#trying to express the feeling i got from standing on a street corner...

[girlboyburger]

street corner sights, sounds, and skies ...

[pastryfication]

hi!!! can we get an ollie x reader, frustrated after he misses out on q3 in baku, and fully melts into his gfs arms when he’s out of the car. until someone from the team has to steer him away to the media pen

i guess that's the best i can do

pairing: ollie bearman x reader

note: i absolutely adore writing hurt/comfort so thank u for this request <33 i know it’s been over a month since u requested, and i’m so sorry for that, but i hope u still like it

the streets of baku were unforgiving that day, the tight corners and narrow straights biting harder than ollie had expected as he got into the car. he knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but missing out on q3—by just a fraction—hurt more than he wanted to admit.

he climbs out of the car quickly, his helmet still on, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. the moment he’s out of the cockpit, the frustration floods him. all those laps, the careful management, and it still wasn’t enough. he slams the steering wheel back in place a little harder than necessary, trying to keep the emotions from boiling over in front of the cameras. the pit crew is busy around him, preparing for the post-qualifying debrief, but all he can think about is how close he came.

he catches sight of you standing just outside of the garage, your face soft with understanding. it’s as if you know exactly how he’s feeling before he even reaches you. you offer a small smile, but ollie’s expression doesn’t budge. he pulls off his helmet and then his baclava, running a hand through his sweaty hair, before walking over to you, his shoulders heavy with disappointment.

as soon as he’s close enough, he drops his helmet onto the ground beside you and crashes into your arms without a word. his hands grip tightly onto your waist, his forehead resting heavily against your shoulder, as if all the tension and frustration can somehow seep out through the contact. for a long moment, he just stands there, holding on, and you can feel the shuddering breath he lets out.

you wrap your arms around him, holding him close, your hand gently stroking the back of his neck, offering silent comfort. his body, taut with frustration and anger just moments ago, begins to sag against yours, melting into your embrace. he’s letting it all go, just for a moment, here with you, where it’s safe to be vulnerable—where he can show his true emotions.

“you were absolutely brilliant out there,” you whisper softly into his ear, trying to sooth the storm brewing inside him. “so close, ollie. you fought so hard.”

he doesn’t say anything at first, his face still buried in the crook of your neck, his arms clinging to you as if he's afraid you'll disappear. you can feel the rise and fall of his chest, deep breaths as he tries to calm down, to find the words he wants to say. his grip on you tightens even further for a second, as if he needs to hold on to something stable, something real, before he can speak.

“i should’ve made it,” he mumbles, his voice thick with frustration. “i had the pace. i know i did.”

you keep stroking his hair, your other hand rubbing gentle circles on his back. “you’ll get them next time. this isn’t the end.”

he pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes glassy with emotion. “i just—” his voice cracks, and he shakes his head, trying to get the words out. “i wanted it so bad. i was right there.”

“i know,” you say softly, cupping his face in your hands. “i know, love. but this doesn’t change how incredible you are.”

for a moment, he just looks at you, the frustration still simmering beneath the surface but dulled by the warmth of your presence. you lean in and press a gentle kiss to his forehead, and he sighs again, his shoulders finally slumping in defeat—though not the kind of defeat that lingers, but the kind that comes with acceptance, with knowing he did all he could.

but before he can fully disappear into the comfort of your embrace, someone from the team approaches, clearing their throat. you both turn to see one of the pr managers, looking slightly awkward but aware of the time crunch. “ollie,” they say softly, not wanting to intrude too much. “we’ve got to get you to the media pen. they’re waiting.”

ollie groans quietly against your shoulder, his grip on you loosening as reality pulls him back. “right,” he mutters, clearly not thrilled about it.

he pulls back reluctantly, his hands still lingering on your waist for a second longer before he lets go completely. “i’ll be back soon,” he says, the words more for himself than for you, like a promise he’s making to get through this next part.

you offer him an encouraging smile, giving his hand a squeeze. “you’ve got this.”

he nods, though you can see he’s still carrying some of that disappointment with him. just before he walks away, he pauses, turning back to you. “thank you,” he whispers, his voice quiet but sincere. “i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

“you don’t have to,” you reply, smiling softly as you reach up to caress his cheek adoringly. “i’ll always be here.”

with that, he smiles softly and leans down to give you a hurried kiss before finally allowing the team to steer him away, glancing back at you one last time before disappearing into the paddock. you watch him go, knowing that once he’s done with the media, you’ll be there waiting, ready to pull him back into your arms when he needs it most.

[fleming-o]

new beginnings barca fem x teen reader

(i say barca but its kinda mostly alexia)

new home is always hard to get used to

HOMESICK AT ITS FINEST

also I can't write for my life so if this went in many directions than just one I'm sorry (heh one direction)

Moving houses was one thing, but moving across the world? That was something else entirely.

All my belongings were packed away, my house back home was empty, and every familiar wall and cozy corner was now just a memory. The thought of leaving my old life behind felt thrilling at first, but now? Now it just felt like a hollow ache.

Barcelona was beautiful, yes, but it didn’t feel like home. The narrow streets, the fast-paced Catalan, the city’s loud vibrancy—it was all so different. I’d dreamt of this chance with Barça for as long as I could remember, but I hadn’t expected the anxiety that seemed to follow me everywhere. I missed my family, my friends, even my favorite coffee spot. Here, I was just… drifting.

It had been two weeks since I arrived, but every time I walked into the training facility, that nervous twist in my stomach returned. Today, though, felt worse. I’d woken up feeling off—grumpy, tired, missing everything familiar. The physical exhaustion from the intense training was starting to catch up, and my heart felt heavy with homesickness.

“Bon dia!” Mapi’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts as I walked in. She grinned, giving me a cheerful wave.

“Hola, Mapi,” I mumbled, trying to return her energy, but I could feel my own voice sounding flat, tired.

She raised an eyebrow, looking a bit curious. “Hey, how’s the whole moving thing going?”

I shrugged, trying to keep it casual. “It’s… okay, I guess,” I said, grabbing my training gear. I didn’t want to admit just how lonely I felt.

Mapi opened her mouth to say something else, but then Ingrid walked up, giving Mapi a pointed look. “Maria, for the last time—stop taking my clothes,” she sighed, tugging on the collar of the hoodie Mapi was wearing.

Usually, their back-and-forth would make me laugh, but today, I just couldn’t muster the energy. I forced a small smile and stood, boots in hand. “I’ll be on the pitch,” I mumbled, heading outside before they could ask any more questions.

Out on the field, the other girls were already warming up together, chatting and laughing. I watched them for a moment, feeling a pang of isolation. It wasn’t that they were unfriendly—far from it. But they all seemed to have this easy camaraderie, this natural rhythm, that I couldn’t quite find my way into. I grabbed a ball and went to a quieter spot on the field, juggling and practicing on my own.

As I focused on the ball, the weight of everything I’d left behind came crashing down on me. I missed my mom’s hugs, my dad’s terrible jokes, the random texts from my friends.

Even just hearing English everywhere felt like something I’d taken for granted. Here, every day felt like I was fumbling, trying to catch up.

I didn’t even notice someone approaching until a shadow fell over me. I looked up to see Alexia standing there, her expression soft and curious.

“Mind if I join?” she asked, nodding toward the ball at my feet.

I shrugged, trying to shake off the sadness in my eyes. “Sure.”

We passed the ball back and forth in silence for a bit. Alexia didn’t press, just letting me be. After a while, she spoke up, keeping her voice gentle. “The team’s getting together tonight. At my place. You should come.”

I hesitated, not wanting to seem rude but also not feeling in the mood for a crowd. “I don’t know… I might just head home after training.”

She tilted her head, studying me. “I know it’s not easy, coming here and adjusting to everything. But you don’t have to do it alone, okay? You’ve got us.”

Her words hit something deep, making my chest tighten. It was as if she understood exactly what I was feeling without me having to say it. I managed a small nod, not trusting my voice to stay steady.

“Alright,” she said, a gentle smile breaking through. “No pressure. Just think about it, okay?”

After training, I found myself reluctantly heading to Alexia’s place. The team was already there, scattered around her cozy living room, laughing and sharing stories. I joined a small group with the younger players, including Jana and Claudia. They were swapping stories and cracking jokes, but the exhaustion and emotions from the day were catching up to me. Before long, I could feel my eyelids growing heavy.

As the evening wore on, the laughter echoed in my ears, but it felt distant, as if I was watching from a haze. I felt out of place, despite being surrounded by friends. I watched as Alexia flitted between groups, her laughter bright and infectious, and I found myself drawn to her, like a moth to a flame.

The laughter felt more distant, and the noise began to swirl around me, making it harder to breathe.

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of everything—the unfamiliar faces, the bustling energy of the room, the tension in my chest—growing heavier. I needed to escape, if only for a moment. Excusing myself from the group, I slipped out of the living room and wandered down the hallway, searching for a quieter space.

I finally spotted a small, dimly lit room at the end of the hall. I stepped inside, closing the door behind me, and leaned against it, feeling the cool wood against my back. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions inside me.

“Hey, are you alright?”

I opened my eyes to find Alexia standing there, concern etched across her face. Her presence instantly made me feel a bit safer, but the nervousness still clawed at my insides.

“I… I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just so much. I thought I could handle it, but…”

Alexia stepped closer, her eyes softening as she listened. “Moving here can be overwhelming. It’s a big change, and it’s okay to feel off balance. You’re not alone in this.”

I felt a lump in my throat, her words wrapping around me like a warm blanket. I nodded slowly, the truth of her statement sinking in. It was comforting to know I didn’t have to navigate this by myself.

“I just miss home,” I confessed, feeling vulnerable. “I thought I’d be excited, but instead, it feels like I’m lost.”

Alexia moved to sit beside me on the floor, our backs against the door. “I get it. I moved away from my family, too. At first, it felt like everything I loved was far away. But it gets easier with time, especially when you have people around you who care.”

Her reassurance helped, though I still felt that tightness in my chest. “Sometimes, it feels like everyone else is so close and I’m just… out of place,” I admitted, glancing at her.

“Trust me, everyone feels that way at some point,” she said with a gentle smile. “Even the ones who look like they have it all together. It’s a process, and we’ll figure it out together. And you know what? You belong here. You’re part of this team now, and that means something.”

As her words wrapped around me, I took a deep breath, feeling a little of the weight lift. Being near her felt grounding. I could feel the tension slowly easing, replaced by a sense of safety I hadn’t expected to find.

“Thanks, Alexia,” I said, a shy smile breaking through my uncertainty. “It means a lot.”

“Anytime,” she replied, her eyes twinkling. “And hey, if you need a break from the craziness, you can always come find me, okay?”

We sat in comfortable silence for a moment, letting the chaos of the party fade away outside. I felt a sense of peace wash over me, grateful for this unexpected connection.

“Alright, let’s go back,” Alexia finally said, standing up and offering me her hand. “I promise, it’ll be fun. And if it gets too loud, we can always come back here.”

I took her hand, standing up beside her, feeling a flicker of hope ignite within me. Maybe I could find my place here after all.

“Okay,” I said, my heart feeling a little lighter. “Lead the way.”

As we stepped back into the living room, the laughter and chatter enveloped us again, but this time, I felt a little more ready to face it all—with Alexia by my side.

[moonstruckme]

okay i absolutely NEED james with an emo/goth gf!!! it’s giving black cat reader 🤭🤭🤭 only write if you want of course ♥️♥️

Thank you for requesting lovely! I fear this ended up being more black cat than goth because I didn't really go into describing reader's aesthetic but I hope this is the attitude you were looking for <3

cw: mention of alcohol (but reader isn't explicitly drinking)

James Potter x black cat!reader ♡ 718 words

James doesn’t think you’re glaring at him, but you’re definitely glaring. 

“How’s your drink, angel?” he asks, leaning across your small table with a smile. 

You suck your teeth. “It’s good.” 

James reaches over the table for your hand. You give it to him, thundercloud expression not so much as flickering, but when he squeezes your fingers you squeeze back. 

He lowers his voice. “What’s wrong?” 

“How can you think over their racket?” The question bursts out of you like this is something you’ve been waiting to talk about. James follows the beam of your glare, turning in his seat to look at the gaggle of men sitting in the corner booth of the restaurant. They’re laughing, rambunctious, one of them having procured a deck of cards which they seem to be playing some kind of disorganized game with. Two have begun arm wrestling.

“They’re yelling so loud it’s bouncing off the walls,” you seethe. “It’s so obnoxious. I can barely hear you without you shouting.” 

James makes a face as he turns back around, feeling a tad oblivious. He’d just thought this was a louder sort of restaurant, but he sees now that the other patrons are leaning close to each other over their tables, talking as quietly as they can manage just like you. The noise is created only by that one group. 

“I think they’ve had a few.” He gives a sheepish shrug, nodding to the empty pints collecting in one corner of their table. However they might be acting, James feels awful for anyone who ends up on the other end of your wrath. “You know how it is when you get like that and sort of forget where you are.” 

“No, not really.” You start tapping an irritated finger on the table. “They could at least try to be considerate. And there’s a bar just across the street, why not go there?” 

James gives you an amused look. “Hey,” he says, leaning across the table and coaxing you in for a kiss. You relent to it, but you don’t look much improved afterwards. “It’s all in good fun, yeah? We shouldn’t let their good time ruin our good time.” 

He suspects you’re a bit peeved with him for not taking your side, but you try to overcome it. “Yeah,” you agree. You lean over to take a sip from your straw, still obviously fuming. 

And James decides something simply must be done. 

“Alright.” He gives your hand a quick squeeze, pushing back his chair as he stands. “Back in a second, lovie.” 

He can feel your eyes following as he goes over to the rowdy table and introduces himself. Every now and then as he talks to the guys, he’ll glance over to find your stare still on him, narrowed with curiosity. James has to admit, the pleasure of having your attention has never quite worn off. He sends you a wink when nobody else is looking. 

After a few minutes, the men slip out from their booth and James parts with them with a series of clapping handshakes. You watch in awe as they go out the door, your gaze moving back to your boyfriend when he sits across from you. 

“How did you do that?” you ask. 

James grins smugly. “I just got a bit chummy with them and then told them about the bar across the street. They have a pool table over there, and if you make it before eight pints are half off.” 

Your lips part slightly. It’s as close to jaw-dropping surprise as you ever get. “You seriously got them to leave by making friends with them.” 

He shrugs. “I guess. We didn’t really have time to get to know each other all that well.” 

You regard him thoughtfully for a moment, then lean across the table to kiss his cheek. James’ smile leaps up on his face. His stomach feels swarmed by butterflies far more boisterous than that table had ever been. 

“Thanks,” you say. 

James is smiling so hard it’s hurting his cheeks. “You feel better now?” 

You roll your eyes, but he spies a twitch in the corner of your lips. “Yeah, I feel better.” 

“Good.” He pecks you on your cheek in turn. You appear dangerously close to pleased. “Then you’re welcome, lovie.”

[cyarikaplease]

and i’ll never see you again if i can help it

ex!joel miller x f!reader

summary: after breaking up with Joel, you take an opposite patrol shift to avoid him at all costs.

warnings: smut and angst

“The first time I tasted somebody else's spit, I had a coughing fit

I mistakenly called them by your name

I was let down it wasn't the same”

The cold nighttime air startled your lungs as you stumbled outside. Before you had time to acclimate, his lips were pressed against yours. You drunkenly kissed him back, him being some guy you met at the Tipsy Bison whose name you couldn’t even be bothered to recall. You got a taste of his spit, bitter from the alcohol he just drank. You forced yourself not to gag which caused you to pull away and cough violently, the crisp November air certainly not helping. 

He looked at you under the dim street lamp and chuckled, “You okay?”

Tears sprung at the corners of your eyes as you continued your coughs and struggled to catch your breath. He rubbed your back as your coughing fit came to an end. 

That was nice of him.

When the coughing finally dissipated you resigned to kissing him again. He pressed you against the side of the building and worked on your neck, leaving sloppy, wet kisses on your soft skin.

You started to moan a little and as he kissed and sucked on your neck, you subconsciously moaned “Joel”. 

He stopped. You felt the blood rush to your cheeks and your face grew hot. He slowly pulled away from your neck and looked you in the eye. 

“…What did you just say?”

You didn’t know what to say. It’s not like you could tell him the truth, “Oh I was just moaning my ex’s name.” That would crush him. You stared at each other under the streetlamp and through puffs of your visible breath. The expression on his face was a mixture of disappointment and betrayal.

“I- I…” you stuttered out.

He shook his head and muttered “Forget it” before turning and walking home, leaving you alone in the dark street with nothing but the shame you felt. 

“I’m doing fine, trying to derail my one-track mind

Regaining my self-worth in record time

But I can’t help but think of your other in the bed that was mine”

You sighed and went to walk home yourself, the shame already melting away. It’s not like it was going to be anything serious anyway. Who cares if you called him by the wrong name? You’re still healing from your breakup with Joel anyway. You were bound to be a little messy here and there. The shame had started shapeshifting into pride of some kind. But all that changed when you saw him leaving the Tipsy Bison. And no, not the random guy from before. This time him being Joel. And he was with a woman. They were clearly drunk and practically hanging off of each other. How had you not noticed him inside earlier? And as they walked towards the direction of Joel’s home, the home that you used to share with him, you heard something rare; Joel was laughing. Jealousy stirred a pit in your stomach. Your hands clenched at your sides. Tears sprung in your eyes again. The shame returned but this time for a different reason. You were ashamed you no longer had a rebound. You wanted to prove to Joel that you didn’t need him; that you were moving on. But instead, you were standing in the street feeling jealous, watching him walk home to fuck someone where he used to fuck you. 

“Am I a masochist, resisting urges to punch you in the teeth

Call you a bitch and leave?”

You wanted to yell after him; tell him to stop; ask what he thought he was doing. Maybe even call him a name or two. Maybe throw him a punch. Maybe not the punch though. That was just drunk you talking. You didn’t really have a right to do any of those things anyway. You were broken up. He was free to move on to whoever he wanted. You turned on your heel and walked home, head hanging low in humiliation. You returned to your empty home, collapsing into bed and finally letting the tears flow now that you were alone. You thought about what Joel was doing with her. Was he kissing her? Were they holding each other? Were they in what used to be your bed with Joel? Did he have the same attention to detail with her pleasure that he used to have with yours? It made your stomach twist into knots. The alcohol mixed with the feelings of regret, longing, and nostalgia; all of it fusing together, leaving you nauseous. You ran to your bathroom and emptied the contents of your stomach into the toilet. You sat on the floor, rested your head against the toilet seat, and sobbed, the tears making your face sticky and puffy. You knew you were gonna look like shit tomorrow, eyes puffy and bloodshot, all the color in your face faded. And to make matters worse, you had a daytime patrol shift with Joel tomorrow. The thought of him seeing you like this was mortifying. You wanted him to think that you were moving on; that you didn’t need him anymore. But that was far from the truth. 

“Why did I come here? To sit and watch you stare at your feet? 

What was the plan? Absolve all your guilt and shake hands?”

You woke up that morning with a splitting headache. The morning sun creeping in through the windows didn’t help either. You rose from your bed slowly, the aches in your body starting to set in. You went to the bathroom and took a look at yourself in the mirror. The bags under your eyes were a deep purple and the life was sucked from your face. You thought about Joel seeing you like this… which led you to think about him waking up with her this morning. The pain that that thought gave you was indescribable. It tore at your stomach and your heart, leaving them with heavy pits. You leaned over the bathroom counter and took slow, deep breaths, heading facing down at the sink. After talking yourself down from the impending mental breakdown you got ready for your patrol shift, slipping on your clothes and grabbing your gun on the dresser before exiting into the brisk morning. You put your pants in the pockets of your jacket and stared at the ground as you walked, not trying to make eye contact with anyone as Jackson was waking up for the day. 

You reached the main gate to find Joel waiting there, too, also looking at the ground. Tommy and a few others were waiting as well. You wordlessly headed to the stables, mounting on your houses for the patrol. The tension between the group hung heavy in the air, thanks to you and Joel. Everyone in town knew about your breakup and how messy it was. Nobody dared to say a thing as you and the group exited through the gate and spread out along the walls of Jackson. Somehow you and Joel ended up next to each other, neither of you looking in the other’s general direction. The strain and hostility between you two was so strong it was pliable. It felt like a weight being pushed down on your shoulders. And that’s how most of the shift went– you and Joel next to each other or walking by each other on your horses, never making eye contact. It was awkward for you, him, and everyone else unfortunate enough to be on the same patrol shift with you guys. If only you could switch patrol shifts…

But your thoughts are interrupted when Joel speaks, startling you. 

“Can we talk?”

Really? Now?

“I don’t really think here is the best time or place…” you said, glancing at the others around you.

“Meet me at the diner after our shift?” he asked in a hushed tone. 

The diner in Jackson had a service for patrol shift workers to stop in for coffee whenever they needed it. Going to the diner after your patrol shifts was something you used to do together. Now, you avoided that place like the plague, finding it to be painful to go to. 

Your brow furrowed, “Sure, I guess…”

He nodded silently and led his horse in the opposite direction around the fence. You didn’t see him much for the rest of your shift. And when you did you didn’t really look him in the eye. The day seemed to drag on, the sun getting lower and lower in the sky. At the end of your shift, you headed back to the stables and dismounted from your horse, starting the walk to the diner. Jackson was bathed in a warm red glow, a beautiful sight on a normal day but you were too nervous to appreciate it. As you approached the diner you saw Joel through the window, sitting at a booth, looking down at his hands.

“I feel no need to forgive but I might as well

But let me kiss your lips so I know how it felt

Pay for my coffee and leave before the sun goes down

Walk for hours in the dark feeling all hell”

You entered the diner with a ding from the bell attached to the door. Joel looked up from his hands and met your eyes. You wordlessly walked to his booth and sat across from him, not knowing what to say. But again, Joel spoke first.

“I’m sorry you had to see that outside the Tipsy Bison last night…”

So he did see you. That made this so much worse.

You sighed, “You don’t have anything to apologize for. We’ve been broken up for like a month now.”

“I know but that doesn’t mean I don’t care for you or your feelings anymore…”

He looked at you with a solemn expression on his face. Before either of you could say anything the waitress came over to take your order. 

“Can I get you two anything else besides coffee? Something to eat?”

Not in the mood to eat. Not during a talk like this. 

“Just the coffee for now,” you replied. 

“Same for me.”

“I’ll be right back with those,” she said before, turning and heading behind the counter. 

“I mean… I forgive you I guess?”

He nodded and reached your hand across the table.

But why? Why is he doing this if he supposedly moved on? You missed him, though. And you’d be lying to yourself right now if this didn’t make you at least a little bit happy. 

You took his hand and sighed, rubbing your thumb across his. 

“Why are we doing this? I thought we were supposed to be moving on. I’ve been trying to, at least.” It physically pained you to say those words but it was what needed to be said. He can’t just go home with another woman and then come back to you apologizing. He either wanted you or he didn’t.

He didn’t answer. The waitress returned with your coffees and you sipped on them silently; the warm liquid soothing you after a long day out in the cold.

You continued, “I just don’t get what’s going on here. It all feels like a mixed signal.”

“I want to move on. I really do. But when I try to move on I find myself feelin’ guilty. And it doesn’t help that we work the same patrol shift. I see you all the time and anytime I look at you, I just feel guilty.”

“I’ll make this easier for both of us, Joel,” you said, giving him a sad smile. “Don’t worry about me. Just live your life.”

Something compelled you to give him one final kiss before it was over forever. You leaned over the booth and gave him a quick, chaste kiss, even though you would regret it later. Before he could say anything in return, you slid out of the booth and stood up, getting ready to leave. 

“Goodbye, Joel,” you said before leaving him behind, in the past where he belongs. 

“Don’t hold your breath, forget you’ve ever saw me at my best

You don’t deserve what you don’t respect

Don’t deserve what you say you love and then neglect

Now bite your tongue, it’s too dangerous to fall so young

Take back what you said

Can’t lose what you never had”

The sun was setting. The people of Jackson were heading towards their homes, but not you. You walked through the dark streets, in a melancholy haze. You missed him so much but there was a reason your relationship ended. But still, you found yourself reminiscing on the good times; the patrol shifts together, him teaching you how to play guitar, laughing together with Ellie. But he didn’t love you the way you needed to be loved. It was understandable given all he went through. But he didn’t need to tell you he loved you and treat you otherwise. 

You met each other in Kansas City after FEDRA’s control there collapsed. 

And when you first got together he would always tell you to be careful falling for him. You were a lot younger than him. Looking back, he was probably right. But he stopped trying to fight your feelings towards him and just accepted it. And that’s all it most likely was at the end of the day; him just accepting you, not loving you back. At least that’s what you thought. Maybe there was a part of grumpy, stoic Joel Miller that loved you deep down. And if that part of him existed, he was terrible at letting it out. 

It wasn’t a breakup where one person broke up with the other. You both felt it coming for a while. The greatest love you’d ever known (or thought you’d ever known) slipped through your fingers. And you both felt it was time to cut it off. That was a little over a month ago and it hasn’t been any easier since.

After a while the frigid night turned into dawn. You stayed out the whole night, loafing around. Soon it would be time for your patrol shift but you thought about what Joel said.

“And it doesn’t help that we work the same patrol shift. I see you all the time and anytime I look at you, I just feel guilty.”

“You got a 9 to 5, so I’ll take the night shift

And I’ll never see you again if I can help it

In five years I hope the songs feel like covers

Dedicated to new lovers”

You spotted Tommy walking to his patrol shift and that’s when you got the idea: ask for the night shift.

“Tommy!” you shouted, “Wait up!”

He stopped walking and turned to face you. You jogged a little bit to catch up with him.

“Hey,” he said wearily, taking in your current state. “Did you go to bed last night?”

“No… But I actually had something I wanted to ask you.”

“Shoot.”

“Would it be alright if I took the night shift instead?”

He let out a small sigh. He knew what this was about. 

“…I don’t see why not.”

“Thanks. Can I start tonight?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Go home and get some sleep,” he said, looking at your tired face.

“Thanks, Tommy,” you replied before walking home.

You didn’t see Joel walk to his shift. Maybe he was already there. Maybe he would notice your absence. Maybe he wouldn’t care. Maybe he would be relieved. 

You walked inside and went straight to your bedroom, peeling off the clothes you had been wearing for the past twenty four hours. You slipped on something to wear to sleep and crumpled into bed, exhaustion taking you over. You still found yourself dreaming of Joel. You dreamt of when he taught you to play guitar. He knew some songs from before the outbreak but not a ton. So a lot of the songs you made up on the spot, not necessarily accompanied by singing either, something neither of you were skilled at. But it was something you two did together. It was something that made the detached Joel Miller enjoy himself for once. Maybe one day he would play those songs for someone else or forget yours and make up new ones entirely. Maybe he would teach her how to play guitar. Maybe he would give up that hobby altogether after you, finding it too painful. 

You slept throughout the whole day, waking up a couple of hours before your night shift. You opened your eyes groggily, not adjusted to the light coming in through the windows yet. You rubbed your eyes and opened them to see a tall, looming figure standing over your bed.

“What the fuck?!” you shouted, sitting upright. 

You blinked a few times and your vision focused. It was just Joel and he had a scowl on his face.

“Jesus Christ, Joel. You scared the shit out of me,” you said in an annoyed tone, trying to quell your racing heartbeat.

“The fuckin’ night shift?!” he said gruffly, still towering over you. 

“And what about it?” you challenged, folding your arms. 

“What was the fuckin’ reason for it,” he replied, sitting across from you on the bed.

“Thought about what you said yesterday… Seemed like the right thing to do if we’re gonna move on from each other…”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, but you don’t go and do something rash like that.”

“Something rash? You mean just swapping my work schedule? Last time I checked I didn’t have to consult with you about that.”

He fell silent so you continued, “You can’t just say you’re done with me; that you’re trying to move on, and then come here and get upset because I changed my work schedule. I’m sick of the fucking mixed signals, Joel. You either want me or you don’t.”

You finished your little speech with a loud sigh, sounding annoyed as fuck. The audacity of this man was unbelievable. He can take home some other woman the night before but come to your house, when you’re sleeping, and get all possessive? Enough was enough.

You scooched closer to him on the bed. 

“So what’s it gonna be, huh? Make up your fucking mind.”

Without warning his lips crashed against yours. His kisses were messy and sloppy. And almost angry. His hands found themselves in your hair. This was the exact opposite of what you should be doing but you didn’t care. You missed him so much. 

He pushed against you, coaxing you to lie down on the bed. And when you did, he hovered over you with a hungry, insatiable look in his eyes. He returned to kiss you messily while his hands roamed the rest of your body, trailing down to the pants you were wearing, thumbing at the waistband. You moaned softly underneath him and he pulled off your pants, tossing them on the floor. His hand grazed up your thigh, resting on your cunt that was growing wet in anticipation. 

“Bet you missed this,” he whispered against your ear. 

You let out a small whimper in response as his fingers teased your entrance, brushing against the wet, tender flesh. 

“You’re already so wet for me, darlin’.”

Darlin. That was an older pet name Joel had given you. And it’s been a while since you’ve heard it. That fucker knew exactly what he was doing. He knew all the ways to make you melt under his touch. 

You spread your legs open for him, gaining him access to slip a finger inside you. His mouth found your neck, peppering it with sloppy kisses. You rocked your hips against his hand, desperate for more. And when he finally gave you another finger, you felt the pleasure in your core building more and more. 

His mouth left your neck and trailed down to your entrance, licking small, soft circles around your sensitive clit. You knew you weren’t gonna last long like this, his fingers hitting your g-spot perfectly and his tongue caressing your clit in a way that sent you into intense euphoria. He always knew how to get you cum quickly and hard. 

“I’m gonna cum, Joel,” you whined. 

He moaned against your clit in response, letting you know he wanted to feel it. And when you did cum, it was intense. Your cunt fluttered around his fingers as he pumped them in and out of you relentlessly. You soaked his face in your cum as you rode out your high, rocking your hips against him. Once you were done coming, you collapsed your hips back down on the bed, legs still shaking. 

You were catching your breath when he looked up from your cunt and said “Not done with you yet, darlin’.”

He stood up from the bed for a moment to remove his clothes. You took the moment to sit up and pull off your shirt over your head, tossing it on the floor with your pants. He returned to the bed and hovered over you by your face. 

“Ready for me?”

You nodded and he aligned himself with your entrance, thrusting his hard cock into you extra slow to drive you insane. He took your legs and put them over his shoulders before you even had time to adjust to his size. It’d been a month since you’d taken his cock and you weren’t used to his size anymore. 

He leaned down so you were face to face, legs pushed back towards your head hitting the perfect angle inside you. It was intense and all you could do was moan and whimper as he fucked your wet, little cunt incessantly.

“Can’t tell you how much I missed this perfect cunt, darlin’. It’s like it was made for me.”

Between his dirty talk and the angle he was hitting inside you, you weren't gonna last long. You felt your walls tense up in anticipation of release. He sensed it too and thrusted in and out of you harder and harder, anxious to feel you cum around his cock.

“Give it to me, sugar. Cum on my cock.”

And when you did, it nearly sent him over the edge. He willed himself to wait until your release was over before pulling out. Stars prickled your vision and tears welled up in the corner of your eyes. Your release was intense, convulsing his cock like a vice. As he felt your orgasm come to an end, he pulled out. You reached in between your legs and stroked him to completion, coating your stomach in thick, white ropes of cum.

He slumped down on the bed next to you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Neither of you dared to say a word as the feeling of regret started to sink in. You let your thoughts run wild as if to avoid talking about what just happened.

“You got a 9 to 5 so I’ll take the night shift

And I’ll never see you again if I can help it”

Maybe you couldn’t help it after all.

[kaiser1ns]

BOY IN LUV ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ ITOSHI SAE X FEM!READER .ᐟ you make me so angry and mad for no reason. i'm serious, but you make me into a loser who picks fights with you. why do i care so much about you? you're making a big boy act like a little kid but I'm going to flip the situation, from friends to lovers.

GO TO THE EVENT MASTERLIST

Your profile picture is the same, but why does Itoshi Sae keep checking it? He sees you every day, why is it so different now? Even if he ignores you or acts cold, he can’t push you out of his mind. Five minutes until the clock strikes midnight, and for some reason, he's confused but also angry. So many questions as to why, how, and what but never a clear answer. He is getting nervous, but don’t misunderstand, he is not an easy guy. Pathetic. Who are you? Are you that great? 

yn: are you free tomorrow?

He saw your text message, but he isn’t pressing send. He suddenly froze and blinked as the phone screen went off, just like his mind, because for someone called a genius, he can’t make sense of this and the way you are shaking up his heart.

yn: sae, i know you are free~ so let’s go somewhere tomorrow night, my treat okay?

Why do you keep teasing him? Playing mind games? Two-timing? He is serious, but you make him into a loser who picks fights with you. Why does he care so much about you? You're making a big boy act like a little kid.

Sae is used to controlling things exactly as he plans. But now, he is standing in front of your door, a bunch of expensive chocolate bars in his hand, and he doesn’t even know why. Midnight has come and gone, and instead of ignoring your texts like he intended, he’s here.

Leaving you on read, hoping the silence would speak for itself. But it made it more confusing for him. The midfielder saw the way you’d tease him with emojis and little jokes, you'd nudge him to join you somewhere or try a new spot in the city. Usually, he'd find a way to brush it off, his replies short and dry, or nonexistent. But tonight? Tonight, his feet took him down familiar streets, past the corner store, until he was at the counter, holding a bar of chocolate he knew you'd like. 

He notices things about you he’d never let himself notice before—your expression, the flirting in your messages, the way you manage to be less annoying than anyone else who decides to talk to him. Say and do whatever you want, he ... he never had a problem with you. Always near him, even if he didn't want you to be.

The moment you open the door, eyes widening in surprise, he feels… something. Maybe it’s the way you look at him, surprised but pleased, or the way the midnight air feels charged between you. You glance down at the chocolate bar, one eyebrow raised, silently questioning him.

“Sae…?”

He almost rolls his eyes, but his hand extends forward. “Happy birthday,” he mumbles, almost cold. He doesn’t even know if that’s what he’s supposed to say, and what did he actually have to tell you? I don't know why you make me feel this way and do such ridiculous things, but here's the chocolate, and now please leave me alone because I don't know what to think when I'm next to you. His heart is racing, and he has no idea why he suddenly thought this was a good idea.  

Your smile makes something bubble inside him, something hot melting his icy shield. You step aside, letting him in, and as the door clicks shut behind him, he follows you into your living room. It’s decorated a little bit, but nothing fancy. A happy birthday sign, candy, and a picture of the two of you as kids that sat on the cabinet above the TV. He raised an eyebrow at the picture, it was from your birthday again, but as kids. He's got cake cream all over his nose and cheeks while the cream is on your fingers and you're giving the peace sign and smiling and he's still grumpy. Sae remembers how you kissed his cheek afterward, and it felt disgustingly nice.

“So to what can I owe your surprising visit, Mr. Prodigy?”

He’s silent and tense, but his heart races as you settle next to him on the couch, close enough that you lean your head on his shoulder as his hand drifts to rest on yours, fingers barely brushing yours, but it’s enough. He pretends not to notice how his hand starts to drift closer, how the warmth from your skin seeps into his.

"I didn’t feel like waiting till tonight," he murmurs, voice softer than usual, though his usual coldness is still held in his gaze. But his hand is another story—it’s more insistent, slowly interlacing his fingers with yours as though he’s grounding himself. "Don’t make me say it," he grumbles, eyes fixed ahead, but his thumb brushes over your knuckles in soft, deliberate circles. He pretends not to notice, but it’s clear—you got this man being impatient like a little kid. You’re both completely whipped for each other, so how about flipping the situation, from friends to lovers?

©2024 kaiser1ns nineteenth birthday party.

[ilovemilestellersmoustache]

I’ll Be Yours For The Weekend

WC: 2K

Summary: Highschool sweethearts Connor and Y/n reunite in their hometown for thanksgiving where their breakup after graduation happened and their reaction to seeing each other was to call each other babe for the weekend inevitably creating two different f reactions when returning to their separate lives across the country.

Warnings: None but ANGSTY ANGST ANGST

Connor Bedard stepped off the plane, the cold autumn air of Canada wrapping around him like an old, familiar blanket. It felt surreal to be back in the hometown that had shaped so much of who he was, yet everything felt heavier than he remembered. Months had passed since he was drafted by the Chicago Blackhawks, and now he stood on the cusp of a new life—one filled with expectations, pressure, and a dream he had long chased. But despite the excitement, an emptiness gnawed at him.

His thoughts drifted to Y/N, the girl he had loved for three years. The one who had stood by him through countless late-night practices, who had cheered him on from the stands, and whose laughter had filled his world with joy. Breaking up before the draft had been a decision they both had agonized over, but the weight of their separate futures had felt insurmountable. Now, as he drove through familiar streets, he couldn’t escape the memories. The school they attended together, the coffee shop where they spent endless afternoons, the park where they shared secrets, her parents house—it all felt achingly close yet impossibly distant.

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, Y/N stared out the window of her Los Angeles dorm. The palm trees swayed lazily in the warm breeze, but she felt frozen in time. She had thrown herself into her studies, trying to push the aside the remaining gaping void Connor had left behind. She followed his journey from afar through screens, proud yet heartbroken, knowing their love was now just a bittersweet memory. Thanksgiving was approaching, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she needed to go home, despite the ache that came with it.

When she arrived back in their hometown, Y/N felt an overwhelming sense of nostalgia wash over her. Every corner of the town whispered Connor’s name, from the diner they had frequented to the bench where they’d carved their initials. It felt like a time capsule, preserving their shared moments, while the reality of their separation weighed heavily on her heart.

The day before Thanksgiving, she found herself at the local grocery store, running errands her mother sent her to do before the feast. The store buzzed with activity, filled with the sounds of laughter and chatter, but Y/N felt isolated, her mind still wandering back to Connor. Suddenly, as she turned a corner, she collided with someone. The familiar voice broke through her thoughts.

“Y/N?”

Time stood still as she looked up into Connor’s eyes. It was as if the universe had conspired to bring them back together. They both wore expressions of shock, disbelief washing over them like a tidal wave.

“Connor-” she managed to breathe, a mix of surprise and warmth flooding her heart.

“I didn’t think I’d see you here,” he said, a smile breaking through the initial surprise.

They stood in the aisle, surrounded by shelves filled with holiday treats, but all they could see was each other. After a brief moment of hesitation, they fell into an easy conversation, sharing updates about their lives. The chemistry between them felt electric, as if no time had passed since their last encounter.

“Do you remember that time we got lost on our way to the lake?” Connor asked, laughter bubbling up from somewhere deep inside her.

“Of course! We ended up at that diner and ordered way too many fries,” Y/N replied, her smile genuine, igniting memories that warmed her heart.

As they continued to talk, the hurt of their breakup began to fade, replaced by a sense of comfort and familiarity. It was as if the months apart had been nothing more than a fleeting dream. They spent nearly an hour wandering the aisles, the grocery store fading into the background as they rediscovered each other.

“Hey,” Y/N said softly, the words barely escaping her lips. “What if we drove around town this weekend? Like old times?”

“Like old times?” Connor replied, a playful glint in his eyes.

“Yeah,” she said, her heart racing at the prospect of reclaiming a piece of their past.

The next day, they met again, the air crisp and fresh as they set off in Connor’s car. As they drove through familiar roads, every turn brought a rush of memories—each place was a snapshot of their past, a reminder of the love they had shared. Connor played their favorite songs, and they sang along, the laughter spilling out of the windows and into the crisp autumn air.

The first stop was the park where they had spent countless afternoons. They parked and stepped out, taking a moment to breathe in the nostalgia. The leaves crunched under their feet as they walked along the path, the same path they had walked as teenagers, hand in hand.

“Remember when we used to come here every weekend after school and just sat on that swing set?” Y/N asked, pointing to the rusting swings in the distance.

Connor chuckled, “And that day you pushed me so hard I flew off!”

“Hey there was in no way that was my fault! You leaned over!” she teased, nudging him playfully.

They made their way to the swings, their laughter echoing through the park. Y/N settled onto one swing while Connor took the one beside her. They began to swing gently, the rhythmic motion stirring memories of simpler times.

“Do you ever think about us?” Y/N asked, her voice softening.

“Every day,” Connor admitted, his gaze fixed on the ground. “It’s hard not to. You were such a huge part of my life.”

“I miss you,” she confessed, the weight of her words hanging between them.

“I miss you too,” he replied, the honesty in his voice wrapping around her like a warm hug. “But what do we do about it?”

The question lingered in the air, unanswered. They swung in silence for a moment, each lost in their thoughts. The connection they shared felt as real as ever, yet the reality of their separate lives loomed large.

After leaving the park, they drove past their old high school. Connor slowed down, memories flooding back. “Can you believe we actually graduated?” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Yeah, and now look at us,” Y/N said with a hint of irony. “You’re an NHL player, and I’m… well, trying to figure out college.”

“Hey, you’re doing amazing,” he reassured her. “You’ve always been the smart one.”

As they reminisced, the hurt from their breakup felt like a distant memory. They were just two teenagers again, laughing and teasing one another. The conversation flowed easily, the comfort of their shared history creating a safe space to explore the unspoken tension.

Eventually, they found themselves at the local diner, a spot they had frequented during their high school years after discovering it instead of the lake. They settled into a booth, and as they browsed the menu, Connor glanced around, taking in the familiar sights.

“I can’t believe this place hasn’t changed at all,” he said, grinning. “Still serving the best milkshakes in town.”

Y/N laughed. “And the greasiest fries! Some things never change.”

They placed their orders and continued to chat, the conversation flowing seamlessly. With every laugh and shared memory, the walls they had built around themselves began to crumble. It felt natural, as if they were slipping back into their old rhythm.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said before,” Connor said suddenly, his tone shifting. “About driving around town. I mean, we’re here now. Why not make the most of it?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s do everything we used to do,” he proposed, excitement sparking in his eyes. “Let’s revisit all our favorite spots.”

“Haven’t we been basically doing that?” she asked, her heart racing at the thought.

“I guess, but I mean for the whole weekend. Let’s call this weekend ours… Please?” he said, a pleading grin spreading across his face.

She couldn’t help but smile back. “Okay, but I’m in charge of the playlist!”

They left the diner, laughter bubbling between them as they jumped back into the car. Connor cranked up the music, the familiar tunes flooding their senses, and for a moment, everything felt right.

They visited the arcade where they had spent many Friday nights, laughing over games and sharing fries. They drove down the streets where they had cruised in Connor’s old car, the wind whipping through their hair as they sang along to their favorite songs. Each stop brought a rush of emotions, a mix of happiness and melancholy that only deepened their connection.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange, they found themselves back at the park. The air was cooler now, but the warmth between them was undeniable. They wandered to the same bench where they had spent countless afternoons, lost in conversation.

“I can’t believe how easy this feels,” Y/N said, leaning back against the bench, looking up at the sky.

“Yeah, it’s like no time has passed,” Connor agreed, his gaze drifting to her. “It’s just us again.”

“Do you think we could… I don’t know, make this work?” she asked cautiously, the vulnerability in her voice palpable.

“I don’t know, Y/N,” he replied, the seriousness in his tone cutting through the lightness of the moment. “I want to. But everything is different now. You’re in L.A., I’m in Chicago…”

“But what if we tried?” she urged, her heart racing at the thought of losing him again.

Connor took a deep breath, the weight of her words pressing down on him. “I don’t want to hurt you again. We’ve come so far.”

“I know,” she said softly, her heart aching.

“But we’re happy now. Can’t we just enjoy this?”

She looked at him, and for a moment, it felt like the world faded away. “Yeah, let’s just enjoy this.”

As the weekend unfolded, their connection deepened

As the weekend drew to a close, the once bright spark of excitement began to dim, leaving behind a lingering sense of melancholy. Y/N and Connor spent their final hours together in quiet reflection, driving through the small town that had witnessed their shared history. It had been a weekend filled with laughter and warmth, but the uncertainty about their future remained.

The day they had to say goodbye arrived too soon. Connor was scheduled to fly back to Chicago, and Y/N had a flight back to Los Angeles the next morning. They stood in the driveway of her house, the chill of the autumn air pressing in on them.

“This feels harder than I thought it would be,” Connor said, his voice low as he looked down at Y/N.

“I know,” she replied softly, wrapping her arms around herself, as if the cold wasn’t just from the air, but from the inevitable goodbye.

Connor reached out and took her hand. “We’ve always had something special. But with you in L.A. and me in Chicago… I don’t know if I can handle the distance. I don’t want to keep dragging this out just to end up hurting each other.”

Y/N nodded, though her heart twisted painfully. She knew what he was saying was logical, but the emotions they had shared over the weekend had reignited something in her she wasn’t ready to let go of.

“I get it, Connor. But I wish it didn’t have to be this way,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “I wish we could try.”

His hand tightened around hers, his eyes softening with regret. “I do too. But we agreed to just enjoy the moment, right? And that’s what we did.”

She looked up at him, eyes shining with unshed tears, but she forced a smile. “Yeah, let’s leave it at that.”

They hugged for a long moment, neither one wanting to let go. But eventually, Connor pulled away, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“Take care of yourself, Y/N.”

“You too, Connor.”

And just like that, he was gone.

Back in Los Angeles, Y/N threw herself into her studies again. The first few days were tough—she found herself replaying every conversation, every moment she and Connor had shared. She kept telling herself that she had made peace with their goodbye, but the quiet moments between her busy schedule reminded her otherwise.

But as time passed, she started to heal. University life picked up pace, and she found herself surrounded by friends and new experiences. Slowly, the ache of their goodbye lessened.

Meanwhile, in Chicago, Connor felt the opposite. Life in the NHL had been his dream for as long as he could remember, and playing for the Blackhawks was everything he had worked for. But the high of being in the league didn’t fill the emptiness inside him. He found himself thinking about Y/N constantly—about how she had looked at him with such hope in her eyes that weekend, and how he had let her go. He had told himself it was the right thing to do, but each day, the weight of that decision felt heavier.

Despite the distance, they hadn’t completely severed their connection. A few weeks after their goodbye, Connor followed Y/N on social media again, and she followed him back. It was a small gesture, but one that kept them tethered. Small texts started to trickle in—wishing each other good luck during games, asking how school was going, commenting on random things they saw online. It was casual, almost like two old friends who had drifted apart but still cared about each other.

For Y/N, these texts became easier as the months passed. She no longer felt the pang of loss every time she saw Connor’s name pop up on her screen. She had started dating again, nothing serious, but enough to remind her that life went on. She was healing, slowly but surely.

But for Connor, each message was a reminder of what he had walked away from. His teammates noticed he wasn’t quite himself—he was playing well, but there was a distance in his demeanor. Every time he texted Y/N, a part of him wished he could say more. He missed her, missed the way she understood him, missed the way she made him laugh. The loneliness gnawed at him, growing more unbearable with each passing day.

One night, after a particularly tough game, Connor found himself scrolling through his messages with Y/N, rereading their short exchanges. He stared at the screen, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. He wanted to reach out, to tell her he’d made a mistake. That he was willing to try long distance, that he didn’t care about the miles between them, that he’d wait for her—however long it took.

With a deep breath, Connor typed out a message: Hey, can we talk? I’ve been thinking a lot, and I miss you. I want us to try again, and I’m okay with long distance if you are. I just need you to know that I’ll wait for you.

Just as he was about to hit send, he hesitated. His thumb hovered over the send button, but something stopped him. Instead, he opened her Instagram, a habit he had picked up over the last few weeks. He scrolled through her recent posts, his heart aching as he saw her smiling, surrounded by friends, seemingly happy. And then he froze.

There was a new post—a picture of Y/N and a guy. They were sitting close together on a bench, the sun setting behind them, casting a warm glow over their faces. The guy had his arm around her, and though it wasn’t an overly intimate photo, the look in Y/N’s eyes as she smiled up at him said everything.

Connor’s stomach dropped. His hand clenched around his phone, his heart pounding in his chest. The words he had just typed out seemed suddenly foolish, pointless. She was moving on. She was happy. And he had no right to disrupt that, not after he had been the one to let her go.

Without another thought, he deleted the message, staring at the blank screen as the reality of his decision came crashing down on him.

Connor shut his phone off and leaned back on his couch, closing his eyes as regret washed over him. He had made a choice, and now he had to live with it. But in the back of his mind, the thought that maybe—just maybe—he had lost the one person who truly understood him, refused to go away.

[sacrednova]

Drive me home | Simon "Ghost" Riley | 1

fem!reader | In this story, a young woman mistakenly texts Simon "Ghost" Riley, thinking he's her Uber driver after a wild night out. Despite his gruff, reserved nature, Simon shows up. Contains fake screenshots with texts messages and calls!!!!

Next [2]

It hadn’t been a bad night—she danced, drank, laughed with her friends... But now, she was alone outside the club, searching for that Uber contact her friend had sent, fingers shaking as she tried to type the number correctly.

She nearly let out a dramatic little cry when she checked the time; it was freezing.

The vibrations of her phone in her hand came like a lifeline in the disorienting haze of neon lights, loud music, and a few too many cocktails. She blinked as a new text popped up from “Uber???” Well, that’s what she had saved him as anyway.

She squinted at the message, trying to process the details in her tipsy state. A mask? What kind of Uber driver wore a mask? She brushed it off, assuming he was just another eccentric in this city full of them. But a masked, mysterious stranger in a black truck? Right now, that sounded way better than the alley she was stuck in. Besides, she could take care of herself. Probably.

And then she saw it—a figure lurking across the street, watching her from the shadows, eyes flicking from her to his phone, and then back again. She swallowed, nerves prickling. She tried to ignore the feeling, but it lingered, crawling up her spine.

Suddenly, her fingers flew across the screen.

No reply.

She clenched her phone tighter, looking up and down the empty street, then glanced back at her screen. She could feel the rising urge to text him again and again, each message tinged with a touch more urgency.

Somewhere miles away, Simon glanced at his phone, his thumb hovering over the steering wheel. He’d put himself through hell and back in countless battlefields, facing down horrors most men would never imagine, but this? Being spammed by a random, drunk girl with a barrage of panicked messages? It was almost… comical.

What am I doing? he thought, irritation flickering under his mask. He was almost 40, practically ancient by some standards, and here he was, playing the knight in black armor for some stranger who probably didn’t even know her own last name right now.

Yet there he was, pressing down harder on the gas pedal.

The next text buzzed as he turned a corner.

The words ignited something in him, a familiar protective instinct that refused to let up. He gritted his teeth, eyes narrowing as he watched the road blur past. When he’d agreed to pick her up, it was because he didn’t trust her to make it home in one piece. He could tell she’d been drinking, and he had no patience for the kinds of creeps that lingered around clubs at this hour. But now…now it felt like a mission.

The final turn brought her into view—a small, unsteady figure with her back against a wall, clutching her phone like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to safety. And standing just a few feet away from her was the guy. Tall, with a slick smile and hands shoved in his pockets, like he had all the time in the world to wait her out.

Simon’s truck screeched to a halt, the dark engine purring like a beast as he glared through the windshield. He didn’t even need to get out; the guy’s eyes widened the moment the headlights hit him, and he took a few steps back, muttering something before disappearing into the shadows.

Simon killed the engine and got out, his towering figure partially hidden by the black mask over his face, and for a second, she stared at him, wide-eyed.

“Uh…Uber?” she said with a drunken giggle, half-nervous, half-relieved.

“Get in,” he muttered, shooting her a look as he opened the passenger door.

She clambered in, her expression melting from shock into something warm, a little playful as she buckled herself up. “Mr. Uber Driver… you’re my hero,” she slurred.

He grunted, barely acknowledging her. “Text me like that again, and I might just leave you next time.”

She smiled, eyes heavy-lidded, safe and sound in the passenger seat of his big, black truck.

[This is a first part] [Part two here]

[urdreamydoodles]

Remy LeBeau "Gambit" x Fem!Reader

Laughing at every jokes he make

You find yourself on a romantic stroll with Remy LeBeau, where his playful jokes and charming demeanor lead to a deeper connection. As your laughter draws you closer, you both realize there's more than just flirtation between you, culminating in a tender and passionate moment.

The warm glow of the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the streets of New Orleans, the air thick with the scent of jasmine and the lively hum of jazz music in the distance. You found yourself walking alongside Remy LeBeau, your hand barely brushing against his as the two of you meandered through the quiet backstreets. The gentle breeze carried with it the rich smells of the city and a sense of anticipation you could feel in your bones, a feeling heightened whenever you were in his presence.

Remy had insisted on taking you out for a stroll, away from the chaos of your usual lives as X-Men, and you didn’t hesitate to agree. It was impossible to say no to that roguish smile of his, the one that made you feel like you were the only person in the world who could see through his devil-may-care attitude to the heart beneath. Today, though, Remy was especially playful, cracking jokes at every turn.

“Y’know,” he began, his deep Cajun accent weaving through his words like music, “if de X-Men ever decide t’fire me, I got a back-up career as a stand-up comedian.”

You chuckled softly, the sound light and airy, though the joke itself was far from laugh-out-loud funny. “You sure about that? You might want to keep practicing.”

His grin widened, eyes flashing with a spark of mischief. “Practice? Chère, I’m already a master. Ain’t nobody got charm like Remy LeBeau.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, a little louder this time. There was something about the way he said things, like he didn’t care whether they were funny or not—he was confident you’d laugh anyway. And, of course, you did. It wasn’t just the jokes themselves, though. It was the way he carried himself, with a swagger that spoke volumes, and the way he’d glance at you, his red-and-black eyes lingering just a little too long, sending a shiver down your spine.

Remy raised an eyebrow as he leaned in closer. “Now you laughin’, but I know y’thinkin’ I got potential.”

“Potential to get booed off the stage, maybe,” you teased, nudging his arm with your shoulder, your eyes crinkling at the corners from how hard you were smiling.

“Ah, chère, you wound me!” Remy dramatically placed a hand over his heart, feigning hurt, though his smirk gave him away. “Lucky for me, I got a beautiful girl like you t’keep me company. Long as you laughin’, dat’s all dat matters.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at the casual compliment, even though you were used to his flirtations by now. Being called “beautiful” by Remy was like being told the sky was blue—he said it so often, you’d think it would lose its effect. But it never did. It always felt like a small flame igniting inside you every time the word passed his lips.

Your laughter faded into a quiet smile as you glanced up at him, watching the way the evening light softened his sharp features. Remy had a way of making everything feel light, like the weight of the world could fall away when you were with him. He was always making jokes, always teasing, and you always laughed, even when they weren’t all that funny. It wasn’t that his jokes were bad—they just didn’t always hit the mark. But the way he looked at you when he delivered them, with that lazy, confident grin, you couldn’t help but laugh. Because he was trying, and because, for reasons you couldn’t quite explain, his laughter became contagious, drawing your own out of you like a melody that was meant to be sung.

As the two of you continued walking, you noticed Remy glance at you out of the corner of his eye, the smile on his lips softening. There was something different in his expression now, something quieter and more thoughtful. He stopped suddenly, taking your hand in his without a word, guiding you toward a small, secluded park nestled between two rows of charming old houses.

“C’mere,” he said softly, pulling you toward a bench shaded by a large oak tree. The branches above rustled gently in the breeze, casting dappled shadows on the ground beneath your feet. Remy sat down, his hand still holding yours, and patted the spot next to him.

You sat, feeling the warmth of his body close to yours, your hand still tingling from his touch. The playful banter had died down now, replaced by a silence that felt… deeper, more intimate.

“Y’know,” Remy began after a moment, his voice quieter than before, “I been thinkin’ ‘bout somethin’.”

Your heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t often that Remy got serious, and when he did, you knew it was important. “What’s on your mind?”

He looked at you, his red-on-black eyes meeting yours in a way that made your breath catch. “I been thinkin’ ‘bout you. ‘Bout us.”

There was a pause, the words hanging in the air between you like the last note of a song waiting to fade. You weren’t sure what to say, so you waited, letting him find the words.

“You always laugh at my jokes,” he said, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Even when they ain’t so funny. Why’s dat, chère?”

You blinked, surprised by the question. It seemed so simple, but the way he asked it—like it meant more than just the surface—made your heart stutter in your chest. You glanced away for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts, before looking back at him with a smile of your own.

“I guess… I just like hearing you talk,” you said, feeling the truth of it even as you spoke the words. “Doesn’t matter if the joke is funny or not. I like being around you, Remy. You make me feel… lighter. Happier.”

His expression softened at that, his smile turning more genuine, more tender. “Dat so?” he murmured, leaning just a little closer, his voice low and smooth, like the soft rumble of thunder in the distance.

You nodded, your heart thudding in your chest. “Yeah, it is. I don’t think I could stop laughing around you even if I tried.”

For a moment, Remy said nothing, just watched you with an intensity that made your skin tingle. Then, without warning, he reached out and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your skin longer than necessary. His touch sent a thrill down your spine, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat.

“Y’know,” he said softly, his voice barely more than a whisper, “I been doin’ a lot of thinkin’ ‘bout how lucky I am.”

“Lucky?” you echoed, your voice quieter now, the world around you seeming to fade as the space between you and Remy grew smaller.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his hand still resting lightly against your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. “Lucky dat someone like you’d wanna spend time wit’ someone like me. Wit’ all my bad jokes an’ all.”

You laughed, the sound soft and breathless, and Remy’s smile widened at the sound. “I think I’m the lucky one,” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Remy’s eyes darkened slightly at that, and you could feel the air between you shift, becoming charged with something unspoken. For a long moment, neither of you moved, the world narrowing to just the two of you, your breaths mingling in the small space between you. Then, slowly, ever so slowly, Remy leaned in closer, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Can I kiss you, chère?” he asked softly, his breath warm against your skin.

Your heart raced, your pulse pounding in your ears as you nodded, unable to form words. The moment you did, Remy’s lips met yours, soft and warm, sending a surge of electricity through your entire body. The kiss was gentle at first, tentative, but it quickly deepened as Remy wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer.

You melted into him, your hands tangling in his hair as you kissed him back, every thought in your mind dissolving into the sensation of being this close to him. His lips were firm yet soft, his touch tender but possessive, as though he’d been waiting for this moment as long as you had.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and flushed, Remy rested his forehead against yours, his breath coming in soft, shallow pants. He smiled, a real smile, the kind that reached his eyes, and your heart swelled in your chest.

“Now dat’s a punchline I can get behind,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

And just like that, you laughed again, not because the joke was funny, but because you were happy—truly, completely happy.

[eelnoise]

paradigm shift

zoro x afab!reader c/w: jealous zoro, he raises his voice/yells at reader, possessive behavior, fwb to lovers, semi-public sex, piv sex a/n: inspired by a conversation @sunfloworcs and i had. meant to post this last night but i forgor! anyway here's wonderwall

Zoro watches you smile at the man attempting to court you at the bar. He watches as you laugh at something he says before replying in a manner that's a little too enthusiastic for the brooding swordsman in the corner.

He grits his teeth and tightens the grip on his drink, frustrated at the sight across the tavern.

The way your cheeks flush with mild inebriation makes Zoro clench the hand on his knee into a fist. His leg doesn't seem to stop bouncing as he glares in your direction, the tick going unnoticed due to his annoyance at the patron you're speaking with and himself for even caring.

You're not exclusive. The length of your shared relationship had been long decided as friends who just fuck on the side for a little stress relief, so why the hell does he care that some nobody is trying to coax you into their bed?

He takes a deep breath, exhaling through his mouth in what ultimately proves to be a feeble attempt at calming himself. It almost works, but as he brings the mug of ale to his lips he notices you lean in a little closer to the man, that undeniable look of desire flickering in your heavy-lidded expression that Zoro knows all too well.

Before he can even think to stop himself, Zoro stands from his seat and makes his way toward you, heavy boot steps trudging against the wooden floor of the tavern.

You don't notice his approach, far too lost in the music and conversation to really pay attention. It's only when his large hand envelops the small of your back that you pay him any mind.

"Yeah, if you wanna get out of here maybe we could fin-" the hopeful patron begins, the remainder of the sentence lost to time as Zoro rudely interrupts.

"We're leavin'," the pirate states bluntly, pulling you away from the man without hesitation.

"But-" You call out, a hand reaching in hopeless desperation toward the bar where your soon-to-be abandoned drink sits. "The others?"

"Fuck 'em," Zoro snaps, not looking in your direction as he leads you through the door and out into the humidity of the island. "They'll catch up."

"What's wrong with you?" Your voice wavers with uncertainty as you try and fail to wriggle from his tight grip upon your forearm. "Why're you so pissed at me?"

"I'm not pissed at ya!" Zoro shouts back defensively, stopping short to face you. "But I don't want some random asswipe tryin' to sweet talk my shipmate!"

You nearly trip over yourself when he suddenly comes to a halt in the middle of the street, the once lively town now having fallen into a slumber of its own. "So you just get up and leave?" You reply, managing to keep your balance before staring up at him angrily, a slight tilt to your head in mild confusion. "And what do you care if someone wants to 'sweet talk' me?"

"Because I care about ya!" Zoro barks, feeling his heart race in his chest. "I don't want anyone else touchin' what's mine!"

Your eyes widen, paralyzed in place as the words hang in the air somewhat awkwardly. Zoro's expression is still one of anger, brows furrowed and mouth twisted into a harsh frown. "I-" you swallow, shaking your head in an attempt to be rid of the butterflies threatening to form in your belly. "What's yours?" You finally echo, tone wavering between frustration and disbelief.

"You!" Zoro yells, grabbing you by the shoulders and forcing you to look directly into his eyes. "Me and you, we've got somethin' special goin' on! We don't need anyone complicatin' things!"

You part your lips as if wanting to speak before averting his gaze with an unreadable expression. Your brows are raised and your hands tremble at your sides. "I thought we decided to just keep it casu-" Zoro cuts you off with a firm grip to your chin, forcing your gaze upon him once more.

"That doesn't matter!" He huffs, the hand on your shoulder twitching slightly as he fights off the urge to move it to the back of your neck. "Fuck," Zoro groans, the low timbre of his voice sending a shiver down your spine. He looks around quickly, and before you can say anything you feel him start to pull you along by the arm again and down a stray alleyway.

You hurry along behind him as best you can, accepting your fate within his iron grip. He stops and you hear him sigh heavily, his shoulders tensing in irritation. "Zoro...?"

"Shut up." He commands harshly as he releases your aching wrist, turning to face you with a fierce scowl etched into his features.

You let out a sound akin to a squeak, cheeks flushing in embarrassment as if you had done something wrong. Suddenly you feel vulnerable. Small. Your eyes dare not leave his, unsure and anxious emotions swelling in your mind. You feel your mouth go dry.

"I can't keep pretendin' that this is just a casual thing between us," Zoro declares, taking a step closer to you. "I know what we agreed on, but I can't help it. I want more."

You heart feels like it's about to beat out of your chest. "Zoro-" you whisper, but the swordsman holds up a hand to stop you, not done speaking just yet. If he's going to do this, to expose how he feels, he needs you to shut up and listen.

"I don't want to share ya," He continues, his voice and words blunt. "I already told ya, I don't want anyone else touchin' what's mine." He leans in closer, his warm breath brushing against your earlobe.

Your back clashes with one of the outer walls of the two shops you're tucked in between. Zoro's hand finally finds the nape of your neck, leaning in even further until his lips ghost over yours. "Truth is," he murmurs, thumb caressing your soft skin. "I'm crazy about ya."

And at once, Zoro's lips crash onto your own, engulfing you in an open-mouthed, somewhat messy kiss. Your arms find purchase around his shoulders, eagerly reciprocating the gesture without a second thought. As your tongues dance together, Zoro's hand reaches down to cup your ass, pulling your body flush against his.

A surprised gasp is muffled between a mess of lips and tongue and teeth, the hands on his broad shoulders tightening their grasp at the newfound contact. With a low groan, Zoro breaks away from the kiss, panting heavily. "Now let's get one thing straight," he growls, running his fingers through your hair. "Ya belong to me."

You nod, a huff of what sounds like a breathless whimper of an 'Mhm!' falling from your parted, wet lips.

Grinning triumphantly, Zoro pulls you into another deep, passionate kiss. This time there's no hesitation, no holding back - it's pure desire and hunger and everything else that comes with wanting someone more than anything else in the world. And while your tongues continue to duel and your bodies pressed firmly together, Zoro's hand moves to cup your cheek before trailing down your neck to rest upon the exposed skin of your collarbone. He bites lightly at your jawline, his mouth leaving yours to taste your flesh and leaving a trail of fire wherever he goes.

When he reaches the hem of your shirt, his large, warm hand slides beneath the fabric and meets the soft skin of your torso. A soft moan escapes your throat at the intimate touch, and though he's heard your symphony many times, this note is different. It sends an unfamiliar, but not unwanted jolt to his heart. As if something tugs at his very soul.

Zoro stops in his tracks, thumb just brushing the underside of your breast. His mouth leaves your skin, and you mourn the loss of his touch until he raises his head to look upon the whole of you once more. He scans your face as if committing to memory, and in what seems like an instant, he locks you into another kiss that takes your breath away.

It's tender and careful, each touch working as wordless confessions.

It's almost romantic.

His arms wrap around your middle, lifting you and pressing you flat against the wall. His lips never leave yours either, it's as if you're quite literally glued to one another. When he finally pulls away, he's breathless, and there's a glimmer in his eye that wasn't there before. "You're mine," he repeats, smirking almost wickedly. "And I'm not lettin' go."

Zoro's hand resumes its tour of your body, sliding back under your shirt and grazing over your breast. Your legs wrap around him and he rolls his hips into you, watching as you writhe for him. "You're always on my mind," he admits, his voice heavy and rough. "Even when we're apart."

He descends down your neck, trailing kisses and nibbles and licks to your tender skin. "I can barely keep my hands off ya," Zoro murmurs into you. "If I had my way you'd be in my bed every single night."

"But," Zoro says firmly, breaking away from your neck to look into your eyes. "I won't settle for less than all of ya. I want your heart too."

You exhale as if you'd been holding your breath in for days. You'd be denying yourself truth if you say that you aren't interested - that you're content with just being crewmates once again. But you're not content with it; for at some point in the circumstance of your relationship, what had started as a quick means to an end had indeed grown into something more raw and real.

Something more than just infatuation, more than just lust.

"You have it," you whisper, a flood of warmth bathing your heart. "Zoro, you've had it for a while." The confession is soft, and your tone is a little rasp and hoarse from the intensity of the moment.

Zoro smiles, the gesture reaching all the way to his eyes. He leans down to capture your lips again in a yearning kiss, and as your lips lock together, his hand moves lower still, sliding up your thigh and beneath your skirt. He teasingly skims along the edge of your panties before dipping beneath the fabric. A breathy gasp falls from your lips, the sound thankfully swallowed by Zoro's hungry kiss.

He groans, feeling your wetness against his fingers. "Damn, ya drive me crazy, y'know that?" he mutters against your lips. You whine as he touches you, eyes squeezing shut in pleasure and clutching him ever closer to you. "But I love it," he adds, pulling away from the kiss to gaze down at you with a smirk. "Love how much ya need me."

"Always need you," you reply, lips swollen and glossed over with saliva. "All of you."

With a wicked grin, Zoro pulls back slightly, giving you a better view of his erection straining against his pants. He pulls his hand out from beneath your skirt just long enough to free his aching length from its confines before wrapping it around himself, stroking his cock lazily while watching your face contort in anticipation.

He aligns himself with you, carefully sliding your panties to the side. With a hiss, he pushes himself into you. Zoro's slower than usual, but still just as needy and desperate as ever. He buries himself to the hilt within your warm, plush walls, filling you completely until there's no room left for doubt or denial.

You cry out in surprise and ecstasy, back arching off the wall as Zoro begins to fuck you relentlessly. He holds nothing back, diving into you with all his strength as if trying to claim every inch of your being. His free hand digs into your hipbone, keeping you anchored to him while he pounds into you mercilessly. "Nobody else can have ya," he growls into your ear. "Nobody else can fuck ya like this either, isn't that right, princess?"

You nod wordlessly, unable to find the breath needed for anything more than short gasps of air. Your whole body quivers with each thrust, desperate to take everything he has to offer. Zoro seems determined to make sure you remember exactly what it feels like to be taken by him - and to show everyone within earshot just how much he owns you.

The sound of footsteps echo through the alleyway behind you, causing you both to stiffen momentarily before relaxing again. Clearly, whoever it was didn’t stick around to see what was going on. Zoro doesn’t let go of you though, continuing to fuck you with unrelenting force even as you both know they could come back at any moment.

And you're lost in him once again, completely bent and shaped to his will. Breathless and broken attempts at speech mix in between gasps and moans and sighs of pleasure. He moans softly into your ear, feeling your submission wrapping around him like a warm embrace. It fuels his desire even further, pushing him to go harder and faster until there's no thought left beyond the primal need to fuck you senseless.

It seems like his pace won't ever let up, soon losing any cadence to his motions as his eye closes tightly. A wild light burns within him as he loses himself completely in the act of taking you. The sounds of the village fade away, replaced by only the rhythmic slapping of flesh against flesh and the ragged breath shared between you both.

Your inner walls flutter around him wildly, moans befalling into frantic whimpers that tell him just how close you are to cumming around his cock. You feel yourself reaching the brink, and without warning, Zoro suddenly pulls out of you.

For a brief moment, he leaves you empty and aching - before shoving himself back inside you with a ferocity that makes you cry out in shock. His movements become frantic, almost violent as he tries to bring you over the edge with him.

As your orgasm washes over you, Zoro lets out a near-animalistic growl deep in his throat. His hips piston forward relentlessly, driving himself deeper and deeper into you with each pulse of euphoria. You scream his name, the blissful sensations coursing through your body as waves of pleasure crash over you again and again.

Zoro's moans into your ear grow more erratic, feeling his own peak building rapidly. With one final surge of power, he drives deep into you one last time before releasing himself fully inside and filling you to the brim with his spend. The sensation sends shockwaves through you, leaving you a shuddering and panting mess around him.

Zoro holds you tightly as your head lolls into his shoulder, body twitching slightly as you recover from his harsh fucking. He pulls out from you slowly, giving you a moment to catch your breath before withdrawing completely. Once he does, he helps you straighten up and adjust your clothes before leading you out of the alleyway.

Despite the roughness of your encounter, there's an underlying sense of tenderness in his movements - a reminder that he truly does care for you deeply. And as you walk toward the port where the Sunny is anchored, neither of you speak; instead, you revel in the afterglow of what just conspired between the two of you. There's something incredibly intimate about it now, knowing that you both feel the same way for one another, and it leaves you feeling closer than ever before.

"Zoro," Your voice catches him off guard, the swordsman seemingly lost in thought.

"Hm?" He replies, looking down at you with a raised brow.

You entwine your fingers with his, holding his much larger hand tightly within your own as you point in the opposite direction.

"The ship is that way."

[otomehoneyybearr]

Keith VS Kagari

The Beast Tempts the Little Rabbit Episode 1

Ep2 | Ending | Epilogue

If I were to head to Jade on an errand to buy books for the owner—

("Enjoy the seasonal flowers in the flower-viewing event!" ...So that's why it's so lively here.)

Every flower I’d seen was rare, and it filled me with excitement.

(There are so many delicious-looking stalls, and I'm starting to get hungry.)

(I've finished the task the owner asked me to do, so maybe I should just enjoy the event as it is.)

Emma: "Ah...!"

Man: "My bad."

Suddenly, a man running from behind collided with me, causing me to stumble.

Emma: "No, I'm the one who should apologize!"

The man nodded and then hurriedly disappeared into a large mansion along a deserted street.

(I think might have been in the way. I need to be more careful.)

(Huh...?)

I suddenly caught a sweet scent, different from that of flowers, and stopped in my tracks.

Curious, I search for the source of the scent and came across a mobile vendor with a sign that read "DORAYAKI" in large letters.

(Dorayaki is a traditional sweet from Kogyoku, right? I remember Owner made it for me once.)

(It feels strange to see it in Jade.)

My stomach grumbled, expressing its hunger.

(I haven't had it in a while, maybe I should have some.)

Emma: "Excuse me, could I have one dorayaki, please?"

…..

???: "One dorayaki, please."

Staff: "Sorry, buddy. The lady there just bought the last one."

Staff: "Come back tomorrow!"

???: "I see, got it."

???: “...Dorayaki.”

???: "...Hm?"

......

Emma: (Why is this happening...)

???: "..."

(Who is this guy?)

Though I was supposed to be enjoying the event, savoring my first dorayaki in a while and strolling through the town,

I now found myself cornered by a man I didn't recognize.

(Could it be that I just don’t remember him...? Despite him being so eye-catching?)

With his fiery red hair tied up, expressionless emerald eyes, and the sweet, yet fleeting scent that enveloped him, there's no way I could forget him.

The man with the emerald eyes, who had been staring at me intently, slowly brought his well-defined face closer.

Emma: "Hey, there's a suspicious person here!"

???: "Suspicious? That's rude. I was just trying to stop you because you started running."

Emma: "Anyone would run if they realize they're being followed."

I try to escape, but he grabs both of my hands and holds them against the wall, blocking my way out.

(Since it’s come to this, I have no choice but to use what Owner taught me. It’s my first time doing it though…)

Silently apologizing in my mind, I kicked the man with the emerald eyes between the legs as hard as I could—or so thought.

???: "If you’re going to do that, create an opening first."

(Huh? This guy is NOT normal.)

In an instant, the man with the emerald eyes tangled his leg around mine, thwarting my movement.

Words of desperation raced through my mind.

???: " Also, your gaze dropped too low. What good does it do to let your opponent know that your next move is to kick them?"

Emma: "S-sorry?"

(No, wait, why am I being coached right now?)

???: "More importantly, did you forget something?"

Emma: "Huh? Forgotten something...?"

???: "What are you doing?"

(That voice...!)

I turn my face towards the familiar, low, calm voice.

Standing there like a godsend is Prince Keith, the first prince of Jade.

Back when he visited Rhodolite as a royal guest while I was serving as a Belle to select the next king,

I remember being comforted and saved many times by his sincere and boundless kindness, despite his lack of confidence.

(But, Prince Keith has a secret that he can't tell anyone...)

Prince Keith cautiously closes the distance between us.

The usual gentle and calm atmosphere fades away, and is replaced by a glare towards the man with the emerald eyes.

Keith: "I heard your voice and came here. You, move away from her."

(I’m saved...)

Emma & ???:

"Prince Keith..."

"Keith, huh?"

(... Huh?)

Keith: "Huh? Kagari? And Emma?!

(Kagari...? Does that mean he knows Prince Keith?)

Keith: "Why are you two in Jade...? No, more importantly, why are you in such a position...?"

Keith looks back and forth between me and the man with the emerald eyes, and suddenly begins waving his hands in a flustered manner.

His cheeks seem to be slightly flushed and… I have a bad feeling about this.

Keith: "I'm sorry, I had no idea you two were acquainted like that, I... I... I've interfered."

(I knew it, he did misunderstand!)

Keith: "Just ignore me like the annoying weed I am."

Keith: "Or rather, I should disappear as soon as possible, right? Uh, um, best of luck to you both!"

Emma: "Wait, Prince Keith, it's a misunderstanding. Please help me!"

Keith: "Huh?"

...

Emma: "I'm sorry for calling you a suspicious person when you were just trying to return my wallet."

In a café—after the waiter finished taking our orders and left, I immediately bowed deeply as if grabbing onto the table.

Kagari: "It's fine, raise your head."

Keith: "Kagari?"

Kagari: "Sorry for trailing you and cornering you against the wall."

Kagari: "If there's ever a next time, I'll call out to you even if you're eating dorayaki."

Emma: "Ah, so that's why you didn't call out immediately. Thank you for your consideration."

Keith: "Even after all that... Emma, you're truly a generous woman. Thank you."

After showing a relieved expression on his face, Prince Keith clears his throat softly.

Keith: "Now that the misunderstanding is cleared up, let me properly introduce him."

Keith: "This is Kagari Amagase, the second prince of Kogyoku."

Keith: "Jade and Kogyoku have had exchanges since ancient times, so Kagari and I have known each other since childhood."

Emma: "I see!"

(That's why their interaction seemed so relaxed, like they're comfortable with each other.)

Keith: "If I remember correctly, wasn't it when the king had you brought from Kogyoku to train me, Kagari?"

Kagari: "Yeah. You had spirit, but you were surprisingly weak."

(I've seen Keith training with Licht before, so it's hard to imagine him being weak.)

Keith: "Those hellish training sessions were unique, both then and now."

Keith: "Those memories are nostalgic..."

From his wry smile, I could tell the training had been extremely harsh.

Keith: "In return for the training, I taught Kagari about medicinal herbs."

Kagari: "Kogyoku is always bustling with injured people, so knowledge of medicinal herbs comes in handy."

(Kogyoku is still a country constantly at war.)

(And Kagari is also feared as a demon.)

From appearances alone, you wouldn't guess it, but his expressionless emerald eyes reflect nothing, which made him a bit intimidating.

Keith: "Kagari, this is Emma, a friend I met in Rhodolite."

Keith: "I know it might sound presumptuous for a giant guy like me to call someone like you my friend."

Emma: "If anything, I might be the presumptuous one. But I'm glad you consider me a friend, Prince Keith."

Keith: "R-really? That's... I'm glad."

His shy smile made me smile in return.

(Prince Keith always brings comfort no matter the situation.)

Kagari: "Rhodolite... Ah."

Kagari: "So that sweet scent earlier was the smell of roses. They bloom year-round there."

Kagari: "Cherry blossoms also bloom all year round in Kogyoku. We're like flower buddies."

Emma: "Right, I guess so."

Keith: "Oh, that sounds nice. Since Jade is also abundant in nature, maybe we could join the club?"

Kagari: "If you join, it'll be more like being plant buddies than flower buddies."

Keith: "That suddenly took away the cuteness... It's sad, but I'll decline joining."

(Prince Keith seems quite disappointed...)

Waiter: "Sorry for the wait."

(Wow...)

The waiter leaves, and I glance at the table.

In front of me is a mille-feuille, in front of Prince Keith is a thick galette with various flavors to enjoy,

And in front of Kagari is a stack of dorayaki.

(I thought the "Dorayaki Tower" was just a joke of a name, but it's quite literal.)

Emma: "I never imagined there would be such whimsical sweets in Jade."

Keith: "The pastry chef here is from Kogyoku, you see. They put it on the secret menu at Kagari's request."

Emma: "I see... What a thoughtful gesture."

Kagari: "Thank you for the food."

After saying a silent prayer, Kagari begins to slice the dorayaki with a knife and quietly starts eating.

His flawless eating style mesmerized me, as it maintained a perfect balance even though it looks like it might collapse at any moment.

Kagari: "Princess."

Emma: "Huh? Princess? Did you mean me—ugh!"

Keith: "..."

In the blink of an eye, the dorayaki is stuffed into my mouth.

Despite feeling flustered, the gentle sweetness of the red bean paste spreads in my mouth as I chew.

Kagari: "Which do you prefer, the dorayaki you had from the mobile vendor or this one?"

Emma: "I, I like them both. By the way, the dorayaki I had was also with smooth red bean paste."

Kagari: "......I'll buy some tomorrow."

(Maybe they were sold out, and he couldn't have any.)

(Kagari is... unpredictable in both thought and action.)

Keith: "Dorayaki is highly effective for Kagari, so it's good to remember just in case something happens."

Emma: "Understood. I'll make sure to remember it well."

Keith: "Right. Emma told us why she came to Jade earlier, but what about you, Kagari?"

Kagari: "I'm hunting someone down."

Next

▼・ᴥ・▼

[a1ecmcdowell]

( AFTERCARE ) . . .ㅤㅤTWO !!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ─ ㅤㅤㅤㅤTHE new rock band in town has some nerve, causing mayhem in the venue next to your studio every night. but how do you stay MAD at the lead singer when he looks at you like that ?

PART TWO. should run for the hills !ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤincludes, proper introductions. sassy!reader. fictional locations. maybe improper ballet terminology. reminder that this is a slowburn!!

parts will get longer, probably, as relationship develops.

ㅤㅤㅤ─ word count: 1.4k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤprev partㅤㅤㅤ.ㅤㅤㅤmasterlistㅤㅤㅤ.ㅤㅤㅤnext partㅤㅤㅤ.

ㅤㅤA/N. this was going to be sm longer but i decided to split it up into two very sorry </3 it just feels right in my head! considering what the chapter titles are ... hehehe ( i am posting the masterlist today so u will see )

ㅤIT was routine at this point; getting out of class and heading to destiny dance studio before you made it home across the street. you practically couldn’t sleep without needing your muscles to feel like they were giving out first — so, like clockwork, there you were, again.

and there he was, again. 

he was a lot quieter — and much more reserved — when it was just the both of you. whether it was you leaving destiny, or about to head in, he was there at least once, a cigarette dangling from his plush, pink lips. 

he never spoke to you, though; never offered up the name of his, never made any effort to be anything besides the annoying lead singer of the band next door. all he did was watch, smoke curling around his mouth as his eyes drank you in. 

you passed him — an addition to your routine at this point — as you round the corner of destiny, key already having been plucked from your pocket. your hair was still tied in that tight bun from school that day, finding it easier to just wear it until dance practice rather than take it down and try to put it back up again. 

and all was the same, him lingering by the glass double doors of sunset blvd without so much as a breath in your direction… until, it wasn’t the same. his lips split as you stood outside in the chilly night, and for the first time in a week, words tumbled out of them.

“this place better be paying you for keepin’ ’em in business, at this rate,” he mutters, and on his exhale, the translucent gray smoke dances its way over to you.

you wave it away with your free hand, swatting at the dissipating smoke, and he’s got the audacity to stand there and laugh about it. his laugh is deep and throaty, probably rumbling in his lungs. 

“is something funny?” 

and there was that little quirk to his lips, dimples embedding his cheeks, as he turns that amused expression onto you. “you are such a prissy little thing,” he muses, fingers curled and tapping against one of his thick biceps. 

“because i don’t want to get secondhand smoke? makes me prissy?” the key is literally in the door, already twisted and unlocked. the only thing keeping you out here is that pull to him — the one that’s debilitating you from calling the cops on the band practically living in the abandoned building next to you. 

he shakes his head, one side of his nose and lip scrunching up as if he was thinking about it. “nah,” he says finally, “you’re a prissy little thing for many reasons, that’s just one of them, i think.”

you are bristling. this man who doesn’t even know you, is causing you more issues than anything related to dance in the last year, who could be in jail right now if you weren’t so generous— making assumptions about you like he had the right to? 

“i am not prissy,” you snap back at him, your words as venomous as a snake bite. you cross your arms firmly over your chest, your mouth puckered in a furious pout.

that just seems to make him even more amused; his leg falls from where it was braced on the brick wall behind him, letting his back collide with the wall as he snickers. 

“oh, and you’re proving it so damn well!” he exclaims, the sarcasm dripping from his words like the venom was dripping from yours. he drops the cigarette onto the ground, stomping its cherried end out with the toe of his boot. “standin’ there, fuckin’ pouting away… downright precious, lovebug.” 

lovebug, it seems, was your breaking point. something cracked like the facade of normalcy you were keeping up to maintain around him, and now he’d crossed that invisible line. or tried to, since you were finally yanking the key from the door to the studio, and stomping off inside. 

maybe, looking back on this moment, you would let yourself realize this moment for what it was. you would take the fact that, while you usually lock the door behind you, this time you didn’t. and you could blame it on your mind being preoccupied with your one-sided fury, but in reality, there wasn’t any way that it was an accident. 

there was that pull, and it sank its teeth into your unsuspecting skin. 

you’d only just sat your bag down on the ground by the entrance, just to the right of the balance beams, when the second set of footsteps starts to echo behind you. when the door latches for a second time. 

“so, this is the place that gets all of your attention,” his voice drawls, and you barely even get the moment to spin around, hardly even get your mouth open to tell him off, when he’s adding, “expected something raunchier.” 

your hands immediately fall on your hips, and he’d never admit it, but he thought it was adorable, and you’d never admit it, but you could tell what he was thinking just by the way his eyes fell to your clenched fingers around your waist.

“what the hell does that mean?” you ask, just as incredulously in your tone as your widened eyes were when they locked onto him. 

him, who stood there with nothing but a shit-eating grin on his face. his boots were going to scuff up the floor, and then how would you explain this? that the man staying illegally next door followed you, and you didn’t turn him away? 

“just the way you are,” he hums, shoulders lifting in another nonchalant shrug. “thought you’d have at least one filthy secret up in that pretty little head of yours, but… turns out you really are just a sweet little thing.” 

“i’m sorry, when did i start giving off the impression that you knew me, or that i wanted you to?” 

“i’ve always liked a challenge,” he pushes back, his large hands curling around the balance beam nearest to him, leaning over it like he was physically crossing the line that divided you both. “especially when they’re all dolled up like you are.” 

you decide, then, like a split second, rash decision, that the best method of dealing with him is to just ignore him. you bend at the knees to start to unzip your bag and pull loose your pointe shoes, and—

it’s almost indistinguishable. almost barely audible over the sound of her rifling around. but there it was; a sharp, guttural inhale. 

oh, jesus christ. “gonna have to give a man a little warning before you go getting on your knees for him,” his voice drawls, “not that i mind.” 

“i don’t even know your name,” you fire back, as if that’s the only comeback that you could even think of in your adrenaline-amped mind. he was getting to you, gnawing on your bones to the point of awareness, whittling you down. “and you’re standing there, accusing me of trying to—” 

“jensen,” he interrupts, his fingers tapping along the balance beam, trimmed nails scratching its wooden surface just enough for the sound to echo around the room, just like his voice. “and you never asked.” 

“i wasn’t ever planning on it,” you say, and you try to shoot him a glare from the ground, but all that does is make his eyes flare, bright and glimmering with something you didn’t even want to address. “was hoping you’d all be kicked out by now, so i never have to deal with you again.” 

his laugh is loud and echoing throughout the room, those dimples dipped into his cheeks as deep as his voice, the crinkles around his eyes only serving to make you angrier. 

“you would, huh? wish the worst for me?”

you don’t even dignify him with an answer. really, fueling whatever plan he had with following you in here was probably in your best interest. 

“don’t blame you,” he continues on anyways, as you’re kicking off your tennis shoes and lacing up the pointes, “i’d run for the hills too.” 

there’s something about how he says it, though, in that soft voice so at odds with the deep, rough one he usually bore, that makes you pause. not because you want to give him any more attention than he’s already gotten from you, but because of something far more concerning.  you didn’t want to run.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤFEEDBACK & REBLOGS APPRECIATED!! < 3

tags! @happyladyduck, @casatoan, @mo0nwalker, @manicjk, @stereotypicalbarbie, @inpraise0fbacchus, @fitxgrld !

support me ( n get early access! ) on patreon!<3

[usagii-bun]

sunset berry tea. zhongli x reader

✦....summary: in which zhongli tries out a new tea shop in liyue.

✦.....warnings: none!

✦.....word count: 1.1k

The small tea shop nestled along the busy streets of Liyue had quickly become a haven for its patrons. To Zhongli, however, it had become something more—a quiet retreat from the responsibilities and the endless history of the city he once governed. He had first noticed the shop a few weeks ago, its subtle charm standing out among the bustling market stalls. Today, curiosity led him inside.

The chime above the door tinkled softly, and you glanced up from the counter where you were brewing tea, your hands steady and practiced. Your eyes caught sight of a tall man with sharp amber eyes and an air of calm about him, his expression serene as he scanned the room.

"Welcome," you greeted with a warm smile. "What can I get for you today?"

Zhongli approached the counter, his gaze briefly flicking to the menu before resting on you. "It is a warm day today. Perhaps you could recommend something refreshing?"

You chuckled softly, the sound light and pleasant. "I’ve got just the thing. I’d recommend our Sunset Berry Tea. It’s fruity and pleasantly sour, and the cold brew is perfect for this weather."

"That sounds perfect," Zhongli replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You turned to prepare the drink, pouring the mixture of berries and herbs with careful precision. As you worked, Zhongli’s gaze wandered over the tea shop’s décor—soft Sumeru influences interwoven with Liyue’s aesthetic. It was clear this was more than just a shop to you; it was a piece of your home, brought to the bustling streets of Liyue Harbor.

When you returned with the tea, Zhongli accepted it graciously. He took a sip, his eyes closing briefly as the cool, refreshing flavor washed over him.

“This is exceptional,” he praised, setting the cup down gently. “A drink perfectly suited for dispelling the heat.”

You grinned, a sense of pride blooming in your chest. "Thank you. I learned everything from my father. He ran a tea business in Sumeru, but I decided to bring a piece of that here to Liyue. I’ve always admired the culture and wanted to start fresh."

Zhongli listened attentively as you spoke, your passion evident in the way your eyes lit up with each word. You rambled on about the tea, your father’s craft, and how you had come to love the traditions of Liyue. What began as a simple conversation became a habit—a ritual of sorts. Zhongli would come by the tea shop regularly, each time eager to try a new brew and to hear you speak about your life and the things that fascinated you.

In turn, he shared his own stories—little pieces of Liyue’s vast history and its rich culture. The more time he spent with you, the more he realized how much he enjoyed your company. There was a warmth in the way you spoke, a sincerity that made him feel more human—less like the ex-Archon burdened by millennia of memories.

Over time, he couldn’t help but notice how your hair sometimes fell in different styles, how you tried new shades of lipstick that complemented your features. He would feel a faint flutter in his chest whenever your eyes met his or when you smiled at him in that gentle, unassuming way.

As the Lantern Rite approached, the city buzzed with excitement, the streets filling with vibrant colors, lanterns hanging from every corner. One afternoon, as Zhongli was finishing his tea, he hesitated, the words lingering on his lips before he spoke.

“The Lantern Rite is always a magnificent occasion,” he said, his voice calm as always. “I was wondering if you would care to accompany me to the festival? It would be an honor to share the evening with you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, warmth flooding your cheeks. You hadn’t expected him to ask, but the thought of spending the festival with Zhongli made your chest tighten with excitement. “I’d love to,” you replied softly, your smile bright.

---

That evening, the streets of Liyue were filled with the soft glow of lanterns. The sky was painted with hues of gold and crimson as the sun began to set, casting a magical light over the harbor. You and Zhongli strolled through the festival together, the air buzzing with the sounds of music and laughter. Street vendors lined the roads, offering a myriad of treats and delicacies.

“Have you ever tried these?” Zhongli asked, gesturing toward a stall selling golden shrimp balls. You shook your head, and he bought a pair, handing one to you. The crisp exterior gave way to a warm, savory filling, and you smiled as you tasted the delightful combination of flavors.

As you walked, you talked about everything and nothing at all—the culture of Liyue, the beauty of the lanterns, and the stories that had been passed down for generations. Zhongli’s deep, soothing voice mixed with the sounds of the festival, creating a comforting backdrop to your evening.

There was an ease between the two of you, a natural connection that neither of you could deny. And as the sky darkened, the first fireworks began to burst above, painting the night with brilliant colors. You both paused to watch, the lanterns floating up into the sky like stars.

Zhongli turned to you then, his gaze soft and warm. “May I ask you something?” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You looked up at him, your heart fluttering in anticipation. “Of course.”

“There’s something I’ve been feeling… recently,” he began, his amber eyes holding yours. “Whenever I’m with you, I feel at ease. I find myself wanting to be around you more often, and I believe…” He paused, his expression growing tender. “I believe I’ve grown quite fond of you.”

Your breath caught, and you felt a flush rise to your cheeks. “I… I feel the same way,” you admitted, your voice quiet.

Zhongli took a step closer, the space between you shrinking. “Would it be all right if I kissed you?”

His question hung in the air, the gentle hum of the festival fading as your heart raced in your chest. You gave a small nod, your voice failing you.

With a soft smile, Zhongli leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in the softest, most tender kiss. The fireworks above crackled and burst into brilliant colors, but all you could focus on was the warmth of his lips against yours, the way your heart seemed to soar with every second.

When he pulled away, his thumb brushed your cheek, his expression soft and affectionate. “You have brought a light into my life,” he murmured, his voice like velvet. “One I did not expect to find.”

Your heart swelled, a smile tugging at your lips. “I could say the same about you.”

Hand in hand, you continued to watch the fireworks, your hearts intertwined beneath the glowing lanterns of Liyue.

author's note: this is just a little warm up writing for me as i have not written in a while, next work is al haitham x fem reader (professor x student) but reader is also a cam girl, so if anyone is interesting for that fanfic do let me know and I'll add ya to the tag list <3

[cooliestghouliest]

PUTTY, chapter two

(chapter one), (chapter two), (chapter three)

PAIRING: virgin!Eddie/former cheerleader!Reader

SUMMARY: You’ve got a thing for Eddie. Eddie’s got a thing for you. You both just continue to use Olly as an excuse to spend more time stealing glances at each other, until you realize you’re the one who’s gonna need to do something about it.

SERIES TAGS and C/W’s: mutual pining, experienced!Reader, inexperienced!Eddie but he’s eager to learn, mostly sub!Eddie, insecurities and self doubt, narcissistic and/or absent parents, jealousy, mean basketball players, hurt/comfort, they smoke weed, eventual smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), uniform kink, dirty talk, foot jobs, hand jobs, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), public sex, sex toys, unprotected PiV. more to be added as this progresses!!!

WORD COUNT: 3.1k+

TAG LIST: @emma77645

—

The night ended with Eddie sprawled out on his back against the hard ground, dark curls wet with sweat and face tinged pink from exertion. His little brother’s foot was on his chest, the heel of his tiny biker boot digging deep enough for Eddie to feel the weight of an indentation being made.

Although it would have been very easy to maneuver out of the hold Olly had him under, Eddie decided to call it a night and admit defeat. He was tired and hungry, but he knew the younger boy could probably last another hour or so out here, running off his endless childhood energy.

Eddie could not.

Eddie needed time to recuperate. He needed sustenance. Cold beer and concoctions of leftovers sitting in the fridge were calling his name.

Back in realtime, Olly raised his dull stick high in the air above his brother, ready to strike.

You, who’d disappeared into the trailer twenty or so minutes prior, came to Eddie’s rescue just as the makeshift weapon was about to make contact.

“Wait!” you called out, fingers moving to wrap around the bark, halting the boy. Olly looked nothing short of offended, mouth dropping at the audacity of his supposed Princess’ actions. You had to stifle a laugh at his expression.

“My dutiful nobleman, you’ve more than proved yourself to be a true warrior tonight. Buuuuut,” you sing-songed, brows lifting in suggestion. “Maybe we don’t slay the dragon. Maybe we keep him...” you paused for dramatic effect, dropping your attention to Eddie, “... as a pet.”

He probably shouldn’t have, and he didn’t know why he did, but Eddie really liked the sound of that.

“And we can make him do stuff for us?!” Olly exclaimed, his stick dropping to the ground immediately. The little boy loved the idea of having some sort of semblance of control over his older brother, even if it was all pretend.

“Sure,” you grinned, cheeks dimpling in amusement. You offered your hand out to Eddie to help him up as Olly ran around in circles, punching the air in celebration. Your tone was playful as you asked, “Right, Eddie? You’ll do stuff for us?”

Eddie thought he’d probably do just about anything you asked of him.

Jump off the highest cliff at Lover’s Lake? Right away. Run stark naked in the daylight down Maple Street? In a heartbeat. Never listen to another Dio album again for as long as he lived? Dio, who?

Play it cool, play it cool, Eddie thought.

He grabbed your hand, accepting the help, happy to have an excuse for any skin-to-skin contact he could get, and pulled himself back up into a standing position.

Making a show of clearing his throat, Eddie gave a deep bow, one hand pressed to his back as the other swirled in front of him. “Of course, my lieges,” he professed. “You’ve spared my life, and I am forever indebted to you.” Still dipped down, he rose his gaze to you, lips upturning. “Anything you want, my Princess.”

You bit the corner of your bottom lip, trying to stop your smile from growing too wide. You indulged yourself in a few more moments of silent eye contact before clapping your hands together and turning your attention to Olly. “Great!” you declared. “Now, Sir Olly, inside is a grand feast of garlic bread and spaghetti. I’ll be right in to help you wash your hands.”

The little boy let out an elated cheer and hurried around the side of the trailer, eager to eat a home-cooked meal for once. With Wayne working odd hours and Eddie not very skilled in the culinary arts, Olly was used to a cuisine of fast food or lunch meat sandwiches to fill his belly.

Aside from the yearly Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners, that’s what Eddie had been used to as well. All his life.

His face softened at the realization that you’d actually cooked for Olly, and had cooked something of substance, nonetheless. You didn’t just throw a frozen dinner in the microwave or boil some Kraft mac and cheese, but you instead made a meal that required more than the most minimal of efforts.

Preoccupied by his thoughts, it took Eddie a few moments to realize you hadn’t yet followed Olly inside.

“You too, pet,” you said, curving your pointer and middle fingers at him in a ‘come-hither’ motion.

“You made some for me?” he asked, too shocked he was included in his little brother’s dinnertime to even register how you’d deferred to him. Pet. Had he realized, he would have had to grab Olly’s discarded cape to station directly in front of the zipper of his pants.

You weren’t Eddie’s nanny. There was no obligation to dote on his needs. Yet still, you had.

A distantly familiar warmth was beginning to spread throughout Eddie’s chest, a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long, long time bubbling right under the surface.

He didn’t have a chance to register just exactly what this feeling was before you answered. “You said anything I want, remember?” you reminded him. “And I want you to eat. Now come inside.”

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

You liked to follow a schedule and routine.

If you were left to your own devices 24/7 with ample free time, your lifelong nasty habit of overthinking would rear its ugly, judgmental head.

You aren’t doing enough, you’re doing too much, you should be back in school, you should be thinking about when you want to start a family, you should really try to put yourself out there more, you should try to stop coming on too strong, you should have more hobbies, you don’t make enough time for your family, you’ve changed, you shouldn’t be so stuck in your ways.

If you were being honest, the voice of your inner monologue sounded an awful lot like your mother’s.

Because of your adamant strife against letting your spiteful subconscious dialogue win, you made sure you were on the go or at least always had something to do to look forward to.

Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday mornings were for Olly, while the nights were for PiYo, animal shelter volunteering, and secondhand store browsing. You coached two different cheerleading groups on Thursdays at the local YMCA, a morning class and an evening one. All day and night Friday were for Olly as well.

Saturdays were on-call for nannying, but Wayne typically had the day off, so you would often spend the afternoon hanging out with your sisters and then would spend the night suffering through dinner with your parents.

Sundays were the only day you allowed yourself to stay cooped up in your small apartment, usually with the distraction of a sci-fi or fantasy book, the genre intentional so you could get lost in a new universe for hours at a time.

You mostly looked forward to Fridays, because you knew Eddie would be home after three.

Technically, per Wayne’s initial briefing on your nannying schedule, you were able to go your own way whenever the older Munson brother got home. You suspected Eddie wasn’t aware of this, as he never mentioned it or asked why you always stuck around, so you’d continue to forego that bit of information in order to stay with no questions asked.

Eddie was none the wiser. He thought you were doing it to stretch out the hours you got to spend with Olly. It never occurred to Eddie you could also be trying to stretch out the hours you got to spend with him.

You would have lunch made for the three of you by the time Eddie got home from school. Then dinner would be served by six, the portion size enough so that there’d be leftovers for all the Munson’s later in the week.

Cooking was one of your favorite things to do. It was something you’d enjoyed since you were a child, when you’d spend the summer months in Turks and Caicos with your restaurant-mogul of a grandmother.

This is why, when Wayne lightheartedly mentioned to you once that you didn’t need to continue to spoil the Munson men with all of these different meals, you brushed it off and didn’t even for a second consider scaling back.

After dinner, you and Olly would typically watch reruns of Garfield or He-Man or one of his favorite three movies, whether it was Benji, The Muppet Movie, or Escape to Witch Mountain. Eddie would pretend to be busy with homework in the kitchen or would tune his guitar in Olly’s room with the door open, but really, he’d be watching you.

No matter how many times you’d seen the same episode or the same movie, Olly being a creature of habit and liking what he liked, you would be just as engrossed as the first time, eyes unwavering from the story unfolding before you on the small television screen.

Luckily for Eddie, this meant he didn’t have to worry about your attention diverting from the living room and finding him almost hypnotized by your every move.

He couldn’t help it, and in the secrecy of the shadowed kitchen or hidden halfway behind Olly’s bedroom door, he didn’t even want to try to hide it. He wanted to indulge himself.

Just like you, Fridays had also become his favorite day of the week, and not only because school was out for the following two days.

Friday was Eddie’s day to study the curve of your neck as you pulled your hair up in a messy bun while cooking dinner. It was his day to store to memory the high-pitched giggle that came from you at a funny joke in The Muppet Movie (one you’d had to have heard at least a hundred times by now). It was Eddie’s day to watch as your eyes grew heavy, blinking closed for minutes at a time here and there, head lolling gently against the armrest of the couch you were spread out on, surely exhausted from a long week of chasing his rambunctious little brother around.

Yeah, Eddie loved Fridays.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Eddie frequently took smoke breaks outside on the small porch of the trailer. You, typically busy keeping his energetic brother happy, had never followed him out before. That didn’t stop Eddie from sometimes imagining you sitting next to him on the loveseat in the front yard, talking late into the night about serious shit and stupid shit and all the other shit in between.

In his head, he’d tell you about Hellfire’s newest campaign, and you’d listen intently, chin in your palm, head tilted toward him to take in every word he was saying. He’d tell you about what a hard-on Higgins had for him this year. Then you’d tell him about the Pilates classes that he’s seen you in at Starcourt, and maybe you’d teach him a move or two. You’d vent about some asshole you’d run into during your day, which would cause Eddie to simmer with rage when thinking someone in this world would be anything but gentle with you.

Eddie wanted those conversations. He’d get so lost in those imaginary scenarios sometimes that the cherry of his cigarette would start to burn his fingertips because he’d smoked it down past the filter, distracted, mind off somewhere in another reality.

And then one night, as if he’d finally manifested it, you did follow him out.

He’d been leaned against the side of the trailer with the roach of a joint between his lips, flicking a lighter absentmindedly.

“Ed?”

Surprised at your voice, the lighter flung from his fingers and his body jolted up off the paneled surface of the mobile home.

You stifled a laugh at his reaction, taking a few steps closer as Eddie bent over and began scrambling in search of the Zippo he’d flung. “Olly ditched me for bedtime. Want some company?”

“Oh, uh. Yeah, definitely. Totally don’t... I don’t mind. I would, um, I’d very much like it...”

So smooth, Munson, he thought to himself, fingers finally finding the lighter. Modern day wordsmith you are. Beyond charming.

You smiled, finding each and every one of Eddie’s mannerisms as endearing as the rest. You liked how sometimes he’d stumble over his words when you spoke to him, and you especially liked how flustered it made him when your attention was fully on him and nothing else.

Didn’t that have to mean something?

You’d seen Eddie in action in public before. He wasn’t shy or timid, so there had to be a reason he acted that way with you, right? Maybe the feelings you’d had for him for years now were reciprocated.

Tonight, you decided you were tired of only hoping this was the case, and you were on a secret mission to finally find out for sure.

You made your way to the loveseat a few feet away. You sat crisscross, the weathered fabric lightly scratching at the skin of your legs. “Sit with me.” You patted the empty space next to you.

Eddie breathed in deep and forced his legs to move toward you before he could second-guess himself, plopping his full weight down on the sofa beside you.

Much to his surprise, without a word, you plucked the small remnants of the joint from his lips and grabbed the lighter from his hand. He watched in awe as you lit it and breathed in. You let the smoke billow in your lungs before you leaned your back against the cushioning of the loveseat, relaxing into it with an exhale.

When you glanced back at him, Eddie looked incredulous.

“Wait, wait, wait -- you smoke weed?”

You laughed and inhaled another smaller hit before passing it over to him. Eddie took it and matched your hit, a quick in and out, eager for your answer.

“I’m full of surprises, Eddie,” you informed, matter-of-factly. “You know, I’d always sit inside and wonder if you’d ever invite me out here with you. But,” you offered a pout and Eddie wanted to bite your lips, “you never did.”

He took a moment to study your face. It was dark outside, probably nearing nine-thirty by now, but the glow from the streetlamp near the trailer was a golden halo around you, illuminating the shape of your face, the softness of your hair, the warmth in your eyes.

“I didn’t know you’d wanna come out here with me,” he defended.

You made a ‘psh-ing’ noise with your mouth. “Come on, Munson. I practically fawn after you whenever you leave the room. Always waiting for you to turn around and see me.”

Eddie couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He laughed, the noise sounding more like a scoff. “Yeah, right.” He took one more hit off the joint before leaning over to stamp it out in the ground, pocketing the paper to toss later.

Eddie Munson was not a litterer.

“I’m not lying!” you exclaimed, bringing your hand out to playfully shove at his shoulder. “I really like spending time around you.”

He felt like all the air was forced from his lungs at your admission. “You’re really serious?” he asked, voice quiet. Not that he necessarily thought you were fucking with him -- you’d never given him a reason to believe you were mean-spirited like that -- but Eddie was so used to things he wanted not working out for him, or things that seemed too good to be true actually being too good to be true. In this instance, he fleetingly and insecurely thought maybe he was the butt of some joke. Have the Princess fake fall for him only to break his Freak heart for fun.

You were very serious, but you chose not to answer him directly. You had a feeling offering only words wasn’t going to cut it. “Wanna come to a party with me when Wayne gets home? I told Chrissy I’d stop by. I’d like it if you came with.”

Eddie balked at her. A party? A party that popular, real-life Barbie doll Chrissy Cunningham would be hosting? That did not sound like a place for the likes of himself, unless he was invited to sell. He liked Chrissy, she was nice to him, but her friends, which also unfortunately happened to be your friends from high school, were not.

“I don’t know... Parties aren't really my kind of thing...”

“Please, Eddie,” you asked, eyes going round and voice beseeching. He had to stifle a groan at the soft solicit coming from you. You sounded so desperate for your wish to be granted. Your wish for him to spend time with you. Eddie loved hearing your voice in general, but hearing it like that? Music to his ears. Like a Sabbath song if sung by a super smokin’, staunchly sweet angel.

He chewed on his lower lip, weighing his options.

This could all be a rouse to embarrass him in front of the masses at some jock-packed party, further pinning him as a lovesick, gullible idiot — a laughable loser who thinks he’s got the girl in the bag.

But he really, really didn’t think you would do that.

You cooked for him. You cleaned his rings once with baking soda that time Olly had taken them and buried them in the mud as a prank. You sometimes helped him with calculus. You’d play with his hair if he sat in front of you while watching sitcoms. He thought you did that last one absently. You did it very much intentionally.

What fun was life if you weren’t taking chances?

Eddie was typically more of the adventurous type anyway. Maybe he would have a good time. Doubtful, knowing where the party was, but begrudgingly possible, knowing he’d have you by his side.

He mentally rolled a die in his head for courage.

Eddie Munson was not afraid of what people thought about him. Deep down inside him, sure, yeah, it didn’t feel great that his neighbors thought he ritually sacrificed goats or kept body parts hidden under his bed. But to the public, Eddie knew people thought he was confident and unbothered, if also insanely eccentric.

He needed to be that Eddie right now.

Eddie imagined the die bouncing on the long wooden table in the drama room at school, where Hellfire commenced. Hellfire. Those guys thought the world of him. Dustin would be smacking him in the back of the head right now for even hesitating to go to a party with a pretty lady.

The die stopped rolling.

Henderson’s face was there in lieu of numbers.

Good enough.

“Party it is, Princess.”

The grin that spread across your face made him forget all about everything in the entire world. He’d waited months now for you to look at him like that. All wide-eyed and deeply dimpled cheeks

When you threw your arms around his neck in a feat of success, Eddie felt invincible.

If you were hanging on him like this, how could this night possibly go wrong?

[seoulmatez]

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ 𝒜 𝐹𝒪𝒪𝐿 𝐼𝒩 𝐿𝒪𝒱𝐸

info ⭑ geto suguru x reader ﾉ 2.4k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ ex-boyfriend geto ﾉ band au ﾉ hurt/comfort ﾉ a wee bit angsty ﾉ some suggestive bits ﾉ reader is tipsy ﾉ ambiguous ending

note ⭑ hi! after writing this, i really wanna continue something with this band au geto! not sure if that means i'll be making this into a series. . . perhaps an anthology? idk! lmk if you'd be interested :3 happy reading !

the streets of tokyo during the late hours of the day are restless—especially here in shibuya. you’d think the bustling crowds, fast pace, and your slightly tipsy state would make it difficult to recognize anyone but the universe seems keen to prove you wrong recently.

because standing at the corner of the street you’re supposed to be turning at is him—the man you haven’t seen in nearly five months and didn’t plan on seeing any time soon.

the sight of geto makes you stop–or more accurately, stumble–in your tracks. you can’t help the way your eyes widen and your mouth hangs open. it’s as if time slows for a couple of seconds in his distant presence. you can’t think straight and you aren’t sure if that’s because of him, too, or if you have the alcohol to blame for that.

regardless, when you finally regain cognitive function after what feels like an eternity, you’re able to tell yourself that you need to turn around and find another route home. unfortunately for you, the thought comes a second too late, geto spinning to face you just before you have the opportunity to turn on your heel. the brief moment of shared eye contact doesn’t stop you from trying to run for the hills, though you quietly curse yourself for getting caught in this predicament while you do so.

you hear the shout of your name from behind you, but you don’t dare come to a halt. your perseverance to escape is futile, made apparent by the newfound proximity of the familiar voice and the feel of fingers snaking around your wrist. you aren’t sure what possesses you to do so, but you quickly swing around to face the man hellbent on catching up to you. he seems just as surprised as you if the way his eyebrows shoot up is any evidence. 

“hey, wait—i come in peace.” geto raises his hands in mock surrender to show that he stands by his words.

you believe him. 

your fingers are cool as they brush against your forehead in an attempt to form a coherent sentence. there isn’t much you can think to say other than, “sorry, i just wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“i gathered as much.” geto nods, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. he knew this reunion–if it ever even happened–would be awkward, but the air between the two of you is so tense that he finds it a little hard to breathe. he clears his throat before continuing. “kind of looked like you were trying to avoid me though.”

“got me there,” you softly admit.

geto understands but he doesn’t relate. he’s been trying to get a hold of you since he landed back in japan last week and his efforts have been fruitless until now. running into you this way may have been a coincidence but geto doesn’t intend on squandering what just might be his one chance to tell you what has been nagging at his mind for the past few months. “look, i was hoping we could talk.”

the expression that paints your face upon hearing his request is apprehension. he can practically see the blinking red lights and hear the alarm bells going off in your head. and, as much as he hates to admit it, your worry makes sense. the last time he asked you to talk, he broke up with you.

“ten minutes—fifteen, max.” geto attempts to bargain. he hopes the limit on the time you have to spend with him will convince you to agree, to hear him out. it hurts, but after chewing on his cheek, he adds another condition that’ll work in your favor. “and after, if you don’t want to see me again, i’ll leave you alone for good.”

with as much effort as you’ve been putting into steering clear of geto since his return, you’d think his words would come as a comfort to you. they don’t, though. the feelings that surge within you at hearing them contradict your strict avoidance of geto up until this point. they make you confront the fact that you have wanted to see him and can’t stomach the thought of never seeing him again.

you’re taking a risk by doing so, but you nod.

“okay, let’s talk.”

the two of you end up at some park a little ways away from the city center—one where you can see the orangey-red leaves flutter through the air once they fall from the trees and watch the fountain in the pond shoot up water that rains back down. despite how pretty the scenery is, you can’t help but look at geto instead.

it’s been practically half a year since you last saw him. you’re sure he’s changed quite a bit since then but all you can focus on are the ways he’s stayed the same, the little parts of him that you missed while he was gone—like the dragon tattoo that snakes up his shoulder to his collarbone. seeing it floods your head with memories of when the two of you were together. mornings spent tracing the delicate lines with feathery touches, kissing up the ink and coloring the creature with love bites.

you almost flinch at the reminder. your plan wasn’t to revisit the past, at least, not those moments, but seeing the tattoo on display makes it almost impossible. it’s geto’s fault for wearing that stupid sleeveless hoodie. you drag your gaze up to meet the obsidian shards that are his eyes. “strange choice of attire for such a chilly night.”

he rubs his arm at your observation, a grin gracing his lips. “yeah, i didn’t plan on staying out for long.”

you know that you agreed to come with him, but even sitting on opposite sides of the same bench is proving to be overwhelming. so, instead of regarding his innocent statement as simply that, you view it as an out. “if you have somewhere you need to go or someone you’re supposed to meet, we can do this another time.”

“no way.” geto doesn’t let a beat of quiet pass before he speaks and shakes his head. “i finally caught you and i’m not letting you get away so easily.”

the confession stuns you to silence. there are a million thoughts bouncing off the walls of your skull right now–how this wasn’t a good idea, that you weren’t obligated to listen to what he wants to say–but the one that worms its way past the others and to the forefront is that his words are… romantic. it’s frustrating that you aren’t mad at him, especially when you’ve spent so long convincing yourself that you should be.

it seems as though the feelings you tried so hard to bury are beginning to resurface.

you clear your throat. “what was it that you wanted to talk about?”

“right,” geto starts, a hand coming up to scratch at his neck. his tongue pokes out from between his lips to poke at the metal hoops wrapped around them. they’re things he does when he’s nervous, like when he first asked you out on a date or when he’d tune his guitar while waiting to go on stage. you wonder what it is on his mind that has him so on edge. though, you aren’t sure if it’s your place to ask, to show concern like you used to, so you stay quiet.

“i guess i wanted to talk about how we left things,” he finally tells you.

you should have seen this coming, and maybe part of you–a part you were trying to ignore–did. there isn’t much more the two of you can discuss. there have been a lot of unspoken thoughts lingering on your mind since that night, ones that you never planned on letting see the light of day. you’ve gone so long sitting on your feelings; what’s the point in digging them up now?

“what more is there to talk about exactly?” you ask, crossing your arms—using them as a shield. “you broke up with me to go on tour and i told you that i understood—no hard feelings.”

geto is quiet across from you, but you can tell there’s something weighing on his mind, words on the tip of his tongue. a few moments of stillness pass before he spits it out. “i don’t think you mean that. not then and… not now.”

“what do you want me to say, suguru?” you toss your hands up in frustration. your voice has been low, controlled up until this point but rises with your question, with your growing irritation. does he want to humiliate you even more than he already has? your intention of continuing to sit on your feelings, to keep them hidden, is lost with the way words unknowingly spill past your lips. “that i was dumb for thinking that i was worth a little more effort to you? that i should have let go of you as easily as you did me?”

there’s a certain level of relief that comes with your words but they also open up a wound you’ve been trying your best to close. all the emotions you felt that night feel as raw as they did then, as though you’re reliving it all over again. 

the tears return, gathering at your lash line and threatening to fall but never rupturing the dam. the insecurity comes back, too. you can feel the ghost of a knife piercing your heart as you think about how it felt like he had chosen music over you. but who were you to ask him to reconsider—to think of you before his music, his dream?

tonight is turning out to be more than you can handle.

you’re about to stand, apologize for your outburst, and excuse yourself when geto speaks up.

“i didn’t let go of you—not really,” he quietly admits. his hand reaches up to his neck again, fingers twirling the loose hairs that happened to make it out of his bun. the action makes his words carry more truth and while you can’t bring yourself to believe him entirely, hearing them has an uncontrollable effect on you.

one of the tears you were adamant about not shedding until you were out of his sight rolls down your cheek. you quickly wipe it away with the sleeve of your shirt. “you don’t have to say that, it’s not going to make me feel any better.”

“i mean it, though, i do.” when you finally muster up the courage to meet his stare, his eyes tell you that what he said is the truth. his eyes have never lied. “i thought about you every day while i was on tour.”

the confession sends a pang to your heart. it clears up the fog of turmoil clouding your mind, although a haze of uncertainty lingers. does he mean that he missed you—the same way you’ve been hopelessly missing him?

you don’t have to aimlessly ponder, as geto continues.

“look, i asked you here because i wanted to tell you that i regret how i went about things. i thought about my choice–about you–a lot. and i realized a little too late that i owed us a chance. i was scared that we couldn’t handle long distance and that we’d both end up hurt but i never considered the possibility that it might have worked for us.”

geto unconsciously reaches for you, though when he realizes what he’s doing, he thinks better of it, letting his hand rest in his lap instead. just because he’s laying himself bare for you doesn’t mean the pain he’s caused has disappeared. besides, he still has one thing to say before you can even consider forgiving him.

his tongue glides across his lower lip, over the two silver hoops situated on either side. “i made a decision that both of us should have had a say in. i’m sorry.”

beyond the feelings of heartache and self-doubt, the thing you felt most that night was unheard—as if anything you could have thought to utter during that moment would have fallen on deaf ears. geto seems to have noticed that much, reflected on it and recognized his mistake. his apology, the acknowledgment of his fault, unchains the final weight that was tugging at your heart.  

you sniff and dab at the stray tears that have trickled down your face. “thanks for saying so. and… i forgive you.”

there’s a weight of his own that makes geto’s chest feel lighter upon hearing your words. from the minute he started rehearsing this conversation, he imagined that he’d damaged you to the point of being unworthy of your compassion, your forgiveness. this is more than he could have asked for, even if you still choose to take him up on his offer of leaving you alone for good.

“i’m glad,” geto nods, the ghost of a smile playing at his lips, though he doesn’t let the short moment of happiness overtake him. “i know that was probably a lot and if you need to take some time to decide how you want us to proceed, if at all, i understand.”

you shake your head and the corners of geto’s lips fall into a neutral line. he made a good point earlier, one that you can’t ignore if you want to prevent yourself from getting hurt the way you did before. and despite just learning about it, geto was hurting, too. if you can minimize the pain either of you have to experience, you will.

you clear your throat with hopes that your voice will come out steady. “i’d rather come to that conclusion together. since it has to do with both of us, y’know?”

geto’s shoulders slump as the tension seeps from them. “yeah. yeah, of course. whenever you’re ready.”

“we can start tonight if you have time,” you suggest, bashfully rubbing up and down your arms. it really feels like you’re starting over. before you knew his name, simply when you had a crush on the hot guy playing at the bar you were visiting for the night. “i want to hear about how your tour went.”

“okay,” geto easily agrees, the smile from earlier making its way back to his lips. it meets his eyes and the obsidian shards sparkle—with hope.

hi there, sua here! thank you for giving this a read! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment! much love from me to you ❤︎

[thegoldfishkid13]

Home again Regulus Black x Fem! Reader

Warnings: A few swear words, Being James potters little sister. Mentions of death and killing. Fighting and running away.

Summary: After a fight with James you run to Regulus and he has a plan that will help you be together. But the plans dangerous, will you both make it?

Word count: 1634

This wasn’t a choice that you ever thought you would have to make. But here you are standing in the rain outside of your brother James’s house. After the heated argument you stormed out. Grabbing nothing, not even a jacket; that's something you would soon regret. You make your way down the streets of London and towards a familiar house. A house that you swore you would never go to. But here you are standing on the steppes knocking on the door.  An old man opens the door, he looks upset like you have interrupted something. 

  “Good afternoon sir, is Regulus here?” You question, your voice wavering slightly. A strong gust of wind blew and chilled you to the bone. The man nodded.

 “Wait here and I will go grab him for you.” He practically scoffs out his words. You nodded in agreement and waited outside. The man goes back inside to grab Regulus. Once he's at the door he opens it letting you in.

  “Y/n? What brings you here?” He takes a good look at you and pulls you close. He pushes some of your wet hair out of your face. “You’re drenched darling. Come on, let's get you changed.” He leads you up the large staircase and down the corridor. The place seems a lot larger than it does when you're outside. Once you make it to his room he grabs a jumper and a pair of pants for you.

 “Here to change in the bathroom. It's right there.” He points to a door on the other side of the room. You nod and walk over there and change. After emerging from the bathroom you finally take in what his room looks like. Gray walls with pictures of the two of you on one wall. Another is covered in books and other little trinkets.

 “Thank you Reggie.” Your voice is soft and sweet. He walks up to you and pulls you into his arms.

 “Why are you here darling?” He speaks, your head is placed in the crook of his neck. You can smell his cologne; cedar wood, and a hint of warm spice lingered in his neck. He spoke again. “I know you promised James and Sirius you would never come here.” His words were soft as he started to sway with you. You swayed to the beat of the record playing on the record play that sat in the corner, something you're just now releasing was there.

 “Me and James got into a fight and I left. He's angry about me not wanting to join the order. I don’t want to be separated from you.” The last of the sentence came out as a mumble. Regulus knew what you were referring to. Since his parents made him get the dark mark a year ago, James hasn’t been trusting of him. Even though he didn’t want it. James has also been wanting you to join the Order to help take down voldemort. It’s not that you don’t want to, it’s just you and Regulus won’t be able to see each other and that's not what you both want.

 “I see.” He spoke, his words were soft and he let go of you. 

 “I don’t want to be on any sides, I just wanna live.” You expressed your feelings for the first time. You tried to not speak of the topic ever. In hopes that nothing will come of it. In hopes that the stupid war would end.

 “I have an idea. It's not the best and safest but it's an option to get what we want.” He spoke and pulled you to a desk, and pulled up a chair for you to sit next to you. You see a pile of notes and pictures. 

 “Horcruxes… Voldemort has practically separated his soul and placed them into objects all hidden somewhere. If they are found and destroyed they weaken him and his power.” He says. You look over the notes and pictures. Trying to figure out where to start and how to start the process.

 “But there’s a catch.” He sighs. Your eyes meet him with a longing stare.

 “There’s always a catch that isn't there.” You sigh, eyes roaming his face. When he didn’t speak your eyebrows furrowed.

 “Yeah it seems like it… but it’s dangerous. We would have to drop off the map. Make it seem we are dead. Nobody can know. If we do this.” You nod and stand from the chair. You place a hand on his face.

 “ We should do it. Something needs to be done.” He looks at you with a shocked expression on his face. “We leave tomorrow morning. Meet me here at 5.” You nod and peck his lips. 

“I must go now before James starts a search party for me.” Regulus laughs and nods. You change back into the skirt and shirt you had been previously wearing. Regulus walked you to the door. The rain had now stopped and the sun started to peek through the clouds slightly. On your way home you stopped at a small little muggle bakery to get bread. Once you had arrived back at your’s and James’s shared place you noticed him and Sirius sitting at the kitchen table. You walked past them and up into your room. James appeared at your door.

 “Where the hell did you go?” He asked, his voice was loud and slightly gravely. You continued reaching for a book that was on the shelf above your bed.

 “I went out. Is that a problem?” You ask, trying not to give him much information on your whereabouts or who you are with.

 “Who did you go see?” His eyebrows furrowed and his voice started to raise again. You kept your cool this time. In hopes to show that you're stronger and being the bigger person. Even though you slightly instigating the fight.

 “ I’m not sure that it's any of your business now is it?” You exclaimed, sarcasm dripped from your words. This seemed to piss James off more. 

 “It is my goddamn business, as long as you live in this house everything is my business.” He spoke feeling like he had trapped you into giving up the answer. You sighed knowing he wasn’t trying to be manipulative, he just didn’t think before he had spoken.

 “Then I will move out, you won't have to be in my business then.” You spoke leaning on the wall that you were standing by. His eyes widened in shock. He didn’t want you to leave. He sighed and stalked out of your room and back down stairs. To where you presumed Sirius and maybe even Remus and Lily where. Once you knew he was gone you began to pack an enchanted bag. One that has never ending storage so you could place whatever you wanted in it. Once morning arrived you set off to see Regulus, meeting him where you said you would. When he walks up you wrap your arms around him.

 “Hi baby. Are you sure you want to do this?” He asks, knowing there's a chance one if not both of you wouldn’t make it back. But it was only a chance, nothing more or nothing less. The two of you set off hunting down horcruxes and breaking them, Voldemort grew weaker and weaker by the day. Nothing was stopping the two of you as you continued on. But when you both returned after Voldemort was killed for what you hoped was good. You noticed lots of things changed in the year you both were gone. James and Lily got married and had a baby boy named Harry. Regulus’s father had died and they had found out that Worm tail had gone to the darkside. Walking up to the door of the Potter residence hand and hand with Regulus, you both grew nervous, would they take you both back in? The two of you had practically dropped off the face of the earth not even leaving a letter.Regulus noticed your hesitation to knock on the door.

 “Don’t be nervous, if things go wrong we can leave.” He spoke trying to ease the pit of nerves that had grown in your stomach. You nodded and knocked loudly on the door. You heard heavy footsteps coming from inside. You and Regulus removed the hoods of the cloaks you had been wearing. The door swung open widely, Remus was the one who opened the door. His face was in complete shock and disbelief. His mouth was hung open slightly. He took a second to gather his composure. 

 “James! Sirius! It’s for you too.” He yelled. You heard the two mens walking towards the door. Remus left the door open but walked away wanting to give you both privacy.

 “James I’m real-” You didn’t even finish your sentence before you felt a hard slap on your face. You knew you deserved it, leaving without a note or anything. Sirius looked upset but you couldn’t hear what the brothers were saying to each other.

 “You left with no note, no call, no fucking nothing. Not a damn word about any of this came out of your mouth.” James spoke, he sounded angry but he looked more hurt.

 “You have every right to be angry. You do. I should have said something but I didn’t want to worry you.” You spoke, tears welled in your eyes, threatening to slip down your face. James pulled you into a hug.

 “You made me worried, Y/n, never do that again.” He said, his voice cracking. You nodded glad to be home.  You meet baby Harry and you and Regulus got married a year later. After having a daughter of your own. Finally, the wizarding world is at peace. For now at least…