might be a chance for you. But mostly, you just wanted to be there for him, to be the shoulder he could lean on.

"I’m here for you," you whispered, your hand running comfortingly over his back. "You’re going to get through this, Carlos. I promise."

He looked at you then, and for a moment, something seemed to shift in his gaze. But he was hurting too much to notice it, and you were too afraid to hope.

Months after the breakup, Carlos found himself looking at you in a way he hadn’t before. It was small things—like the way you laughed at his jokes, the way you always knew when he needed comfort, or the way you were just there, unwavering in your support. He began to realize that maybe, all this time, the person he was looking for had been right beside him.

He wanted to tell you. Wanted to confess that he felt something he couldn’t quite explain, something warm and soft that made his heart beat a little faster. But he held back, afraid that maybe he’d missed his chance, that his feelings would only complicate things.

For now, he decided, he’d admire you from afar, letting his feelings settle and hoping that one day, he’d find the courage to tell you.

Because love, he realized, was worth waiting for.

[janovavalen]

living dead girl .°୭̥ ❁ ˎˊ˗ aegon targaryen x fem!reader

summary: the life of y/n was changed forever all because they thought it was funny

warnings: blood, knives, stabbing, gore, demonic tendencies, killings, horror story, jennifer’s body and tamara themed.

this is a part story of the continuation of what i want to write, it was meant to be written when it was halloween but i literally had work on halloween..and school😔.

‘hello?’ she wimped, her voice trembling, body shaking and cold from the room she was in. hearing something fall she turned in a hurry, screaming out as it echoed through the room she saw nothing.

her breath shaking left her body—‘is someone there?’ she asked once more—‘please just come out already…’ hearing a chuckle from behind her she turned and was met with a slightly taller figure, her eyes meeting some chest and chin before looking up to see aegon.

‘oh…aegon its you’ she smiled softly, her eyes glistening while looking at him as he smirked down at her.

‘yes, it’s me…what are you doing here all alone?’ he muttered. she looked around at the dark room once more before back at him.

‘i don’t know where i am..im just happy your here’ she admitted softly, her smile making his drop ever so slightly.

‘your happy to see me?’ he whispered. she gulped a bit, nervous beyond belief.

‘y—yes…i am’ she said once more as he seemed to frown even more.

‘i’m not…i’m not happy your the only one here..now i’m stuck with you.’ he said with a hardened voice. y/n felt her heart shattered to pieces.

‘huh? wh..what are you—‘

‘do you think i want to be stuck with you? i don’t even like you, and yet you like me..you pay attention to me and i don’t even see you’ her eyes started to well up as the tears in her eyes dropped down her cheeks.

‘s..stop please’ she started to step back as he walked to her.

‘you don’t even exist to me..you never did and you never will’ she started to grow saddened by the moment, ever harsh word he told her she felt her heart sink even more. she stumbled back onto something she never even saw and fell hard on the cold wet ground under her.

‘your pathetic, low life, stuck up, little bitch!’ he yelled while she sat on the ground and cried harder and harder.

she didn’t even know what was happening and didn’t know what to do, the fact the two were alone together and the fact she loved him very so, although for what he said with his cold gaze down on her she still knew she’d forgive him.

‘please..stop..’ she whimpered her heart beating faster and faster, just then, he started to kick her leg, over and over, yelling out in pain as he laughed, the sound of it starting to pain her head, she cried and cried, blood started to pour down from his mouth and eyes as he laughed harder at the cries.

‘stop! stop! please! just stop!’ she yelled even louder until she heard something.

jumping up she breathed heavily looking around to see she was in her softened bed with her curtains open, revealing the light from outside, sighing she whipped her hand with the back of head, the sweat from her nightmare making her whole body full with a cold sweat.

looking around once more, she looked at her lock and seen she was just in time to get ready before school.

getting up before grabbing her glasses to place them on her face, she walked to her bathroom and got ready, taking a shower to wash the sweat off of her body and out of her hair, she did her return routine, placing jeans and a tee shirt on along with tennis shoes and grabbing her finally items before walking downstairs.

‘oh, good morning darling’ her mother said, her father eating breakfast on the other side of him while he smiled at his daughter.

‘morning mom’ she said, walking to the kitchen to grab some water and a apple.

‘oh honey, you don’t want to stay and eat? i made your favorite’ her mother saddened a bit while y/n shook her head.

‘no no i’m okay, i have a big test today anyways and i don’t think miss.winston wants me to be late for it, but i’ll definitely eat that for a snack when i come back’ she smiled as she gave her mom a hug and kiss, walking to her father to do the same.

‘alright sweetie, have a good day, okay? be safe!’ her dad yelled as her mom did the same. walking out and shutting the door behind her, she locked it and went to walk her way to school. with her headphones over her ears and her hands gripping her book bag over her shoulder tight, she kept a steady pace down the sidewalk.

it was fall around this season, so the breeze outside was chilly but soothing, she loved this time of year and loved how the trees looked as their leaves fell to the ground and painted the view orange, brown and yellow.

her song in her ears is simple and beautiful to calm what she’d dreamt about just moments ago. sighing to herself she continued to walk until she got to school.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🧟‍♀️　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

getting into the school as y/n stuffed her bag into the small locker, she held her books tightly against her chest trying not to drop all of her books for every class.

just as she placed it onto its hook, she felt a pain in her back before being pushed into her locker. her books falling to the ground as she groaned a bit.

hearing the same laughs she heard every time this happened she didn’t bother to turn around and face the girls that’d been tormenting her since freshman year of highschool.

‘look at here bending down to pick up all her shit like always, poor girl hasn’t even been touched’ the girl—casey muttered he last part to her friends as they laughed and snickered at y/n who hid behind her hair, it falling to protect her face perfectly away from them.

getting up and not paying them any attention, they pushed her back once more as she ignored them, knowing if she paid any attention they’d do much worse.

getting to her class with her books bending and moving out of her arms, she sat down in her usual seating and ignored the rest of the lads getting in.

the teacher spoke as she listened closely. opening her notebook to do what was told on the board for studying, she pushed her glasses up with her finger and moved some hair behind her ear, just then the door to the classroom shut, gaining her attention.

as if the room gained a new light, y/n adjusted in her seat. there he was, aegon targaryen. his hair a crispy blond with his roots growing its natural color once more, his brows thick and frowned like all the time. his clothes today fit him perfectly, amazing.

she felt herself smile a bit but was quick to hide it, having her head go back to her paper but occasionally looking up and over at him with her eyes. she knew enough about him to grow a life long crush on him.

she knew his sister and brother, helaena and aemond, aemond being slightly younger but ten times taller, his sister being the sweetheart of the whole school. she had a small amount of fan followers who had a crush on her for her light spirit and eyes.

y/n and her had been pretty close for a while now but not enough to walk around in the hallways and talk about boy problems together. they’d have occasional sleepovers or even hung out whenever she was free.

‘psst…hey’ she heard, looking over slowly to see aegon smiling at her, she smiled sweetly back.

‘yeah?’ she mumbled, trying not to get the teachers attention.

‘sorry to bug, i was hoping you had a pen i could use? or even a pencil? i don’t bring a lot of stuff to school’ he smiled awkwardly as she laughed a bit quietly.

nodding as she reached for her bag and grabbed out a pen and pencil, she reached over and handed it to him, he smiled sweetly and whispered—‘thank you so much, really saved me today’

turning sound once more, she felt her heart warming and beating so fast, her hands had grown sweaty and shaky at the same time, her face grew warm as she looked to the paper on her desk, placing her fingers to graze across her lips she smiled sweetly.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🧟‍♀️　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

at the end of class y/n turned in her test on the desk as she held her books in a struggle once more. giving the teacher a small smile who gave one back. walking out and into the hallway she walked to the library, opposite of the lunch room.

she always had her own lunch anyway, and had nobody to even sit or talk to, so she found it pointless to go into the lunch room. the loud chattering and conversations around her, an occasional fight happening between two couples, one cheater and another who already knew but was fed up.

getting to the library, she heard the librarian speak—‘aw, hello y/n, lunch in here again?’ she asked sweetly.

‘yes ma’am..i hope it’s okay?’ y/n mumbled.

‘oh, don’t be ridiculous, you can stay for as long as you’d like, i’m happy you find this place soothing as much as i do. i used to be like you at your age. always here and always quiet’ she smile as y/n did back.

walking to her usual table she laid out all her books and walked around for a book to read for lunch, she also had a free period next so she had no urgent need to leave for class.

finding one that looked good and reading some of the back, she decided it would do, walking to her table and beginning to eat her lunch and read.

this was what she didn’t mind about school, she didn’t mind being alone. she had her mom and dad to give her company. although; she did wonder what it would be like to have a best friend like in the movies…or a boyfriend.

a boyfriend like aegon. she’d heard around school he was with someone but they were exclusive nor a ‘real thing’ they had occasional sex or hung out. y/n wished sometimes it was her. but knowing she’s a person of her stature, he’d never go for her.

he was loud, party hard, exotic and sexy. she was everything opposite. quiet, introverted, closed off and not to the appeal of everyone. trying to forget it all, she moved some of her hair out of her face, eating her lunch and reading.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🧟‍♀️　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

walking out after the second bell of the class some had but she didn’t, walking through the hallways quietly she was shoved in the locker, her shoulder shooting with pain while her books stayed still in her hand.

groaning out in pain she heard laughes and snickers but the same people once more .

‘can’t catch a break huh?’ they laughed as she shook a bit, trying not to move as if she could become invisible.

‘huh? what was that? speak up bitch!’ one of them yelled before shoving her head into the locker so hard she felt like it was bleeding—‘ah!’ she yelled as they laughed, looking at one another.

veronica stepped closer and up to y/n as she trembled, how much longer, how much longer, how much longer. she repeated over and over in her head. why her, why her, why her?

‘speak the fuck up, we asked you a question, now answer!’

‘i didn’t say anything…’ she whispered.

‘huh? what’s that?’ she grinned at her friends who laughed hard.

‘i didn’t say anything!’ y/n yelled this time, catching their attention—‘ouu, little bitch speaks now?’ veronica said to her friends who shrugged.

‘please just let me go…’ y/n begged, veronica snickered and cringed at the fact y/n wasn’t giving in completely to her, shoving y/n once more before she scurried away.

‘hm..i heard she likes someone, someone special to you’ her friend mumbled. veronica turned and and looked at her friend—‘who?’ she mumbled.

‘aegon..word has it she blushes and everything’ grinning at veronica who seemed to get mad, she scoffed—‘i have a fun idea’

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🧟‍♀️　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

at home y/n ignored her mom who called to her helplessly, running up the steps and throwing her bags onto the ground before getting to her shower, she stripped from her clothes and got into it. the water was cold but soothing to her.

getting in she let the water fall over her body and back, her shoulder that had seemed to form a bruise from before was hot but gained regular body temperature and the sore of it lightening.

shuddering slightly she let her hair wet and falling straight.

‘y/n? honey you alright?’ her mom worryingly asked through the white painted door. y/n turned but didn’t attempt to get out to open the door.

‘yeah mom..i’m just ready for bed..i’ll eat what you made tomorrow’ she spoke back, her mom nodded to herself before letting her hand that was set on the door as if she could feel y/n, she walked away from her door and shut the room door as well.

y/n stepped out the shower and let her wet body dry with the towel she had, and dried out her hair, looking at herself in the window she cringed before hearing her oh one ring in her room.

walking over to it and picking it up, she mumbled—‘hello?’

‘h—hey, is this y/n?’

jacaerys? she felt her eyes widen.

‘yeah, yes it is. why are you calling me so late?’ she asked while holding her towel tight against her body.

‘i was just wondering if you wanted to come to this party at veronica’s?’ he asked, veronica looking at him with a snicker and he friends laughing as well.

‘a party?’ she mumbled, why would he ask her this? since when did veronica even want her there.

‘yeah..she doesn’t know but aegon wanted you to come, said he wanted to tell you something.’ veronica covered her mouth with her hand to cover her laugh as y/n stammered over her voice.

he wanted to talk to her? he wanted to talk to wanted..he wanted her? she smiled deeply while her face blushed, biting her bottom lip as she smiled—‘u—uh yeah, when was it?’

‘right now, i hope you can come? did you need a ride or—‘

‘no! i’m fine i’ll walk, uhm, is there anywhere he wanted me to be?’ she asked, jacaerys felt all wrong about this, something was up but he couldn’t stop, veronica knew about everyone and she damn well knew about him.

‘the bedroom upstairs with the lights around it..see you soon’ he told her before y/n hung up.

she smiled and squealed to herself before running to her closet. getting whatever good thing she could find, she dressed and soon went to the bathroom.

she had makeup but very little, mascara, lipgloss and eyeshadow was all she had from her mom. putting the lipgloss on and smiling at herself she walked out her room and down the stairs quietly.

her mom and dad were most likely sleeping already so she didn’t want them to know she was leaving.

walking out into the dark and walking down the steps that lead to the sidewalk she grew so nervous all over but tried to see it through became, aegon wanted to talk to her.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🧟‍♀️　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

[90s-suplex]

Okay..this might be a bit of a crazy one but I can’t help it with how huge his biceps are (especially in the early 2000’s) could you please possibly do a one-off about the reader asking Stone Cold to put her in a playful chokehold? Like she’s seen wrestlers do it so she wants to see what it feels like?

But then she quickly realizes how much she actually likes it type deal? And Stone Cold can absolutely tell she’s enjoying it?? 🫣 all safe and sane of course! I just- his biceps man. I can’t help but imagine that scenario when I see those things 😶 especially because I just know he’d be smug about it 🫠

Anon, trust me there’s nothing crazy about this - in fact it‘s 100% perfectly reasonable to want to be put in a chokehold by him!!! 😵‍💫😩

Tw: afab!reader, choking, size difference

nsfw, mdni

“What?“ Stone Cold asked you. "You want me to put you into what?"

You giggled before restating your request.

"A chokehold," you grinned as if you had just asked him a completely normal question. 

"Oh, you know… I‘ve always wondered..,“ you paused. „I’ve seen it so many times, I just wanna know what it‘s like. That‘s it.“

„You sure?“

You nodded a bit too fast, and Austin snickered at your enthusiasm. He wondered how long you had been thinking about asking him this. Eventually, he sighed as he got up and motioned to you to rise to your feet as well.

You stood before him, lifting your head so you were able to look into his eyes. He put his hands on your shoulders.

"Well, first," he spun you on your heels, "I need you to turn around.“

Next, he placed his right arm loosely over your shoulder, while he pulled you closer into him with his other arm until your back was pressed tightly against his torso. 

"As you know, a sleeper hold is pretty effective when you‘re trying to make your opponent tap out."

He angled his right arm, encircling your neck. Your chin was lodged in the crook of his arm as he towered over your body from behind. You felt tiny in his embrace. 

"And there are actually two ways to go about this," Austin explained and put his other hand on the top of your head to hold you in place.

So far, this wasn't too bad, you thought to yourself. You still had some room to move.

"Instead of straight up cutting off someone‘s airflow, you can try to cut off their bloodflow," he said while putting his other hand on the top of your head to hold you in place.

"Kinda like this." He flexed his arm, squeezing the sides of your neck in the process.

Oh. 

You gasped at the snug hold of his arm around your neck. Austin was right; he wasn’t directly blocking your air passage this way, but the applied pressure somehow ignited something in you. A weird, sudden mixture of adrenaline and arousal flushed through you. Before you could‘ve fully realized what was happening to you, Stone Cold decreased the pressure, but still kept you trapped with his arm.

You gulped.

Applying pressure again, he continued. "If applied for too long..." 

His display of strength while being pressed against his strong frame made you feel dizzy and light-headed. He remained like this for a couple of seconds before decreasing the pressure once again. 

".. it can get pretty dangerous,“ he warned. 

Even though you registered what he was saying, you didn‘t want him to stop, curious about the reaction he evoked in you.

He squeezed the sides of your neck again, this time a little harder than before, causing you to let out the faintest of moans. With widened eyes, you couldn‘t help but feel a bit ashamed.

You expected him to comment on this, but he didn’t.

Instead, he readjusted his hold on you by lowering his arms and clasping his hands together right next to your face. This way, your chin was no longer lodged in the crook of his arm, but his forearm was resting against your throat.

Your breath got caught in your throat and your mouth fell open.

"Usually it’s pretty hard to reverse this grapple.."

You began to struggle and dug your hands into his arm. 

Stone Cold decreased the pressure on your throat just enough for you to let you catch your breath.

Breathe in. 

Your chest burned as it filled with cold air.

Breathe out. 

The adrenaline made you feel as if your heart was about to jump out of your chest.

"..so, normally, people wouldn‘t wanna be caught on the receiving end of this hold.“

He released you from his grip and you whined.

"But for some reason,“ he husked, still standing closely behind you, "I don‘t feel like this applies to you, hm?“ 

You honestly didn‘t know what to answer. You wanted nothing more than for him to put his hands on you again, but the your foggy mind only allowed you to stutter out nonsense.

Still, Austin seemed to understand. Moments later, he reached for your right hand, putting it behind your back, while his other hand found its way back to your throat. 

He didn‘t apply any pressure this time around, just holding your neck - rough, calloused fingers on delicate skin.

"I hope this lil‘ demonstration answered your question," his voice was low and you could feel his warm breath on your face. You shuddered.

Suddenly, he dropped his hand, releasing your neck and your heart skipped a beat. His other hand still had your hand behind your back in a firm grip.

Slowly and almost tentatively, you reached for his hand, placing it on your throat again. Your hand slid down his arm, feeling his veins.

Voice hoarse, you asked, “C-Can you do it again?“

He chuckled into the shell of your ear.

“Careful what you wish for.“

[yuhi-san]

The "falls first" also implies that the one that fell harder also fell later

Which is to say it probably means the realisation that they are in love took them longer but also hit them like a semi truck

I think people misunderstand "x fell first, y fell harder " trope because it's not about like the one who fell harder loves the other person harder. It's just that the one who fell first falls in a graceful way, one step at the time, maybe gradually over a span of time. The one who fell harder smashes trough the air, there's blood everywhere, everything is fine-

[irndad]

i wish i knew you wanted me - s.r.

a/n: okay this ended up being so so long forgive me!!! i hope you like<3 summary: based loosely on 'bad habit'. spencer got asked out by reader 5 years ago, when he was recovering from his dilaudid addiction, and turned her down. now, he's in love with her, and pining for her. also, jealous!spencer. she fell first, he fell harder. wc: ~2k

She’s very pretty. It’s distracting. Right now, she’s staring intently at his hands, and he feels hot under her gaze. It’s been a while since he’s done this, the little rocket trick, but she’s visiting the office, and Garcia had mentioned he’s a magician. 

“That’s incredible!” She exclaims, a giggle in her laugh, and he feels the swoop of his stomach, the butterflies of it all, “You got them so high up!”

“It’s just physics,” he laughs, meeting her warm gaze. Her smile is one for the ages. 

She’s here dropping off a file. They’ve known eachother a really long time, actually. She was an expert witness for them, once, years ago. She spoke with ease, both on the stand and in person. Equal measure kind and measured, and Spencer had adored her on first glance. They’d met when he was just getting clean from Dilaudid, and Spencer’s been in love with her since not long after than first meeting. That’s pretty much the only thing about her he wishes he could take back. 

He still has a hard time thinking about it, the fact that he met her when he was barely himself. Still, she’d been kind, listened to him talk and let the others tell her that he was…going through something. It was on his two month sobriety date (which she’d had no way of knowing) that she’d asked him out. 

Sometimes, when he can’t sleep, he replays the memory in his head. How she works just south of their office, and how they’d meet at the café nearest, and chat for an hour before calling a cab home. 

On the other side of the veil, he can picture that night, years ago now. How she’d looked with the snow kissing her nose, dotting the edges of her faux-fur hood. She’d stuck out her tongue to catch a snowflake, and he’d almost combusted and the adorability of it. 

“You look nice,” she’d said, although at the time he’s pretty sure he looked gaunt. He’d only recently started to gain the weight back- but still, her praise felt like stardust. 

“You look nicer,” he’d said back, gently bumping her shoulder as a fond gesture. Her little grin is well-worth how awkward they both look on the street.

“Listen,” she had said, stuffing her hands into her pockets, the size of the coat causing her hands to disapear from sight entirely, “I asked JJ and Morgan, and they said you’re not seeing anyone.”

“Oh, yeah. They love reminding me of that. Not everyone can be like Morgan and have dated half the western hemsiphere.”

He felt embarrassed, her watching him. It’s nice, but sometimes feels like staring into the sun. 

Her chuckle was nervous, not fully reaching her eyes. 

“You okay? 

“Yeah,” she swallowed again, before speaking, “I was wondering, um, if you might want to grab a drink with me?”

“Sure,” he’d replied back, amenably. He couldn’t tell why she looked so nervous, “I can’t really do hard liquor, though. Maybe we can invite the team.”

“No, Spence, I was wondering if you and I could go on a um, a date.”

And he’s frozen. Because this might be the second time he’d ever been asked out, and second, this might be his dream girl. She’s gorgeous and kind and she’s in front of him, asking him out. 

“I um,” his mouth was dry. He’d be a bad boyfriend. He was a recovering drug addict who already was bad at talking to people, and she lit up a room whenever she walked in. She finds him easy to be with, easy to care for and he’s bound to fuck it up. He couldn’t imagine giving that up because he was too greedy to take what he got. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

He almost took it back with incredible speed, with that flash of disapointment on her lovely face, and the knowledge that it’s because she wanted him, before she quickly regained her speech.

“That’s totally alright! We’ll just be good friends, yeah?”

In the here and now, they are friends. Best of, really. And he made the right choice. He’d lashed out at Emily a month later in a withdrawl, and he knows that he’d have done the same to her, and now, she’s still in his life. 

The drawbacks of course, to being her friend, means she has dates. Boyfriends, as well, and he’s been a…friend, through it all. Good friend. She’s never suspeced him of anything more, of course, after he’d categorically rejected it. 

(Even though this rejection plays in his head all the fucking time, like a torturous groundhog day.)

She’s beautiful today, a blue blouse with a scarf lazily around her neck, and the way she’s leaning over his desk to see the  trick before she drops off her analysis. 

“Alright, Spence,” she says, her rose perfume wafting in the air prior to her hopping off the corner, “Did you need anything else? Today is my half-day, and Harry wanted to take me to Art Insititute.”

Harry, is the boy on rotation at the moment. Spencer has no impulse control and a super-computer expert best friend, so Spencer knows that Harry is 6’0 on his Driver’s License, and is a Financial Analyst. Spencer knows from her own mouth that this will be the third date, and that he’s a little boring but she’s attracted to the fact that he was direct and wanted to go out again. 

Low bar, but one Spencer couldn’t even clear. He doesn’t say any of that, though.

“That sounds fun,” he says, instead of saying that he’d love to walk her through the inscriptions on each art piece, love to kiss her in front of something thats’ beauty does not come close to her’s. “Are you thinking it might run long, or are we still doing the bookstore and TV at mine after?”

He’s been looking forward to this all week. He bought special marshmallows for her cocoa. He also htes to imagine her date running long. 

“Nah,” she smiles, “besides, he’s just some guy. You’re Spencer.”

Morgan doesn’t say anything when he looks down at his. paperwork, and scribbles instead of thinking, the best he can. 

________________________________

Don’t think about the fact she was on a date. Don’t think about how Harry might have got to kiss her. Just don’t bring it up. 

“How was the date?”

She shrugged, pulling at the spine of a hardcover novel. 

“It was fine. Like I said, he was kind of boring.”

“So why’d you go out with him again?”

“I dunno, Spence, I just… I want a boyfriend, you know? I want someone to want to be with me.”

She is so beautiful. She laughs with her whole chest, and she listens to his stories and chimes in with her own expertise. She has a voice that seems like it’s spun gold thread, and he’d give anything to kiss her. 

“I get that,” he says, instead of anything he’s thinking. She’s wearing brown lipstick, transfer proof. He’s in love with her. “There’s got to be guys lining up for a girl like you.”

“That’s a nice thought, Spence. Not the ones I’d like.”

___________________________

This thought haunts his evening, and when he parks and they start the walk-up to his apartment, a confession hammering at his throat, a physical urge. She’s giggling at some long physics joke he’d made, and he’s addicted to the soft bell of her laughter.

His apartment is small and lovely, and he enjoys having her in the small and dark of the night, the sun set over what he wishes were two lovers. 

“You are really pretty, you know,” he says, once she’s settled into his chest, a sick satisfaction of knowing Harry got a quick thank you text before she darted over to Spencer’s arms. 

“Thanks, Spencer. You’re a good friend.”

“Why do you always say that?”

“That you’re a good friend?”

“I’m not saying you’re pretty because I’m a good friend. I’m saying it because it’s true, and I enjoy saying true things.” 

“You don’t…I don’t know why you’re saying that, Spencer. We’re friends and I adore you and I’m here right now, but you don’t need to make it harder on me.”

She looks nervous, and a little disapointed. He wants her to know, that even if he’s missed his shot, she’s not going to be alone. He’s gonna spend the rest of his life hating whoever knew to take the best thing offered to him, but Spencer- he knows he is not going to be the last to love her. He grabs her hand without thinking, her doe eyes peering into his with some emotion he can’t pin down. 

“Hey, I’m not trying…to make anything hard for you. I don’t ever want to do that. I just… some day someone’s gonna see you and want to be with you and I’m going to watch it and know it was inevitable.” 

The words taste like barbed wire. 

Ask me again, he wants to beg, I’m ready now. I’ll do it right. 

Is that even true? Is it just that he wants her bad enough he’s willing to risk not doing it right?

“You’re so sweet,” she sobs, and oh, she’s crying. Just a little, but tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “You make it so hard to be your friend. And I know that’s my problem, that you’ve always been straight up with me. I asked you out and you said no, and I know that-“

“I know that I was too late, and freaked out about being with someone like you when I was still so fucked up.” they’re so close to eachother, he can smell her chapstick. His chest aches. “Sweetheart, that had nothing to do with you. It was all me. It’s a train I missed that I’m gonna spend the rest of my life wishing I’d caught.”

He feels uncomfortably bare, even in the oversized sweater that she’d gotten him last Christmas, and that he’d pretended had been from his lover all of that week. But it’s important that she knows.

“What do you mean, ‘too late’?”

Her voice is small, so quiet he barely hears it. She threads her nimble fingers into his slender ones, and his heart is hammering. 

“I-I was on Dilaudid, or just barely off, you know- you wouldn’t want to be with someone like me. You asked me out when you didn’t even know that.”

“I know you now. Years worth of knowing.”

“And you haven’t asked me since.” 

“Spencer,” her voice is warm, rich like silk and grainy old music, and he wants to drink this image in, her fingers stroking the side of his face like he’s holy. He wonders if he’s dreaming, with how good she feels to be so close to. 

Ask me again, he wants to beg. I’m ready, now. 

“Spencer Walter Reid,” she says, properly holding his hand, bringing her soft lips to his hand, kissing his knuckle. He feels anointed, blessed by a higher power. “Could I take you out on a date?”

“Yes,” he says, finally. Five years of waiting melts away as he kisses her, warmth and light seeping into existence, a dream brought to tangible life, to touch and reality, “Actually, wait,” he says, and finishes before her face can fall, “Would you be my girlfriend?”

It’s maybe playing his cards too much, but her wide, ear to ear splitting grin is everything he needs to see, everything he might need to see for the rest of his life. 

“Took you long enough, boy-genius.”

“All you had to do was ask again!”

If she has a complaint about that, it certainly couldn’t be heard by the many, many kisses that would follow. 

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 5 (part one)

(Rafe Cameron x Reader series, 4.8k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

Sometime in the night, you woke up shivering.

You didn’t typically sleep naked, you usually opted for something oversized and flannel, choosing comfy over cute everytime. You had taken off your clothes just to tease Rafe, and fallen asleep with a triumphant smile on your face, now you were shivering so hard your teeth were rattling.

After pulling on a t-shirt and sweats, you settled back in bed, but sleep escaped you. You tossed and turned thinking about the look on Rafe’s face when you took your clothes off in front of him, the way he was squeezing the pillow in his arms so tightly you thought it might pop. He kept his distance, didn’t push to stay or snap at you, even though you were giving him every reason to. It was a stark contrast to the tone in Tom’s voice when you’d turned down his sleepover proposition.

Maybe Rafe had changed. There was something different about him, something softer. 

What felt like hours passed as Rafe occupied your mind and you still couldn’t fall back to sleep. You remembered you’d seen some sleepytime tea in the kitchen, so you got up and made your way to the door.

You almost tripped on him, stopping short just inches from stepping right on his hand.

Holding back a yelp, you looked down at the obstruction; Rafe, curled up with the pillow you’d given him, asleep in front of your door. The blanket from your closet was still folded at his feet, apparently he hadn’t intended on settling here for the night.

Something warm and bright flooded your chest at the sight of him. He so badly wanted to stay close to you that he hadn’t even made it down to the couch.

Ever since you’d known him, Rafe was like a storm, overwhelming and unpredictable. From the day you first saw him on the school bus, you made yourself a storm chaser, studying the clouds, looking for signs that the wind was about to pick up, hoping that someday the sky might clear. Looking down at him as his body rose and fell with peaceful breaths, his broad shoulders curled inward as he held the pillow with both hands, it occurred to you that maybe in the years you’d stopped chasing him, the storm had finally passed. These past few days, the faintest rays of sunlight were breaking their way through to your heart. Part of you worried you’d miss the thunder.

Unable to help yourself, you crouched low and ever so gently brushed his hair back from his forehead, adoring the little whistles that escaped his parted lips with each breath. He didn’t stir at your touch, sound asleep. Whatever activity he had busied himself with today must have really tired him out. You decided you’d make him a cup of tea as well, and maybe when he woke, you’d invite him to share it with you in your room.

You pulled the blanket up over him and padded excitedly down to the kitchen.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

A draft of cold air blew through the vent right next to Rafe’s head, stirring him awake. He groaned immediately, his hip bone digging painfully into the hard floor. It took him a full minute after sitting up and rubbing his eyes to realize where he was. Then it all came back at once, in flashes of you. Your eyes met his as you let your hair down, took your clothes off, climbed into bed, bid him goodnight and he - shit. He’d actually fallen asleep on the floor.

Rafe scrambled to his feet, embarrassment washing over him, and pain from the uncomfortable way his body had been twisted shooting up his spine. He turned slowly to see that at some point, your door had been opened just a crack. Excitement rushed through him, maybe he was reaching a bit, maybe he was delusional, but could opening the door have been your silent invitation for him to come back in?

Hesitantly, he reached out and pushed the door open a smidge further. His excitement dwindled when he saw that your bed was empty. He checked his phone, it was 3:22 am. Where could you possibly have gone at 3:22 am?

When five minutes passed, then ten, and you still hadn’t returned, he gave in to his greatest concern; that you were sleeping in someone else’s room. And even worse, that in your quest to find someone else to spend your night with, you’d stepped right over him. It was a knee-jerk reaction, but he didn’t want to wait around to find out if his theory was true.

He left the pillow and blanket behind, dragging his feet as he ambled down to the den.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

In the dim light of the kitchen stove, you boiled a kettle of hot water, quick to turn off the burner when it squealed with steam, afraid to wake up the whole house. While you waited for your tea to steep, you meandered out to the patio, picking up the furniture that had been strewn about and inhaling the crisp sea air. The hours after a big storm were always your favorite in the Outer Banks, Florida’s shore proved to be just as peaceful. Cast in darkness, you pulled your arms around yourself and looked at the stars.

After a few minutes, you returned to the kitchen, but the light above the stove had been mysteriously turned off. You smiled to yourself as you ascended the stairs carefully, carrying two mugs of hot tea, excited to tell Rafe your new theory that there was a ghost in the kitchen.

But when you got to your room, he was nowhere to be found. He’d left the crumpled pillow and bunched up blanket behind, assuring you that he really had been there just a few minutes ago, you hadn’t imagined it. Your heart dropped. Maybe he regretted falling asleep outside your room, maybe he was annoyed that you’d pulled the blanket over him like a child.

You suddenly felt stupid for bringing him tea, for thinking he’d wake with a sleepy smile and thank you for the gesture. You brought the tea to the bathroom sink and poured it down the drain, steam clouding the mirror as you looked back at yourself with shame. Of course he’d left. It was you, why would he stay?

Tears sprang from your eyes with no warning, and you were overwhelmed with the need to hug your sister.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

Carter slept soundly in her room, which was nearly identical to yours, aside from the piles of clothes and clutter she’d managed to accumulate in the three days you’d been here. Her room in your childhood home always looked like a bomb had gone off. You smiled affectionately as you climbed over the mountains of stuff. Her room was even colder than yours, so you reached around in the dark until you felt a large hoodie and pulled it over your head. 

She stirred as you got comfy under her covers, opening her eyes just enough to make out the fuzzy shape of you in the darkness.

“Y’okay?” She yawned.

“I’m fine,” you whispered. “Just missed ya.”

“Do you need to talk?” She attempted to sit up and look at you, trying to say something else, but you shushed her and guided her to lay back down.

Without argument, she snuggled into your side. With her calming presence so close, you finally fell back asleep.

You awoke a few hours later with her eyes focused on you.

“Jesus Christ, Car,” you jumped. “That’s so creepy.”

“You just looked so peaceful,” she held up her phone, showing you that she’d snapped a picture of you sleeping with your cheek squished against the pillow and posted it on her Close Friends story.

“Lovely,” you groaned, shuffling to get comfortable again.

“Why’d you come in here?” She asked.

“Sorry I woke you up.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” she assured you. “You can always come find me. You just looked kind of upset when you did.”

With a sigh, you turned to lay on your side, facing her.

Growing up, you’d have sleepovers in each other’s rooms all the time, laying in each other’s beds just like you were now, chatting and laughing until your mom came in and yelled at you to go to sleep. 

Right now, recreating your favorite childhood memory, was the happiest you had been all week.

“Some…things happened last night,” you told her reluctantly.

If she wasn’t awake before, she sure was now.

“Omg, some Tom things?”

“Kind of.”

“Uh-oh, what does that mean?”

“Nothing too bad, just kinda…weird,” you looked away from her, and she could tell something was off.

“Okay?” she said curiously. “You’re making me nervous.”

You took a deep breath and dove into the whole story. She had fallen asleep early in the movie and didn’t see how you cuddled up with Tom, so you started there. Her initial excitement at that part of the story quickly turned into outrage when you told her about the moment on the stairs.

“Wait, he was like, pushy?” She gasped. “Eww, I hate that!”

“I mean I guess he technically didn’t do anything, but it was his tone, ya know?” You explained. “Like he could’ve pretended to be fine sleeping on the couch to make it less awkward. Rafe didn’t seem to mind the idea...”

“Hold on, rewind. Rafe? Where does Rafe come into this?” She stopped you.

“Oh,” you swallowed. You hadn’t thought through how to tell her that part of the story. “He was down there when it all happened. And then his room was flooded so I gave him some bedding and…”

Part of you wanted to tell her everything; the way you’d felt like you were on the brink of starting something with him, and how you shut right back down when you saw that he’d left his spot outside your room so abruptly. The problem was, even though you knew you should, if you told Carter that Rafe had hurt your feelings again, she’d go off on him and it would only add gasoline to the fire of their rivalry. You were still hanging on to a tiny thread of hope, not really in the mood for a Classic Carter Rant pointing out all the reasons you shouldn’t be.

“...and then he slept on the couch.”

She nodded, “Oh. Well, did he say anything about Tom?”

“No,” you were grateful to get back to telling the truth. “He just asked if I was okay.”

“That was nice of him, I guess,” she conceded.

“You and Topper seemed pretty cozy last night,” you brought up, eager to change the subject before she asked more questions about Rafe.

“We’re always like that,” she waved you off.

“Does he always carry you to bed though?”

“Sometimes,” she shrugged.

The way you narrowed your eyes at her, she knew you weren’t buying her indifference.

“Ughhh what?” She groaned, pulling a pillow over her face to hide her blush.

“You and him,” you pulled the pillow from her face, “it’s for real this time.”

Carter huffed a dramatic exhale and stared up at the ceiling.

“I mean, you know how it is with him. It’s not, like, real.” You couldn’t tell if she was trying to convince you, or herself.

“Maybe it should be,” you said softly. “You’re not seventeen anymore, Car. Maybe it’s time for something real.”

She considered your words, scrunching her lips to the side, chewing on her inner cheek. 

It must be getting serious, you thought, she’s never been quiet this long.

Like she could read your mind, she sat up suddenly, shaking the emotion off her face before reaching her arms above her in a theatrical stretch.

“Doesn’t matter,” she explained. “‘Cause I’m not doing anything with him until he gives up this whole Team Rafe thing anyway.”

“This whole what?” You sat up next to her, eyeing her suspiciously.

“Some dumb plan he’s trying. He thinks you and Rafe belong together or some bullshit,” she rolled her eyes.

Your mind raced. It made sense, thinking through Topper’s actions the past few days - the grocery store trip, the beer pong ruse, the looks between him and Rafe everytime you entered the room. The question was, did Rafe know that Topper was trying to get you two together? And more importantly, was he trying, too?

You snapped back to reality when you noticed Carter studying you, picking up on how you were suddenly flushed and nervous.

“Which is ridiculous, right?” She prompted you. 

“Y-yeah,” you mustered up as much certainty as you could manage.

“Right,” she agreed with herself, “so Topper better drop it soon.”

“Why, so I can be with Tom?”

“Ugh no, Team Tom is dead. RIP Team Tom.”

You laughed, “so if you’re not Team Tom, and you’re not Team Rafe, who-”

You didn’t even have to finish the question.

“Team you,” she said. “Always.”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

When you and Carter emerged from her room, you could already hear the chatter of everyone in the kitchen, making you immediately nervous to see Rafe. You tried to think of something clever to say to him, like a shield protecting you in case he approached you first.

“Nice sweatshirt,” Carter laughed.

“Huh?” you asked. Before you thought to look down and see what she meant, the door at the far end of the hall opened, and Tom stumbled out. This was the latest he’d woken up all week, usually beating everyone else to the sunrise and going on a run.

“Sleep well?” Carter asked him in a sing-songy, fake-nice voice.

“Fine,” he grumbled.

“It’s okay, I make a mean cup of coffee,” you said, in an actually-nice voice, trying to soothe the tension.

“Said I slept fine,” he grumbled back, not even meeting your eyes as he turned to descend the stairs.

“Wow,” Carter mouthed to you silently as you both made to follow him down to the kitchen. 

As you took the first step, Carter’s phone rang in the distance, you recognized it by the same ringtone she’d had since middle school.

“Be right back,” she told you, turning to get her phone from her room and leaving you to walk down the steps after Tom.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

Rafe poured himself another cup of coffee, stretching to work out the tension in his back from the uncomfortable couch cushions.

He tried to wipe the sleep from his eyes. All together he must’ve only gotten three or four hours. Most of the night was spent lying awake in the den, wondering if just a few feet above him you were in Tom’s bed. He pictured you laughing with your head on his chest, telling him about how stupid Rafe looked curled up on the floor like a child. He’d tried a few shots of whiskey to push the shame out of his mind and lull him to sleep, but it only proved to be nightmare-fuel.

As he downed the coffee like it was medicine, he turned to see the exact sight he had the nightmares about.

You came down the stairs with Tom, both of you with messy bedhead and groggy eyes, clearly not much sleep had happened. The cherry on top to his torment? You were wearing an oversized, men’s U of F hoodie that he could only assume belonged to your new boyfriend.

It was like his heart was digging its own grave, hopping into the dirt and calling up to him, “you did this to yourself, buddy!”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

You felt Rafe’s eyes on you immediately, but you couldn’t meet them. Maybe you’d just return to your original plan of ignoring him, and hope the last three days would fade to black in time.

Topper got your attention as you sat at the counter with a fresh cup of coffee.

“Nice sweatshirt,” he nodded.

You looked down, finally taking in the clothes you’d pulled on in Carter’s pitch black room. It was a U of F sweatshirt, and if it was on Carter’s floor, it must’ve belonged to Topper.

“Thanks, I knitted it myself,” you joked back.

“Maybe you could knit me one, I seem to have lost mine,” Topper smiled back.

You knew he wouldn’t mind if you held onto it a little longer, probably liking that Carter felt so free to share his clothes and not hide the fact that she had them in the first place.  

Topper, Tom, and Kelce sat at the breakfast nook, falling into a heated conversation about U of F’s chances at the NCAA tournament next year. Rafe sat with them, but his mind couldn’t be farther from basketball.

Yesterday when you came downstairs, he barely looked at you. Today, he didn’t stop looking at you. You felt more naked than you did when you’d stripped your clothes in front of him. You took several long sips of your coffee just to have something to do. Your body was overheating, his gaze wrapping around you like a thick, fur coat.

Then the coffee was gone too soon, and you feared without the distraction, you might break down and look back at him. Hyper aware that he was watching, you hopped off the stool and walked to the coffee maker, the conversation at the nook entertaining enough to draw everyone else’s attention, but not his.

As you poured your second cup, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up, feeling a warm, brooding presence close by.

“You must be tired, huh?” Rafe drawled, stepping to your side and leaning on the counter.

“At least I got to sleep in a bed,” you still didn’t meet his eyes.

“Yeah, a couple of ‘em it seems.”

You frowned at that. His eyes zeroed in on the downward curve of your lips.

“How’d you know?”

He had no way of knowing you were just looking for him to explain why he left. You had no way of knowing that your vagueness just confirmed his biggest fear.

Rafe’s bottom lip jutted out as he nodded, muscles in his neck flexing with the motion. 

“It’s cool,” he shrugged, “just wonder if he knows you took your clothes off for me first.”

Whiplash. It always felt like whiplash with him. 

Mind going a million miles a minute, you tried to catch up to his words, stumbling over all the holes in his logic. When you finally got there, a slow, crooked grin bloomed on your face.

“So you were the ghost in the kitchen.”

That was so far from anything he thought you were going to say, he almost thought you were speaking a different language.

“Huh?” 

He was so gorgeously dumbfounded, it was delicious.

Puzzle pieces fell perfectly into place, the story of last night becoming clear in your mind. Rafe had woken up and looked for you in your bed, when he didn’t find you he assumed you were with Tom. And now, Rafe Cameron was jealous, for you. Maybe it was wrong, but after fifteen years of patient, unrequited love, you thought you deserved five minutes to mess with him.

“Nothing,” you sipped your coffee with a smirk, looking up at him through your lashes, making him wait. A long sip and a satisfied smack of your lips and finally, “so you saw my bed empty and put it all together, huh? You figured I slept with Tom.”

“Didn’t you?” He wondered, almost too quietly, like he was asking himself.

“What if I did? What would you do then?”

It was a long, dense silence. Your eyes stayed steady on his, willing him wordlessly: Say it. Say you’re jealous. Say that you want me.

His eyes however, couldn’t land in one spot, like your face was an equation he needed desperately to solve. You smiled ever so slightly, admiring how hard he was working for the answer. It was a new look on him. But then, when he seemed to find it, his whole posture changed and your delight faded. He pulled away coldly, one brief action completely snuffing out the spark between you, crushing it under his foot for good measure.

“Nothing.”

And there you were again, falling off that cliff, more mad at yourself for letting him convince you to jump than you were at him for pulling back. Leopards don’t change their spots, gazelles should know better.

Carter finally came padding down the steps, eyeing you and Rafe briefly before finding Topper.

“Top, that guy finally called me back!” She announced excitedly.

“Jet skis?” He guessed.

“Three! Ours for the afternoon!”

“Let’s fucking go!” He stood from the table and gave her a high five. “Knew you could talk him into it.”

“Talk who into what?” Sabrina butted in.

“We were trying to find some place to rent jet skis,” Carter filled her in, tripping over her words in excitement. “But since it’s Memorial Day weekend everybody and their mother is here trying to rent jet skis so everywhere we asked was either completely booked or charging a bajillion dollars. But I talked this guy down to like half his original price.”

“You’re so gonna kick business school’s ass, babe,” Topper lauded her.

She was too happy with herself to scold him for the corny nickname.

“We gotta be ready in like, ten, though,” she informed him.

“Oh shit, okay who’s coming?” Topper rallied, pointing at each person as he said “Jet skis? Jet skis? Little Carter, jet skis?”

“I thought we agreed you weren’t gonna call me that,” you reminded him, crossing your arms.

“More like you demanded, but say yes to jet skis and we’ll have a deal,” he teased. 

He put his arm around Carter so casually as she looked to you with hopeful eyes. For a moment, you pictured them married, Topper being the older brother you always wanted, and always kinda had.

“Deal,” you smiled at them affectionately.

“Yay!” Carter clapped. “Okay so that makes three, we need three more people, so it’s two to a ski.”

“I’m down,” Tom raised his hand from the breakfast nook. Carter almost pretended she didn’t hear him, but reluctantly said “Okay, who else?”

“Rafey boy? Jet skis?” Topper urged him, looking at him with the same knowing eyes as when he asked him to be your beer pong partner. 

It occurred to you that Carter hadn’t had any time to tell Topper she’d switched to team anti-Tom, in his mind the game was still on. Which is probably why his face dropped so low when Rafe said, “I’ll pass.”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

Nothing.

He’d meant it as a gift, but based on the look on your face when he said it, it seemed you took it like a curse.

If you really wanted to be with someone else, chose someone else over him, what could he do but sit back and watch? He certainly had no grounds to tell you he wanted you, that opportunity had passed years ago. He’d bow out gracefully, for you.

Plus, the feeling of seeing you come down the stairs with Tom, in his sweatshirt, was debilitating. He had never been good at handling difficult feelings, and that moment was the worst he’d felt in a long time.

But then you’d looked up at him like that, and maybe even flirted with him, and sent his mind spinning about whether you had actually slept with Tom at all. 

Sensing the storm clouds brewing in Rafe’s head, Topper pulled him aside once everyone had left the kitchen.

“Yo dude, why aren’t you coming with us?” Topper asked him. “This whole thing was a way to get you two together. Alone on a jet ski? Man, that's your play!”

“Nah I don’t think she wants me to make a play, man,” Rafe sighed.

“What are you talking about? You two were just practically making out by the coffee pot,” Topper said.

“Yeah, she was telling me all about how she hooked up with Tom last night.”

Topper laughed at that, his face falling slowly when he realized Rafe was actually serious. 

“There’s no way,” he shook his head adamantly. “Tom was in my room all night, he said Kelce snores.”

“She was wearing his fucking sweatshirt,” Rafe motioned mindlessly towards where you and Tom had come down the stairs, not letting himself indulge the twinge of hope he felt at Topper’s words.

“Bro,” Topper looked to the ceiling with an exasperated chuckle. “You’re down so bad.”

“It’s not fucking funny,” Rafe snapped.

“Oh my god, man, it was my sweatshirt.”

Rafe’s eyes narrowed, inspecting the statement for any dishonesty. When Topper’s sincerity didn’t waiver, his anger turned into warm, prickly embarrassment. He felt like an idiot, getting so worked up when he didn’t even have a fraction of the facts straight. The smugly amused look on your face at his blatant jealousy suddenly made so much more sense.

“Doesn’t matter,” he grumbled, covering his shame with indifference, a classic Rafe Cameron move.

“What are you talking about?” Topper pushed. “You should be stoked. You saw them on the couch, she totally could’ve hooked up with him and didn’t.”

Rafe just shrugged, frustrating Topper further.

“Do you not want to get with her or something? Cause that’s fine but-”

“‘Course I do,” Rafe stopped him.

“Well you coulda fooled me,” Topper slapped his hand on Rafe’s shoulder. “Dude, this brooding shit isn’t getting you anywhere with her. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” he heard himself say for the second time today.

“Y’know Rafe,” Topper shook his head, “I don’t think I’ll ever get you man.”

Join the fucking club, Rafe thought.

“Look, I’m gonna go jet skiing with our girls, you come join us when you come to your senses, okay?” 

With that and one final pat on the shoulder, Topper left Rafe alone in the kitchen, feeling like he needed something much stronger than coffee.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

The whole outing was doomed from the start. 

For such a flashy car, the interior of Topper’s Range Rover was far too small. Sabrina’s elbow nudged your arm as she dug frantically through her giant beach bag.

“Noooo I forgot sunscreen,” she whined. “I hate my life.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Tom has some,” you said playfully, trying to meet his eye.

“I don’t, sorry,” he shut you down without so much as a friendly glance.

You caught Carter’s eyes in the rear view mirror, both incredulous. He was gonna act cold towards you? The fucking nerve. Carter clearly shared your thoughts, eyebrows knit with rage as she scanned the back seat in the mirror. Then her eyes went wide and she reached out to grab Topper’s non-driving arm.

“Oh my god!” She exclaimed. “We forgot Kelce.”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

There was this one day, in the Fall of his senior year, that Rafe still thinks about all the time. 

You were driving him home from practice, as you so often did, and the sun was starting to set earlier, the last drops of summer fading away into a cool autumn. You had the windows rolled down, which he knew you’d been waiting to do for months, loving the chill in the air. The sunset was casting a glow through the window, and you squinted in its orange glow as you sang along to a song on a CD you’d burned. You were the only one in the world Rafe knew that still listened to CDs. 

“Why don’t you just put a playlist on shuffle?”

“I like to know what’s coming next.”

As you drove, for reasons he couldn’t explain then and still didn’t quite understand now, he thought about marrying you. 

It was completely hypothetical, and almost not even romantic. It was ridiculous really, you were seventeen and eighteen, and he was busy planning for college and all the sorority girls he was gonna hook up with. But for a moment, the thought of being married to you was the only thing in the world that made sense to him.

His mind was a storm, raging like hell, all the fucking time. But that day, for the length of that one song, it went completely quiet. He saw it clear as day; you, fifteen years older, coming through the door of your shared house and bringing all that glorious quiet home to him.

Now he was pacing the still damp basement floor, wishing like hell he’d said anything other than “nothing.” Wishing he could grab you and make you understand. If you were with Tom he’d have no right to do anything, but he might still burn this whole fucking house down. The feelings he’d pushed down that day in your car finally sprang forward, and suddenly nothing in the world existed except for you.

And Kelce, who came rushing into the basement, interrupting his anxious thoughts.

“Rafe, bro, they fucking left me!” Kelce told him, breathless.

Rafe held back a laugh at the image of Kelce chasing the car down the street like a lost puppy.

“Can you give me a ride to the dock?” Kelce asked.

“No,” Rafe shook his head, making a quick decision. “But you can give me one.”

(chapter 5: part two)

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

a/n: part two of this chapter tomorrow!! I am quite literally running out of the house to go to work, so I may fuck up the taglist sorry I will fix any errors ! gotta go bbys, you can snack on this 'til I get back xoxoxo

[dazzlingjaeyun]

𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 – 𝐬𝐢𝐦 𝐣𝐚𝐞𝐲𝐮𝐧

bf!jake x gf!reader

genre: smut, MDNI!

warnings: mentions of alcohol, nicknames (baby/doll), making out, hickeys, dry humping?, fingering, hint of orgasm denial (?) + lmk if i missed any!!

word count: 1.3k

a/n: came across a request for this on my for you and decided to try, that's my first (and probably last lol) time writing content like this saur let's hope it's not too cringe

↝ dazzlingjaeyun's bookshelf

mature content under cut, minors do NOT interact!

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

it must have been somewhat between one and two in the morning when you heard your hotel room's door click, signaling that your boyfriend had come back.

jaeyun's eyes fell on the bed where you shifted slightly to face him.

"you're still up?", he whispered. from the way he had slight trouble pronouncing his words, you understood that he'd had a drink or two at his work event's after party. he would have taken you with him, but you weren't official yet, so the least he could do was take you on that trip and spend the little free time he got with you.

"mhh", you replied softly – and you swore you could hear him mumble thank god under his breath.

you reached for the small lamp on your bedside table, turning it on to light the room in a dim light. when you turned back around to face him, you found his eyes on you already. god, he looked so fine – dressed in simple black dress pants and shirt, a jacket with its sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms, the tips of his nose and ears slightly flushed, and his hair just a little messy from running his hands through it too many times.

jaeyun watched you as you stood up from bed and walked over to stand in front of him. you were still wearing only the shirt of his that you had put on after taking a shower in the afternoon before he had left. now, as the faint scent of your cologne mixed with his signature scent, reminding everyone who you belonged to, jaeyun wanted to rip his shirt off of you all over again. not to mention your choice of underwear – the black lace he liked on you the most.

"you need help?", you asked gently, putting on your most innocent face as you slowly let your hands wander over his clothed torso, up to his chest where you grabbed his jacket to take it off.

jaeyun felt his blood jolting through his body at your feather-light touch and the way you looked up at him with those big, doey eyes.

once his jacket was discarded on the floor, you hesitated a second, before reaching for his belt, aiming to open it.

jaeyun's breath hitched when one of your fingers accidentally brushed against his pants. he grabbed your hands harshly, turned you around and took two big steps towards the door, making you stumble back in surprise until your back hit its cold wood.

"impatient girl", he mumbled, bringing his knee in between your thighs and pressing you against the door harder, "i was barely through the door."

his eyes were darker and his breath flatter than before, his lips slightly parted as his hands let go of your wrists and found their way under the fabric of your shirt and to your hips.

without another warning, he crashed his lips onto yours. the kiss was impatient and rough, nothing of the sweet boyfriend who had left for his work event earlier in the evening. you felt his tongue on your bottom lip, parting your lips a bit further to grant him access. your hands found their way to the back of his neck, pulling him in closer to deepen the kiss. a soft moan escaped you when you felt his knee pressing closer to your core, his tight grip on your hips keeping you steady.

he pulled away from your lips, a string of saliva connecting your lips, before kissing his way over your jawline, down your neck and to that one sensitive spot right above your collarbone, where he began sucking and biting your skin, making sure to leave a mark.

you let your head rest against the door, closing your eyes and letting out quiet moans from time to time. jaeyun left a trace of wet kisses across your neck, softly sucking here and there, covering you in as many hickeys as it would take for the whole world to finally know you're his and his only.

you felt the heat that had started pooling between your legs the second you had touched him grow more and more unbearable, so you tried to arch your hips slightly into his leg that he still kept stable between your thighs. the action didn't go unnoticed by your boyfriend, causing him to grin against the skin of your neck and tightening his grip on your hips.

"so impatient", he teased again, "couldn't wait for me to come back and fill you up, hm?"

"just wanted to help you with your clothes", you tried to object, but your body betrayed you with another moan when he grabbed your hips even tighter than before and slowly rocked them back and forth on his thigh for a moment.

"just wanted to help? so you're telling me that if i touched you now, you wouldn't be soaking?", he asked, his voice now radiating pure confidence – he knew the effect he had on you and the way your body responded to his.

you didn't reply, instead pulled your bottom lip between your teeth a bit and just looked up at him.

he pulled away his leg from between yours and let one of his hands wander from your hip to your clothed core, never breaking eye contact.

your breath hitched when he pulled your underwear to the side and slid one finger through your folds. "thought so", he said triumphantly as he felt your arousal coating his digit from just the simplest touch.

"just wanted to help, hm? didn't plan this when you wore these?", he asked as he grabbed your panties and pulled them down, letting them pool around your ankles.

while one of his hands went back to your hip to hold you in place, the other found its way back to your core, his finger collecting your arousal and moving up to draw small circles around your clit. your eyes fluttered shut at the touch, the pressure building up even more. you tried to move against his finger, but his grip on your hip was so tight you could barely move and you were sure it would leave marks tomorrow.

"j-jaeyun", you softly moaned out his name, which made his pants tighten around his length even more.

"what do you want, baby? gotta use your words", he replied in a sweet, yet demanding tone. just when you opened your mouth to reply, he worked his hand a bit faster, drawing another choked moan from you as your breath got stuck in your throat.

"hmm, maybe this?", he asked, before moving his finger from your clit down to your hole and sliding it in in one go. the back of your head hit the door yet another time as you felt the slight strech. you nodded eagerly when he curled his finger, unable to find the strength to reply to him.

"words", he repeated, this time more demanding. you gulped, trying to collect your thoughts before you replied, "yes, l-like that."

"good girl", jaeyun smiled mischievously, starting to pump his finger in and out at a steady pace and adding a second one once he felt you were ready. you leaned into his touch, your head thrown back against the door, your voice leaving a mixture of moans and his name, as your legs started shaking at how delicously his fingers hit that one spot with each pump.

"so close", you managed to mumble when you felt the knot in your stomach tightening, dangerously close to snap. you clenched around his digits, only to be left with nothing when he pulled his hand away, still keeping the other on your hip to hold you. you opened your eyes in shock, ready to complain, but he was faster.

"sorry, doll, but you i need you to cum around my cock"

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

thank you so much for reading up until here. it means the entire world to me and i hope you guys enjoyed it. please do not copy. ❤︎︎

- dazzlingjaeyun

join my taglist here

[thewritetofreespeech]

aemond - prompt 1

Prompt list - 1. Breeding kink

------------------------------⚔️---------------------------------

“Up! Up!”

“Up! Up!”

“Hehe…you’re both too big now for me to carry the both of you on my hip like before. Why don’t we flip a coin then? Heads Jaehaerys you can go first, and tails means Jaehaera can go. Sound like a fun game?”

Aemond watched from the table with his family as his wife made a deal with his niece & nephew. Completely fair. Void of favoritism. He remembers no such favors from his own childhood.

His wife was wonderful with the children. As one of the few Helaena let near them in recent months, due to some new fear she had concocted in her mind, Jaehaera & Jaehaerys clung to her like shadows. Even Maelor, still at his mother’s breast, would swing his fat little arms in his wife’s direction every time she passed. And she never missed an opportunity to give him attention or affection whenever he, or any of the children, clamored for her.

“Everything alright Aemond?”

His trance was broken by her words when she returned to him. Whatever deal or game they had struck over now as a nurse came to put the children to bed. Aemond nodded. Dreams of his own silver-haired babes following her around, tugging at her skirts, in need of constant attention from that sweet face drift out of his mind like dragon’s wings on the horizon. “Yes. I am fine. Let us retire for the evening as well.”

The sun would be up soon. He couldn’t see it from the window, but just felt it in his soul. That time of night that was more the wee hours of the morning. Where the darkness would finally break to the light.

They haven’t slept at all. Rested, but not slept. Sleep seemed immaterial in comparison to the need to fill her again & again. Sleep, water, food, air. All of it seemed trivial as he was a man possessed with possessing her.

“Aemond….please….no more….”

“Just once more.”

His wife whined as his cock still inside her slid back and into her again. One bout giving way to another with truly no rest in between this time.

He was consumed with making his dream a reality. Fill her with so much of him that his child would have no choice but to take root in her belly. They could have a babe come spring. Or a sweet summer child with his pale violet eyes and his mother’s gentle disposition. Aemond thrust harder into her, as if driving the idea home with his cock, making his wife cry out. “Ah! Aemond! Oh Gods!”

She wouldn’t have to take care of Aegon’s children anymore. She would have her own babes to keep her busy. They would be strong and perfect. In constant need of their mother like he was. Maybe she would give him twins like Helaena gave his brother? If his fragile sister could do it, surely his wife could do it too. Judging by the cum spilling out of her onto the already soiled sheets, Aemond had given her more than enough opportunity.

“Aemond….Aemond….”

She couldn’t say much more than his name now and moan. Good. There shouldn’t be any thought of others or anything but the two of them as they made their child.

He looked down at the woman who was going to give him his future and found a blank slate there. Broken with pleasure. Those intelligent, bright eyes black and hazy with lust. Disheveled to the point of madness by his own mad need to put a babe inside her.

He leaned down to kiss her rough, swollen lips and swallowed a whine from his princess. He felt her breath quicken against his lips and her walls quake around him. Her overstimulated body climaxing with even the most minor addition of stimuli between them at this point.

Aemond came just short after that. One final push. Spilling his seed just as deep as the rest before he finally, eventually, let his wife go.

He fell to the other side of the bed, listening to her gasp for breath beside him, before he got up and went to retrieve a rag for the two of them. His wife hiccupped out a gasp when the cool material touched her feverous skin. Her whole-body twitching as it was still too overstimulated to determine how the touch was intended. Aemond cleaned her body starting with her arms. Moving down to her breasts, imagining them larger and fuller in just 4 moons time, then down to her belly that would do just the same. She whined when he gently wiped at her overly sensitive cunt. Red and swollen. His seed still glistening in the folds. He doesn’t want to get rid of it but knows she would be uncomfortable sleeping like that. Aemond had already made her uncomfortable enough for one evening.

He cleaned himself off with much less care and crawled back into bed beside his wife. She willingly came to him when he pulled her in his arms. Or perhaps she was too exhausted to think and just went along with him. Her body still twitching now & then, even in her sleep, from the frenzy he just put her through.

He kissed her head, then covered them with whatever clean blanket he could find.

Come spring they would have a child of their own. A silver haired paragon, who would take Vhagar after he was gone and be his legacy for when his bones became ash. After that, they would work on another. Then another. Then another. His branch would flourish as much as his great-grandfather, and they would build their family to the point that they did not need any others but their own.

He almost felt bad for Jaehaera & Jaehaerys. Soon they would not have their wonderful aunt to dote on them. But his children, and his family, would be what came first.

[breadbrobin]

call it what you want

luke castellan x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

[fem!daughter of aphrodite reader]

summary: he fell first, you fell harder, and all at once.

warning: tooth-rotting fluff. literally i think that’s it it’s just sickeningly cute

word count: 2.1k

(the luke brainrot is so real i wrote this at like 4am last night plsss)

——————————————

luke castellan thought you could have hung the stars in the sky. he wouldn’t know any different, nor would he care to find out. in his mind, you were perfect. the most perfect, in fact.

there was one person that no one could hate at camp, and that was you. a friend to all who’d have you, a sister to those who needed you, and whatever you were to luke.

not even you understood the nature of your relationship with him.

years of friendship slowly became changed, twisted, slightly more than you’d bargained for. it was a happy change. realising you were in love with luke castellan was an ever-continuous process—a little one day, a little more another. but for luke… gods, realising he was in love with you came as easy as breathing. every smile on your lips, every laugh, every surreptitious look across rooms set his heart aflame. fluttering, dancing, swirling.

it wasn’t like you didn’t love him. you did. you surely did. but time hadn’t been kind to your heart and children of aphrodite have never been truly lucky in love. helping others achieve their loves was more common. more often than not, you and your siblings were happy with just that.

“anyone you got your eye on?” you asked one day as you sat with luke on the dock. your bare feet dangled into the water, toes just touching the cool surface.

“maybe. maybe not. when are you leaving?” he avoided the question, gazing out at the water and squinting in the glare of the sun.

“two weeks. i’m staying for my birthday this year.” you looked over at him. “you can tell me who it is, you know? i won’t laugh, i promise.”

he shot you an exasperated look. “what makes you think there is someone, princess?”

you lean over and nudge his arm teasingly, missing the blush on his face. “you’ve been distracted lately. quiet. you smile more though, and i’ve seen you blushing. who is it?”

“maybe i’m sick. what if i’m dying, y/n? then what? you’re assuming i’m in love when i’m actually dying?”

you raised your hands mockingly. “hey, you’re the one who mentioned love, pal. not me. ask yourself about that one.”

he rolled his eyes and elbowed you gently with a soft smile. his smiles were always soft, you realised. gentle and kind—two words you’d use to describe luke castellan any chance you got. you looked at him in the sunlight. and pretty, you thought. gentle, kind and pretty.

late nights were always for thinking.

you’d had trouble sleeping since you were a kid. not just the typical demigod issues with nightmares, but difficulty falling asleep in the first place. when those times struck, and the late hours before midnight slipped by, your thoughts wandered.

as always, your thoughts circled a few items; your family, your friends, then, always, luke.

he was separate to your friends, always had been. you didn’t really know why.

gentle, kind and pretty, you recalled. it had been a few days since the lake and you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about who he was in love with. was there some person out there at camp who held his heart, truly and deeply? why did your chest ache? were you having a heart attack?

you pressed your fingers to your pulse point in concern, then pulled them away after a few seconds. you were fine. why did you feel like that?

no one ever said children of aphrodite weren’t oblivious to their own feelings.

time ticked by into the small hours of the morning, and still you couldn’t find sleep.

you rolled out of bed and stepped into your slippers, pulling a fluffy robe around your body and stepping out into the warm night. the air was still and calm, a juxtaposition to your whirling mind as you crossed the camp, stepping down paths and stepping over tree roots in a manner you’d memorised from countless treks on similar nights.

the hermes cabin was always warmer than your own, but tonight the heat was almost stifling. you could feel the heat heavy in the air as you breathed, and sweat beaded on your lip as you crossed the cabin silently to luke’s bed.

he was sleeping half sitting up, a colouring book and set of pencils splayed out on his lap. it was one you’d bought him for his birthday years ago. you had no idea he even used it.

quietly, you packed away the pencils and put them and the book on the side table. as you did, luke’s eyes cracked open. he frowned.

“y/n? are you okay?” he rubbed his eyes, sitting up straight and stretching his neck.

“can’t sleep,” you whispered.

he nodded and pushed his sheets off. he pulled a sweatshirt on and led you out of the cabin.

this was normal for you both. if one couldn’t sleep, you’d find the other and keep each other company until you felt you could rest. it was always nice knowing someone was there to talk to, or even just sit with. there was never resentment, never irritation from the other person. you would always come find each other. finding each other was like second nature to the two of you. you swore you could find luke in any situation, with your eyes closed, all your senses blotted out, by instinct and connection alone. you could find luke castellan without even a second thought.

you sat on the porch of the cabin with your legs hanging over the edge. luke’s legs were crossed.

“what are we doing for your birthday?” he asked finally.

you shrugged. “nothing, probably. maybe i’ll get some cake. i don’t know.”

“you didn’t do anything last year,” he protested. “you need to this year. it’s the big 18.”

“we didn’t do much for your eighteenth.”

he shrugged. “we did more than nothing, though, pretty girl. come on, we have to do something.”

you shook your head. “you wanna do something, you can plan it, pretty boy. i don’t mind.”

he sighed dramatically, leaning back and lying down on the rough wood. “fine. i will.”

you laughed quietly and lay back next to him, staring up at the wooden overhang above you.

you could feel his body heat against your arm as it lay between you. he was like a furnace, honestly, always radiating heat. it was nice in winter, but oftentimes stifling in summer. this was not one of those times. instead, you revelled in the closeness between you and almost—selfishly, confusingly—wished you were closer. maybe even close enough to touch.

your birthday was a quiet affair. your siblings wished you happy birthday and gave you a handful of small gifts, mostly beauty products and clothes that would fit you perfectly, even a cute bikini you put on under your clothes, and then you all went on with your day.

it was nice, honestly, getting well wishes but little attention. you needed no celebration or pizzazz, just friends, smiles and the occasional hug.

arms wrapped around your waist from behind. you yelped in shock and turned around, finding yourself face to face with luke. he had a bright smile on his face and a smudge of glitter on his cheek.

you reached up and ran your finger over it, trying gently to remove some to no avail. “you have glitter.”

“i have glitter everywhere. i guess that’s what you get for asking one of my siblings for wrapped paper.” he removed his arms from your waist to reveal a poorly wrapped gift in purple glittery paper.

you laughed, taking it. “i’m surprised you haven’t got more of it on you.”

“oh, believe me, princess, i do.” he cringed, stepping back slightly. “happy birthday.”

you smiled up at him and opened the present, ignoring the glitter sticking to your hands and the warmth in your chest and cheeks.

he thought you looked like the sun had come down to earth.

it was a colouring book and a set of pencils. you smiled widely and flipped through the pages, revealing beautiful art. “you remembered i wanted one?”

“yeah, mostly because you kept stealing mine to colour in,” he teased. “but of course i did.”

you reached out and hugged him. “thank you, luke!”

“come on,” he pulled back and took your hand. “present isn’t done yet.”

“what have you planned?” you groaned half-heartedly as he pulled you through camp, jogging slightly to keep up with his long strides.

“don’t sound so scared, princess, it’s a good thing. i promise.”

you just sighed with a smile and let him lead you to the dock.

there was a small basket at the end of it.

you gasped excitedly. “luke, you…”

“happy birthday, y/n.” he sat down and pulled you gently down to sit next to him. he opened the the picnic basket and handed you a sandwich and a mini juice box with a bashful grin. “i would’ve sprung for coke but mr d. has a monopoly on the stuff around here.”

you laughed slightly and began eating, sitting cross-legged and looking out at the lake. the sun beat down on your back and your entire body felt warm. you suddenly weren’t sure how much of that warmth was from the sun, and how much of it was from love.

love.

whoa.

you froze with your juice box halfway to your lips.

luke looked over at you. “you okay?”

you nodded slowly, eyes wide, and set down your juice and sandwich. “i wanna swim.”

he frowned. “okay? now?”

you nodded and stood up. you were wearing your new bikini anyway, so you just pulled your shirt over your head and dropped your shorts next to it. “you coming?”

his eyes were slightly wide, but he nodded and stood up, setting his food down too and removing his over clothes.

you sat down on the dock and slid into the water. it was cold, but more refreshing than shocking. you swam out a few paces as luke jumped in directly, the splash hitting you.

“luke!” you gasped as he surfaced.

he just laughed. “sorry, princess. you’re in the water anyway.”

you pouted at him, but couldn’t stay mad, instead, you watched him as he floated a few feet from you.

he looked confused. “are you okay? was it the sandwich?”

you shook your head. “the sandwich was fine. i’m just…” you pursed your lips and swam slightly closer. “was it me?”

he frowned even deeper. “was what you?”

“when i asked you the other day, you said you were in love with someone. was it me?”

you felt a little bad for putting him on the spot as he looked away, abashed, but when he looked back at you, eyes strong and jaw set, and said, “yes,” you didn’t regret a thing.

“why?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

“why not?” he shrugged. “why does the sun shine? why does the wind blow? just because that’s the way things are. and i guess… yeah, me being in love with you is the way it is.”

you were silent for a moment, a small smile on your face. “well, that’s good then. i’m not sure how long this has actually been a thing, luke castellan, but i guess that me being in love with you is also… just the way it is.”

he swam slightly closer, a smile breaking across his face. gentle, kind, pretty. “yeah?”

“yeah, pretty boy. now kiss me. it’s my birthday, after all.”

“yes ma’am,” he grinned. one of his hands slid around your waist, warm as ever in the cold water, and he pulled you closer to him. he savoured the moment for a beat, just studying your face, memorising the look in your eyes, the sun on your skin and the soft smile on your lips. then he pressed his lips to yours.

you finally understood what people meant when they said ‘fireworks’. they were right. kissing luke was like playing with fire or dancing in the rain, or watching christmas lights twinkle. it was exhilarating, sweet and safe all at the same time; pure and honest love. and he was one damn good kisser.

when he pulled away you were out of breath, treading water still. you swam backwards, pulling him with you by the hand on the back of his neck until you were in the cool shade of the dock, using it to keep you afloat. it was much colder under there, but at least now you had him to keep you warm.

[a-ikuoliver]

god is a bit of a freak, why's he watching me getting railed on the couch, staying pure for a wedding, he's got fucked up priorities — aka an ancient, obsolete god of fertility hears your prayer

pairing: fertility god!katsuki bakugou x fem!reader w/c: 2.8k warning/s: voyeurism, oral (f!receiving), references to sex rituals and safe sex lmao, i think that's everything, mostly lead up notes: sorry i wrote this fucked up from a cold lmao i hope u all enjoy either way! inspo/acknowledgements: god is a freak by peach prcty @kweenkatsuki-fics @aquadenks @peachsukii @rabbbitseason for ur interest teehee

crossposted to ao3 • masterlist • wip updates & voting • kofi • askbox

the ancient tongue was dead, dying a slow death as all languages did, evolving again and again with every civilisation that rose and fell, until it faded into obscurity. with the death of their language, their communication with their believers, the gods faded, too, their followers dwindling more and more as their names were buried along with the civilisations they led. once adored, worshipped, feared, now, their names only existed on scrolls, yellowed and deteriorated beneath layers of mortal history, unspoken in aeons.

katsuki kicked the door shut behind him, the bag of produce in his hand swinging back and forth with the movement. there was once a time where he was lavished with offerings of food he now had to purchase; countless altars he tended to piled with vegetables, wines, fire, soil, blood, accompanied with prayers to answer. he'd all but assimilated into living as a mortal; cooking (he was grateful, at least, for electric stoves, cooking lerthargically over a fire not quite how he wanted to spend eternity), showering, learning, exploring and working alongside the humans that once lived in his shadow.

he was one of the first to deflect from utopia, to abandon his temple, to give up on the belief that the gods, their language could return to how it was, and with it their followers. katsuki had simply grown bored of waiting alone in the stone temple, of wandering the perimeter hoping to find a lost mortal he could grant a miracle to, to find a mortal to bring meaning to godhood again. after all, what was a god without his believers?

he hadn't given up his blessings or miracles, albeit on a smaller scale than he once had, he still granted wishes as he had in utopia's heyday, the offerings he received now smiles across counters as people passed along paperwork, hoping to be one of the lucky ones, praying over pregnancy tests in bathrooms instead of in his altar. he gave up godhood, but he refused to give up his miracles, even if the mortals didn't know he was responsible.

the pot was finally at a rolling boil, his knife poised above the produce when he felt it, the sensation freezing his blood in his veins, the pull of a prayer in his veins, an echoing whisper of his name lighting his nerves alight. the god freezes, blond hair slipping into his eyes as his ears burnt, twitching at every noise, waiting to hear the sweet sound of the prayer once more.

"bakugou."

his face falls from shock to a scowl almost immediately, his pupils dilating, his skin itchy from adrenaline, his stomach twisting. it couldn't really be his name. this couldn't be a prayer. not after all this time.

the obsolete incantation runs off your tongue seamlessly; almost melodic, light as you cite the prayer carved into the stone at the base of his statue, your dialect nothing like what the prayer used to sound like, but the more you read, the harder he finds it to hate. your voice clouds his head, every word past your lips making the fog denser behind his eyes. there was a dull pain alongside it, an ache that pulsed with your every breath, the pain of a prayer.

the call of the prayer felt… foreign after so long (a millennium he thinks? maybe more, maybe less, years, decades, centuries and millenniums all blurred into one for immortals), katsuki was accustomed to the silence every god feared, the silence of being abandoned by your believers, of dwindling power and control. even with how it was feared, this almost felt worse; a single prayer cornering him in the kitchen after an aeon alone, a single spotlight in the darkness worse than the endless pitch black.

"told you it was bull." barefoot, he paces back and forth in the apartment, shifting uncomfortably as you traced a fingertip over the carved inscription, the touch feeling as if it was on the very nerves of his scalp, down the curve of his spine, catching on every bump of his vertebra. crimson eyes droop, a thick hand rubbing at the bridge of his nose, an attempt to soothe the pain of your voice bouncing around his head, the sensation of your touch on his effigy.

"hey, stop that," your giggle almost has his feet sliding against the tile, nearly tumbling backward as he stops in his tracks; his muscles straining to follow the magnetism of your voice, the melody of your intoxicating laugh while he rationalises your existence at all.

"is that why you brought me here, huh? you think being in some ancient sex temple means you'll get some?"

perks of being a god: immortality, immeasurable strength and influence, impenetrable skin (with maybe a couple flaws). downsides of godhood? the power of their followers over them.

it was… overwhelming, the itch beneath a gods skin when a devout believer called their name, the weight of a prayer, the unshakable desire to follow the call. thankfully, the perks also included the facilities to do so; something akin to teleportation, the voice like a blinding beacon in the night, guiding the god.

once upon a time, civilisations ago, it was a lot, too much, the night always lit like it was daylight with the light his followers cast out. his temple existed for this very reason, devout believers building the god a home, a sanctuary for the light of his followers, complete with the marble sculpture of the built god. then, it was at the centre of the village he ruled over, now, you and your lover had hiked up a mountain, and back down into the valley to find it, the stone weathered and covered in vegetation, it was a miracle you'd been able to work your way inside.

dragging his finger over cold stone, every ridge and bump as it once was, katsuki reminisced about a time before the silence, before the darkness, a time when people lined outside his temple with dreams of a child. years ago, women came alone to his temple, clad in robes they'd weaved specially for the fertility ritual (sometimes gifted at their weddings), kneeling in the altar to offer anything they had in exchange for their heir; piles of gold from queens who begged for a prince, beloved and wise to rule their kingdoms peacefully, warriors armed with iron to wish for a knight, strategic and strong enough to return home from battle again and again, farmers gripping their herbs with soil-stained hands, praying for a child born with kindness and thumbs so green the village would survive the winters once more, a marble statue of the god, towering at over 9 feet tall from a sculptor wishing for a child with as much passion for the arts as their parents.

visitors now were only accidental, stumbling upon the temple in the darkness of the valley, seeking shelter, safety, protection. never a prayer tumbling from their lips for an heir (he answered their prayers nonetheless, never allowing harm to befall anyone on his blessed grounds).

peeking from behind a pillar overtaken by the vegetation, he finally spotted you.

you sucked the breath from his lungs, walking further into the temple, a cute, mischievous grin tugging on the corners of your soft lips, chasing your lover with your eyes as he spoke, "you don't think it's romantic? fucking in an ancient sex gods temple?"

"he was the god of fertility, not sex." you step onto the age worn sigil by the base of the imposing statue, brushing layers of grey dust away.

you look so similar to the countless women before who laid on his mark, the way you studied the carved sigil carefully, curiosity and stars sparkling in your eyes, a heat burning beneath your skin, adrenaline spiking in your veins. eras ago, women were bare on the sigil, stone icy against their skin as they drew runes, marking their skin with blood, dirt or ink, in the language native to the gods.

"what's the difference?" their voice was low, lips brushing beneath your jaw, biting at the sensitive skin beneath your ear, nimble fingers sliding beneath your shirt to tug it higher, higher, on your torso, tugging the material over your head with a flick of his wrist.

the god was no stranger to topless women, probably seeing hundreds and thousands of them in his prime, but the way the man in front of you toyed with the fat on your chest nearly making his eyes meet the inside of his skull. your allure was impossible to resist when your boyfriend rolls your nipples between his forefingers and thumbs, tugging on the sensitive skin to pull a delicious whine from your throat.

the silence had made him soft.

"i've been waiting all day for this," katsuki's blood rushes in his ears when you both fall to the floor, limbs already beginning to tangle together, bodies becoming one at the mouth, at the hips, at the chest. your sweet sounds echo in the temple, increasingly breathless the longer you kissed and nipped and sucked and bit at your boyfriend.

the ancient tongue was dead, katsuki knew that, knew you had no way to know what you'd read, like some naive final girl in a cliche horror film, that the very god you were laid at the base of was real, that he could see and hear you, that his cock throbbed watching you. you had no way of knowing what you'd started. carmine eyes study the beat of your heart in your chest, the way your tits look when your breathing quickens, how irresistible you look when deft fingers trace the seam of your panties.

katsuki prays himself for the first time in his long life that he's the only god to see you right now, to watch your face change the lower your boyfriend travels, dragging his tongue over your skin as he goes (katsuki's thankful for every time the mortal man bites at your skin, for the yelp it elicits anytime his canines sink into your flesh). his fingertips twitch at his sides, itching to finalise the ritual you'd started with the single murmur of his name, the first syllable of a language foreign on your tongue but you'd recited it so naturally.

you exclaim your lovers name with another sweet giggle, his hands now gripping your ass, tugging your obstructive underwear down your pillowy thighs, tossing it as far as he can the moment the garment is free from your ankles.

the god's ears scald at the way you sound when the brunet's tongue flicks against your skin, sucking at your pussy just to draw increasingly needier sounds from your pretty mouth. he's not even watching you and he already knows your hips are jumping from the stone floor, grinding onto your lovers mouth and nose to work yourself closer to an orgasm. your moans echo in the stone temple, bouncing in every corner before travelling back to his ears, tempting his attention to you.

he stays steady, sharp carmine eyes narrowing on the altar.

more specifically, the lump of material atop the bench.

your underwear is draped across like an offering of its own to him, far more lewd than gold, iron and herbs, but it made his core ache when the moonlight caught in the centre of the fabric, a small damp spot glistening in the light.

fuck, it hurts, every nerve aching, screaming to finally put an end his celibacy, unbroken for far too long. he hadn't felt a need for a mortal like this since the beginning of his existence, the pure want filling his head with fog. this is a duty, this power he has, it is what he was made for, there was never this heavy, dense fog filling his head before, no follower making his blood burn like you were. and you didn't even know what you'd done.

bakugou's gaze is finally drawn back to you, your spine arching away from the stone, fingers tangling at the base of your boyfriends skull, tugging the hair harshly as you chanted his name, your hips stuttering, grinding messily back and forth on his face, until you stopped. you were still wound tight, your thighs clamped tight around his ears while you recovered, a dopey, lovesick smile planted firm on your cheeks.

your squeal makes his dick twitch, one last flick of his tongue over your overstimulated clit, blond eyebrows furrowing so hard at the centre it makes his head pound, you were making his head hurt. a desperation to finish the ritual filled his lungs, every breath a reminder of his name on your lips, of your panties across the altar, of your naked body atop his mark.

he needed this, needed to bury his cock in a pretty cunt, to fill you until you were a babbling mess, needed you.

sitting back on his knees, your lover wiped your creamy cum from his chin with the back of his hand, spreading it from his face to his fingers, hardly doing anything to clean the mess you'd made of his mouth.

your boyfriend finally moves out of the way, giving katsuki the front row seat he deserves, your thighs shining with slick the masterpiece he'd come to see. unblinking, he thinks he's squeezing his cock through his pants, he's not sure, too hypnotised by the way your hips still twitched, chasing your boyfriends warmth. onyx and ruby eyes alike study your face, glued to the way your eyes roll into your skull when his fingers, still wet with your cum, trace your clit once more, teasing the entrance of your pussy before circling your sensitive nerves once more.

katsuki knows he's stroking his cock now, frantically tugging at the zipper still preventing him from relief, his fist moving at the same pace you grind your hips down to your lovers hand, sucking his fingers into you, squeezing your cunt around them until your thighs shook. his hips rock into his hands when your tongue lolls from your mouth, your moans getting faster and faster once more.

he has to bite his lip to stifle a groan of his own, his fist pumping faster and faster again, squeezing the base of his cock when you press a kiss as soft as silk to his lips, looping your hips around his, tugging him closer when you came again.

"fuck, baby, next time you cum, it's with my cock inside you." dark hair shields your face from katsuki's vision momentarily, your boyfriend leaning over you, searching his discarded coat for something, tugging it closer and pulling each pocket inside out.

your thighs slip from his hips as he moves, wincing as your thighs made contact with the icy stone instead of his warm skin.

"shit, i think i left the condoms in the backpack," sliding the empty jacket over your chest, you tuck it beneath your arms, clutching it close to you with one hand, the other waving your boyfriend off as he ventured back toward the entrance of the temple, your gaze lingering on his ass until he was out of sight.

another perk of godhood: the blessed ground was subject to the chosen gods whims. some gods had their temples in the centre of labyrinthian mazes, others had their temples impossible to find, buried beneath the earth or deep in the ocean, hidden between mountains, camouflaged in vegetation, some invisible until the winter solstice, or until the new moon. katsuki never quite cared for that, leaving his temple as his followers built it for him, not implementing challenges for believers to prove their dedication like others had, only protecting his hallowed ground. until now.

stone scrapes against stone harshly, the coarse sound painfully invading your ears as the temple entrance seals. you drop the jacket into your lap, rushing to shield your ears from the sound with your palms pressed hard to your ears, searching around the room for your boyfriend, for his protection, katsuki supposes, like a mortal man could save you from the god you summoned, from what you started.

stepping out from the dark corner, his figure casts a sharp, long shadow as he stands to his full height in front of the statue. like this, you look identical to the women he used to bestow his miracles on; splayed on his sigil, staring up at him with dewy eyes (your blown pupils imperceptibly widening when your gaze rakes over his large form, taking everything in; blond mess of hair, darting crimson eyes, ruffled shirt as he rushed to hold it in his mouth watching you get your cunt eaten, his still-unzipped pants and finally the impressive bulge of his cock), your lips parting when he finally relaxes his shoulders, now standing easily at the shoulder of his statue.

"you-re—" your eyes dart between the imposing statue and his steely face, your voice airy, wobbling slightly as you continued, "you're real?"

© all works belong to @a-ikuoliver, @gwen0m, and dlirious on archive of our own, do not plagiarise, translate, repost, feed my works into ai or recommend my work on other platforms, or bind my fanworks for sale.

[starkeyisthelastname]

How would reader react when pornstar!rafe comes over to her place after filming a scene with someone else ?

just know pornstar!rafe is a pussy destroyer 😰

It was the text you got, reading ‘Can’t, I’m busy.’ Followed by, ‘Filming a scene today.’ That left you feeling some type of way and you weren’t sure why. Okay, maybe you knew exactly why and that was the more dick he gave you, the more you wanted him. You were both pornstars though, and his job was to fuck women on camera and get paid for it. You couldn’t be jealous. It was inevitable that he would have to film.

As the day went on, you couldn’t stop thinking about Rafe. Some other female pornstar was getting her guts fucked out by him right now, and you weren’t the one getting to experience it. This man had a chokehold on you and you were becoming addicted to the way he made you feel. He was raw, confident, dirty, and didn’t give a fuck about what anyone else said or thought.

You hadn’t even realized you had fallen asleep as you were startled out of a dream by a pounding on your door. You rubbed your eyes, making your way down the hall and towards the front. You should have looked through the peephole, hell it could have been someone trying to break in, but you opened it anyway against your better judgement. It was Rafe’s massive self storming in that had you fully waking up to realize what was going on.

“Can’t answer a fuckin phone?” He asked, blue eyes peering at you almost predatory as he stalked closer.

“I fell asleep, and why do you even care? You were busy.” You said, evident jealousy dripping from your tongue. You crossed your arms, a challenging sparkle in your pretty eyes as he stared at you for moment. He chuckled, his intimidating height towering over you as he stepped closer.

“Why are you acting jealous for, huh? Gettin too damn attached to this dick, aren’t ya?” He spoke low, large hand coming up to grab your throat. His mustache tickled your lips as he leaned down to look in your eyes. “I like money too much to stop fuckin, pretty girl. You remember what, I said though?” He asked, squeezing your neck harder.

Your eyes couldn’t help but roll back as you were a freak off pain. He pulled away from your face, his lips ghosting over toward your ear as he began to speak. “You are my own personal whore now, yeah? So when I call, you answer the fuckin phone the first time.” He spat harshly in your ear.

You weren’t sure what this weird fucked up situation was that you two were in, but you knew you loved every second of it. He was fucking your life all the way up, his hands digging into your scalp to use your hair as reins as he brutally pounded into your sopping hole.

“Take that shit up your fuckin cunt.” Rafe grunted, toned hips moving at a rapid pace as his thick cock stretched your poor hole out. Your legs were bent back, knees touching your chest as he railed you into oblivion on your own couch.

You were crying from the sheer roughness and pleasure that he was giving to you. A babbling mess, as you fell victim to his nasty ways once again. You were getting too attached to his dick, but what did he expect when he fucked you the way he did. You were soaking his cock, his fat length sliding in and out your messy cunt as he drilled into you.

His body leaned down, his hand yanking your head back roughly so that you were forced to look at him. “This is my fuckin pussy to ruin. You understand that?” He asked, his stache tickling your lips as he tightened the grip on your hair. “You better fuckin answer me when I’m talking to you.”

You let out a gasp, wincing at the burn to your scalp as you were forced to look into darkened blue irises and answer him. “Yes Rafe… a-all yours!” You cried out, earning a vicious laugh from him as he straightened his massive stance back out. He was just as addicted to you and knew you were about to fuck his life all the way up. Just in a completely different kinda way he hadn’t experienced before.

[cherienymphe]

His Father's Son

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: After the untimely death of his father, Rafe takes it upon himself to become the man of the house.

warnings: NON-CON, STEPCEST, AGE GAP, mentions of major character death, depression, alcoholism, stepmom!reader, underage drinking, canon ages

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

⭑

The overwhelming feeling of being watched turned out to be true.

You flinched at the sight of the figure standing next to your bed, eerily still and eerily familiar in the darkness. Reason took over, and your heart started to slow just as quickly as it had started to race. You struggled to move, legs twisted within the sheets as you reached over to turn on the lamp. Sleep was still clinging to you, desperate to pull you back in, but you pushed it away with one look at Rafe’s face.

“It’s 8 o’clock,” was all he said in that tone you had never cared for.

Once his words actually registered though, you swallowed down the mild irritation that had threatened to bubble up. You felt your heart drop to your stomach as you blinked, staring at him with parted lips before hurrying to search for your phone. When it bounced out of your unsteady hands and onto the floor, you cursed.

Sliding out of bed, you unfortunately confirmed that it was indeed 8 o’clock.

Now 8:03.

“Shit,” you breathed, pressing your hand to your forehead. “Um…”

You swiped your tongue between your lips, noting how dry they felt.

“Tell Wheezie-.”

“I already took Wheezie to school.”

The teenager’s words surprised you, and your hand fell, staring at him in a mixture of shock and shame. At those words, you finally registered the look on his face, and you found yourself thinking that his tone earlier made a lot more sense. You opened and closed your mouth, fighting to figure out how to respond. Unfortunately, you didn’t come up with anything clever.

“…oh.”

You watched the blond cross his arms over his chest, head tilted with the barest of frowns between his brows.

“I’m sorry,” you finally added, letting out a sigh. “I overslept and my alarm didn’t go off and…”

You found yourself trailing off, hating the sound of your excuses.

You got the feeling that Rafe hated the sound of them too by the even stare he fixed you with. You imagined that he hadn’t planned on dropping Wheezie off to her first day of school this year, and while it was something you both knew he should expect to do sometimes, it was also something he should’ve been asked to do. You couldn’t even remember going to bed the previous night, and you were sure the two bottles of wine you’d consumed had something to do with it.

“Should I anticipate dropping her off tomorrow too?”

There was an edge in his voice that you didn’t like but couldn’t necessarily be angry at.

“No,” you told him, tone sheepish. “I’ll get up on time.”

Rafe didn’t respond, but he also didn’t leave right away. He simply stood there, drinking you in with a frown. There was a look that passed through his eyes that made you think he probably wanted to say something, but if that were true, he swiftly changed his mind. You watched him silently leave, and you resisted the urge to sigh, closing your eyes instead.

When you married Ward Cameron two years ago, it wasn’t for the most honorable of reasons you’d admit. However, the same could also be said for him. After all, what would a forty-year-old man possibly want with a twenty-seven-year-old woman? Probably something equally as superficial as the same reasons a twenty-seven-year-old woman would want to marry a forty-year-old man. With that being said though, you hadn’t actually expected to fall for him. In hindsight, how could you not?

He had never been bad looking, and he was far kinder than you ever expected. Sure, the money and security of a comfortable life were what pulled you in, but after saying yes, you realized that he wasn’t the typical cold and rich husband you expected him to be. Seeing him do his best with his children only made it harder to pretend like it was some loveless marriage of mutual benefit.

You loved him.

…and then he died.

With one boating accident, you were suddenly the single mother of three teenagers. It wasn’t something you were prepared for, and while one was technically an adult, that still left two who weren’t and couldn’t possibly fend for themselves. On top of it all, you still found it hard to get out of bed most days, a problem that wasn’t so bad during the summer.

���but the new term was here, and you couldn’t put your responsibilities off any longer.

Reminding yourself that you’d quite literally drank yourself to sleep the previous night and therefore overslept, you noted that you were off to a bad start. The thought made your eyes burn, the full realization of your new reality hitting you. After Ward died, Rafe was basically the one to take care of everything while you spent most days in bed, but months had passed and summer was over and now your time had come to be a parent.

Resisting the urge to cry, you stumbled to the bathroom, hoping you didn’t look as bad as you felt.

“Did you hear me?”

His voice pulled you out of your own head and you slowly turned to look at him.

“What?”

Rafe stared at you for what felt like a long time, and it was then that you realized he’d probably been speaking to you for some time. You swallowed at the realization, noting that you’d spaced out again, and when Rafe heaved a sigh, you actually felt like the scolded child.

“Sarah’s staying over at a friend’s house tonight,” he told you.

You could feel his gaze on you when you nodded, and deep in the back of your mind you knew that you should’ve asked some follow up questions, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. You’d always trusted Sarah and her judgement—Rafe being the one you and Ward always worried about—and considering the circumstances, you wouldn’t question her on this. In your current state of mind, you were positive she could ask you to smoke a blunt and you’d give her the okay.

You were pulled from your thoughts again by the sound of your name.

You were unsurprised to meet Rafe’s gaze.

You couldn’t place the look on his face, but he seemed like he was deep in thought. Rafe’s behavior and demeanor had taken a 180 after Ward’s death you had to admit. Granted, you supposed that was to be expected, but for some reason it surprised you. Maybe it was because the change was so drastic or maybe because Rafe seemed so set in his ways that it was hard for you to remember that he was only nineteen and still had so much capacity to mature into someone entirely other than what you knew him to be.

Your thoughts on the matter didn’t really matter, you supposed. All that mattered was that he’d stepped up where you’d so clearly dropped the ball, and maybe that was why you found it so hard to snap out of it and be the responsible parent, now. There were days when your grief paralyzed you, and you didn’t feel that nagging obligation to get out of bed because you knew Rafe would handle it.

The blond didn’t say anything, but his thoughts were plain as day as he reached along the counter and slid your drink from in front of you.

“Rafe-.”

“I think you’ve had enough,” was all he drawled, and you found yourself frowning.

“Who’s the parent in this scenario?”

“Apparently me,” he fired back, making your jaw tick. “I’m the one running the business and taking Wheezie to school and making sure there’s actually something to eat in the house.”

You blinked at that, recalling that you couldn’t remember the last time you went grocery shopping. Shame filled you once again, and your gaze lowered, eyes tracing the patterns of the granite. The silence that descended between you was thick, and just when you were about to apologize, Rafe spoke.

“Look, I get that you loved him or whatever, but… So did we…,” your eyes met his at that. “…and Wheezie and Sarah still have to go to school, and I still have to talk to people and deal with contracts and bullshit I didn’t think I would for at least another ten years.”

You realized that Rafe was right, and it made you feel worse because you didn’t think Ward would have married you if he didn’t think you were capable of looking after his children should something happen to him. Yet here you were…letting him down…

Rafe moved from his spot on the other side of the counter, and you only let him when he gently took your arm and forced you to stand. It was a far cry from your dynamic only five months ago. In your defense, you never clicked with Rafe. It wasn’t for lack of trying on your end, but Rafe was so troubled and had so many pent-up emotions and awful drug habits that it only proved to be a breeding ground for disaster.

You could think of too many instances in which you tried to be a parent to him only to be met with the same snarky and cruel demeanor he gave to everyone. He never quite took to you as his new parental figure, and you’d quickly learned that Ward was the only authority he’d respect and listen to. You tended to try and stay out of his way as a result, but Rafe was the one to catch you when you collapsed after getting the news that day.

Overnight, he’d gone from treating you like the ugly stepmother and instead like some injured foal he needed to look out for.

“That’s not healthy,” Mrs. Thornton said to you a few days later.

You watched her set her tea down, lips twisted into disapproval as she marinated on your words.

“You are the parent,” she sternly told you. “It’s your duty to pick up right where Ward left off, and instead you are letting some teenager run things.”

You knew that she was right, but you didn’t exactly relish hearing it.

You had never cared for the older woman, her upbringing influencing the majority of her opinions and stern exterior. However, after the boating accident, you desperately needed another actual adult to talk to. You were out of your element, and everyone knew it, and the first time you sat with her after your husband’s death felt humiliating. Now, however, you practically relied on her to keep your head on straight.

“…but I don’t know how to parent two teenagers all by myself, let alone handle the family business that I was never all that privy to.”

She made a noise at your admission, and it only served to humiliate you further. You had long suspected that she didn’t approve of Ward marrying a significantly younger woman, and by telling her that you weren’t included at all in the important decisions, you only validated her suspicions that you were only ever for show.

You forced yourself to ignore it.

“Their relationship was rocky, yes, but… No one knew Ward like Rafe,” you quietly admitted. “…and Rafe is the only one Ward talked to about all of this. Rafe knows how to make the decisions Ward would want.”

“He’s nineteen,” she scoffed. “Barely older than my own son.”

At your unsure expression, she leaned in closer, brows drawn together and lips pursed.

“You are his parent,” she repeated. “…and the longer you refuse to act like it and let him handle the business and the household and his siblings, he will forget it and start to challenge you in your own home.”

You didn’t have the heart to tell Mrs. Thornton that it didn’t exactly feel like your home anymore. At least not without Ward. While it relieved you that Sarah and Wheezie still treated you as they did before his death, you still couldn’t help but worry that without him around they would soon refuse to take you seriously as a parent. Part of you wouldn’t even blame them.

You’d only been in their life for three years, six months of which you were just their father’s silly twenty something girlfriend. You didn’t need to be a genius to know that they never expected him to actually marry you. Rafe had made that pretty clear when Ward had broken the news with you at his side.

It was a week later when you found yourself knocking on the door of Ward’s study. You supposed that it belonged to Rafe, now, and that correction made your heart clench. Even seeing him in the same spot where Ward often sat made you falter, and it took you a moment to remember why you’d disturbed him. Mrs. Thornton’s words were front and center in your mind.

“We need to have a serious talk about the business.”

At your words, Rafe only tilted his head, and you noted how out of place he looked in Ward’s space. Rafe was so young and everything about him betrayed his mindset and inexperience and impulsive tendencies. He didn’t belong, at all, but who were you to deny him his birthright?

“What about it?” he finally wondered, and you were hyperaware that he was watching your every move as you walked about the room.

“I think that I should be more involved with it,” you told him, continuing at his frown. “Rafe, you’re only nineteen, and like you’d said. You weren’t prepared to be fully involved in this for at least another decade.”

You watched him toss some papers aside at that, and the look he fixed you with made you swallow. It was reminiscent of the Rafe you were used to. You didn’t miss the way he dragged his blue gaze over you, sizing you up, and you definitely didn’t like it.

“You don’t know anything about it.”

The acknowledgement that Ward had never included you in these matters stung, but you only sighed.

“No…but…”

Your words died in the air as Rafe stood, and you had an inkling of what he was going to say by the look on his face.

“Do you even want to be involved in my dad’s business?” he asked you, leaning against the desk with his hands pressed into the wood. “Or are you just listening to Topper’s mom again?”

The blond chuckled at your silence, and it lacked humor.

“My dad left it to me,” he finally said, holding your gaze. “…and I know you think you should be involved because…well…you’re the parent, now…”

You didn’t like the way he rolled his eyes at that, and you blinked when Rafe straightened, nearing you.

“…but you don’t get it.”

Rafe looked between your eyes.

“I disappointed him too much while he was here, and this… This is my chance to make him proud,” he admitted, and your shoulders drooped.

“Rafe…”

“…and not just with his business,” he continued. “He’s gone…so now I have to step up and be the man of the house.”

Despite the fact that you could see where Rafe was coming from, you didn’t necessarily agree. He was too young to be putting so much pressure on himself to follow Ward’s footsteps and make up for his absence. That was your job, and you heaved a sigh, looking down. You’d just started to shake your head when he spoke again.

“Besides…you’re still knocking back…what? Twelve bottles a week?”

You reared back at that, lifting your gaze as he’d already started turning away from you.

“I’m not saying it to be mean,” he assured you, leaning against the desk and intently watching you. “I’m just stating a fact.”

Your throat felt incredibly thick all of a sudden.

“My dad’s death hit you really hard, and I get it. Mrs. Thornton is telling you that you’re the parent—the adult—and so you need to put me in my place and step into your role.”

You looked away, avoiding his eye.

“…but you can barely function most days, and I treated you like shit on more than one occasion, so…” you reluctantly met his gaze again. “It’s only fair that you let me look after you, now.”

You wanted to tell him that that wasn’t his job, and that more importantly, it should be the other way around. However, he was right. In your condition, you’d screw everything up and drive the whole family into debt. It wouldn’t be like this forever, you knew that, and so you reluctantly agreed that you needed time to get yourself together before you fucked it all up.

You woke up in tears, chest tight as you struggled to breathe.

It wasn’t the first time you dreamed about Ward, but instead of a good dream it was only a memory of that day Shoupe had knocked on your door. You’d felt trapped and panicked as you watched on, telling yourself not to answer it. Somehow, if you didn’t answer it then it wouldn’t be true. He wouldn’t be dead but just…still on his boat…enjoying a long vacation.

The events played out just like they did that day. You’d been able to feel the dread deep in your gut at the look on Shoupe’s face, and you kept screaming at yourself to kick him out of your house, that he had nothing good to tell you. You watched the way your face fell and the way your hands shook, and Rafe had only walked into the room for two seconds before hurrying to grab you when your knees buckled. He’d held you, fighting to calm you down as you wailed…

Much like he was doing now.

“Hey, hey,” you heard him harshly whisper, arms tight around you as he kept you from bucking around on the bed. “Y/N…”

Your nails dug into his arm as you tried to catch your breath, but your choked sobs were coming out too fast to give you any kind of reprieve. You could feel Rafe’s chest at your back as he moved closer, and one of his arms snaked around your neck as he held you in place.

“Is she okay?”

It was only then that you realized the hallway light was on and bleeding into the otherwise dark room. Wheezie sounded worried—scared—and you cursed yourself for doing that to her. You were supposed to be their support, comforting them and providing a safe space during this awful time in their lives, and instead it was the other way around.

You both heard and felt Rafe sigh.

“Yeah, she’ll…she’ll be fine. Wheezie, you should go back to bed,” he told her. “Now.”

You could only assume she listened to him, and Rafe only let you go when your breathing started to slow. You weren’t crying as hard when he laid you back down, and his absence was only felt for a few minutes before the bed dipped again. You felt him put a pill in your hand, and you frowned at it as he pulled you into a sitting position.

“Take this,” he told you, pushing your hand towards your mouth.

“What…?”

“It’ll help you sleep,” was all he said, forcing you to pop it into your mouth, a glass of water being pressed to your lips almost immediately.

In your distress, some slipped past your lips, and Rafe beat you to it in brushing his thumb across your chin. Slowly blinking, you laid back down, and you heard Rafe set the glass of water aside. You naturally thought that he’d leave, but you were surprised to feel his hand on the side of your face, smoothing it over your face and hair.

You really didn’t like that he was taking on a role that should’ve been yours, and after some time, you quietly mumbled an apology.

“I loved him,” you whispered in the darkness, and you felt Rafe freeze. “I know you guys think that I didn’t. I know what you and your friends have probably said about me behind my back.”

You tiredly scoffed, more tears escaping as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“…but I loved your father very much, and I wasn’t prepared to do this alone.”

Rafe didn’t say anything, but he didn’t move either, and you pressed your hand to your face, feeling the pill taking effect.

“I don’t know what to do,” you choked out. “He was supposed to be here, Rafe, I’m not supposed to do this alone.”

You could feel your chest tightening again, and Rafe shushed you. You could feel your body becoming lighter, and you welcomed it, face relaxing and breathing slowing. Rafe was still next to you, his body so close to yours that you could feel the heat coming off of it. You didn’t have the strength to push his hand away as his fingers grazed your cheek, and after some time you felt him pull the cover over you.

You didn’t feel him move or leave, but you became less concerned about that the more your fatigue grew.

You stared at Wheezie’s hopeful face, chewing on your lip as you contemplated her request.

“Have I met Natalie’s parents before?” you wondered, and you realized your mistake in asking that when her face dimmed.

“I don’t think so, but…dad did.”

You slowly nodded at that, whispering a small ‘right’ before looking away. It was a Friday evening, and in order to make up for your less than stellar behavior, you’d planned to cook and have dinner as a family—something that hadn’t been done in months. However, Sarah’s plans with her boyfriend put a damper on that, and now Wheezie was asking to stay over at a friend’s.

It didn’t seem fair to make Wheezie stay while Sarah didn’t. Granted, Sarah hadn’t exactly asked you, but still. The plan was to have dinner as a family anyway, and without Sarah, that wish was already ruined. The way you saw it, you might as well let Wheezie go, but you didn’t know Natalie’s parents, and so you felt unsure.

Rafe came into the kitchen then, and with one look between you, he deduced that a serious discussion was being had.

“What’s wrong?” he asked no one in particular.

“I’m asking mom if I can sleep over at Natalie’s tonight.”

“…and I’ve never met Natalie’s parents so…”

You watched Rafe chuckle at that, lips curving into a smirk as he moved to taste the vodka sauce on the stove.

“They’re almost as uptight as Topper’s mom, so Wheezie will be in good hands if that’s what you’re worried about,” he told you, tone light.

While that reassured you, you still felt a little down about your plans for the evening being ruined. You got the feeling that it was noticeable, and you flinched a bit when you felt Rafe’s hands briefly come down on your shoulders before brushing past you.

“You can do your family dinner thing another night,” he suggested, shrugging at you. “Sarah won’t be here anyway.”

Wheezie gave you a pouty lip, and you thought it over. If she said that Ward had met them before, and Rafe confirmed that they were indeed trustworthy, then you didn’t see why not. Even still, you unintentionally found yourself looking to Rafe, and when he gave you the barest of nods, you smiled at the thirteen-year-old.

“Okay,” you breathed, and she jumped up with her phone in hand.

“Natalie’s mom is picking me up,” she threw over her shoulder, hurriedly heading for the stairs.

You were happy to see her coping better with things, so you tried to focus on that instead of the fact that you’d be eating alone. Turning back to the stove, you turned the dial down to a simmer, half expecting Rafe to be gone when you turned around. He wasn’t, and you didn’t miss the way he eyed you as he leaned his arms on the counter.

“Let me guess, you have plans too? It’s Friday, and that usually means you’ll be out somewhere with Topper and Kelce.”

The crooked smile on his face was mocking as he peered up at you from beneath his lashes.

“It’s family dinner night.”

You only rolled your eyes at that, turning away from him.

“You’re nineteen, Rafe. I don’t expect you to turn down plans with your friends just to stay home and sit across from your stepmom,” you sighed. “You can go, it’s fine.”

“You and I both know I don’t do anything I don’t want to do,” he said, something you silently agreed on. “I want to stay.”

When you looked at him again, you were surprised to find him standing much closer, now. You hadn’t even heard him move nor realize just how close his voice was. You couldn’t place the look on the blonde’s face as he stared at you, and you watched him reach up to grab a plate.

“Why?” you chuckled.

Despite how nice he was being now, you both knew that it was only the case because of Ward’s death. Rafe had never cared for you, and if the circumstances were different, he wouldn’t hesitate to get as far away from this house as possible. You felt like Rafe’s thoughts were probably mirroring your own, something passing through his gaze that looked a lot like confusion.

“…because you loved him. Probably more than me,” he shrugged.

You frowned because you didn’t agree with that, at all, and you told him so.

“I think there are very few people who can love someone as much as a son loves his father.”

You threw Rafe a small smile, reaching out to rest your hand on his arm.

“…and you did love him, Rafe. Sure, you guys fought worse than teenage sisters at times,” you breathed, frantically blinking at the memories. “…but that’s just because he wanted the best for you, and you had your own problems that didn’t stop you from disappointing him.”

You tilted your head at him when he looked away.

“You idolized him, and all you wanted was to make him proud. It made things very complicated, but please don’t ever say I loved him more than you did.”

When Rafe looked at you again, there was a deep frown on his face, and for some reason, you felt very small beneath his stare.

“…but you did,” he said with a small shrug, gesturing around. “I mean, look at you.”

You blinked.

“You have to be medicated just to get some sleep, and you still don’t remember staring at the wall for days after he died.”

You felt a chill pass through you at his words, hating how much you’d let them down, but also because there was something about the way Rafe stepped towards you and held your gaze that you didn’t think you liked. It made an unsure feeling twist deep in your gut for some reason.

“So, no. I don’t want to go anywhere with Kelce and Top, not when my dad’s wife is one bad day away from a psychotic break,” he whispered. “He would want me to take care of you.”

His words were reminiscent of the same ones he’d spoken to you in Ward’s study that day, but unlike that day, today they made you feel uneasy, and you didn’t know why. You dropped your hand, taking a step back from him just as Wheezie’s voice reached your ears.

“Natalie’s mom is outside, I’ll text you when I get there,” she called as she ran through the house.

Your voice cracked when you told her to have fun, but you didn’t think she heard, the door slamming shut mid-sentence. Forcing yourself to turn away from Rafe, you grabbed a plate with shaky hands, Mrs. Thornton’s words echoing in your mind that Rafe’s new role in the household wasn’t healthy.

“I swear I’m not doing it to be a bitch, okay?” Sarah’s voice reached your ears. “It’s just really hard to be around her without thinking about dad.”

You swallowed at her words, taking a step back on the stairs,

“Especially when it’s obvious just how hard she’s taking it,” she said. “I mean, she’s a little better, sure, but those sleeping pills you give her aren’t doing a thing. She’s not tired, Rafe, she’s depressed.”

“Well, you’re making her feel like shit,” you heard him reply, a tone in his voice that you hadn’t heard in quite some time. “This is the fourth dinner you skipped out on for your Pogue boyfriend.”

The younger girl didn’t respond right away.

“I’m sorry,” you heard her eventually say. “When did you start caring about her anyway? Weren’t you the one who called her some gold-digger, saying she was coming for your spot in the will?”

That didn’t shock you nor hurt you, long imagining that Rafe had said far worse. You heard him heave a sigh, and it sounded angry.

“Dad’s gone, Sarah, and that means we should stay together as a family,” he sneered. “…and I’m doing what I can to make that happen.”

You heard a slight scuffle, and you hurriedly made your way down the stairs and towards the kitchen. It had been some time since you heard Rafe and Sarah fight, something you definitely didn’t miss, but considering the topic of this discussion, it didn’t surprise you that it was a little more emotionally charged than normal.

When you rounded the corner, Rafe had a tight grip on Sarah’s arm, the younger girl trying to leave with her purse in hand. The expression on his face was unnerving, a deep frown between his brows with his lip curled over his teeth a she got in her face.

“Things are going to be different, now.”

“Rafe.”

Sarah’s eyes were wide and terrified when she looked at you, relaxing a bit at your presence, and you were relieved when Rafe let her go. Sarah only briefly acknowledged you on her way out, desperate to get away from Rafe, and you watched the way he glared after her.

“Rafe, it’s fine,” you told him. “She’s allowed to hang out with her friends for whatever reasons she wants, especially now.”

“Are you going to use that excuse forever? Just because dad died it doesn’t mean that she can do whatever she wants,” he snapped, gesturing towards the door.

“She’s grieving!”

“She’s using it as an excuse to be a shitty daughter, and you’re just letting her.”

You reared back at both his words and his tone, and for the first time in months, you felt something like anger bubble up in your chest.

“It’s not your place to tell me how to raise her. She’s not your daughter,” you spat.

The small laugh that he let out lacked humor, and by the look on his face, you knew that there was something on the tip of his tongue that you would hate.

“Yeah, well, she’s barely yours.”

You could tell that he wanted to take it back almost as soon as he said it, and you pressed your lips together just as he touched his forehead.

“Fuck, that’s not…”

His words trailed off, and you crossed your arms over your chest. You were only thirteen years older than Sarah and knew her for all of three years, so it wasn’t like you didn’t feel the same at times, but it still hurt to hear. It’s like Rafe was voicing your worst fears that she would come to lack respect for you and your presence in her life as a mom.

You didn’t know how to do this…and everyone knew it.

“I just feel like…you’re treating her like dad did, letting her get away with everything, and I hate it,” he slowly said.

Rafe’s feelings about Sarah had never been a secret, and neither had Ward’s. You wouldn’t ever deny the fact that Ward favored her, and it was unfortunately noticeable, something that was always visibly distressing for Rafe. With Ward gone—and with Rafe feeling like he now needed to be the man of the house—this made for a very complex situation.

You couldn’t tell what was rightful concern and what was just Rafe wanting to put Sarah in her place, something he’d never been subtle about.

“I wasn’t expecting to be left raising teenagers by myself before I was even thirty, Rafe,” you finally replied. “I’m trying…”

“I know you are,” he hurried to say, quickly approaching you and reaching for you. “That’s why I’m trying to help.”

You backed away from him before he could touch you, and you didn’t miss the way his expression clouded over at that. Looking away, you swiped your tongue between your lips, choosing your next words carefully. You could feel his heated gaze burning a hole into your face.

“I get that you’re trying to help, and believe me when I say I’m so appreciative of it, Rafe, but… It is not your place,” you carefully said, looking at him again.

You watched him roll his eyes towards the ceiling, nodding to himself. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and when his gaze fell back to you, you immediately knew that you didn’t like it. Rafe’s nostrils flared, and you didn’t need to be a mind reader to know that your words had bothered him, no matter how carefully you chose them.

“What you mean is you’re the parent, I’m not, and I need to stay in a child’s place.”

You sighed at that.

“Not necessarily, I just-.”

“…because if that were true, who would’ve driven Wheezie to school on the mornings when you couldn’t even get out of bed?”

You didn’t appreciate him throwing that in your face, and by the look in his eyes, you could tell he wasn’t done.

“You want me to stay in my place, but I’m the one who made the funeral arrangements and answered the important questions and kept this house together when the woman our dad married was too grief stricken to even stand on her own two feet.”

You bit your tongue, warily eyeing him as he moved to stand directly before you.

“Dad died, and I stepped up. Not you…me,” he firmly told you. “…and now that you’re sort of kind of getting your shit together, you just want to pretend like I should have no say in any of this.”

You didn’t like how close Rafe was, but when you went to take a step back, his hand shot out to dig into your arm, preventing you from doing so. You winced at the tight grip, and you swore you saw his face soften some at the sight. His grip certainly did, and you almost wished that it didn’t because the gentle way he held your arm and the gentle way he looked between your eyes made you deeply uncomfortable.

“Someone has to be the man of the house, now…and it falls to me,” he whispered.

You didn’t even have a proper response for that, feeling wholly unnerved as you stared at one another, and you took a deep breath.

“Let go of me, Rafe,” you quietly said.

You were relieved when he listened, almost convinced that he wouldn’t, and you touched your arm with a step back. You studied his face, searching for what? You didn’t know, but again…Mrs. Thornton’s words would not leave your mind, and you hated the way your lips trembled.

“Do not touch me like that again.”

Your tone was even, but you were sure your eyes betrayed you because Rafe merely raised an eyebrow at you.

“Or what? You’ll send me to my room?”

Your heart sank at his mocking words and the subtle challenge in them, and despite how much nicer Rafe’s next words were, they didn’t make you any less uneasy.

“I’m just trying to do right by my dad and look after everything he left behind.”

His words seemed innocent enough, but for the first time, you allowed yourself to wonder just what that entailed exactly and what role he expected to play in this family. You didn’t want your mind to linger on something that couldn’t be true, and so you left him without another word.

The feel of a hand shaking your shoulder is what pulled you from sleep, and it took you a long time to peel your eyes open. Doing so felt difficult for some reason, and when you exhaled—smelling the wine on your breath—you realized why. Rafe’s face was the one that met you, and you immediately squeezed your eyes shut.

“Y/N,” he gently said. “It’s late.”

As he said this, you realized that you were on the couch, and it didn’t take you long to surmise that you’d fallen asleep there. You didn’t want to move, but you also didn’t want to spend the rest of the night on the couch, knowing you’d regret it the moment you stood up in the morning. Just when you were about to mumble to Rafe to leave you be, you heard him sigh before feeling his arms slide underneath you.

In an effort to keep from falling, you quickly held onto him.

“Rafe,” you mumbled, disapproving.

“Wheezie has friends coming over in the morning,” you were barely able to make out. “I don’t think their moms would appreciate stumbling upon you asleep and hungover on the couch.”

He chuckled to himself as he climbed the stairs.

“They already don’t like you…”

You merely hummed at that, and you were relieved when you felt yourself being deposited onto the bed. Rafe was saying something else to you, but none of it registered as you sought out sleep once again. Your intentions were interrupted though when you felt a hand on your face, and even in your inebriated state, you knew it didn’t feel right. Forcing your eyes open, you struggled to push Rafe’s hand away.

“I just want to make sure you don’t throw up in your sleep,” he mumbled when your eyes blearily met his. “Is that okay?”

You drunkenly blinked at him, lips trembling.

“Why don’t you call me ‘mom’?”

Your question was whispered, voice shaky, and as much as you wanted him out of your bedroom, you also wanted him to answer the question. The house was quiet, both Wheezie and Sarah asleep, and the only light was that of the light in the hall. You didn’t take your eyes off of Rafe as you waited for him to answer no matter how much you wanted to.

In the low lighting, you could see the way his dirty blond hair hung onto his forehead, the light glinting off of his blue eyes.

“I never have,” was his response.

“Well, maybe you should,” you forced out. “I don’t want you saying my name anymore.”

You didn’t miss the way his nostrils flared at that.

“Why not?”

“…because I don’t like it,” you confessed, tears kissing your eyes. “Not anymore.”

His face fell a bit at the way your voice cracked, and when he reached for you again, you hurriedly sat up.

The silence was loud as you just stared at each other, something unspoken passing between you. You felt like you wanted to crawl out of your own skin whenever he so much as looked at you, now, thoughts running wild with what you prayed to be untrue. His stony expression told you that they weren’t, that he’d been found out, and in your drunken state, you couldn’t stop your tears from spilling over.

When he reached for you again, it startled you right off of the bed.

The night stand shook as you fell against it, and you cried out in pain just as Rafe cursed. You didn’t want his help, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t need it as he hurried to reach you. The feel of his hands on you burned and not in a good way, causing you to flinch away from his touch. That didn’t deter him though, and his grip was tight as he kept you in place, his other hand reaching for your head.

“Did you hit your head? Are you-?”

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, shoving at his chest, and Rafe grew quiet.

The only sound for a while was your soft sobs, and Rafe’s refusal to leave you alone kept him kneeling before you. When you tried to stand up, he ignored your protests, reaching out and helping you. You swayed, and Rafe kept you close much to your chagrin. You wanted him gone as soon as possible, so you were quick to sit back down, but Rafe didn’t let your waist or your hand go.

Swooping down, he captured your lips in a kiss.

You wanted to gag.

His hand was almost painfully twisted around yours, making you wince, and every attempt to scoot back was only met with the resistance of his hand on your waist. Your stomach churned as he moved his mouth against yours, wanting to be sick at the feel of him kissing you on the same bed where Ward used to sleep. When his fingers dipped beneath your shirt, you bit him.

Hard.

You took the moment to remove yourself as he cried out, hurrying towards the bathroom and locking yourself inside. That awful sick feeling wasn’t as hollow as you thought, your knees hitting the floor almost as soon as you made it inside, head bent in the toilet. You couldn’t stop crying as you emptied your stomach, throat scratchy from the alcohol that was coming back up.

When you were able to catch your breath, you were shaking. You could still feel Rafe’s lips on yours, and on top of everything else you were forced to deal with in the months following your husband’s death, this was the last thing you’d ever anticipated.

You’d slept on the bathroom floor that night, refusing to leave and face Rafe. If Sarah and Wheezie noticed the tension between the two of you, they didn’t comment on it or at the very least, not to you. The knowledge that Rafe wanted to take Ward’s place in every facet of the household made you sick, and while neither of you mentioned that night, it also felt clear between the two of you that it wouldn’t be ignored forever.

You wanted him out of the house.

…but that wasn’t your place, was it? Rafe had more of a right to all of this way more than you did, and you couldn’t be the one to leave. Rafe may have been nineteen and an adult in the eyes of the law, but no matter how much of a 180 he’d done, you couldn’t trust him to properly raise Wheezie and Sarah. Especially now that you knew his 180 had less to do with just wanting to be a better person or more about taking on the role Ward had played in every way.

You shuddered at the thought, and oddly enough, this tempted you to drink yourself into a stupor more than Ward’s death ever did.

You and Rafe were ten years apart, so seeing him like a son had always been hard at times, but it didn’t stop you from treating him like one in the years that you’d been with his father. You’d liked to think that the sentiment was returned, and maybe at one time it had been, and maybe after Ward’s death things just…changed.

Was this your fault?

Had you dropped the ball so hard that he couldn’t even bring himself to see you as a parental figure anymore? Did he stop trying to respect you as one or…? Or did it have to do with how much he’d had to take care of you? You didn’t treat him any different, talk to him any different, so maybe you hadn’t done anything to change his perception of you.

Even if you had…what could you possibly have done to make him see you as a potential partner?

As if your nights weren’t bad enough—haunted by memories of Ward and that day you’d been told he was dead—you were now also kept awake by the knowledge that your stepson very much wanted to fill the void left by his father. And maybe if Rafe were anyone else, you could’ve talked about this, tried to sort through this, but Rafe was Rafe, and you reminded yourself that the Rafe you were accustomed to had only disappeared less than six months ago.

…and you’d seen hints of him just peeking from below the surface.

You resisted the urge to drink these days, positive that one sip would have you spiraling. You didn’t know how to cope with this new development, but you knew it couldn’t be that way. It didn’t go unnoticed that the night Rafe kissed you, you’d been drunk out of your mind, completely vulnerable to him. You also couldn’t bring yourself to take anymore sleeping pills, recalling Sarah’s words that day as she’d told Rafe that you were depressed…not tired.

She was right.

…and so despite the difficulty, you forced yourself to try and sleep without medication night after night. It was hard for several reasons, the most pressing of which being the unnerving presence of the nineteen-year-old just down the hall. It made it hard to find sleep most nights, and on the nights in which you did, you still do so with only maybe four hours to your name.

It was noticeable.

“I can stay and help, you know. It’s just John B., and he’ll understand why I’m late,” Sarah offered.

You could see by the look on her face that she was worried about you, and despite your attempt, you knew that your reassuring smile didn’t convince her.

“Sarah, it’s a Saturday night,” you told her. “I’m not going to make you stay and help me clean the kitchen, especially when you helped me cook and stayed for dinner.”

She looked like she wanted to argue but decided against it.

“Yeah, I’m glad I did.”

Her tone told you that she was feeling bad about the other dinners she’d skipped out on, and you were proven right.

“I’m sorry about not staying for all the others and…basically avoiding you,” she quietly apologized. “It’s just that Ward cared about you a lot, and when I’m around you, it’s easy to see why…and it just makes me think about him.”

You only exhaled at that, letting out a small chuckle as you washed the dishes.

“You don’t have to apologize, Sarah. I get it,” you whispered, pausing. “I miss him too.”

“Yeah, well, he’s an asshole, but Rafe was kind of right in confronting me over my behavior.”

The mention of Rafe had your hairs standing on end, and you swallowed down a sigh, still unsure what you were going to do about the blond.

“There were better ways for him to get his point across…”

Sarah only found that funny, softly laughing to herself.

“Yeah, but he wouldn’t be Rafe if he didn’t be rude about it, so,” she trailed off, pushing away from the counter. “I’ll be back before 1.”

You hummed at that, letting her know that was okay, and it was only ten minutes later that you were alone. Wheezie went to a sleepover just after dinner, and Rafe hadn’t been home all day. Before where that would have concerned you, now you could only be relieved to get some reprieve from the oldest Cameron. God knows that you needed the space to think.

Going over every scenario in your mind, the best one seemed to be to hope that it would just go away. You didn’t want to find yourself in some sort of legal battle if you even attempted to kick Rafe out and basically bar him from his own home. Legality of it all aside, it just wasn’t morally right. This was where he grew up, his safe space, and you couldn’t even pretend to feel comfortable at the thought.

The other option just wasn’t even an option. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t just pack up and abandon Wheezie and Sarah. Never mind the fact that you’d been in their lives for three years now, but now more than ever they needed stability. Their father only just died, and what kind of person would you be if you decided you just didn’t want to be responsible for them anymore? Allowing Rafe to run you off wasn’t an option.

Besides, there was a tiny and terrifying voice in the back of your head anyway that said he wouldn’t even let you.

It was an hour later that you found yourself in bed after cleaning the kitchen and taking a bath. You needed the soak, needed to do whatever you could to relax you. It wasn’t even ten o’clock, but considering how hard sleep was for you to find lately, you figured there was no harm in letting your head hit the pillow early.

Maybe you could trick your body into going to sleep at a decent time.

The minutes dragged on and were made to feel like hours, but the silence of the house and the fact that you were alone did more wonders than you thought. You could feel your eyelids becoming heavy, and what little sounds you could make out from outside slowly started to fade. The last thing you recalled was your body feeling heavier…

…and then you were standing in front of Shoupe, and he was telling you that Ward was dead, and you couldn’t even stand on your feet anymore.

You sat up with a gasp, struggling to breathe, and by the way your vision blurred, you knew that you’d been crying in your sleep. There was a voice in your ear shushing you, and despite the fact that you knew who the hands on your arms belonged to, your mind was too preoccupied with painful memories to fully register it.

Rafe pulled you against him, holding you to him as you sobbed, thinking to yourself that it had been a few weeks since you’d had a really bad reaction. You shook in his hold, head bowed as you wailed, and you were momentarily grateful that the house was empty. The blond rocked you, forcing you to press your face into the crook of his neck, and it was only then that you registered the smell of alcohol.

Before you could gather yourself to ask Rafe where he’d been, his hands were clumsily grasping at your face.

You sharply inhaled when he kissed you…again. You could taste the alcohol on his tongue, and you were so distraught that it took you too long to realize what was happening. The kiss was hungry, Rafe tasting the inside of your mouth and kissing you in a way that might’ve taken your breath away under different circumstances.

As it were, you could only register that you were being kissed by your deceased husband’s son again. It made your stomach twist uncomfortably, and your efforts to reach up and pull his hands away from your face were futile. You made a noise of protest, attempting to lean away, but he ignored it. Even when you bit at him like before, he ignored it.

With horror, you realized that Rafe wasn’t stopping it.

Panic began to set in, and when you shoved at his chest, he quickly reached to close his hand around your wrist. At the same time, he leaned into you more, forcing you back, and you didn’t put your hand down in time to prevent that. With him now on top of you, your heart was threatening to leap from your chest.

“Rafe,” you gasped when he pulled away. “Rafe, stop!”

Your voice came out panicked and shrill, but instead of listening to you, the sounds were only joined by that of your shorts ripping.

“He would want me to look after you,” he drunkenly murmured, making your stomach drop.

You both fought for the right to your shirt, you trying to keep it on and Rafe trying to take it off. You felt like you were on the verge of a panic attack, telling yourself that this wasn’t happening. In the worst way possible, you discovered that Rafe was much stronger than he looked, feeling like you got the wind knocked out of you when he roughly shoved you down after your attempt to sit up.

You could hear yourself crying, and you knew that Rafe could too.

With a hand tightly snaking around your throat, his other fumbled to get his own pants off. Focused on trying to breathe, you reached up to pull at his hand. You could hear a ringing in your ears, and your chest felt tighter than it did when you first woke up from your nightmare. His lower half was pinning you down, and the blood you could feel yourself drawing on his hand and arm didn’t slow him down.

He was shushing you when you felt his skin against yours, and one of your hands twisted into his shirt as he started to push himself into you. The feel had your feet stretching, and you let out a choked sound despite the pressure on your throat. He was torturously slow in stretching you out around him, and with every further push of his hips, you clawed at his shirt some more.

He only let your neck go when his hips were firmly pressed against yours.

As you coughed and wheezed, he reached behind his head to pull the fabric off, tossing it somewhere without a car. The moment his chest was bare, he reached for you again despite your difficulty to breathe, and his lips covered yours in another kiss. You didn’t even have time to register the kiss because he was thrusting into you with abandon. His hips were wildly snapping against yours, and you gasped into his mouth.

Rafe searched for your hands, threading his fingers through your own and pinning it against the bed next to your head. His other hand was digging into your hips, kipping them in place as he fucked you. You struggled to catch your breath, sharply inhaling and gasping with every thrust. The stretch was unfamiliar, and your mind spun with the fact that you hadn’t experienced this in months and also who it was with.

When Rafe pulled his lips away from yours, you let out a sob, and he gently shushed you, curving his hips into yours.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmured in the darkness. “It’s okay.”

You had so much you wanted to scream and shout at the blond, but you couldn’t even find the words. With every feeling of his cock sliding against your walls, your eyes rolled. His head fell next to yours, his heavy breathing in your ear as he pinned you down with his entire body. You weren’t able to move, only forced to lie beneath him and feel what he was doing to you.

He grunted in your ear with a particularly hard thrust, and you let out a yelp.

Just then, you heard the door open downstairs, and hearing it too, Rafe stopped. He was quick to cover your mouth with a hand, and he was completely still as you heard who you surmised was Sarah coming up the stairs. Your heart was so heavy in your chest, and it was all you could hear in your ears.

When she made it to the hallway, she stopped.

“Y/N, are you asleep?” she called.

At that, Rafe pressed down harder on both your mouth and you, and after a few moments, you heard the younger girl sigh. When the sound of her room door shutting reached your ears, Rafe kept his hand on your mouth, but he felt compelled to keep fucking you.

He was slow in doing so, now, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

He slowly dragged his cock in and out of you, pulling his hips back until just the tip remained—sometimes pulling out completely—before pushing back in and making your chest arch up into his. He quietly told you that it was okay, softly groaning as you unintentionally squeezed him. Rafe’s lips brushed against your neck and jaw, and now that the two of you were no longer alone, the room was deathly quiet.

So quiet that you could hear the sound of his cock plunging into you.

It was a sound that embarrassed you, a sound that made you want to cry. Rafe’s arms trembled as he fought to keep himself from just relaxing on top of you completely, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him that if he uncovered your mouth, you wouldn’t even scream. You would be too ashamed to let anyone know what Rafe Cameron was doing to you.

With his lips at your neck, you could feel them move as he talked.

“My dad’s gone…”

The mention of Ward in this moment made more tears spill over, and when he slowly removed his hand, you let out a shaky breath as you silently cried. Lifting his head, Rafe’s gaze found yours, his hips still slowly pushing against yours.

“…and I know that it’s killing you, but…”

He swallowed, looking between your eyes.

“…but you have me, now,” you let out a soft cry at that. “You do, and I’m…I’m going to take care of you.”

His hand reached up to touch your face, the tips of his fingers grazing your wet cheek. You shook your head, feeling like you were going to be sick, and Rafe only shushed you. His lips followed yours as you attempted to turn your head away, and you could taste your tears in the kiss.

“I’ve got the business…I’ve got the family ring…” his lips moved against yours as he spoke into the kiss. “…and I’ve got you.”

[brainmuncher]

A mis-text-derstanding

After a long night of patrolling around Amity, Danny damn near collapsed onto his bed. His back ached from a stray ectoblast and his eyes felt heavier than a mountain. Technus had done something to the technology around the town. At random a piece of technology would suddenly go rogue with a virus the ghost implemented. The virus would make the item try to capture anyone in the vicinity using any means necessary. So Danny had been doing regular patrols around town to catch anyone who needed help.

That also means that his sleeping time had been radically reduced. Without even the energy to lift his head, Danny patted around for his phone. Once he finally found the device he hefted himself on his side with a groan. It was a new phone since he was the first casualty in Technus’ plan. Thankfully, Sam had given him another so his parents wouldn’t try to make him one. (Who knows what kind of ‘anti-ghost’ protection they would’ve put on it.)

Tucker had promised that he was working on fixing the virus going around. Hopefully, he had some kind of good news to share. As soon as Danny went to message him he realized he hadn’t downloaded their chat app to the new phone. With a sigh he knew that he would just have to use normal texting but with careful codewords.

Putting in Tucker's number with a yawn, Danny sent the first message.

‘It’s your undead bro. The night out tonight was killer. Any news on the techie progress?’

Danny smashed his face into his bed with a sigh after hitting send. Knowing Tucker he was probably face first in his laptop and won’t notice the message for a bit. He could probably just close his eyes and…

Before he could even consider taking a nap there was a generic jingle from the phone. He should really get to fixing that. Tuck deserves a much better ringtone than some bells.

‘Nothing noteworthy yet. It's harder to crack than normal but nothing I can't handle. Do you need me to take over for tomorrow?’

‘Also why aren't you using our chat?’

Danny squinted at the screen with a slight frown. It had been a while since Sam or Tucker tried to go out in his place. They learned pretty quickly that it made Danny way too anxious to have them out there without him. Something about not being there to protect them if they got over their heads made Danny’s chest ache. 

And of course, Tucker noticed that he wasn’t using the app he made. It was a bit glitchy at times, but what tech wasn’t when it came to Danny? Not only was it secure, but it became an easier way for them to establish a timeline for filing. Jazz had been the one who realized that they didn’t have steady information on not just the rouges but the events of the fights. It became a staple to write out what happened and what went wrong after hearing her lecture about it.

‘Don’t have it on this phone yet. And you know how I feel about you being out there.’

Danny watched the screen for a bit, waiting to see if Tucker would reply immediately again. His mom probably caught him on his computer all day and was forcing him to separate himself from it for a while. It wasn’t an uncommon thing for Ms. Foley to do.

‘Yeah yeah, Mr. Possessive. Do you need me to walk you through how to get it again?’

Snorting at the pun, Danny easily replied. If Tucker was feeling sassy enough to joke about that, then he would push some buttons back. It was a simple banter that they sometimes fell into.

‘You know how I get with technology. I’m more likely to break something. Especially since this phone is so new. Whatever happened to flip phones?’

Danny snickered to himself at the message. Tucker had an ongoing war between new and old technology. While he loved his PDA he also admired some of the top-of-the-line devices. It was like the past and the future mixed in his friend's room. He would gush about the new devices but also gush about the older ones that still had functions that the newer ones lost. But flip phones? That was the only technology he knew that Tucker hated. It was the worst of both worlds for him. He’d been so excited when Danny’s flip phone was bricked by Technus’ virus.

‘I’m going to ignore that you said that.’

‘Also there’s going to be trouble in the park near you tomorrow. I’m already planning on going. Do you want in?’

Scooting up from his lounged position, Danny started to write back his reply.

‘Of course, I’ll be there. Don’t need you to go in alone and join the dead. Unusual for him to leave his plans there though. That’ll be fun to write in the report.’

The image of Jazz reading about that brought a smile to Danny’s face. She always found it interesting when one of the ghosts would change a long-time behavior. The fact that Technus was able to keep this rather on the down low would guarantee her interest. He was always one to blatantly announce his plans to the world to hear. Even though it’s a bit of a pain that he’s learning to keep things to himself it would peak Jazz’s curiosity, which made it bearable.

‘It is weird. And don’t remind me about the report. I still have the one from last week to write and I don’t want to do it.’

That made Danny laugh to himself a little. Last week the lunch lady tried to embrace the Ultra-Recyclo Vegetarian life. In the overflow of food, Tucker had gotten trapped in veggies. He was visibly green from having to eat some to escape. Sam had been excited about it at first before she saw how much food was being wasted. She ended up getting attacked for trying to explain the damage overconsumption and food waste could bring.

‘You looked like you wanted to vomit afterward. Well, at least we are prepared this time. We don’t always get that chance.’

Danny stretched out his stubborn limbs, feeling himself try to sink into the darkness. He’d have to end the conversation sooner rather than later. At this rate, he wouldn’t have a choice on whether he was taking a nap or not. At the familiar sound of bells, he looked back down at the conversation.

‘Unfortunately. Well, I’ll be finished by the time we meet at the park. I know you usually like to sleep after a long night.’

The reply made Danny’s core feel fuzzy with happiness. Tucker always knows him so well. He doesn’t know what he did to get such a fantastic best friend. It was at times like these that Danny knew he was so glad that they were in this together. With two of his best friends at his side, it made being a vigilante so much easier to bear. 

‘Thanks. Remember that not just the dead get to sleep. Don’t push yourself. Goodnight.’

With that, Danny felt comfortable with setting his phone down to get changed into pajamas. It ached on his back to take off his shirt, but Jazz would be disappointed in the morning if he didn’t. She always got that pinched look on her face when he didn’t take care of himself to her standards. Her standards weren’t exactly high up either so it made him feel extra upset when he missed the mark.

Being careful to not lie on his back, Danny got back into his bed. He curled himself into the blankets with a small smile. One last chime of bells rang out in the room, probably from Tucker saying goodnight back. Picking up his phone, he opened up the lock screen and looked at his messages.

Instead of a goodnight, his stomach dropped as he realized a different number messaged him. A very familiar number.

‘Hey dude! I know you had to get a new phone so this is me. Not only did I figure out how it’s spreading, I think I finally found a way to get rid of the virus.’

Practically throwing himself off the bed, Danny got to his feet. Both his back and his mind screamed at him as he looked over the message. He tapped back to the one he’d just been replying to, finding his heart stopping at the string of numbers. One of the area code numbers was a six instead of a nine. He’d been messaging a stranger this entire time.

Looking back at the messages he convinced himself that it was fine. He was vague enough to not be recognized. It wasn’t like this person was from Amity. They won’t recognize the correlation between him and Phantom. Surely the other person wouldn’t take his words at face value. 

Worst comes to worst he can have Tucker take over his phone for a bit and make sure the other person can’t find out who he is. He hadn’t bought the phone or had it under his name in any way, so they could only find out from the conversation alone.

Breathing out a breath of air he kissed his night of sleep goodbye.

‘I’ll be over in a sec Tuck. I think I just made a mistake.’

[eph3merall]

dealer!chris x innocent!bff!reader hcs 🦌

dealer!chris . . . who always has a part of his mind thinking about you. what are you up to? classes? work? friends? hangouts? he'll text you and pretend to not care much, but deep down he just doesn't want to admit how much he worries over this girl who is just his friend.

innocent!bff!reader . . . loves and adores all things autumn. her clothes are fall staples that include lots of denim and earthy tones. so whenever she's hanging out with chris and sees something to add to her closet or keep as a trinket or decoration, she'll look up to chris with pretty lil' eyes and how could he deny her? sometimes he'll purposefully look away and shove her away from the store because she keeps burning a hole through his pocket.

dealer!chris . . . despises situations where innocent!bff!reader roped into his 'job'. there are shady people buying some strong shit from him, and he knows matt would also screw him over if innocent!bff!reader got harmed because of him. matt sees you as a best friend, someone he needs to protect because his brother is a little fucking stupid sometimes. dealer!chris always tries avoiding problems when it seems as if you're gonna get involved with any of his deals.

innocent!bff!reader . . . who's had a boyfriend or two before. she's just never had sex, and once she told chris he was laughing at her and giggling with his eyes all red. 'fuckin'... you're jokin', right kid?' and when she tells chris she's dated less than five people he's laughing harder. gosh, what an asshole.

dealer!chris . . . always carries a lighter with a printed cat photo on it that innocent!bff!reader glued/taped onto it. keeps a picture of her in his wallet as well—a polaroid of her awhile back in the winter, running into the horizon as snow fell around her frame. he could hear the giggles she made just by looking at the photo.

innocent!bff!reader . . . who has severe nosebleeds once every few months or so. it'll get so bad to the point she's crying because she thinks she's gonna die—with chris grumbling all annoyed with his hand fisting her hair so it doesnt get caked in blood. sometimes hes high and just stares at times while she yells at him to get her a hairtie or to grab ahold of most of her hair.

dealer!chris . . . who's, again, literally just an asshole to everyone. you're barely an exception. one second he'll be laughing with you and once he's with a buyer or some of his friends, he'll act like you're some dirt on his shoe. plus he's just plain ol' mean. wont take bullshit from anyone, not even his brothers. matt pisses him off more than nick does. but of course, they're his brothers. so he isnt.. that mean.

innocent!bff!reader . . . who grew up sheltered from everything in life. her parents are overprotective and she's their only child—only serving to make them more anxious when she's out. met chris through nick since the two were in a class together. something clicked and they've been hanging out ever since, usually in groups. chris and his friends are nott a good influence on her. but her mother doesn't have to know, does she?

dealer!chris . . . lovess cute coupley things. he just won't ever admit it to anyone he knows, not even his brothers if they ask or jab at him. secretly, he loves it when innocent!bff!reader hugs him tight or brushes her fingers across his skin. but he'll always stick to his go-to response—a scoff and he's pushing her away, muttering some shit like 'god, fuckin'.. annoying as hell always touchin' me.'

innocent!bff!reader . . . tries getting herself off with her fingers for the first time in awhilee since meeting chris because he just makes her feel so weird. all hot and bothered and it's gotten so overwhelming that humping her pillow alone in her dorm room isn't enough, so she's sliding her fingers inside her cunt slowly and mewling all softly in the privacy of her dorm room. she doesn't even realize that she secretly wants chris to see her like this.

dealer!chris . . . fucks with girls left and right. a new chick at each party that he sells some drugs to, and, if they're pretty enough.. he'll let them suck his dick or something. hey, he got to cum down some pretty brunette's throat and got a fat stack of cash? win-win. but when he met innocent!bff! reader... she went to house parties with him sometimes. which resulted in him not getting to fuck a girl's throat-which also resulted in dealer!chris fucking his own fist at night with the thought of you in his head.

—

©eph3merall 2024