#yeah it's bonfire night i should be expecting that

[theenemyod]

I got past cat scratches for the first time. Not sure what to make of that. I'm also out of plasters now gotta buy more now ig.

A fireworks display a few towns away starting while I was cleaning it up was sort of funny. Or maybe I'm just going insane.

[fashionteahouse]

rumors - jacob x reader

The words that flowed to you, went unnoticed. Your eyes had a mind of their own as you caught sight of the figure that walked past the living room.

“Isn’t that crazy?” Rachel says to you as she laughs a bit, giving you the cue that the story was over.

“Yeah.” you say as you look at your hands, feeling a bit guilty about not paying attention.

Rachel turns and yells out Jacob’s name.

“What?” he answers back from the kitchen.

“Bring me and Y/N something to drink.” she demanded in a sisterly way.

You didn’t expect the shirtless figure to emerge already with two unopened drinks and plop them on Rachel’s lap as he walks back out, still being able to flow out, “You’re so lazy.”

“Whatever.” she dismissed off. She raises the television remote as she pressed on it.

A trashy reality television show comes on that catches both you and her attention. The intro music blasts through the lower level of the home.

This was your first time in La Push, Rachel begging you to come with her on her visit home. She was vocal about not liking to return home a lot, you felt bad as you listened to her father pleading for her to come see him. You tell her you would go with her, she relents.

Jacob then reappears as his face screws into a grimace, “Don’t tell me you still watch that crap.”

He couldn’t help but stand by and watch as the two loud women on the screen yell about one another as you and Rachel watch with great enjoyment, wondering what’s going to happen next.

You both shush him, completely zombified in the plot of the show. Rolling his eyes, he makes his way to his bedroom.

Later that night, you and Rachel made dinner for Jacob and Billy. Bantering happened around the table as Billy soaked the moment in. He didn’t want the week to end.

As Jacob washed the dishes and Rachel wheeled Billy into the living room, you sneak by Jacob and poke his side. Folding a bit, he groans playfully, “I hate when you do that.”

He then takes a bit of soap suds and swipe it on your cheek.

Laughing, you say, “I should hate when you do that.”

He reaches with one hand to tickle your side as you laugh again.

You just didn’t understand it, you waved to Jacob as he came through Emily’s doorway. He completely ignored you as if you didn’t exist.

Looking over, Rachel didn’t notice as she chattered with Emily about a new cooking book that Emily had on her table.

Scooting your chair back a bit, there’s room enough for you to rise and follow Jacob. In the backyard, he’s laughing with Embry about something. He hears the back door close and turns to see that it’s you. Both laughing stops to a pause as both him and Embry go silent.

You stand close to Jacob. Not backing down, he finally looks to you and you bring a small smile, “Wouldn’t hurt to say hi back.” you say.

He just nods his greeting as his lips are pressed into a thin line.

You turn to move away but you’re bumped into a hard chest. Stepping back, you mutter out a sorry as they chuckle and place a large hand on your back.

“What? You’re not going to stay out here with us?” the voice then asks you, the voice belonging to Jared.

You shake your head, “Mm, no.” Still a bit bummed by Jacob’s reaction. Things were just okay and the complete 180 was totally unexpected.

Things were like that almost the entire time on the entire time you and Rachel were there.

It wasn’t until the days were counting down to slim moments and you needed your answers answered.

At a bonfire, finally catching him alone, you tell him, “I need to talk to you.”

“For what?”

Taken a back a bit, you furrow your eyebrows, “Why the sudden coldness?”

He takes his time to bring himself to say what he has to say. You’re patient.

Finally he says, “You and Rach will go back.. and life will be boring again.”

You go silent as you felt sympathetic.

“Plus, I wish…” he starts to say but cuts his own self off.

“You wish what?” you softly ask.

Huffing out a sigh, “I wish we had more time.”

You were a bit shocked, you still wanted to make sure, “We as in..”

He takes his hand as he points to you and to him.

Looking down, you’re flattered. However, you had a life in another city. After all, he was your best friend’s brother and you didn’t even know how to feel about such confession.

You shyly take his hand, it felt very nice and warm. He automatically keeps a nice grasp of it. His eyes never leave yours as you gaze up at him.

“I like it when you look at me like that.” he says.

A deep wave of excitement float through your body as your cheeks feel very hot.

He then tugs your arm a bit to invite you closer to him as you allow your feet to take those steps forward.

It felt nice being crushed against him with his arms as you let your arms snake around him as well. Deep rubs with his rough but gentle hands glide upon your back as your eyes flutter at such feeling.

He was so warm and you both didn’t want to let go. Not caring about the bonfire.

“He’s so cute.” Rachel whispers to you as you both lie in bed. Feelings were at an all time high with both of you.

“Is it like like or just likeee.” you whisper back.

“Like like.” she whispers.

“Wow.” you say.

“I was trying to look for you but I didn’t see you.” she says in a hushed.

“Oh, I just took a walk.” you whisper quietly, glad that it was dark.

Rachel then goes on to whisper, “Oh my gosh. I have to leave him soon. Of course I fall for Paul when it’s almost time to leave.”

Oh, how you resonated with such statement with the person you started to fall for was Jacob.

The glances were heated but only for you. You tried your best to ignore them. Only talking to Rachel so you wouldn’t fall under pressure.

With Billy away with Charlie Swan fishing, Rachel dashed to wear her best clothes. You sat there as she excitedly applied something to her lips as she told you how nervous but excited she was.

“Just breathe. You look hot.” you say as she takes breaths to slow down her adrenaline.

Jacob opened the door with Paul waiting behind.

“Anything happens to her, it’s your ass.” Jacob says meaning every inch of it. Paul doesn’t take it serious, he already knew that he found what he was looking for.

“Yeah, yeah. Come on, Rach.” Paul says as Rachel steps to take his hand.

Over her shoulder, she throws you an excited look as you give her a supportive smile.

With your arm resting on Jacob’s shoulder, you watch with amusement as Paul closes the front door.

Jacob didn’t like Paul but only liked him just for tonight. With Paul liking his sister and dragging her out on a date, it got him to finally be alone with you.

Since that night you both held each other at the bonfire, you both were dying to see what the other one tasted like.

Your hands rest on his shoulders as he took the lead in choreographing the rhythm. His hands cradled your neck as he tilted your head, sucking in tongue gently.

He didn’t know if it was a good idea, but he felt like it was appropriate to pull back. He saw for himself the wave of disappointment that swam in your eyes.

Not knowing why he stopped, you soon understood as he gently pulled you into his bedroom.

You gratefully soaked him in as his mouth and hands went back to your body.

The morning came when it was time for Rachel and yourself to leave. Rachel was supposed to set the alarm but she set it to PM instead of AM.

Packing in a frenzy to not be late, you both hoped for the best of making sure to pack everything. Giving her father a quick kiss she tugged your hand as you both fled out of the home to leave.

His mood was tilted all around. Pack brothers gave him his space. Shooting down their efforts to make him feel better, he wanted to be alone.

They understood.

“There was no goodbye.”

That’s what kept pounding in his head.

Hanging out at Sam and Emily’s made him not want to come over as much. Paul would be over and he would have to listen to the lovey dovey talk between the two.

Tired of being in the unknown with when he could touch the possibility of seeing you again, he bit the bullet and asked Paul, “Do you know if Rachel is going to at least come back soon?”

“She hasn’t talked about that.” Paul admits.

Jacob felt frustrated.

The months rolled slowly it seemed.

A knock on his front door confused him as his father wheeled to the door. Opening the door, revealed Charlie’s daughter.

The two childhood friends sat on the sofa together as he half listened to her updates on life.

He was thankful when she suggested the beach.

The two walked together as Jacob let his attention travel to the game. Paul and Jared tossed a football game back and forth.

Paul’s phone buzzes and abandons such game as he answers to hear Rachel’s voice.

You were near as you tidied up a bit as you heard Rachel ask him, “Who's all there?”

You were stuck. You were excited when he mentioned Jacob had joined him and Jared at the beach. Feeling a tinge of jealousy, you waited until Rachel got off the phone to ask, “Who’s Bella?”

“God, he’s had a crush on her since forever.” she says.

You don’t let her see the crushed feeling you felt. The way that she said it, showed how strong the crush was. Of course he would wait until after you left.

Later that night, Jacob called Rachel’s phone. With her preoccupations, she tells you that you could answer it and tell him that she’s busy.

Answering it, the voice that spoke out gave you a familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“She’s not busy. She just doesn’t want to speak to me.” he says not surprised.

Not meaning to, a small giggle escapes from you but he says, “I’d rather talk to you. Take this number.”

This sobers you up as you agree and the line goes dead.

“I don’t want to step on any toes.”

You type to him. If his heart was set on Bella Swan, there was just no way you were getting in the middle of that.

“How?”

Jacob types. He was confused. He thought you would’ve agreed to come back to La Push soon. Not wanting to wait for your digital response, he calls you.

“We can’t.” you tell him.

“Why not? Don’t you feel something for me?”

You didn’t want to lie but you tell him, “If you want to still be with Bella, it’s okay.”

“What? I don’t. Don’t tell me you believe the rumors.” he says. He already knew that you were on his radar, making him have no interest in pursuing Bella any longer.

“I don’t want to give you my heart just for you not to appreciate it.” you tell him.

“I would never not appreciate it. You’re who I want to be with. I really want to you come to La Push.” he says, genuinely feeling all of his words that he speaks out.

Rachel was surprised at the pressure you put on to go back.

“I really enjoyed it there.” you tell her as she finally agrees. She secretly was glad, getting to finally see Paul again.

Last time you arrived, you gave Billy a hug first. This time, you were crushed into a hug by Jacob first. Your feet were off the ground as the bear hug he had you in was tight. Placing a delicate kiss on your neck.

You hear snickering as you pull back to look.

“You could’ve just told me that you enjoyed Jake. Rather than saying you enjoyed La Push.” Rachel says humorously as she looks between the two of you.

As much as you wanted to, your sheepish feelings couldn’t pour out. Jacob kept an arm around you, he didn’t want to let you go. You both couldn’t help to gaze with devotion towards one another.

[grimesgirll]

you and daryl are smoking out the window when rick walks in.

"what do you two think you're doin'?"

mid hit, you almost choke at the sight of the sheriff. breathing in deeply to prevent yourself from wheezing, you pass the joint to daryl as cooly as you can after that hit.

daryl grunts. "buzzkill."

"how quick on your feet are you two right now?" rick questions, blue eyes dark and annoyed.

"we're not on watch." you say in a matter-of-fact way.

"no," rick agrees, "you're not. thank god." he runs a hand through his chocolate curls hurriedly.

"glenn's got it," you assure him, offering him a smile at the same time. "you should sit with us. you don't have to have any, drink one of the beers we brought back." you gesture to the full six packs leaning against the wall, branded with the faded logo of the brewery you guys had picked clean the other day while looking for supplies.

"he doesn't know how to relax," daryl tells you with a scowl.

neither do you, you think, but you just frown and shake your head. "rick, c'mon," you croon from your seat by the window.

"yeah, and shut the door," daryl barks.

rick turns and shuts the door lightly. surprisingly, he does what you suggested and picks up a six pack, errantly dropping it by the foot of the loveseat you're cozy on. he takes up the seat next to you, dark stained bottle in hand.

you grin. this is so not how you expected things to go. usually, rick was all pissed off and disappointed about the fact that you guys were getting high of all things. beside you, he twists on the bottle cap. high and focused on his hands, you watch them struggle against the aluminum cap, tensing and unclenching. with a huff, he uses his white t-shirt to grip the bottle again to no avail. the older man looks up from his ordeal to see you absolutely engrossed in him and smirks at you.

he says your name, breaking you out of what your high ass thought was a self-contained act of voyeurism. "wanna try?" he tilts the bottle your way.

you raise an eyebrow. "if you can't get it open, i don't think i can."

rick just smiles at you, like you said something funny. "i don't want you to use your hands, doll. try your teeth." he catches your confused expression. "remember when you did it at the bonfire a few weeks ago?"

suddenly, you recall standing outside around the fire with the group and accepting a request from maggie to open a beer bottle for her with your teeth. you could never say no to her - neither would you pass up the opportunity to hang out with a buzzed maggie for the night. so you showed everyone how to use your chompers to open the bottle. looking back, rick's eyes had never left you as you slipped the neck of the bottle into your mouth to quickly twist the cap off with your teeth. a move you later told carl not to try. you didn't want to be responsible for any dental damage.

you nod and take the bottle from his hands, sitting up in the loveseat. daryl watches, joint in hand, from the other side of the window while you take the bottle into your mouth and the cap at angle just between your molars. you feel two pairs of eyes on you as you struggle for a moment, the cap not coming loose as easily as you'd thought it would. usually, you could just maneuver it a bit for the cap to pop off, but now you're wondering if this cap is just too old, and you consider giving up. that is until suddenly, you angle your teeth just the right way and the cap comes free. it falls into your palm and you wipe the neck of the bottle off with your shirt for rick, just in case any of your spit got on it.

you try to hand the bottle back to him but rick shakes his head. "no," he gestures back to you. "i think after all that, you deserve the first sip."

who are you to say no?

you bring the bottle to your lips and drink, rick's gaze still on you. you consider chugging the entire thing but first of all, that would be rude and second of all, you're not at college anymore. wiping your mouth with the sleeve of your henley, you pass the bottle back to rick who takes a long, ginger sip as you free your hair from your ponytail and settle deeper into the loveseat.

you remember daryl's there when he offers you the halfway done joint. you want to turn it down but suddenly you're craving more. as the skunky smoke fills the air and drains out the window, you start to even crave a beer. you wouldn't mind getting crossed right now; getting a good mix of buzzed and stoned like in your college days back before the world went to shit. it was a nice way to relax, and it wasn't like you were neglecting your responsibilities.

after that hit, you're zoning out more and more. you had set up the cd player with a lynyrd skynyrd album daryl'd found in a record store with you. they weren't your favorite rock artists, but you guys could've been listening to worse bands in the apocalypse after all. you loosely follow the lyrics of one of their songs while daryl finishes off the joint.

"where'd you even get that?" rick asks, breaking the silence.

"you know some places you would get shot for asking that, 'fore all this?" daryl had told you when you'd asked him that.

"house down the road." daryl answers between puffs. "looks like they were tryna' get ahead of that medical shit."

you snicker. the story was true but without seeing those folks, you really didn't know what kind of operation they had going on. the way daryl phrased it though was a nice way to phrase it to a cop. better than we just found it.

"and you'd smoke it without knowing where it came from?" rick inquires, hand wrapped around the dark bottle.

"we know where it came from," you speak up from in between them. "it came from that house's backyard."

he repeats what he asked daryl.

"there could be anthrax in your beer."

that's when you realize you're super high.

rick doesn't have the opportunity to be confused because he's laughing and suddenly you're giggling in his face. he doesn't take it as an accident when you lean forward and fall into his lap on the loveseat. in fact, he takes the opportunity to lift your chin up, saying, "silly girl," and flipping you over to sit on his lap.

"wanna finish my beer, baby?" he offers it to you, holding it up to your lips.

"i don't need it," you reply but your words are cut off when the bottle breaches your lips anyway and you gulp down the drink. beer wasn't your favorite beverage but, in the apocalypse, beggars really couldn't be choosers. he takes the empty bottle from you and sets it on the end table before leaning back up to connect your lips.

you lean into the kiss as he pulls you closer in his lap. the satisfying pressure on your ass from his squeezing has you hazy minded and wishing he would speed up now that you realize what's happening.

then you remember daryl, the one who you'd originally been hanging out with. you hadn't even planned on seeing rick tonight.

you look up from rick towards the auburn-haired man who was ashing the joint out the window. you frown. isn't that what the ash tray on the windowsill is for? you give him a look that says come here and he walks towards the loveseat, sharing a look with rick that has the men positioning you in their favorite way.

you move willingly; they pull you, pliant and eager to please - eager to just do what someone else says and relax. the joint was supposed to help you shut off your brain after a long day but now you can only think about being pressed in between the two pent up men on the loveseat with you. rick has your bottoms off now and is two fingers deep inside of you when you start helping daryl undo his jeans.

"you feelin' ready or do you need more, baby?" your leader asks you, lips bruising your shoulder.

you shake your head. "i don't need any more fingers." you clarify. "wanna feel your big cock inside of me," you blurt out. usually, it takes you a bit to warm up and they're the ones who talk filthy but tonight you're feeling a little less inhibited.

he raises an eyebrow with condescension. "sure you can handle it, doll? last time i thought i broke you."

you snort. "i think the proper word is reset."

you feel a low rumble from rick's chest and he gently lifts your hips to remove his fingers and lower you onto his cock. you whine at the blunt intrusion but the more you grind your hips down into him, the better it feels, especially once you find a good rhythm. you're pretty sure rick's dick is way bigger than it should be but that doesn't stop you from letting him stuff you whenever you two get the chance to sneak away. it was even more rare to find the time for all three of you to be together like this. speaking of, daryl is standing on your side, dick in hand now that it's been freed from the confine of his pants, looking down at you with darkened eyes.

"wanna finish me off, baby?" he mocks and you roll your eyes, opening your mouth for him as rick bucks into you.

he gladly accepts and just like that, you can feel rick smirking as he fucks into you, barely letting you hold on as he drags your hips up and down. he hijacked your smoke session and it ended just the way he wanted. typical.

even more typical when he makes you switch positions so he can finish in your mouth, not taking his eyes off you while daryl lines himself up with your sopping entrance. rick couldn't help but twitch in your mouth watching how you reacted to daryl's cock in your freshly pounded pussy. his face tenses as he nears his orgasm, hands in your soft tousled hair while you take him in your throat so well. he's ready to just let go, he knows you can handle it, after all he knows you can get off more than a bottle cap with your mouth.

[miley1442111]

Reader x Rafe. They have only been on a few dates. They do not have a claim on each other. Rafe’s cousing is visting for the weekend, unknown to her, and is a really pretty girl. Rafe posts a photo of her on his story on instagram, having dinner. Reader assumes the worst, that he is keeping his options open and dating others, and it makes her really sad when she only had eyes for him. She is aware that that they have not had a talk about dating others, and she does not have the ’’right’’ to be so sad but still is, wanting him to just feel like her, liking her so much that he does not want to see anyone else. Rafe at some point later after his family/cousin dinner is done, he texts reader at night, asking if she wants to talk on the phone ’missing her voice’ but she just scoffs sadly to herself reading it, now thinking he is just a bit of a pig, thinking she truly meant nothing to him for him to be so casual about it. Unknown to her, Rafe feels exactly the same as her, not wanting anyone but her and is walking in circles at home in panic talking to himself, wondering what he has done. He does not want to be to pushy as they have just started dating so he does not harass her with texts. A few days go by and he sees her at the bonfire with her friends, kind of approaches her like he approached Kie, very gentle and soft. She tries to just keep it short, answering his questions being polite and goes to leave after getting her drink but he is like ’’wow wow wow, wait. You’re not answering my calls. I feel like I’ve done something to upset you and it’s killing me’ and she kind of brings up the girl, not in an accusing way, more so like ’’I get it. You wanna keep your options open. I’m just not comfortable with that because I like you a lot. We had a good run but I guess that is it. Take care of yourself’’ with a sad smile but then he stops her from walking away and clears up the misunderstanding and its a sweet ending

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my promise- r.cameron

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a/n: thank you so much for requesting! sorry to everyone, i've been struggling a lot with writer's block and with college starting up everything has been super busy but I should be back on a fairly regular basis now :)

pairing: rafe cameron x fem! pogue! reader

summary: i suggest you look at the request

warnings: rafe is a bit of a dick without realising, reader is upset, pogues hate rafe, i think that's it?

+ this rafe is not show-accurate, this is another universe where he can express emotions and recognise how his action affect others :)

not entirely proofread

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Rafe Cameron was a pig. Three months of talking, and he finally asked you out. And now he was on a date with someone else. 

But what else were you expecting from the ‘Kook king’? Your friends were right. You shouldn’t have even bothered with Rafe. He would always be a fucking man-whore with too much money and too little empathy. Of course you were a game to him, what else would you be? You were a pogue. You were nothing in his eyes, just a fuck. You weren’t even his real girlfriend. He had no claim on you, and you had no claim on him. 

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You would’ve genuinely stabbed yourself in the eye if it meant you got to stop watching them interact. Rafe and that blonde girl. You’d never seen her on the island, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t from here. Random people spent summers here every year, a lot of people rented out their houses, especially the rich ones, just so someone would be in their mansions while they were busy in Bali, or the Hamptons, or wherever rich assholes went on holidays. 

She laughed at something he said and you rolled your eyes. “He’s not even fucking funny,” you scoffed. 

JJ rolled his eyes. “I hate to say ‘I told you so’, but-”

“Yeah yeah, you told me, I know,” you sighed. “Thought I could make a kook act like a human, that’s on me,” you held your arms up in defence. You two stood side by side as you shone the cutlery. Serving at the Country Club wasn’t bad, and the tips were good. It’s just you didn’t expect to see him on a date with someone else. 

You got off of work at 8pm, Rafe and the blonde girl were still busy chatting when you left. Jj gave you a lift on his bike and you decided to grab all of Rafe’s things and leave them on his doorstep, not even bothering to explain. You knew what you saw. You knew what he was doing. You didn’t care anymore, you were worth more than that. 

At about 2am you woke up to your phone ringing. 

“Hello?” 

Your groggy voice made Rafe smile. It had been a long night of entertaining his annoying beauty-queen cousin, and he wanted to talk to you, to see you. “Hey baby.”

You rolled your eyes. “Hi Rafe.”

“How was your day?” he asked. 

“Fine,” your answers were short and to the point. You had no interest in entertaining this anymore. “Yours?”

“Boring as fuck,” he chuckled. 

“What did you do today?” you asked, morbid curiosity getting the better of you. You wanted to see if he’d admit it. 

“Nothing much, worked out, golf, went to dinner with family, that’s it.” 

Of course he was lying. And using his family as a cover? Asshole. 

“Why did you call me?” you questioned, trying to act interested, but failing miserably. 

“I missed your voice,” he admitted shyly. 

“Ok, you heard it, night Rafe,” you sighed before hanging up. A part of you was angry. Another was just upset. How could he see other people? You two had a really good thing going, didn’t you? You thought he was going to ask you to be his girlfriend. How wrong you were. It just reminded you of why you were so apprehensive to date him in the first place, to date anyone in the first place. Maybe you weren’t enough for him. Maybe you weren’t enough at all. 

You let yourself try to sleep it off, but the next few days you were down, and everyone could tell. Jj had told the others what had happened, and you could see the pitying glances from Kie and the boys, and the annoyed looks from Sarah. She hated him, genuinely, but this was the last straw. She’d told him not to break your heart. She’d warned him. 

“What about the bonfire tonight?” John B offered to the group as the sunset. “That would cheer you up,” he nudged your arm and you grimaced. 

“I don’t feel like going out,” you sighed. “You guys go ahead.”

Sarah sighed. “You can’t let this ruin your week Y/n. He’s a dick, he’ll always be a dick, and it wasn’t your fault for liking him. Every single one of my friends as a kid liked him, then he showed his true colours and he’s a dick again. His behaviour is not a benchmark for your value. He’s in the wrong, not you. Come out with us tonight, even if it’s just for 30 minutes, yeah?”

You rolled your eyes, giving in. “Fine.”

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You hadn’t texted him back in three days. He didn’t want to be the pushy ‘be with me all the time’  boyfriend, but he was used to texting you at least once a day. Now you’d left him without a response for 3 whole days. Thinking back, he knew you were being weird during the phone call the other night, and he couldn’t understand what he’d done. Were you losing interest? He hoped you weren’t. You were the only girl who he’d ever been really serious about.  You were the only girl he’d ever felt a real connection with. You were his girl, at least, you would be. 

He pulled up to the bonfire with one thought in mind, find you.

You pulled up to the bonfire with one thought in mind, hide from Rafe. 

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Hiding didn’t exactly last long, especially when he was directly following you around the entire beach. If you went towards the water, he’d come near you, if you went towards the house, he’d come near you, if you went up to the fire, there he just so happened to be, roasting a marshmallow with a big smile on his face. You did notice how he wasn’t carrying around his signature corona, nor was his nose full of white powder. Huh. He’d listened when you said you didn’t like him being ‘uncontrolled’ as you called it, yet he went on a date with another girl. Strange.

You sat away from your friends, by the water, nursing a can of beer. You weren’t a heavy drinker and you’d probably go home after this, since you’d already been at the party for a little while. You watched the sea come in and out. Wave after wave, softly brushing against the shore. 

“Hey,” Rafe’s voice brought you out of your trance. He sat down beside you, dirtying whatever expensive shorts he had on. 

“Hey,” you answered.

“How are you?” He asked, his tone not missing the awkwardness of this moment. He was nervous before coming up to you, but now? Having to come face to face with your cold tone was becoming unbearable pretty quickly. 

“Fine thanks, how are you?” You asked, continuing your staring at the sea. 

“Good. Better, now,” he smiled, placing a hand over yours. “You forgot to text me back.”

“Did I?” you didn’t even try to make yourself sound sincere. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. You been busy? How’s work?” 

“It’s fine,” you answered. After a moment of silence, you got up. “I’m going to get another beer-”

“Wait,” he jumped up beside you. “You’re not answering my calls. You’re not talking to me normally. You’re not answering my questions. Have I done something to upset you?”

You scoffed. “I wonder.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What does that mean Y/n? You’re killing me here.”

“Look, I get it you want to keep your options open and we were just casual, it’s fine. I’m just not the kind of girl to just be casual with, alright? That stuff makes me uncomfortable, and I really liked you. But if you want to go and do that, that’s fine, just don’t bring me into it,” you explained calmly. “Goodbye Rafe.”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait!” he called after you, making you turn back. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw you at the Country Club with the blonde girl, Rafe, seriously, your dating life is your own- what?” You stopped talking because Rafe had started pulling a disgusted face. “What’s wrong?”

“That’s my cousin,” he explained. “My super annoying cousin.”

And everything made a bit more sense. The family comment wasn’t a lie. Now that you think about it, they did look pretty similar.

“Oh.”

“You thought we were on a date?” 

“Well it was candle-lit,” you chuckled.

“All the tables at the club are candle-lit past 8pm!” He laughed. “That’s why you’ve been ignoring me? You thought I was cheating on you?”

“Well, we haven’t technically said we were dating so… I just assumed you were keeping your options open,” you shrugged. 

Rafe cracked a smile. “You think I’d pick anyone over you?”

You shrugged. “People do.”

“People are fucking stupid,” he wrapped an arm around your shoulder as you two walked further down the beach. “So, Y/n Y/l/n, will you do me the honours of officially being your boyfriend?” 

“Only if you do me the honours of being your girlfriend,” you smiled.  He turned to you and cupped your cheek, pressing his lips to yours. “I’m all yours, promise.”

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obx masterlist :)

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[rafesapologist]

the boy is mine ─ rafe cameron; chapter three

summary: you were an erudite kook with her life ahead of her, very highly sought after by almost every man from figure 8 all the way to the cut. but you only wanted rafe cameron, and just in the typical nature of getting everything you wanted, you were going to have him.

warnings: dr*g use, alcohol, suggestive themes

The following week at school was agonizing, brutal even. You were thrust back into the relentless rhythm of your usual routine: waking up at 6 AM, donning your stiff uniform, and enduring seven grueling hours of classes. You pushed through the school day only to return home and bury yourself in more studying. Normally, you approached this regimen with a resigned acceptance, but this week was different. This week, everything bothered you.

After the encounter at Sarah's house, you felt as though a fire had been ignited within you, a fervent flame that left you restless and craving more. The moment in the kitchen with Rafe had been electrifying, a tantalizing taste of something you had never experienced before. It was more than just a fleeting interaction; it was a revelation, a stark contrast to the monotony that had characterized your life until then. You realized you wanted more of that—more excitement, more unpredictability, more Rafe Cameron.

As you sat through each class, your mind drifted back to him, replaying every detail of your encounter. His touch, his gaze, the way he made you feel seen and alive. Each memory sent a thrill through you, making it harder to focus on the mundane tasks at hand. You found yourself staring out the window, daydreaming about what might happen next, how you could cross paths with him again, and what that might lead to.

This newfound desire clashed violently with your disciplined nature, creating an internal turmoil that you couldn't shake. The rigid structure of your life, once a source of comfort and stability, now felt suffocating. You longed for the excitement that Rafe embodied, a break from the relentless pursuit of academic excellence that your parents had drilled into you.

Every night, as you sat at your desk poring over textbooks, the thought of Rafe lingered at the edge of your consciousness, a tantalizing distraction that pulled you away from your studies. You wondered what he was doing, who he was with, and whether he ever thought about you. The questions spun through your mind, feeding the fire that had been lit within you.

By the time Friday rolled around, you were desperate for a change. The week had felt like an eternity, each day dragging on with excruciating slowness. You knew you couldn't keep going like this, caught between the expectations of your parents and your newfound yearning for something more. As you packed up your books and headed home, you resolved to find a way to see Rafe again. You needed to feel that spark, that electricity, just one more time at the least.

When you got home, you headed straight to your bedroom. Your parents, accustomed to your diligent study habits, didn't question your haste. The door clicked shut behind you, and you immediately grabbed your phone, dialing Sarah Cameron’s number. The seconds stretched painfully as it rang, your heart pounding faster with each passing moment. Finally, she answered, her voice bright and welcoming.

"Hey, Y/N!" Sarah’s chirpy tone filled the line, "What's up?"

"Sarah, hey," you responded, a smile spreading across your face. You began to pace the room, biting down on your lip, nervous but eager to ask her the question that had been burning inside you all week. "Are you doing anything tonight? We should get together and do something."

There was a brief pause on the other end, followed by a laugh. "Funny you ask! Actually, I was just thinking about calling you. There's a bonfire on the beach tonight. Some of the guys, and Rafe, are going to be there. You in?"

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of Rafe’s name. "Yeah, that sounds perfect," you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the excitement bubbling inside you. "What time?"

"Around eight," Sarah replied. "You can come over to my place first, and we can head there together."

"Great, see you then," you said, hanging up the phone. A sense of exhilaration washed over you as you looked at the clock, calculating the hours until you would see Rafe again.

You wasted no time getting ready, feeling a pressing need to outdo everyone else at the bonfire in hopes that Rafe’s attention would be solely on you. Each choice was careful and deliberate, your fingers lingering over fabrics and colors as you selected the perfect outfit. You settled on a simple sundress that hugged your figure in all the right places, its hem teasingly short, just grazing your thighs. The fabric accentuated your tan, making your skin glow with warmth.

You styled your hair into loose curls, aiming for an effortless beauty that suggested you hadn’t tried too hard, even though you had meticulously crafted every strand. Your makeup was a masterful blend of subtlety and allure, enhancing your natural features without appearing overdone. The delicate sweep of highlighter on your cheekbones caught the light just right, and the gentle curve of your eyeliner made your eyes pop, giving you an air of understated sophistication.

As you stood in front of the mirror, you felt a surge of confidence. You looked good, and you knew it. There was a thrill in the anticipation, in the possibility of what the night could bring. Your mind kept drifting back to the kitchen, to the way Rafe had looked at you, his gaze lingering, intense and unspoken. You wanted more of that, more of him, and tonight felt like the perfect opportunity.

Grabbing your bag, you took one last glance in the mirror, ensuring everything was perfect. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow through your window, a promise of the night to come. You took a deep breath, steadying your nerves, and headed out the door, your heart racing with excitement and the thrill of the unknown.

The drive to Sarah’s house felt like a blur, your mind occupied with thoughts of Rafe. When you arrived, the mansion stood grand and imposing, its windows reflecting the last rays of the setting sun. You hurried to the door, your steps quick and light, a smile already forming on your lips as you anticipated the evening ahead.

You knocked softly, your heart hammering in your chest as you waited for someone to open the door. With your arms crossed over your chest, you stood there, full of anticipation and nerves bubbling up in the pit of your stomach. Finally, the door swung open, and you were met with the face that had been preoccupying your mind for days—Rafe.

Your heart nearly stopped, breath hitching subtly at the sight of him. His tall, intimidating stature filled the doorway, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made you feel small and exposed. His smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he drawled, "Princeton."

The casual nickname sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of irritation and intrigue swirling within you. "Come in," he said, stepping aside with a languid grace that only heightened your awareness of him. You stepped into the house, and as the door clicked shut behind you, the air seemed to thicken with a charged anticipation.

Rafe leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. His gaze swept over you with a deliberate slowness, his eyes taking in every detail of your sundress, your loose curls, and the way you tried to appear effortless. His scrutiny made your skin tingle, a warm flush creeping up your neck. "Sarah said you were coming to the bonfire tonight?" he asked, his voice low and smooth, each word deliberate and drawn out.

"Uh, yeah," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "She invited me, so I thought I'd come."

Rafe's eyes narrowed slightly, the smirk never leaving his face. "Well, we're glad to have you," he said, his tone carrying a hint of something you couldn't quite place. "Should be a fun night."

You nodded, trying to keep your composure. "Yeah, I'm looking forward to it."

Rafe replied with a breathy, half-hearted laugh as he pushed off the doorframe, taking a slow step closer to you. His presence was almost overwhelming, each movement measured and deliberate. "Yeah, me too," he said, his tongue grazing his teeth slowly, his eyes flickering from your eyes to your chest.

There was a brief moment of silence between you and Rafe as he eyed you, and all you could do was stand there, engulfed in his daunting demeanor that made you feel ten times smaller under him. Your cheeks felt hot as you stood under his gaze, unsure of what to say or if you should speak at all.

Rafe's smirk deepened as he watched you, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. His eyes darkened, filled with an intent that made your breath hitch. He took another step closer, the space between you shrinking, his body heat radiating toward you. "Sarah's upstairs getting ready," he spoke up suddenly, his voice low and hushed, the proximity making it feel like a secret meant just for you. "I'll see you there."

You managed a nod, your throat dry. "Okay," you whispered, barely able to find your voice.

He lingered for a moment longer, his eyes lingering on yours with a look that was impossible to decipher. The silence stretched, heavy and charged with unspoken words and lingering glances. It felt as if time had slowed, every second stretching into eternity, filled with the sound of your heartbeat thundering in your ears.

Finally, Rafe turned and walked away, leaving you to collect your scattered thoughts. As you stood there, your heart still pounding from the encounter, you couldn't help but replay the scene in your mind. The way he looked at you, the warmth of his breath as he spoke, the intensity of his gaze—it was all too much, yet not enough. His presence lingered in the air, like a tangible force you could still feel on your skin.

Your breath came in shallow, uneven bursts as you tried to steady yourself. The realization of how deeply he affected you settled in, an exhilarating and terrifying thought all at once. Part of you wanted to run after him, to chase that feeling, while another part urged caution, knowing the danger that came with someone like Rafe Cameron.

You shook away your thoughts and headed up the stairs to Sarah's room, determined to shift your focus back to getting ready for the bonfire. The encounter with Rafe had left you rattled, but you couldn’t afford to let it dominate your mind.

As you approached Sarah’s door, you knocked softly before pushing it open, stepping inside with caution. The room was warm and inviting, the soft glow of fairy lights casting a gentle hue across the space. Sarah was seated at her vanity, her cheerful smile immediately putting you at ease. She was in the middle of her beauty routine, setting powder still dusted across her face.

"Hey!" she greeted, her enthusiasm infectious. "You can sit on my bed if you want, I'm almost ready."

You nodded, offering a small smile in return as you made your way to her neatly made bed. Sitting down, you watched as she meticulously applied her makeup, each movement precise and practiced. The scent of her perfume wafted through the air, a delicate floral fragrance that filled the room.

"Thanks for inviting me tonight," you said, settling onto Sarah's plush bed, trying to keep your voice steady. "I needed a break from all the studying."

Sarah glanced at you through the mirror, her eyes sparkling with warmth. "Of course. We're gonna have fun tonight, I promise."

You watched as she continued applying her makeup, each brushstroke precise and practiced. The scent of her perfume filled the room, a delicate floral fragrance that mingled with the soft glow of fairy lights draped around her vanity. Her vanity table was a treasure trove of beauty products, each item meticulously arranged, reflecting her attention to detail.

"How's everything been?" she asked, breaking the comfortable silence. "You seem a little stressed."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair, the strands slipping through your fingers. "It's just been a lot lately. School, parents, you know the drill."

Sarah nodded sympathetically, her gaze softening. "Yeah, I get it. But tonight, we're forgetting all that. Just a night to relax and have some fun."

You smiled, feeling a bit lighter at her words. "Sounds like exactly what I need."

Sarah turned back to her mirror, adding the finishing touches to her look with a steady hand. "Any particular reason you were so eager for a break? Or is it just the usual?"

You hesitated, your mind flashing back to Rafe and the way his gaze had lingered on you. The memory sent a shiver down your spine. "I guess... it's just been a while since I did something for myself. Needed to remind myself there's more to life than textbooks and exams."

Sarah chuckled softly, a knowing look in her eyes. "You're right about that. And who knows, maybe tonight will be more exciting than you think."

As she finished up, she turned to you with a radiant grin. "Ready to head out?"

You took a deep breath, feeling a mix of anticipation and nervousness. The prospect of the bonfire, and seeing Rafe again, was both thrilling and terrifying. "Yeah, let's do this."

Once you stepped onto the scene, the bonfire was already bustling and full of life, loud music pulsing through the night air. The flames danced high into the sky, casting flickering shadows across the crowd. Part of you felt anxious, a knot of unease twisting in your stomach. This wasn’t your first party, but the large crowd and loud noises, combined with the thought of running into Rafe, made you feel somewhat sick to your stomach.

Despite the nerves gnawing at you, you put on a facade of false confidence, walking with your head held high as you and Sarah approached the throng of people. The laughter and chatter were almost overwhelming, a cacophony of voices blending with the beat of the music. You scanned the crowd intently, searching for familiar faces and, perhaps, one face in particular.

The bonfire's light flickered on everyone’s faces, giving the scene an almost surreal glow. You could see groups of friends laughing together, some couples wrapped in each other’s arms, and others dancing with abandon to the rhythm of the night. Sarah gave you an encouraging smile, her hand brushing against your arm in a gesture of support.

“Let’s grab a drink,” she suggested, leading you towards a makeshift bar set up on a long wooden table. The sight of it was a welcome distraction, a chance to steady your nerves.

You nodded, following her lead. As you walked, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander, hoping to catch a glimpse of Rafe. The anticipation of seeing him again sent a thrill through you, despite the anxiety it also brought. The memory of his intense gaze and the subtle way he toyed with the string of your bikini was still fresh in your mind, making your cheeks warm at the thought.

At the bar, Sarah handed you a cup filled with something fruity and strong. You took a sip, the cool liquid helping to calm your racing heart. The night was still young, and you were determined to enjoy yourself, to let go of the worries and just be in the moment.

Sarah nudged you playfully, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Feeling better?”

You laughed softly, the sound almost drowned out by the music. “Yeah, a little. Thanks.”

She raised her cup in a mock toast. “To a night of fun and no stress.”

You clinked your cup against hers, smiling genuinely this time. “To fun and no stress.”

As you took a sip, a growing crowd caught your attention from the corner of your eye, a few feet away. Intrigued, you turned your head, squinting to get a better look at whatever had captivated them. Through a small gap in the throng, you peered in, your eyes adjusting to the dim, flickering light of the bonfire.

Your heart dropped. There he was, Rafe Cameron, sitting in a circle with his friends. The bonfire's flames cast an eerie glow, dancing shadows playing across their faces. You watched in stunned silence as Rafe leaned over, his eyes dark and intense. A line of powder lay across his lap, stark white against the fabric of his jeans. He sniffed it up quickly, then tilted his head back, a look of raw euphoria washing over his features. The sight was jarring, his usual composed demeanor replaced by something unsettling and raw.

Your jaw dropped, your body freezing as the realization hit you like a cold wave. The Rafe you had been daydreaming about, whose touch had lingered on your skin in your fantasies, was now someone else entirely in this moment. The crowd around him seemed oblivious to the impact of what you were witnessing, their laughter and conversation continuing as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Your mind raced, a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions crashing together. Disbelief and disappointment mingled with a lingering sense of curiosity. Was this who Rafe truly was, or just another facet of his complex persona? You felt a mix of emotions—concern for him, a touch of anger, and an unsettling intrigue.

You felt minuscule, almost insignificant, as you bore witness to the scene unfolding before you. The sight of Rafe, so absorbed in his actions, made your cheeks flush with a tumultuous mix of embarrassment and confusion. The heat crept up your face as you observed his focused expression, his eyes dark and intense, holding a mysterious allure that was both unsettling and oddly captivating. The reality of what you saw clashed harshly with the fantasy you had built in your mind, an illusion of Rafe that didn’t involve such reckless indulgence.

Rafe was a Kook, after all. You should have known better than to expect any less from a boy who lived in that world. But the Rafe you had daydreamed about, the one whose touch had sent shivers down your spine and whose gaze had made your heart race, wasn’t supposed to be tangled up in this. The stark contrast left you feeling disoriented, as if the ground beneath you had shifted, leaving you unsure of your footing.

Sarah’s voice cut through the fog of your thoughts, snapping you back to the present. "Everything alright?" she asked, her tone filled with concern.

You blinked, shaking your head slightly to clear the haze. "Yeah," you replied, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "Just... thinking."

Sarah followed your gaze, her eyes narrowing as she took in the scene. "Don't mind them," she said, a hint of exasperation coloring her words. "They always get up to stupid stuff at these things."

You nodded, though your mind was still reeling from the unexpected turn the evening had taken. Sarah’s words were meant to reassure you, but the lingering image of Rafe’s dark, intense gaze and the undeniable reality of his world clung to you like a shadow, refusing to be dispelled.

You shook off your thoughts, forcing your focus back to your conversation with Sarah. The rhythmic exchange of words and laughter served as a distraction from the chaotic whirlwind of emotions within you. The topics drifted from school to fashion, from mutual acquaintances to harmless speculations about the future. The normalcy of it all was comforting, a temporary balm to the disquiet Rafe had stirred up.

Then, a familiar voice broke through the bubble of your conversation. "Hey guys," Topper greeted, a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned in to press a quick kiss to Sarah's cheek.

"What're you two gossiping about?" he asked, his tone teasing.

"None of your business, Topper," Sarah retorted with a playful roll of her eyes, nudging him gently.

You managed a hesitant, half-hearted laugh, feeling a bit like an outsider in their easy banter. You took a nervous sip from your cup, the cool liquid doing little to soothe the anxious flutter in your chest. Your eyes roamed the crowd, searching for Rafe almost involuntarily, expecting to see him nearby.

Topper’s presence, though friendly, only served to heighten your awareness of Rafe. Your gaze flitted across the sea of faces, scanning for any sign of him. The crowd seemed to ebb and flow around you, a moving tapestry of laughter, shouts, and music, but all you could think about was where Rafe might be and whether he was watching you.

Topper continued to chat with Sarah, his voice a steady background hum. You tried to engage, to laugh at the right moments and nod along, but your mind kept drifting back to the image of Rafe, his dark eyes and the way they seemed to pierce right through you.

As if sensing your distraction, Sarah glanced at you with a knowing look. "Y/N, you good?" she asked, her voice laced with genuine concern.

You blinked, forcing a smile. "Yeah, just a bit tired, I guess," you replied, trying to sound convincing.

"Well, we can always head back inside if you want," Sarah offered, her tone considerate.

Before you could respond, a loud burst of laughter erupted nearby, drawing your attention. Your heart skipped a beat as you saw Rafe among the group, his head thrown back in amusement, his presence commanding even in the midst of the lively crowd. He looked different, more relaxed, yet still exuding that magnetic aura that seemed to pull you in no matter how hard you tried to resist.

Your gaze met his for a fleeting moment, and he smirked, raising an eyebrow as if to challenge you. You quickly looked away, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks once more. The tension, the curiosity, the inexplicable draw towards him—it was all still there, simmering just beneath the surface.

Sarah's voice brought you back to the present. "So, what do you think? Head inside or stay out here?"

You hesitated, the decision feeling heavier than it should. "Let's stay a bit longer," you finally said, your voice firmer than before.

Sarah nodded in response, giving you a supportive smile. As the night continued, you found yourself more intoxicated than you had anticipated. You and Sarah took shot after shot over the next few hours, and before you knew it, you were definitely drunk. A liberating sensation washed over you, a freedom you hadn't felt in your entire life, like you were floating and everything else was background noise.

The bumping music thumped in your ears as you swayed alongside Sarah, the world around you a vibrant blur of lights and laughter. You giggled at her exaggerated dance moves, the infectious joy of the moment wrapping you in its embrace. For once, you were truly having fun, and it was a feeling you wanted to hold onto forever.

You excused yourself from Sarah, telling her you were getting another drink. She waved you off with a nod, her own laughter echoing in your ears as you stumbled towards the wooden bar across the sand. The bonfire’s glow illuminated the path, casting flickering shadows that danced along with you.

The bar was a rustic setup, a makeshift oasis of alcohol and camaraderie in the midst of the beach party. You leaned against the counter, your head buzzing with the pleasant fog of intoxication. The bartender, a friendly-faced guy with a scruffy beard, raised an eyebrow in recognition and poured you another drink without needing to ask.

You took the cup, the cool liquid sloshing inside as you turned to look back at the crowd. Your eyes instinctively searched for Rafe, a part of you hoping to catch another glimpse of him, to feel that rush of adrenaline once more. The firelight cast a warm glow over everything, making the night feel almost magical, like a scene from a dream.

As you took a sip, the world spun just a bit too quickly, and you lost your balance, stumbling backward. A pair of strong hands caught you from behind, steadying you gently. Before you could respond, you turned around to see who had caught you, only to be left speechless at the familiar figure towering over you. Rafe's piercing gaze met yours, his expression a mix of concern and amusement.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice soft yet firm, grounding you in the moment.

Your breath caught in your throat, the proximity of his presence overwhelming your senses. "Y-yeah, I think so," you managed to stammer, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. You tried to regain your composure, but his intense gaze held you captive.

Rafe's hands lingered on your arms for a moment longer before he let go, a small, reassuring smile playing on his lips. "Good," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. "Wouldn't want you getting hurt."

The music and laughter from the bonfire seemed to fade into the background, the world narrowing down to just the two of you. The warmth of his touch still tingled on your skin, and you felt an inexplicable pull toward him, a magnetic attraction that you couldn't deny.

"Thanks," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I guess I should be more careful."

Rafe chuckled softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "Yeah, maybe," he replied, his tone light yet laced with something deeper. "But where's the fun in that?"

His words lingered in the air, a challenge wrapped in a tease, and you couldn't help but smile. The night was filled with possibilities, and standing there with Rafe, you felt a thrill of excitement and anticipation.

"You enjoying the party?" you asked, trying to keep the conversation going, your voice steadying as you spoke.

Rafe's smile widened, his eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and something more. "I am now," he said, his voice low and intimate, making your heart race. "How about you?"

You nodded, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. "Yeah, it's been... interesting," you admitted, your gaze never leaving his.

He chuckled, his smirk growing as he nodded at your reply. "I see. It's a wonder you've been able to be around Sarah drunk this long," he shrugged, taking a sip of his beer. His eyes sparkled with amusement, the dim light of the bonfire casting shadows on his sharp features, accentuating the sharp lines of his jaw and the mischievous glint in his eyes.

"She's not so bad," you said, gazing up at him, trying to keep your tone confident. "Besides, I don't think I'm much better than her right now." You let out a small laugh, picking nervously at the rim of your cup. The alcohol had given you temporary courage, but under Rafe's scrutinizing gaze, you felt the familiar flutter of nerves, like butterflies trapped in your stomach.

Rafe tilted his head, his eyes roaming over your face with an intensity that made your breath catch. "Didn't think you'd be much of a drinker, Princeton," he remarked, cocking an eyebrow with an amused glint in his eye.

"Yeah, well," you shrugged, trying to play it cool. "There's a lot you don't know about me."

He took another step closer, the scent of his cologne mixing with the salty sea air and the faint smell of the bonfire. "Is that so?" His voice was low, almost a whisper, sending a shiver down your spine. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, the electric pull drawing you closer.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest as you attempted to keep your composure. "Yeah," you managed, gulping silently and biting down on your bottom lip, trying to steady yourself against the swirling emotions inside you.

Rafe's eyes darkened suddenly, the familiar smirk plastered on his face as he took a step closer. "Well," he spoke in a low tone, his voice a teasing mockery of your earlier confidence, "I'd love to find out." The space between you seemed to shrink, the air thick with unspoken tension. Rafe's presence was overwhelming, his proximity sending waves of heat through your body. The flickering light from the bonfire cast shadows on his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the intensity in his eyes.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "I bet there's probably a lot of things you hide under that 'good girl' act you do." His words sent a wave of heat through your body, igniting a fire that had been simmering since your first encounter. You tried to steady your breath, but the proximity of his body and the intensity in his voice made it nearly impossible.

You shook your head, feeling weaker by the minute as Rafe kept his burning gaze on you. "It's not an act..." you sheepishly tried to defend yourself, avoiding the intensity of Rafe's stare.

He chuckled lowly, shaking his head in disbelief. "I have a hard time believing that. See, I think you parade around here acting innocent and oblivious to everything, like you're only concerned with your precious scholarship and getting into some Ivy League school. But really, I bet you're begging just to be touched."

Your eyes widened at his accusation, taken aback by his statement. It was partially true; your entire personality wasn't just about school, but you surely weren't sleazy either, to be begging for attention in the way that Rafe made it sound. "No, I'm not," you protested, your voice trembling with a mix of indignation and uncertainty.

Rafe's eyes narrowed, his smirk growing more pronounced. "Oh, really?" he said, taking another step closer, his presence overwhelming. "Then why do I see you looking at me like that? Why are you trembling right now?" His fingers grazed your arm, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. "Admit it, Princeton. You want more than just good grades and a spotless reputation."

You swallowed hard, your heart racing as his words cut through your defenses. You tried to steady your breathing, to regain some semblance of control, but the intensity of the moment made it impossible. "You don't know anything about me," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe's smile widened, a glint of triumph in his eyes. "Maybe not. But I'm willing to find out," he murmured, his fingers trailing up your arm to cup your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "And I think you want that too."

You felt a rush of emotions, a cocktail of fear, excitement, and desire swirling within you. The logical part of your mind screamed at you to pull away, to maintain the carefully constructed image you had built for yourself. But the pull of his presence was too strong, the allure of stepping outside the boundaries you had set for yourself too enticing.

"I..." you began, your voice faltering as you tried to form a coherent response. Rafe's eyes never left yours, his gaze unwavering and intense.

Rafe chuckled, his smirk widening as he leaned in closer, his gaze never leaving yours. "That's what I thought," he repeated, his voice low and teasing. He took another casual sip of his beer, the corner of his mouth quirking up as if he found your defiance amusing. Despite the heat rising to your cheeks, you refused to back down.

"Yeah, well, you aren't so innocent either, Rafe," you retorted, folding your arms defensively. You held his gaze, your brows furrowed in determination. "I saw what you were doing earlier with your friends."

Rafe's amusement only grew at your accusation. He cocked his head slightly, his eyes flickering with mischief. "And what about it?" he countered, taking another deliberate step closer, his presence almost overwhelming. "Do you think that's anything new?"

You hesitated, feeling a pang of embarrassment at his nonchalant response. "I… I don't know, you tell me," you admitted reluctantly, your voice softer now. The tension between you was intensified, each word and gesture charged with a strange, electric energy. Rafe's gaze bore into you, assessing, as if daring you to challenge him further.

"You must not know me that well either, Princeton," he remarked, his tone playful yet tinged with something deeper.

You felt a pang of vulnerability as Rafe's amusement at your embarrassment sank in, making you feel smaller than ever. Frustration and annoyance simmered within you, aggravated by his clear enjoyment of the upper hand. With furrowed brows, you frowned up at him, grappling with how to counter his taunt. His chuckle, mocking yet oddly enticing, echoed in the tense space between you.

"What's wrong, baby?" His voice was laced with a teasing edge. "Nobody ever proved you wrong before?"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes at his cockiness, the warmth from the bonfire casting flickering shadows across his face. "This is ridiculous," you protested, your words slightly slurred from the drinks swirling in your system. "I'm leaving." With unsteady steps, you turned to walk away, but his hand caught you, stopping you in your tracks. His grip on your wrist was firm yet oddly gentle, the touch sending a jolt through you.

"Wait," he said, his voice cutting through the noise of the party, his gaze locking onto yours.

Your heart raced as you turned back to face him, frustration evident in your expression. "What now, Rafe?" you snapped, trying unsuccessfully to free your hand from his grasp.

He held on, his eyes narrowing slightly as he regarded you with a mix of amusement and something else you couldn't quite place. "You can't just walk away like that," he stated firmly, the seriousness in his tone contrasting with the playful smirk that usually adorned his lips.

"Why not?" you challenged, meeting his intense gaze defiantly despite the butterflies fluttering wildly in your stomach.

Rafe's smirk softened, replaced by a more contemplative look. "Because," he began, his voice quieter now, "I don't want you to."

Confusion mingled with curiosity as you searched his eyes for any hint of deception. "Why?" you asked, your voice softer now, uncertain of where this conversation was headed.

Rafe's gaze held yours, his expression unreadable for a moment before a flicker of something vulnerable crossed his features. "Because," he began slowly, his voice tinged with an unexpected earnestness, "you're not so bad to talk to."

His words caught you off guard, the sincerity in his voice stirring a mix of emotions within you—surprise, uncertainty, and a hint of reluctant admiration. The usual facade of cockiness and charm seemed momentarily set aside, replaced by a genuine attempt to connect.

"I..." you started, searching for words as his gaze held yours steadily. His vulnerability felt almost disarming, a stark contrast to the confident persona he usually projected. You found yourself drawn in by the sincerity in his eyes, wondering what lay beneath his charismatic exterior.

Rafe's lips quirked in a faint, almost self-deprecating smile. "I don't know why," he continued, his tone quieter now, "you just seem so… innocent." His gaze softened as he studied your reaction, as if searching for something deeper in your response.

You blinked, surprised by the unexpected vulnerability in Rafe's words. His usual charm and playfulness were nowhere to be found, replaced by a raw honesty that tugged at something inside you. His admission left you feeling exposed, as if he had seen a part of you that you kept carefully hidden from the world.

"I'm not innocent," you protested softly, your voice barely above a whisper. But even as the words left your lips, you couldn't help but wonder if there was some truth to his perception of you. Maybe there was a side of you that longed for the simplicity and purity of innocence, untouched by the complexities of the world.

Rafe's gaze lingered on you, his eyes searching yours for a reaction. There was a flicker of something unreadable in his expression before he spoke again, his voice low and almost hesitant.

"I didn't mean it as an insult," he said, his tone earnest. "It's... refreshing, in a way. To see someone who still believes in the goodness of the world, despite everything." He shifted slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. "I envy that innocence," he confessed quietly, a vulnerability shining through that you had never seen before.

A rush of empathy washed over you as you listened to him speak, realizing that perhaps Rafe's carefully crafted facade was not as impenetrable as it seemed. It was a moment of unexpected intimacy between the two of you, a shared understanding that transcended words.

"I think there's more to you than meets the eye too, Rafe," you said softly, surprised by your own admission. It was a risky gamble, laying bare your thoughts and feelings in such a way, but somehow it felt right in that moment, as if honesty was the only currency that mattered between you and Rafe. He seemed taken aback by your words, a hint of vulnerability flashing across his features before his usual mask slipped back into place.

"You're perceptive," he murmured, his voice tinged with something you couldn't quite place.

A small smile played on your lips as you watched the subtle shift in Rafe's demeanor, a crack forming in the armor he usually wore so effortlessly. It was a rare sight to witness him letting down his guard, and you found yourself inexplicably drawn to this glimpse of the real Rafe hidden beneath the facade.

Suddenly, a distant sound broke the spell that had enveloped the two of you, causing Rafe to straighten up and glance around warily. The moment had passed, but its impact lingered in the air like a promise of things yet to come.

"We should go," Rafe said abruptly, his voice brisk as he turned away from you.

You followed Rafe through the bustling crowd, your thoughts a whirlwind of the unexpected conversation. As you neared the bonfire, the familiar sound of Sarah’s laughter reached your ears. She spotted you and waved, making her way over with an excited grin.

“There you are!” Sarah exclaimed, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. “Where have you been? I was starting to think you’d ditched me for someone more interesting.”

You forced a smile, trying to brush off the intensity of your recent interaction with Rafe. “Oh, just wandering around,” you replied nonchalantly. “Actually, I’m feeling a bit tired. Do you mind if we head out?”

Sarah’s smile faltered for a moment, replaced by a look of concern. “Are you okay? You look a little out of it.”

“I’m fine,” you assured her, your voice steady. “Just had a bit too much excitement for one night.”

Sarah studied you for a moment before nodding. “Alright, let’s go. I’ll get Topper to drive us.” She glanced around, spotting her boyfriend nearby and motioning for him to join you.

As you waited for Topper, you stole a glance back at the bonfire. Rafe was still there, his figure illuminated by the flickering flames. For a brief second, his eyes met yours across the distance, and a silent understanding passed between you. There was more to uncover, more to understand about each other, but tonight wasn’t the night for it.

Topper pulled up in his car, and you climbed into the backseat with Sarah, who gave you a reassuring smile. “You’ll have to tell me all about it tomorrow,” she said, squeezing your hand. “But for now, let’s get you home.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

taglist: @yawnzshit, @saintchxx4, @hotch-meeeeeuppppp, @maybankslover

[chelseasdagger]

Teacher - Chapter III

Frank Castle x Inexperienced F!Reader

Summary: Frank invites you to hang out with him at a bar on the outskirts of town. After some good food, and lots of teasing, you get invited back to his place to take care of the problem you caused him.

Warnings: age gap (reader is in her early 20s), mentions of drinking and smoking, cursing, grinding, detailed handjob sorry, slight praise kink

Author's Note: I am so incredibly sorry for how long it took for this chapter to come out!! I had a lot of life issues that delayed this, but I'm pretty happy with how this turned out so please accept this super long chapter as my apology/holiday gift!! And if you want to be added to the tag list just let me know. As always, reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated :) Leave a comment or shoot me an ask!! I'd love to hear what you think!

Word Count: 9k

Previous Chapters: I, II

“So I was thinkin’… Said you didn’t get many experiences even after high school, right?” Frank asks. His voice slightly muffled through the phone, which is wedged between your ear and your shoulder as you drag the spatula over the food you’re cooking on the stove. He had randomly rang you out of the blue and, after attempting to control your breathing, you answered the call. This was what he chose to greet you with and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t confused by the topic of conversation.

“Good morning to you too,” you tease, the food sizzling as you flip it in the pan. “But no, I haven’t. Why? What’s up?” you question.

“There’s this bar on the edge of town,” he begins his offer. “Little bit of a drive but they got good food,” he explains. 

“Tempting…” you trail off, trying not to immediately agree just because it’s Frank. “Who all is coming?”

“Just me,” he replies. “That alright?”

“Yeah!” Your answer is too loud and far too fast to be playing it cool. After cursing yourself mentally, you try again. “Yeah, I was just wondering if it was a whole… get-together thing.” Your voice grows quiet at the end, not wanting to plant the idea in his head that you’d prefer it if there were more people.

Honestly, you were surprised he was reaching out this soon after the bonfire. It was one of the best nights of your life. Whenever you think about it, there’s this warmth that rushes through you; you’re not sure if the heat was from the big flames or his strong chest you laid against all night.

“Nah, just me. Just thought it would be somethin’ you might like,” you push the spatula around in the teflon pan as he speaks. “Plus it’s another thing off the list, right?”

“Yeah, it is! Thanks, Frank,” you say cheerily as you turn the burner off and open the cupboards to grab two plates.

“No problem, kid. Just thought about you, y’know?” You sink your teeth in your lower lip to calm yourself down before another thought comes to mind.

“Oh! When are we going?”

“Tonight,” he answers nonchalantly and your eyes grow wide. “If you’re free.”

You seriously weren’t expecting him to want to see you only two days since you two were last together. In your head, Frank is so calm and collected and you’re practically certain that this… thing you two have going on isn’t as big of a deal to him as it is to you. Still, you try not to question too much why he actually seems to enjoy having you around. Instead, you decide to just take the good as it comes.

“I am, I can do tonight. But I’m not sure I have something to wear. Is it like a club? Should I dress up or is it more jeans and—?” You don’t even realize when your voice picks up in speed and the questions fly out faster than you intend for them to, but Frank is quick to center you out of the beginning of your spiral.

“Just wear somethin’ cute, alright? I’ve seen some of your outfits, sweetheart, you’ll be fine.” You bite the inside of your cheek at his comment and inhale deeply before sighing. “I’ll pick you up at six, okay?” You hum an agreement as he confirms the time and say a goodbye before hanging up.

As you pull the phone away from your ear, you see an incoming text from your best friend drop down from the top of the screen.

“I’m two minutes away! I can’t wait to hear everything.”

That night when you got home from the bonfire, she had sent many texts in hopes of finding out the reasoning behind the newfound closeness between you and Frank. In your exhausted and slightly inebriated state, you told her that you would have her over Saturday morning to explain it all to her. You were much too tired to string the words together and you also know how she can tend to put her own emotions onto words; the last thing you needed was for her to hear the little arrangement you and Frank have and blow it out of proportion.

You set the table as you wait for her, making sure to leave a mug beside her plate for her tea that tends to be the staple of her breakfast. By the time the food is divvied up for each of you, there’s an impatient knock at the door. You shake your head with a smile as you open the door and she’s pushing past you as the questions immediately begin to roll off her tongue.

After guiding her to the small dining table in the kitchen, you watch her sit down and her eyes never stray from you. Her voice continues to fill the air as she talks over herself; there’s no distinct end to one sentence and the beginning of the next. By the time you’re sitting beside her and about to dig into your meal she finally covers her mouth, stopping all the enthusiastic queries she desperately wants to know.

“I’m gonna let you talk,” she mumbles behind her palms. You laugh at her attempts to force herself to be quiet and pick up a forkful of your food.

“I promise you it’s not as exciting as you think it is,” you warn her before popping the food in your mouth.

You start at the beginning—trying to skim over the details of your not-so-controlled crush on Frank as well as the more heated parts of the things you two have done together. Excited gasps fill the space surrounding the dining table and you watch as her eyes go wide when you mention it was his idea. Her mouth gets the better of her though and she begins to ask more questions while you speak. You make sure to answer all of them in time, save for a few chuckles here and there, before finishing your last bite.

“I actually have a question for you now,” you start again, watching as confusion washes over her features. “Frank called me this morning and he wants to take me out to this bar he likes. I just don’t know what to wear and I was hoping… you could help me?” You hesitantly look up to face her and you’re met with a beaming grin.

“Is this a date?! Is this the first one? Are you going back to his place after?” You shake your head once again as the sudden influx of questions fill the air.

“No, it’s not a date. I mean… I don’t think it is?” you let your thought process be shown aloud and watch as her giddy expression comes back to the surface. “It’s not! We’re just friends and he’s doing me a favor. I’m sure of it.” You decide then and there that you can’t afford to hold out hope and expect more than what he’s given you—which is already so much.

She raises her eyebrows up from behind the rim of her mug and you scoff at her knowing look. You brush your hand through your hair and try your hardest to not let your anxiety creep in about the idea of being on a proper date with Frank Castle.

And so together the two of you spend the afternoon diving through your closet together for something that could fit. It felt similar to a movie montage where the teenage girls toss different colorful fabrics through the air. With a growing pile on the floor of your bedroom, she gasps once you stand in the completed outfit.

“That’s the one!” she says excitedly before tugging you towards the bathroom. “Time for makeup!” She eagerly pats for you to sit on the counter while searching through your, admittedly limited, makeup bag. Doing the best with what she’s got, she gets to work on the eyeshadows and blush, finishing up with a curl of your eyelashes and combing mascara through them. You always loved how focused she got when it was time for something special; her tongue pokes past her lips as she concentrates, her eyes squinting to get the very last detail to sit right.

Once she’s satisfied, she spins you around to see yourself in the mirror and you’re actually surprised at how nice it all came together. You’re wearing an oversized, comfy jumper, tights that line your legs, and a black skirt that accentuates your frame. It’s not too fancy, but the black tights make your outfit more sleek and you silently hope that Frank will like it. As you fluff your hair up to give it some more volume, you thank her behind a wide smile.

A buzz of excitement rushes through you as you wait by the front door and hear the heavy revving from the engine of Frank’s van. You physically shake your arms in an attempt to let go of some of the nerves that built up and your friend gives you a quick hug.

“You got it, baby!” she encourages sweetly. “Have fun!” she calls out as you slip past the door. Making your way down your porch steps, you hear her shout something else from behind you. “Don’t do anything stupid!”

You chuckle at her warnings and make your way to the big, black van. You open the door and find Frank sitting with his elbow on his armrest and his head in his palm as he turns to face you. You stand there for a moment and await his initial reaction to your outfit. His eyes widen slightly before they rake over your boy, his lips parting as he takes it all in.

He brushes his thumb along the defined line of his jaw before sinking his teeth into his lower lip. His eyes settle on the small slit of the skirt that rests high on your thigh. There’s a pause for a moment before he finally speaks up.

“Told you you’d find somethin’ cute.” He fixes his posture and gives you a smile as you roll your eyes and sit in the passenger seat. Being with him felt easy now—of course there’s still the butterflies, which you’re expecting to make a permanent home in your stomach any day now, but it’s mostly when you’re about to see him. When you’re actually in his presence, it all fades away and you love how comfortable he makes you feel.

If you had told yourself a few weeks ago that you’d be on a half hour car ride with Frank Castle to the outskirts of town, she probably would’ve brushed it off as some sick joke. But here you are, sitting beside him and watching as he flips through radio stations until he settles on a classic rock song. You enjoyed getting to discover little pieces of him the more time you spent with him.

As he drives under the lamp posts longing the winding roads, you watch as the passing lights illuminate his face before it’s cloaked in shadows of the night once again. Each time you move underneath them, light showcases his features in a warm glow for mere moments at a time. You think your new favorite thing might be when the gleam seeps into the small dip in the bridge of his nose. That small highlight makes you smile and he catches it as he turns to look at you once you’re stopped at a red light.

“What is it?” he questions, his eyes squinting slightly as he looks at you. With a shake of your head, you face back to the light strung up in the air. His gaze doesn’t leave the side of your face though, and you know he’ll want an answer.

“This is just nice,” you shrug your shoulders. “Thank you for thinking of me,” you add. You want to make sure he knew how happy you were to be doing this, despite your quiet nature due to your fear of somehow screwing this up with your words.

“Haven’t even done anything,” he laughs softly.

“Well, I’m still enjoying myself,” you reply in a gentle tone. Frank doesn’t say anything more as he continues to look at you. The light changes and a green glow washes over your face, queuing him to face the open road once again. You glance down as his hand moves to the gear shift, trying not to focus too long on how the veins in his hand are accentuated as he curls his fingers around the knob.

Frank speaks up again after a moment and you quickly recenter your attention. He engages you in some light conversation and pretty soon you’re laughing along to his comedic storytelling. You don’t even realize you’ve arrived until he’s put the car in park and turns the key off in the ignition. Looking out from behind the glass in front of you, you see the neon lights surrounding the big, bold letters of the name of the bar. It shines brightly in the night sky and acts as a small beacon in the dark parking lot.

You look up at the sound of the driver side door closing and realize Frank has left the car. You reach for your bag that’s resting on the floor between your feet and by the time you move for the handle, he’s opening your door for you. It’s the first time you’re able to truly take him in. He’s wearing a pair of nicely fitting blue jeans and a grey jacket, complete with the black boots you’ve never seen him without. You can’t tell what he’s wearing under the thick material that conceals his chest though, and you find yourself hoping it’s something tighter and hugs his torso.

“You ready?” he asks, and you nod in response. “Alright, watch your step,” he warns and you feel his hand bracing your upper arm as you hop out from the slightly lifted van. Once you’re secure on the ground, the two of you begin making your way towards the entrance. As you pass by the cars parked in organized rows under dim lamplights, you begin to make out the few scattered people smoking and even spot a couple sharing a cigarette just outside the main doors.

Once inside the building, he shrugs off the jacket and you can finally piece together his outfit. Frank’s broad shoulders stretch the fabric of the dark blue button up shirt. It’s tucked into his denim pants and secured with a black belt. He fits the attire of everyone else here in the bar, but still stands over a head taller than the rest—not to mention infinitely more attractive. You try desperately to rip your eyes away from him, and in doing so, take in the scenery of the pub.

The bar is crowded but not so occupied that you can’t move. The loud, overlapping voices meld to create a soft droning that accompanies the background. It doesn’t stand a chance to the band though, whose loud amplifiers cause a shake in your chest with each note they strum. Polished wood lines the walls and there’s photographs of smiling people decorating them, forever cherished behind glass frames. It feels oddly homey, admittedly impressive for a place you’ve never stepped foot into before tonight.

You accidentally bump into Frank and he steadies you with his large hands on your waist. He’s staring down at you with a subtle smile on his face. He begins to talk but you don’t have the slightest clue what he’s saying; the song that’s playing is far too loud to hear the lower tone of his voice. Shaking your head with a frown, you let him know you can’t understand him and his smile grows wider. He then leans down, his fingers brushing your hair away from your ear before he speaks.

“Asked if you wanted to eat,” he starts, his breath immediately warming the side of your neck. With just those few words, it feels like all the other noise falls away. All you can focus on is the rumble in his voice and how the words feel as if they dance down your spine. “I’m starving,” he adds, and you’re certain your new headspace gave his words a different context than he intended.

He pulls away for your response and all you can muster up is a slow blink and a delayed nod. There’s no cocky smirk at your expression and you wonder if maybe he decided to spare you the embarrassment this time. He promptly turns and you fall in line beside him, letting him guide you around the crowd. His palm finds its way to your lower back as he leads you and just like that, your heart picks up in pace once more.

You’ve only seen the same small movement depicted in movies and you can now safely say that experiencing it is so much more exhilarating. Part of you is frustrated that such an insignificant touch can make you this excited, but Frank’s charm has a tremendous effect on you. Still, you tell yourself it’s the anticipation of his hand being elsewhere on your body that riles you up.

His hand stays put until the two of you reach a booth lining the back wall. There’s a small lamp that bathes the whole table in a warm glow and you and Frank place your things down before sliding into the long seats. As you stare at him from across the table, you watch as his eyes scan the crowd and then the main stage as he focuses on the band. They’re currently playing a cover of a classic rock song and Frank smiles as he nods his head to the music.

“This place is nice,” you raise your voice slightly to be heard over the music. He turns to face you and his smile grows wider.

“Yeah? You like it?” His question is accompanied by your own nod and he continues. “I’m sure there’s fancier ones close to town, but I’ve been coming here for years and they’ve always been good.”

He raises his hand in the air, tilting his head up and leaning to the side as if to catch someone’s attention. You follow his line of sight and look over your shoulder to see a woman with a black apron tied around her waist. She looks slightly past you as a grin covers her face and walks over to your table quicker than you expected.

“Frank?! What are you doing here?” Her voice is already grating and she’s only said a handful of words. Her tone is drawn out, almost flirtatiously, and she stands closer to him than you would’ve liked.

“Just showing her around,” he answers simply. He looks at you and when the waitress does the same, her face falls. You muster up an awkward smile and try to shake off the weird look she gives you. “She’s never been here before, you think we could get some menus?”

“Sure thing,” she mumbles, stepping away only to return a moment later with two long, laminated sheets of paper. She drops them to the table and you spare yourself the trouble of looking at her again.

“She sure seems to like you,” you speak up once she’s left. Frank scoffs before grabbing a menu and shaking his head. “Did you see the way she looked at me? What did I do?” You ask with a frown, wondering if you did something unintentionally.

“She’s probably just pissed cause you’re sitting with me and she’s not,” he answers with a sigh. He flips the paper around and you notice the way his eyes dart around the page. His answer wasn’t very reassuring though, and you still feel the tension in your body. As you scan the small print of the menu in your hands, you can feel his gaze on you. You try to shake the disappointment and to make it less obvious that what she said affected you, but you’re not certain how good of an actress you are.

“Y’know what?” he speaks up after a few seconds. You raise your face to him as he continues, “I know this place a couple of blocks down? Best god damn beer I’ve had.” His hand disappears under the table and a moment later you see his fingers curled around his jacket. “It’s German! You haven’t tried that one before.” He leans across the table before whispering, “You’re gonna hate it.”

His attempts at distracting you work well and you can’t help the laughter escaping you at the final thing he said. Frank’s own crooked smile returns at your reaction and a softness settles into his brown eyes.

“There she is,” he mumbles once he sees your regular self bubble back up to the surface. You bring in a deep breath and choose to shake off any residual awkwardness you felt from before.

“No, no it’s okay. We can stay here.” You finish your sentence and look back towards the music before facing him. His hands are empty now as he continues to stare at you and you feel confident in your choice to stay.

After looking over the endless list of drinks, burgers, and other appetizers, you read a description of a sandwich that makes your stomach rumble to life. You immediately decide on it without a second thought and smile up at Frank, watching him run his finger across the page between two options and looking quite indecisive.

Before long, the ill behaved waitress is back to take down your order. You pick your sandwich, remembering to take off the toppings you aren’t too fond of, add in an order of fries, and your usual favorite drink to top it off. With a hesitant glance up, you see her scribbling down your order on the small notepad in her hand. Her expression is twisted up as if she smelled something foul and you feel that uneasy feeling settling in once more.

“I’ll have the same as my date here,” Frank answers before she can ask about his meal. He gently taps the two menus on the tabletop before handing them over to her. His lips part as his eyes drag over your features and you notice the way they stop for a little longer than they should when they reach your mouth.

To say you were shocked was an understatement. You weren’t sure if he said it just to get under her skin or not but part of you didn’t really care. He said it regardless and that made a smile carve its way onto your face. An annoyed scoff is heard from above and you see a hand come into view to snatch the menus away from Frank. He never looked away from you once.

The moment the food arrives, you’re excitedly grabbing your sandwich and lifting it to your mouth. As your teeth sink into the toasted bread, the flavor hits your tongue and a satisfied moan escapes you. Frank is quick to lift his eyes at the sound, his eyebrows raising as he takes in the scene in front of him. You raise your hand to your mouth and begin to grow bashful at the look on his face.

“Sorry!” You apologize, your voice muffled behind your palm. “It was just really good,” you explain once you swallow your food down.

“Don’t gotta apologize for that, kid,” he replies through his own raspy chuckle. You bite your lip and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before reaching for the fries in your basket next.

The two of you dig into your identical meals and make some easy conversation in between bites here and there. You’re honestly impressed with how good the sandwich is and you’re glad you picked it out of the infinite number of items on the menu. Frank wasn’t lying when he said he loved this place. You watch him look up from his meal every now and then with a big smile on his face as he moves his head to the beat of the music. His energy was infectious and you found yourself tapping your toes along too. 

“Y’know,” he speaks up after finishing the last bite of his sandwich. At the sound of his voice, you begin to look up to his face, but your eyes latch on to something else. Frank sucks his fingers clean of the salt from his fries, his lips pursing as his cheeks hollow, and you immediately lose any grip you had on controlling your thoughts around him.

“When we ordered I saw your beer on the menu.” You hear his words but they have absolutely no meaning, no way of stringing them together to make a continuous thought as you watch him suck the seasonings from his thumb. You begin to feel a sense of injustice at the fact that those fingers weren’t where you desperately wanted them to be. With a pout, you look back to his gaze and see the confusion clear in his eyes.

“What?” you blurt out, finally remembering he had spoken and that you hadn’t processed anything he had said. He scoffs before shaking his head, his smirk spreading wide across his face before he speaks again.

“Said they have the beer you like here,” he repeats himself, his cocky grin a clear indicator that he saw how you froze up at sight just moments ago.

“I’m actually good tonight,” you say confidently. Reaching for your glass, you take a sip of your drink and hold his gaze as you stare at him from under your eyelashes. He sits back against the cushion of the booth and his eyebrows pull together as he thinks about what you said.

“Yeah?” he asks, squinting his eyes at you.

“Mhm, not letting a few beers stop me from what I wanna do after this,” you explain. You’ve never felt more frustrated than when he stopped you from kissing on his neck. You understood why he did it, and are actually very thankful he didn’t want it to go further, but the disappointment coursed through you all the same.

“Hmm? And what exactly is that?” he questions as the band finishes up the song they had been playing. Your eyes follow the noise as the crowd erupts into whistles and claps, applauding the musicians. When you finally look back over, Frank’s in the same position. It’s like he never looked away from you—hell, you’re not sure if he even blinked.

You don’t answer him though and make up your mind to keep him on the edge of his seat. Instead, you smile sweetly before picking up a fry from your basket and popping it past your lips. 

He gives you a knowing look, but doesn’t pry. Perhaps he was looking forward to the surprise of it all. You only hope you can remain as confident as you feel now so you can properly act out your plan. Before long, he swallows down his last french fry and Frank speaks up with a question.

“You wanna go dance?” Your whole body freezes at the mere thought of attempting to dance, not to mention the added nerves of doing it in a crowded room with Frank Castle standing witness. But as you look out onto the dance floor full of moving bodies, you realize most of them are probably far too intoxicated to really pay attention to you. Deciding to push past the initial fear, and wanting to be fully present with him and have fun, you nod and scoot out of the booth.

Frank stands in front of you and his hand soon comes into view of your eyeline. You place your hand in his and feel his fingers curl around your palm as you brace your weight on him and rise to your feet. You stand on your toes and motion for him to come closer so you can speak into his ear.

“Just so you know, I’m a terrible dancer,” you say after he’s tilted his head towards you.

“What part of me screams that I’m a good one?” he asks, and you chuckle at his joke. He smiles down at your laughter and nods his head behind him, letting you know he’s going to the dancefloor.

Frank keeps a hold of your hand as he leads you through the crowd. His broad body splits the sea of bodies as he walks and you follow close enough behind him to squeeze past them as well. There’s blue hues from the dim lights that shine over the people, but other than that you can’t see much beside their moving feet. He must’ve gotten to a clearing where there’s not as many people bumping into one another, because he stops walking and turns to you.

You’re sort of frozen still for a moment as the reality of it is beginning to creep in. But then Frank starts to shimmy his shoulders and you can’t help but break into a wide grin. Just like that, you’re thawed. The awkwardness you felt is starting to leave you as you begin to loosen up in front of him.

The band plays a fun, upbeat song that you don’t recognize, but he seems to be making the moves up as he goes along. You follow his direction, copying him but still keep some distance, trying to slowly shake off those nerves that are still lingering around. Suddenly, Frank does a move that you can’t even begin to describe with words alone and you burst into laughter as you watch him. Holding your stomach, you shake your head at him and he begins to laugh too. 

The band then retires from the stage, saying their farewells as the crowd applauds and whistles. Frank claps along with the rest of them and you cup your hands around your mouth to give a small cheer. You really enjoyed their set and wouldn’t mind coming back here again to watch them play once more.

Once the stage is clear, music begins to play over the speakers and Frank’s face lights up. His excitement is clear after just the first few notes.

“God, this takes me back,” his wide grin causes his eyes to squint up. You smile up at him, happy at his enjoyment, but you can’t help your head from tilting to the side confusedly.

“You haven’t heard this before?” he asks incredulously and you shake your head. “It’s literally my favorite song, how do you not know this?”

“When did it come out?” you ask, and watch him look up as he starts to think.

“Must’ve been… right after graduation, I think?” He does the math for a moment longer before answering with the year it was released. The answer has you fighting back a giggle as you stare at him awkwardly.

“Frank, I wasn’t born until two years later,” you answer honestly, and the look on his face is priceless.

“Jesus Christ…” he replies, dragging his hand down his face. You begin to worry now, wondering if you shouldn’t have brought up that point. He must’ve caught a glance at your anxious frown because he’s quick to explain himself.

“You’re fine just… my back hurt when you said that.” His hand comes to the back of his neck to emphasize his point and your smile finds its way back to your lips.

Despite the initial embarrassment you ran into after being reminded again of the gap in age between you and Frank, you found yourself really enjoying the song. He was honest when he said it was one of his favorites. You’ve never seen him this lively before and you love being able to soak up every minute of it. He’s so animated as he dances, holding you close to him with his hand secured at your back. The lines to the song fall past his lips like muscle memory as his forehead presses to yours.

You can’t stand being this close to him. Your whole body feels like it’s been shot with a current of electricity and you’re desperately wanting him to stop singing and put his mouth to yours. He might have a sixth sense—or simply just picked up on the timing—because his lips are on yours a second later. He kisses you deeply, his tongue brushing your lower lip for a moment before you eagerly let him in. Your head tilts to the side as you kiss him back and your arm wraps around his wide shoulders to ensure you’ll have your fill.

All too soon he’s breaking the kiss and you immediately suck your bottom lip behind your teeth to savor the feeling of him. He suddenly lifts his arm into the air and cues you to spin. You twirl under his hand with a huge grin and then he yanks you in for the finish, timing it so that your back is to his chest when you land against him. His same palm immediately finds your hip and tightens to keep you flush to him. His opposite hand travels down the length of your torso, his index finger tracing your side as he moves.

He begins to whisper the lyrics against your ear and you can’t bring yourself to focus on their meaning. He’s all over you and it’s making you feel dizzy, as if you’re drunk on his scent alone. Each pass of his finger along your ribs alights a fire at your side and you try to keep up as he begins rocking you from side to side to the rhythm of the song. His breath warms the entire side of your face and neck with each word he whispers. You fall under his spell and roll your head to the side at the feeling of his warmth all over.

When the song starts to fade and a new one begins overlapping it, you’re left with a bittersweet feeling; part of you never wanted to leave that moment and would gladly listen to that song on loop for the rest of your life, but the other half of you was almost frightened at how easily you turned to putty in his hands. You felt the need to have a better grasp on yourself, especially if you wanted to stay courageous for what you had planned for tonight.

The mix of two songs smoothen down into one and you instantly recognize the slow, sexy bassline that’s pumping through the speakers overhead. You’re not sure what came over you. Perhaps you wanted to prove to someone that you’re not that same timid, little girl. Whatever it was that coursed through your veins, you’re thankful that it gave you the strength to grab his large palm and put it back into place at your hip. You use the extra support to push your ass back into him, making sure to press hard enough until you feel the bulge in his jeans.

Frank doesn’t show any reaction except for his fingers tightening into your skin as if you were a lifeline. You smile as you continue to grind into him, your hips following the similar movements he taught you just a few days prior. Facing away from him gives you the extra boost of confidence needed to perform this act, but you’d be lying if you said you wouldn’t kill to see the look on his face right now.

With each push of your ass against the denim fabric, you feel the heat of his bulge so close to where your own warmth had started to pool. This felt good and you felt pride surging through your chest once you realized exactly what you were doing.

And then his arm crosses your chest and pulls you flat against him once more. His forearm is pressed against your collarbones and you feel your breath hitch at the hold he has you in. With a shaky inhale, you swallow down the lump in your throat and wait for him to speak.

“Look at you, sweetheart,” the tip of his nose brushes the curve of your ear and you try your damndest to not let your body double over. “Someone’s getting confident, huh?” His arm begins to slowly drop from across your chest, and instead reaches your lower stomach. From there, he applies pressure until you’re as close as you could be to him.

“You feel that? Hmm?” There’s an undeniable hardness under the thick layers of fabric. It doesn't feel as big as the last time he got turned on from you, but it’s still noticeable. “That’s all you,” he finishes with a lower tone of voice before taking half a step back and leaving you to sit with his words.

It takes you a moment to wrap your head around this entire situation. It’s abundantly clear that the mood has changed from light laughter and awful dance moves to something more sultry. You can feel the warmth slowly spreading between your legs and it leaves you with a buzz that makes you feel like your movements are slowed. When you turn around to finally face him, he’s already staring down at you expectedly.

“Why don’t we get outta here?” he asks, deep voice blending in with the booming bass. You nod at him and it feels like you’re moving in molasses. The dull, blue light from above catches his face for a moment. There’s something deeper to his unreadable expression; his jaw is clenched as if he’s trying to hold something back.

Once the two of you make it back to the table, Frank reaches into his back pocket for his wallet. He thumbs through the notes before tossing a few bills onto the table. He reaches into the booth seat for his jacket and shakes it out before draping it over your shoulders.

“Thank you,” you mumble in a quiet voice.

“Don’t gotta thank me for that, sweetheart,” he shakes his head, insisting that your gratitude isn’t needed. He begins to walk towards the door with his hand in its designated spot at your lower back to help guide you once again. The chill of the night air hits you the second you step out of the building and you find yourself curling his jacket snugger around your body. His scent is stuck to the collar and it helps lessen your shivering from the cold breeze.

He walks you to your side of the van and opens the door for you to climb in. Even after he gets in and begins driving down the same winding roads, there’s not much conversation between the two of you. The tension in the car is thick and incredibly palpable. You’re indecisive about whether to break the silence or leave it untouched so as to not make it worse.

Eventually Frank pulls into his parking spot that faces the front door of his apartment. After putting the van in park and walking around to open your door once more, you take his hand and carefully step down. He unlocks the door and gets you inside quickly, trying to shield you from the chilly air. Once he flicks the lights on, you’re greeted by the familiar sight of his living room and feel that desire to touch him creep back in. Your name falls from his lips and you turn your head at the sound.

“I’m sorry if I went too far back there. I shouldn’t have—,” he begins to apologize, but you’re quick to interrupt by pressing your lips to his. A surprised grunt comes from him and you smirk into the kiss, pleased to have caught him off guard. He wastes no time in wrapping his arms around you and begins leading you towards the couch. When you feel the back of your knees hit the curve of the cushion, you angle yourself in front of Frank and push him into the sofa below.

He looks up at you with his lips parted and his chest is noticeably bringing in deeper breaths each time he inhales. His usually soft, brown eyes have a darkened glint to them and you’re certain you’ve never seen this emotion on him before. Your pulse is racing through your own body and you swiftly straddle him with your knees on either side of his hips.

His impatient fingers grab hold of you in a way no one ever has before. The action causes a surprised gasp to fall past your lips, but it’s swallowed down by Frank who can’t seem to keep his mouth off of yours. The light stubble decorating his jaw scratches at your skin and the rough feeling does nothing but spur you on further. You begin to roll your hips into his as you fall into a familiar pattern and he uses his hold to help guide you into moving faster.

His movements are rushed and needy and it makes you feel reassured that he wants this—he wants you. That little boost to your ego has your hands tracing down his body, your palms rubbing down his strong chest, before finally reaching his belt. Your fingers search blindly for the leather and the sound of the buckle clinking sounds out in between the wet noises of your kisses.

“Woah, easy,” Frank breaks the kiss the second the sound reaches his ears. “Let’s just, uh…” he trails off and you feel his fingers gently prying yours away. “Let’s take it slow, alright?” His tone is so soft and the concern is written clearly across his features.

“Frank, please,” you try to reason with him. “I didn’t even drink tonight! And I just… last time I was all worked up and I really want to do this.” You finish with a pout as you glance up at him with pleading eyes. He swallows hard as he stares at you for a moment, probably battling something internally.

“What do you wanna do?” he asks slowly, trying to make his words clear. The question is so simple but admitting it to him makes you feel small again.

“I… I want to touch you,” you mumble, silently hoping he doesn’t ask you to be more explicit than that.

“You sure you want this?” His eyes never leave yours as he confirms your consent.

“I really do,” you reply, bringing your hand up and cupping his cheek. You brush your thumb over his skin and watch as he begins to shut his eyes and breathe deeply. “Please?”

You’re not sure if it’s the quiet plea, his own craving that’s swaying his decision, or some combination of the two, but he slowly uncurls his fingers from your wrist. You beam brightly at him and whisper a thanks as you peck him on the cheek.

“You’re still gonna have to walk me through it, Frank,” you say through a small chuckle.

He nods with an equally quiet, “I know.”

From there, he doesn’t try to deter your movements any longer. He lets you continue as you slide his belt past the metal buckle. You look up at him for reassurance and he nods his head with a smile. He takes your hand in his and pulls it to his bulge, letting you feel it properly for the first time. Excitement races through you and settles in your lower stomach as you watch your hand touch him over the denim.

“Can I take your jeans off?” Your question is met with another nod as he lets go of you. Slipping the button past the slit, you then lower the zipper past the teeth and the sound feels so loud in the otherwise silent room. You move to sit beside him and Frank helps you tug his pants down, raising his hips to lower them some more until they fall past his knees. He’s wearing a pair of dark grey boxer briefs and your eyes linger far too long on how they hug his thighs.

The thick outline stretching the fabric is enough to recenter your attention though. You start to feel the nerves coming back once you register just how big he is as he lies against his hip. You always had a feeling, given the sheer size of the man, but seeing it is a whole other experience. Thankfully, Frank doesn’t rush you as he lets you take this all in. You hesitantly move your hand over the length of him, brushing your fingers over the defined line underneath the head of his cock.

The next thing you reach for is the waistband of his boxers. You curl your fingers over the edge and tug them down, watching as more and more of his happy trail becomes exposed. He once again helps you pull them past his legs and now that he’s bare in front of you, you can’t help your eyes from widening. You had thought the bulge was big, but it was misleading; Frank is actually much larger than you had anticipated.

“What? You’ve never seen—?” He starts but you’re quick to cut him off.

“I have. I’ve seen, like, porn before but…” you find your voice leaving you as you stare between his legs. “It’s just bigger in person.” His chuckle sounds out and you raise your head to the noise only to be met by an amused smirk at your confession.

“S’not just cause it’s in person, kid,” he laughs through his words and you roll your eyes at his cockiness. You like that you can still crack jokes during a time like this and you find yourself thankful that you get to have Frank as your first introduction to sex. Feeling more relaxed, you reach forward and gently curl your fingers around his thick base.

“You can hold it tighter than that,” he speaks up after a second.

“I know,” you respond, tightening your hold on him a little more. He snorts lightly at the, apparently, subtle increase in pressure and you feel his larger hand curling around your own. His long fingers squeeze over yours, adjusting your grip on his length as he begins to move your hand up and down. He’s warm and heavy in your hand, two things you hadn’t given much thought of before now. Frank lifts your hand once more and a satisfied sigh leaves him.

The sound stirs something in your stomach and you try to swallow down your own growing arousal at the noise he’s making. He loosens his hold on you and you watch as his hands find the hem of his shirt before bunching it up and exposing the lower half of his stomach. There’s so much to look at and it’s pulling your attention in too many ways. You try to focus on him in your hand though and begin speeding up your movements.

“You can spit on it,” he speaks up after a few seconds. You turn to face him and feel your eyebrows pull together at his words.

“Like just… spit on it?” The confusion is more than likely obvious in your tone but you want to ensure that you don’t embarrass yourself with him. Not now when you’ve made it this far.

“Yeah, go for it,” he encourages gently. With one last glance at him, you lean forward and lower your head over his length. You purse your lips and part them as you let the split slowly drip until it’s sliding over his head. You watch as it runs down past the tip and Frank clears his throat.

“Shit, yeah that…” he trails off as he raises his hips slightly. “That works too.” You smile at his words and wonder if his movement was an instinctual reaction to the warmth running along the smooth skin of his cock.

With the help of the extra slick added to his length, you begin to work your hand faster on him. You know from what you’ve heard that the tip is more sensitive, so you raise your hand right underneath his head and tighten your grip. A grunt immediately falls from him and you impulsively let go of him. You face him with a worried expression and watch as he brings in a deep breath before swallowing thickly.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Just felt real damn good.” The praise in his words immediately rushes to your heart and you feel yourself swell with pride. You can’t believe you made him feel that good, but now you’re determined to see what other sounds you can pull from his pretty lips. As you focus your attention back to his cock, you see a few beads of precum beginning to bubble up at his swollen tip. You rub your thumb in circles over the slit, spreading around the proof of his pleasure, and you feel him twitch in your hold.

“Shiiiiiit,” the drawn out curse sounds raspy and you don’t stop your movements as you check once again to see his reaction. Frank’s head is tilted back slightly against the couch cushion, his mouth is parted, and his eyes are scrunched up slightly. You try your hardest to memorize this version of him. You wish you could ingrain this memory so you’ll never forget how good he looks when he’s succumbing to his pleasure.

Twisting your hand as you move it over his length, you notice the way his adam's apple bobs as he swallows down presumably another groan. You can’t resist the urge to feel even more of him, and press your lips against his neck. Lazy kisses are littered across his skin while you work your hand faster, intermittently tightening your hold on his thickness. His throat tightens as he feels the wet marks of your affection, and the next thing you feel is his fingers tangling in your hair. He pulls gently as he tugs your head up to his and he kisses down your surprised gasp, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

You’re having trouble keeping up with his movements and you realize this must be what it’s like to be kissed breathlessly. Any moment you get, you’re greedily gulping down air before he continues his ravenous attack on your lips. You never slow the speed of your hand and press yourself against his side, trying to feel more of him to satiate your need. Frank tries to break the kiss but you push against him harder, not wanting to let go for a second. But he tries again, grabbing your wrist gently and you immediately pull away with a frown.

“What did I do?” you ask in a worried tone. He’s quick to lock his eyes with yours and speaks clearly.

“You’re okay. You’re doing so good, sweetheart,” he starts, and then nods down towards his lap. “I’m almost there, kid. Just wanted to warn you before it happens.” And just like that, a wide grin splits across your face. I’m making him feel that good?!

“I really wanna make you come, Frank,” you tell him honestly and you notice his cock twitch slightly as he registers your words.

“You keep talking like that and you will,” he grumbles in a low voice. His tone almost seems as if it was meant as a warning, but all it does is add to the fire in the pit of your stomach. You’re quick to reach for him again and fall back into the rhythm you established just seconds ago. With each pass of your hand you feel the veins protruding slightly through his skin and make sure to add slightly more pressure to the ring underneath his tip—he seemed to like that in particular.

“Just like that—fuck, attagirl,” he breathes through gritted teeth while he stares down at your smaller fingers wrapped snugly around him. The praise courses through you and you hide your face in his neck. You place sloppy kisses under his jaw and listen as more grunts start to fall from his parted lips. They slowly twist into a new sound and it takes you a second to realize it’s your name that’s coming out in a twisted groan. You glance down and watch as he raises his hips for a moment to chase after the feeling of you, his orgasm following soon after.

One long moan falls from him as warmth spills over your hands. You make sure not to miss a single second and don’t dare slow down or pull away. You want Frank to feel as good as possible and so you’ll drag this out for as long as you can. White begins to coat his head and the rest of his length as you continue moving over him. It isn’t until he reaches for your wrist that you take notice of the way his thigh is tense and you let go to give him some relief.

“T…That’s enough,” he pants as he speaks through uneven breathing. You mumble an apology as you snuggle into his side again, leaving the remainder of your kisses on his collarbone. His hand rubs at your back while he regains his breath and you feel him press his lips to your forehead. 

“Jesus Christ,” he whispers, and you follow his gaze to the mess in his lap. His cock lies on his hip, all spent and giving a weak twitch once or twice. You don’t even try to hide the smile that grows on your face at the sight.

“Oh, you proud of yourself, huh?” he asks through a fit of chuckles. “You should be,” he holds you to his side again. “Did so fuckin’ good.” You feel another long kiss to the side of your head. Pride isn’t even a strong enough word to describe how you feel at this moment.

“Thank you, Frank,” you smile up at him.

“Thank me? Nah, you did all that,” he brushes it off just like last time. “Thank you for making me feel good, kid. You were absolutely perfect.” The warmth spreading to your cheeks makes you hide your face in his chest again. You weren’t really sure how a scene like this was supposed to normally end, but Frank doesn’t say anything more. He keeps you close in his arms and you can still hear his pulse attempting to slow in his chest. For now, you don’t want to question what comes next; for once, you’re comfortable exactly where you are.

Taglist: @chellestrash @avengerstower-houseplant @musicals-and-mermaids @castle-of-ruin @justalittlepickle @boo8008 @doublevirgogirl @xxdrixx @yaminax @nabiiturner @imwaytoolazyforthis @vechkinfan @himesuedi @0-goblin-0 @soleilcastle @innebulae @punishersmainchick @eddiemunsonsbelover @tea-drinking-nerd

[espresso1patronum]

ok so for the holidays could you do one where Megumi spends the holidays at our house and we have like a big family and like right before he leaves he like kisses us?? 😭😭 (I've been watching cheesy movies recently srry )

HOLIDAYS AS IN CHRISTMAS?? IM RLY CONFUSED LOVE, BUT I'LL DO THAT<33 And it's def NOT CHEESY ITS CUTE OK? DONT WORRY!

Mistletoe?

The holiday season at your house was always lively, with laughter ringing through the halls and the aroma of baked goods filling the air.

This year, your cousin Yuji and you had convinced your boyfriend, Megumi to join the family gathering, despite his usual discomfort in large crowds.

As he stepped through the door, you noticed him standing awkwardly at the edge of the living room, his hoodie pulled tightly around him. You waved him over, offering a reassuring smile.

“Hey, Megumi! Glad you could make it,” you said, trying to help him feel at ease.

“Thanks for having me,” he replied, his voice steady but tinged with uncertainty. You could see him taking in the chaos of your family, bustling about, exchanging stories and laughter.

Throughout the evening, your family tried to engage him, asking questions that made him squirm.

"Is y/n troubling you? You can tell me, dear,” your mom teased, glancing between you and Megumi with a knowing smile. Megumi offered an awkward smile and shook his head, replying softly, “No, it’s all good.”

You playfully nudged your mom, a wave of embarrassment washing over you. “Mom, stop it!”

Yuji animatedly recounted his encounter with a cute dog, Megumi mostly observed, his gaze flickering between the crowd and you.

After dinner, the noise began to settle, and you noticed Megumi retreating to a quieter corner of the house. You joined him, leading him to the kitchen.

“How are you doing?” you asked, leaning against the counter.

“It’s a lot to take in,” he admitted, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “I’m not used to this many people.”

“I get it. Just take it at your own pace. You’re doing fine,” you reassured him, feeling a sense of warmth growing between you.

As the night wore on, the atmosphere shifted. Your parents along with your uncles and aunts and your cousins started to wander outside for the annual bonfire, and you found yourself back in the living room, sharing a moment with Megumi as the festivities began to wind down.

The evening sky deepened, you and Megumi stood under the mistletoe hanging in the doorway, an old holiday tradition your family embraced.

Yuji had snuck out earlier, clearly in on the joke, leaving the two of you standing awkwardly beneath it.

“Guess we’re stuck here,” you said, your heart racing a little.

Megumi looked down, then back at you, the corner of his mouth twitching into a small smile. “It seems so.”

Before you could think about it, he leaned in, closing the distance between you. The kiss was gentle but filled with warmth, an affection that melted away any lingering awkwardness. Time seemed to pause as the world around you faded, leaving just the two of you in that moment.

When you pulled back, breathless, Megumi’s eyes held a mix of surprise and something deeper. “I didn’t expect that,” he said quietly.

“Neither did I,” you admitted, feeling a rush of exhilaration. “But it felt right.”

He smiled, a genuine expression that lit up his features. “I’m glad I came here.”

“Me too,” you replied, the weight of the night settling comfortably between you.

As he stepped back, he gave you a soft, lingering look. “I should probably get going. Gojo will be waiting.”

“Yeah, of course,” you said, a hint of reluctance creeping into your voice.

“Goodbye, then,” he said, his voice low and warm.

“Goodbye,” you echoed, your heart still racing from the kiss.

Just as he turned to leave, he paused and glanced back at you. Without a word, he stepped forward and wrapped you in a tight embrace.

"I'm so happy to have you," he said softly, his voice warm against your ear.

[m30wk1ttycat]

wish you were sober

pairing: newt x masc!med-jack!reader

tw: alcohol consumption, blood, mentions of newt's attempt, cussing

summary: during a bonfire, newt manages to land himself a nosebleed and a minor injury on his arm. while he gets tended to by the person he's been trying to hate since forever, he confesses, only that he's too drunk to actually process his own words.

yes, this is the enemies to lovers (sorta??) fic i've been working on. it's kinda short, i'm so sorry y'all!!

what all the gladers were aware of was the tension between you and newt. the glares he'd send you (or your patient) as he watched you tend to someone, his little remarks about you, how he'd constantly visit the med-jack hut just to talk to you or bother you in some way - none of it went unnoticed, as much as newt hoped it would/did. he hated you, he really did - it was just that he didn't hate you at all, and could never bring himself to feel any hate for the person who saved him that one day when he attempted to end it all.

like on most bonfire nights, you stayed in the med-jack hut, nose buried in some medical books that were barely used by anyone other than you.

gally would instigate brawls with any poor glader that stepped too close to the circle where the group of his builders was cheering him on, which is what made you stay here in the first place, waiting - or, rather expecting - to see one of the unfortunate boys limping their way to the homestead, where the med-jacks worked.

as you predicted, you heard a quiet knock at the makeshift door. looking up from your book, you saw the second-in-command standing in the doorway, a shaky hand over his bleeding nose.

"um, hey," he muttered, his voice sounding a lot softer than it usually did when he talked to you, "minho said i should come see you?"

you got up from your chair, setting the book down. great.

"what happened?" you asked, helping him sit down, while you looked through the shelves and cupboards to find the tissues. the perfectionist in you was annoyed at the fact that jeff and clint never allowed you to rearrange where certain items were. if they did, you'd be thankful, because where the hell were those damn tissues?

"ah.. well, you see," he paused, not knowing how to explain to you that his drunk ass thought it'd be a good idea to fight gally, much less be the one who even challenged him - which was never a good idea.

paper tissue in your hand, you make your way back to him.

"newt," you called, "can you-"

he looked up at you with eyes so glassy, you were convinced that he'd burst into tears at any moment. he almost looked like a toddler getting scolded.

"m'sorry!!"

sighing, you moved his hand away from his nose to try and stop the bleeding.

"don't be, i'm sure it wasn't your fault." you sounded so sure, so sure that it wasn't his fault. and, honestly, he let himself believe that, too.

"lean forwards a bit?" he nodded, doing as you requested. "now, pinch your nose here," you put the tissue in his hand, then guided his hand to the middle part of his nose.

"can you tell me what happened?" you tried again, your voice more gentle this time.

"i fought with gally?" he said in a way, almost as if questioning all of the decisions that he's made in his life so far. the decisions he remembers, anyway.

you hummed in acknowledgement, trying to keep up the small talk to distract him from the fact that you were attempting to clean the scrapes on his arm.

"yeah?"

"yeah.. i- i mean, i don't know why i did it, i just.. i did?" he slurred, watching his feet dangle above the ground with knitted eyebrows.

"did he challenge you?" you asked, wrapping up bandages around his bicep. he flinched when he finally noticed you tending to his upper arm.

he gulped, giving you a quick glance. "uh, no.."

you finished wrapping his minor injury, sitting down beside him.

"are you mad at me?"

"of course not. i could never be mad at you," you confessed, giving him a small smile that made him smile, too.

you liked seeing him smile. the only thing ruining it was that he was intoxicated, and wouldn't remember a thing from tonight. you could only imagine the look on his face he'd have when he woke up the next morning with a horrible hangover, along with the bandages around his left arm, and a few bruises littering his body.

"how long do i have to hold my nose, again?" he inquired.

"five minutes, maybe ten," you answered, placing your hands on the makeshift cot you two were sat on.

he nodded. once again, you both went silent. the only difference was that newt was watching you, while your eyes remained on the ground. some of the floor boards were split in half, you noticed. not that you liked admitting it - or thinking about it -, but the entire homestead wasn't exactly maintained properly. you'd complain to gally if you could, but you knew how he got when someone criticized his builds. he was the reason that the glade even had buildings to begin with, so you'd just have to deal with it until the runners eventually found a way out of the maze.

".. hey?"

yout tore your gaze away from the broken wooden boards when you heard him softly call out. "yeah?"

"did i ever tell you about this one glader?"

"there's a lot of gladers in here," you pointed out.

"right.. um, i mean y/n. did i ever tell you about him?" he murmured.

holding back a laugh, you shook your head. "n- no.."

"no?" he repeated what you just said, too drunk to process that he was talking to you about you.

"no," you confirmed.

"well," he started, "he's got this really cool scar on his nose from.. uh, well, i ain't got a clue how he got it, but s'cute. so, so cute. just makes 'em look even more bloody adorable."

"really?" you asked, covering your mouth. it was hard not to burst out into a fit of giggles when he looked so oblivious, and so happy to talk about this 'one glader' who just so happened to be you.

he nodded before continuing. "oh, and his smile. i like his smile. i like seeing him smile," he babbled. "makes those dimples pop, and it just.. just makes my mind go all fuzzy, and my heart beat like crazy."

"makes your heart beat like crazy? maybe you should get that checked out," you jokingly suggested.

"naww," he giggled. "s'nothin' serious. i think. i wouldn't know, i'm not a med-jack like y/n is. y/n's so smart.."

feeling your cheeks heat up at the compliment coming from newt - the same newt who you were convinced hated your guts ever since you helped him recover from his broken leg - you felt flattered, hearing him speak so sweetly of you. even if he wasn't aware that it was you who he was speaking about + to.

"you're also smart, though," you told him.

he gave you a small shrug. "i don't know, i do stupid stuff sometimes."

"everyone does, newt," you assured him, patting his shoulder.

"but i do think you should get some rest, yeah?"

reluctantly, he agreed and flopped onto the cot, laying on his back. closing his eyes, the corners of his mouth turned up, which made you smile, too. "what're you thinking about?"

"i don't even know. just.. mostly y/n," he murmured, turning to lay on his side. "can you wake me up at, about, um, eight?"

"of course," you promised.

"thank you. g'night."

"night, newt."

[retrotrait]

Ep 20

[transcript]

[rock hitting window] Caleb: Ryannnn [Lizzie stirs awake] Lizzie: Caleb? what are you doing here? Caleb: Yo Lizzie: it's past midnight, did you walk here? Caleb: yeah.... Caleb: can I come up? Lizzie: what like in here? Caleb: no into your chicken coop... yes in there Lizzie: umm....my mom's sleeping, I don't think that's such a good idea Caleb: I really need to talk to you; I promise I'll be quiet Lizzie: If this is about the other night at the beach, well... you know you don't need to worry right? I know you were drunk...I'm not putting any meaning behind it Caleb: can you just [sighs deeply] stop putting words in my mouth, just let me in please Lizzie: okay fine, use the back door and be very quiet Lizzie: sorry about the mess...I wasn't expecting company Caleb: it's okay, I should be the one saying sorry for just showing up like this at this time Lizzie: so, what did- Caleb: before you say anything...I just, I wanted to say you're right, I was really drunk the other night at the bonfire. I thought that if I drank myself stupid, I'd forget you were there with that asshole Caleb: [sighs] you probably know this already but I'm not the kind of person who is very vocal with emotions. I don't think I've ever felt close enough to someone other than my parents to actually share my thoughts, so this is really hard for me Caleb: especially because I keep finding myself wanting to open up to you. I have all these emotions inside me, and I don't know how to deal with them except to push you away and... I'm tired Caleb: Tired of pretending I don't want to be near you every waking moment, that I don't want to kiss you and hold you. Tired of acting like I don't give a shit if you go on a date...and yes, I do regret that kiss Caleb: I regret it because I should have done it sober Caleb: Will you go to prom with me? Lizzie: [smiles] yes

[randomfoggytiger]

do you happen to have any fic recs where Scully is the one to initiate msr’s first kiss? I see a lot of the opposite but scully should get to do it

Dana Scully Makes the First Move

Oh, yes, a ton.

Here are a few I haven't reread in a while. *ahem*

Loose chronological order below~

Little_Pumpkin_Bagel's Vive Ut Vivas

I swallow hard. Assuming by the way she’s looking at me, I’m mostly sure that whatever she’s up to will throw caution out of limits for the sake of both of us. – “And what would that be, Scully?”

She doesn’t answer me. Instead, she holds my collar and pulls me down....

Post One Breath Mulder can't quite conceal his true feelings, which leaves Scully an opening.

trustmescully's Intoxicating Darkness

"I love you too, Scully," he smiles and his eyes shine with his mouth.

S2 Mulder, depressed and suicidal, is stopped from further considerations when Scully chases after him in the freezing rain.

@danadeservesadrink/Samwritess's

Collapse (Tumblr)

But he needed her to know like she needed him to know, and there was no pretending any more.

“I know” she whispered, so quiet it was almost in her head. He nodded silently and pressed his forehead to hers, their eyes closing, hands falling intertwined again between them. 

Post Pusher Scully supports Mulder until his defeat breaks her walls.

Justin Glasser's (xphilefic) Lonely Nightmare

She brushed her knuckles over his cheek. "When are you going to start listening to me?"

Mulder felt his mouth twitch into a smile. "Scully," he said. His voice sounded like it was rubbed over sandpaper. Screaming, he thought. That's from when I was screaming.

"What, Mulder?" She was rubbing his shoulders now, trying to work the blood back into them. He was alive, so she was playing Doctor Scully, all business, rubbing their relationship back to normal as quickly as possible. Mulder wasn't sure he wanted it back to normal so quickly. Mulder wasn't sure he could handle normal right away.

"If you kiss me again, I promise not to shout."

Post Never Again Mulder and Scully slowly bridge the distance between them during an intense case of missing teens and bonfires.

@mollybecameanengineer/Sareki's My Beloved (Tumblr)

He started to rise, to apologize and leave the room, but she stopped him. “What things?” she whispered. 

Her face was open, her eyes bright. She knew what he was going to say, and it didn’t look like she was afraid of it.

Post Kaddish Mulder can't sleep, slipping into Scully's motel room for a late-night conversation.

@tatooedlaura-blog/tatooedlaura/Laura Sprys's

Max 2.0

Once her forehead touched his, she whispered, “you are not Max. You have so many people here who love you and need you and you have so much to offer them back and you do. That’s the difference between you and Max. He searched for himself. You search for me, Mulder. You search,” kissing his forehead, then quickly his mouth, “for me.”

Post Max Mulder drives Scully out of the city where they stargaze while she tries to reassure and motivate him to keep fighting.

The Warmest Thing I Own

He saw her suddenly blink, head shake, both signs she was just waking up, “what? Mulder?”

Knowing she didn’t recall anything because there was no embarrassment turning her red, no heat in her cheeks, eyes innocently confused, “nothing...."

Cancer arc Mulder and Scully skip work, spending the day together as he prepares the best gourmet steak and mushrooms he can for her. (The sequels Fancy Paper Napkins, End of the Road, and Post Moments are excellent reads, too.)

Miles to Go

"Mulder ..."

"Yeah?"

"Smile."

The camera flashed in his face, "I think this one should be labeled 'Before'."

Mulder gulped down the last of his hot dog, "before what?"

"Before I kissed you."

Post FTF Mulder and Scully take the remains of their burnt office home, falling asleep and waking to a storm outside. Scully bucks the expected in a few unexpected ways.

206 Bones

Chocking up her growing feeling of dread to exhaustion, anger and lack of any type of proper vitamin or mineral, she helped her partner search, track and eventually corner Parsons in an abandoned building fifteen minutes away, half demolished and dangerous to any and all who set foot inside.

Only seconds before getting the final word to take the building, Scully’s fear got the better of her and she turned Mulder to face her, pulling him down to her....

Scully gives Mulder a good luck kiss before they attempt to flush their suspect from a rotten building... and ends up the one worse for wear.

Anne Haynes's (xf-redux.com)

Sonnet

The kiss was sweet. Simple. Breathtaking.

Redux II Mulder is afraid Scully is dying, at last, only for his world to be turned right-side up in a multitude of ways.

Package Deal (txt)

But she ran her thumb beneath his chin, tipping his head up, forcing him to meet her gaze. Her eyes spoke a thousand sweet promises and then there was no more hesitation, no lingering gaze, no more silent questions passed back and forth between them.

Post FTF Scully is overjoyed: she and Mulder are still partnered, their story was believed, and the files are getting expanded. So overjoyed, in fact, she moves their relationship to the next level.

nabokoves's Unwritten Hymns

She mumbled his name into his shoulder, foggy with confusion. She wanted to know if he was okay. He pulled back to look at her, struggling to find something to say. He brimmed with words so corny they would make even the poets puke.

Post Redux II Mulder may hate God-- chalking up Scully's remission to science instead of his angry prayers-- but he in no way hates God's believer, Scully.

@nowwhateinstein's (Ao3) Fic: Seeking Warmth/Seeking Warmth

I look at him. He’s regarding me with a gaze that is both familiar and thrilling. Tenderness and desire are present in his eyes. It’s the same look, I realize, he had moments before he went to kiss me in the hallway outside his apartment - a moment that seems like a lifetime ago. Then, I found myself hesitating, afraid to reciprocate his acknowledgement of a truth we’d both known. Now, however, in light of everything that’s happened in the past week, it seems like the most natural thing in the world to lean over and kiss him.

Post FTF Scully picks up where she and Mulder left off, despite her slowly recovering body and patched-up snowsuit.

@ghostbustermelanieking/skuls's ice crystals (Ao3)

He pulls her hand up and kisses the back of it in relief. Her forehead furrows and she pulls her hand out of his. Something inside him thunks. 

But the next thing he knows, she is leaning across the space between them and cupping her face in his.

Post Tithonus Mulder and Scully flesh out their frustrations and feelings as they (almost) freeze to death.

@purrykat/mylifeinshadow's

How about M&S in Boston

She joins you next to the desk, a murmured noise of acknowledgment at the ‘CANCELLED’ notice that appears next to your flight number. You brace yourself for thinly veiled frustration, but when you risk a glance, there’s a funny little twinkle in her eye instead. You’re instantly taken back to the week prior—

Post IVF Mulder mulls over the brief kiss Scully gave him after the procedure failed.

Sending you number 20 for the kiss prompts.

I think it’s safe to say that it’s not Skinner that I’m interested in.”

And there it is. You’ve been steadily climbing toward this moment for the better part of the month, neither willing to take that final leap. It’s as if the absence of height difference gives her a burst of confidence, even as it turns you into a fumbling idiot.

Mulder, very late for a meeting with Skinner, is intercepted on the stairway by Scully.

effywho's Astra Inclinant

"I say...I say we stop talking." Scully replies.

It's his turn to look down, crumbling. "Sure, I understand."

He feels her breath on his hair as she leans closer. "I'm not sure you do."

Post IVF Mulder is shocked by not only their success but also Scully's follow up after his declaration.

EvanBlack's WHITEOUT

'You have a beautiful face Mulder.'

...There was an awkward silence, then he shifted and propped his cheek on his hand.

'That's the Evening Blush talking Scully.' He smiled with his lips, but she could see his eyes were serious - and nervous.

His nerves gave her sudden courage. 

A plane crashes Mulder and Scully in the snowy mountains; and their petty squabbles become small in comparison to starvation, necessary cannibalism, and the increasing odds of death.

Xequinn's (Ao3) Playing Hookie

“Yeah let's do this” “On a count of three” she says” “One,” he responds On “Two” they adjust suddenly sweaty hands “Three!” Scully leaps off, pulling Mulder behind her

Scully has fun dragging Mulder around on her slightly manic beachside adventures.

The Trouble with Expectations - Chapter 1 (Tumblr)

“Scully of course I showed. Why did you think I hadn’t?” She didn’t answer. Just let more tears fall. He grabbed for her hand again, and she let him. “Scully I’ll always come get you”

She didn’t answer. Just lunged forward and grabbed his face and kissed him as hard as she could.

Scully, assuming Mulder forgot to pick her up from the airport, is heartbroken... until Mulder wanders over from the bathroom.

@this-is-surely-tru/yours_truly's If the Fates Allow

“Tactile evidence only increases the anticipation, Mulder. It doesn’t diminish it.”

The slightly concussed look on her partner’s face was undeniably adorable, and he shook his head slightly as if to clear it while they both relaxed again into the carriage seat. “Far be it from me to argue with that, Scully.”

Mulder, stuck in New York for Christmas, surprises his partner with a rented carriage ride; and she, in turn, surprises him as well.

@alabama-metal-man's Unnamed

 She pulls back, runs her hand along his cheek, and turns away to take a long drag of her coffee. She closes her eyes, sighing contentedly.

“What was that for?” She can hear the hint of teasing, the lingering smile.

Scully is having a rotten morning until Mulder remembers her coffee order.

@admiralty-xfd/admiralty's Up in your arms - Chapter 1

He stared at her with a look she couldn’t figure out, but it wasn’t a look that said don’t. It was the furthest thing from that look she could discern. So she leaned into him, all the way in, and she felt him inhale ever so slightly as she took the biggest risk of her life.

Post Closure Mulder contemplates his new life. Scully answers at least one question for him.

And just for fun, I grabbed a few of my baronessblixen rereads:

@baronessblixen‘s (Ao3) 

Temporary Insanity (Ao3)

How many times has she cheated death this year? Two times? Three? She’s come so close that she’s stopped counting. Every time, she just picked herself up, bought a new blouse if it was torn or bloody, threw away shoes that weren’t as lucky as she was, and calmed herself down when a nightmare tried to take her under. She’s done. She feels it in her fingertips. She feels it like a current running through her body. She needs something. Something to make her feel alive.

Paper Clip Scully is spurned by her anger into more-than-professional overtures.

The Day After (Ao3)

“Kiss and make up?” Mulder says with a grin, biting his bottom lip. He at least has to try. Scully stares at him for a moment, the way she sometimes does before she tells him how crazy he is. He knows that look. But this time it’s different. 

Wetwired Mulder and Scully's discussion leads to decisive action on her part.

Never Cold With You By My Side

Feeling bold, she lets her hand wander behind his neck to play with the hair there. If he doesn’t want this – her – he can stop her before this even starts. But he doesn’t. So she pulls him to her, pressing her lips to his.

One Son Mulder and Scully spend the night locked up in Fort Marlene while she is hurt, jealous, and angry.

Dreams Are Made of This

Scully gets on her tiptoes and kisses Mulder. On the lips, just like that. Just like she’s been thinking about. It’s a quick kiss, but thorough. Like you’d kiss your husband. The person you love. All those thoughts fly through her head as she steps out the door. She stops there, realizing what she just did.

Scully, in the midst of a hopeful IVF daydream, accidentally kisses Mulder.

Five Minutes - Chapter 2 (Tumblr)

He returns with them, one in each hand, and when Scully reaches out to take hers, he shakes his head. Seeing him like this, her knight in crinkled Armani, his hands full, she can’t wait another second. She gets on tiptoes, careful not to topple over, and presses her lips to his. He tastes like coffee and the chocolate chip cookie they shared on the plane. They’ve waited long enough for this.

“We have?” Mulder, his eyes glazed over, grinning stupidly, sounds amused.

Will never not include this post IVF success story.

Candlelight Moments With You

You look like you're gonna faint. Eat something." She holds a chip up to his mouth and he accepts it, his lips closing over her finger. He can't tell what flavor the chips are, but he knows he wants more.

"More?" he asks in a whisper. She smiles at him and nods. But he doesn't get another chip. Instead, he gets a kiss.

Mulder tries to give Scully a good enough Christmas while both are practically stranded in a motel.

[phoukanamedpookie]

Unpopular opinion: Fandom overestimates how much Zuko resents Azula.

Zuko himself said that Azula's not the one he's angry at in "The Beach." I know that's not a lot to go on, but this was a deliberate choice on the writers' and showrunners' part. I'm ignoring the comics because they do every character dirty and betray the major themes and messages of the show.

Contrary to something I'm seeing more often in headcanons and media analysis, the purpose of art (as opposed to propaganda or commerce) is not to deceive its audience. So, when a character in a moment of vulnerability reveals their innermost thoughts and feelings, it's best to assume they're telling the truth.

What does Zuko say that night by the bonfire? Azula asks him, "Who are you angry at? Is it me?"

And Zuko says, "No."

Canon!Zuko is many things, but he's not: a) a good liar, b) shy about expressing his anger, or c) afraid of Azula, even when he should be.

Fandom often ignores "The Beach" when analyzing these two, but it's the most revealing episode about what they're really like without external forces pushing them to be at odds. What's that like? Remarkably normal. The distrust and resentment one would expect from them are simply not there.

In fact, the kuai ball game proves that they work extremely well together when they're on the same side, just as they did when they fought together in the Crystal Catacombs. They're very much in sync. It's impressive when you think about it.

The tragedy of the final Agni Kai is that they don't hate each other, and they didn't really have a choice to become enemies. They were forced into deadly conflict by things outside of their control. One could argue that the music of the Last Agni Kai symbolizes Zuko's growing awareness, perhaps subconscious, that him fighting his own sister (whom he can tell is struggling) for the throne is neither noble nor honorable but deeply tragic.

With all that in mind, I'm not sure that I'm completely on board with the idea that there's so much bad blood between the two of them that it's a Herculean task to overcome it. Honestly, without the grown-ups playing them against each other, I believe they'd find it surprisingly easy to get to a healthy place together. Knowing the two of them, they'd likely find a sort of macabre humor in it.

"How are you two getting along so well?"

"We are brother and sister."

"But... she tried to kill you. Multiple times."

"Duh! We're Fire Nation royalty. It's family tradition."

"Yeah, if you don't try to kill your sibling at least once, are you really family?"

[221beloved]

Bonfire

(Link to ao3)

Brief warning: starts with unpleasant nightmare.

Darkness was surrounding Sherlock, the sky clear above him, stars shining down on him peacefully. Mocking him. They weren't even supposed to be there, the constant light from the city should drown their shining and gleaming, should fog the sky. Yet here they were, glowing little dots, dying giants of gas, millions and millions of miles away.

And Sherlock was running through the dark streets of London, the universe watching him.He wasn't running away this time. He was looking for John. He had to be somewhere.

He'd been in the flat, sitting in his chair. He'd thought John had been with him, but then there’d been this message.

John is dying.

And Sherlock was running, looking for John, searching for him.

Panic was surging through his veins. He'd tried calling John’s name, but it hadn't worked. There wasn't any sound coming from his throat.

He was turning around corners, passing sights and attractions, crossing streets, his eyes scanning every dark corner.

There was a faint shimmer of light, and he was running directly towards it. The light was flickering, making the shadows move as if they were dancing. It was fire, Sherlock realised when he turned the last corner.

It was an enormous bonfire like the ones they organised on Guy Fawkes Night in November.

Sherlock knew he'd found John. He started calling out his name again, shouting, screaming, causing people to turn and look at him. He wasn't paying them any mind, shoving them out of his way as he ran towards the flames. It was so bright, almost blinding him.

"Sherlock?"

John was in there, he had to get him out.Sherlock sank to his knees, desperately pushing and pulling burning logs aside, all the while screaming John's name.

"Sherlock, it's alright, I'm here."

Yes, John was here, that was the problem! Nothing was alright, why had John to be so dense at times?

"Sherlock, open your eyes love, you're fine, I'm fine."

John would not be dying, not now that Sherlock had finally found him.

There was a foot. Sherlock started pulling out logs, uncovering more and more of John's legs. The sheer brightness of the fire made it hard to see properly.

He felt like there was something missing, something important, but that had to wait. John first.

"Wake up," John was whispering. "Wake up love, I'm here."

Finally, finally Sherlock got hold of John's foot. He pulled, careful not to tear at him mindlessly. It was slow progress, but he managed to pull John out of the flames inch by inch.

"Sherlock!"

Sherlock startled awake just before he could see John's face, his eyes snapping open.

Heat! The word flashed through his mind, mocking him. That's what had been missing. He would've burned himself to death sitting in front of that fire.

All the air escaped from his lungs and he started breathing again with a gasp.

"It's alright..."

John. John next to him, running gentle hands over his hip, his chest, brushing damp curls from his forehead.

"You're fine now, I'm here, we're safe."

Sherlock groaned and turned to press into John's body.

"I--" He cleared his throat. "I was screaming, wasn't I?"

John pressed a gentle kiss on his shoulder. "Yes. My name."

"I'm sorry," Sherlock murmured.

"Don't be," John soothed. "We all have dreams sometimes. And considering what we're dealing with on a daily basis, it's just to be expected."

Sherlock grumbled into John's skin.

They'd found bones in the fireplace of their last crime scene. Human bones. They'd merely been placed there, the fireplace discarded for decades, but the initial shock had been there. And stayed, apparently.

"It's ridiculous. Silly. Stupid," Sherlock sighed.

"Yeah," John hummed. "Tell this your brain. It's method of processing the experienced is highly unwelcome.

"They were silent for some time, just holding each other in the dark of their bedroom, in the warmth of each other under the blankets.

"Thank you," Sherlock whispered, searching for John's hand under the quilt and taking it in his.

"What for?"

"For being there."

"Don't thank me for that. We're there for each other. You wake me from my dreams when I have them, you hold me afterwards. You've been there for me long before we shared a bed.

"Sherlock hummed and snuggled closer to John.

"Can you see the stars from London?" he asked quietly.

"What makes you think of that now? The dream?"

Sherlock nodded.

"Well, I don't think you can see the stars normally. But I think when you get to a higher level, let's say Blythe Hill Fields, you should see some."

"Let's go there some time," Sherlock mumbled.John didn't ask why. He didn't tease about it either. Not now. Not when Sherlock was so fragile.

He just tightened his arms around him, burying his nose in the dark curls.

"Of course love."

--

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[50cal-fullauto-astarion]

x g l a s g o w g r i n n e r

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x f!OC / 2.1k words

Soap’s always been a little too comfortable playing at violence, always gone-bright when he can turn the threat of it into a promise. Joke’s on the world at large: Special Agent Bordelon’s into that shit.

Or: Soap pulls a knife on a stranger for being a creep, because he’s from the brutal street stabbing capitol of the UK and that’s just how you say “Hi, hey, hello—back the fuck off.” And a million kisses to @lunarvicar for encouraging my bullshit! LOVE YOU NAT 🫶

It is never hard to run with Soap and keep his breakneck pace—the only thing that had been difficult was adjusting to the fact that someone else could finally keep up with hers. It’s a stomach-thrilling shock to look from the corner of her eye, and find the blur of his burly shape there, winking and clicking his tongue without breaking a sweat.

Bordelon is soft for the Scot sook, god forsake the shit out of her.

He’s landed in D.C. on medical leave, a broken collarbone leaving his arm in a sling, and the first thing he’d done—after kissing his way up her neck to the spot behind her ear that made her skin sing and her palms sweat—was sling his good arm around her neck, pulling her in close, and nibbling her earlobe. “Christ, s’it always pishin’ it doon here, too?”

“Naw,” she laughed back, reaching to tangle their fingers together on her chest, his backpack slung over her shoulder, “just October, couillon.”

“Ohh, talk that dirty, fake French to me, mah cherry,” he mock-growled, which just earnt himself a pap! of the palm to his cheek. All play, no sting, and he beamed.

That night burns down to the coals—traipsing back to her apartment, showing off the ugly bruise that bleeds does from his neck to his bottom-rung rib, kissing and touching and figuring out a way to fuck that doesn’t hurt him too-too much.

(The man likes a little ache in it, here and there. Calls dichotomy in that blessed, rock-fall accent. Ratios of sweet to sour, black to white, sun and night. As if he had any more concept of balance and moderation than she.)

He lies across the bed in that silly-ass sling, watching her bitch her smart TV a blue-streak while wearing one of his threadbare navy t-shirts and nothing else. Rubs the spot at the bottom of his sternum, listening to rain slap heavy sheets against the old windows, and says, “Perdita.”

“Don’t you full name me,” she warns, shaking her head, because it is an ill-fitted address. For him, she is Hen, or Perdie, in much the same way he is her Johnny, Jean, or John-boy. A thing you love is all in how you name it, and their names are softened and held close; in the way of lovers who began as friends, once they were strangers no more.

“We’re getting married ‘fore I ship back tae Glasgow,” is how he finishes his thought, and Bordelon turns on her hips, back and forth, vaguely pointing the remote at the screen. He gives her a challenging tooth-sharp smirk. “Thought I should warn you.”

“Mhm. Yeah.” She wonders if she should count this a proposal, or call his bluff, and then she thinks—might as well nail both options to the fuckin’ wall while she’s got the knife. “We go our way onto the courthouse tomorrow. Keep it simple, ça c’est bon?”

International marriage is never that simple, though, and they’re both the wiser to it. But the sentiment is pretty, and it sparks amongst the hard-bought bonfire that lives in the depths of her chest, flames rising and licking to glorify his name. So, they call it an engagement, and Soap pulls a turn-around she doesn’t expect, turning his phone off to pull a shade of night over only the two of their heads.

He’s no family to call, apart from his 141, and even then, there’s a hesitance to his hands. Her man—her bombastic, beautiful bastard—could not stand to be a burden, no. A nightmare that is for him, himself. Even if he were to reach out with the utterly, desolately rare delivery of good news (a phenomenon grown so rare that Neptune would sooner complete circuits around the sun these days), it would make his skin crawl.

Were he to have his way, his burdens would never leave the span of his shoulders to weigh down another’s back, even something as small as what might be an inconveniently timed but otherwise benign or even welcome call.

Come the gray and misting morning, he’s handsy and all-paws, even short a limb, groping for Bordelon as the woman rolls upright on the edge of the bed, pushing her sleep-tangled hair away from her face before it irritates her to death. His hand is warm, callused, and heavy with insistence as it settles into the dip of her violin hip, trying to pull her back into the warm expanse of his hard-packed body.

“Perdie, Hen,” he grunts, tone shading toward playful complaint, “the fuck’re y’doin’ awake?”

“Startin’ off,” she croaks, shaking her head, pushing at his fingers as they crawl closer to her cunt. “Stop that—arrête ça! You’re mangy this morning, T’Jean,” she laughs, pushing more firmly at his grip. “No, get up. Got a friend, knows her way ‘round immigration policy, and she always got an envie for brunch.”

“Brunch?” he questions, flat as buried flounder, falling back into her mountains of mismatched pillows with a dreadful look on that handsome face of his. “Darlin’, am no getting my fat ass outta bed, even for brunch. Feel kinda fruity even sayin’ it.”

“Even for to get us married?” she darts back, turning to look at him, drawing her fingers in circles through the hair on his lower stomach, cooing ridiculously in her rasp-rough drawl, “Even for me.”

“Goddamn,” he groans, throwing baby-dog eyes her way. “I mean, was hopin’ you’d take it serious—cannae tell wi’ your ass—but.” He swallows, one of those corny, I’m-about-to-fuck smiles threatening the corner of his mouth, the one that makes him all coy and keen, looking down at her pale, spidery fingers drifting closer and closer through his thick, dark body hair to his fattening cock. “Wouldn’t you rather stay in bed? Cold morning like this, I could keep you warm.”

She just barely brushes her fingers over his cock before she’s snap-sliding out of bed, copperhead quick, tossing over her shoulder, “Nope! Already sent an email, she knows we on the schedule,” on her way to the shower.

Soap drops back against the bed, rubbing his stubbled face, grunting, “Bordelon, you arsehole.”

But he can’t withstand the siren call of watching her in the shower, so, ever-faithful and ever-horned up, he follows after.

D.C. is about as filthied up with the sorrows of addiction and homelessness as any other place, Bordelon supposes. Can’t tell if it’s better or worse than any of the time she spent down New Orleans or Baton Rouge way. Colder, mostly. But it’s not all the time you need to know about the homeless or the drug addicts—keepin’ eyes on them, keepin’ them in your ears, at least at the sides.

Sometimes, it’s the fella in the khakis, with a puffer jacket and prescription glasses, his behaviors making his Rolex look cheap shit.

Bordelon and Soap slide last into the car before the doors pull shut, close to standing-room early in Crystal City as lunch hour approaches. All the suits are out their offices, scrounging for edibles, droning loud and monotone on their cells. Whole car is damp and humid from the downpour, human body heat causing an intense mugginess that crawls under the clothes to irritate the skin. It’s damn near enough to make Bordelon’s head spin, neck uncomfortable with sweat the way it was all them years down deep, deep in the south.

“No, sit doon,” Soap says, flapping the good arm great and wide, trying to get her to pop a squat on the only empty seat left, shaking his head. “Dinnae try bossin’ me, talkin’ wi’ that spooky-arse agency voice. Want away from you a minute.”

He dresses up chivalry as dismissal, and she can’t help but grin, even as she dawdles on sitting.

“What? You don’t like how Tiffany sounds? I swear, she’s perfectly nice. And outstanding in her field. She’s an accomplished agent, and her superiors are recommending her for a promotion,” she says, in that self-same agency voice of which he’d complained—rich and clear, dialect: nonregional, speech pattern: nondescript.

“Oof, fuckin’ hate that, stop,” he snorts, faking a shiver, but he does complain, “Hey, what? Where you goin’?” when she actually does move to sit down, tugging her up by the collar of her shirt just a bit to pop a grinning kiss against her mouth.

She doesn’t realize, at least not right away, that the tug at her collar disrupted her shirt. Just enough to make a few buttons slip, exposing more of her right tit under her open coat. Wore a thin top today, loose, but figured the dark fabric would hide any transparency. Hated tight clothes, hated bras, and never wore one; just figured her rack had spent thirty-three years being nothing to comment on.

Well. More than half a tit exposed was enough to catch the attention of the man who cheapens his Rolex by being the one to wear it.

Soap likes strange things because he, himself, is a strange thing, and Bordelon had thought to take him the two hours north to Philly to hit the Mütter Museum to see their medical abnormalities, because once their brunch is out, they’ll have an entire day to themselves. She’s busy showing him pictures, enticing him, when the woman next to her taps her thigh.

Like an alarm hollerin’ in her head, she starts running two tracks instant-like, leaning without looking as she whispers, “Yeah, chere?”

The woman is older, in maroon scrubs—some kinda tech, smell of jelly on her says maybe ultrasound—and nonslip clogs. Can’t quite see her name badge, but that seems on purpose, covered up by her fleece.

“That man over there—he’s takin’ pictures of you,” she whispers back, straightening her jacket needlessly as a hint, “just wanted you to know. Maybe tell your man?”

“Oh, no,” Bordelon hums, smoothly pulling her shirt back into place, “I tell him, he gonna light that stupid bastard up like a candle.”

“Who’s lightin’ me up like a candle?” Soap stage-whispers, all play, and Bordelon knows exactly how the next ten seconds are gonna go, and it plays out picture perfect to her premonition. Bordelon tells him don’t worry, I got it, the Good Samaritan in maroon scrubs informs him of the creep, and the smile on Soap’s face turns into a flesh-ripper grin as all the fun burns outta his gaze like a gas fire in a hyperbaric chamber.

“Oh?”

“MacTavish,” she warns him, “wait til the stop.”

“Naw, naw, naw. I’ll play nice, Hen.” That means, sure as shit, he won’t.

The switch knife he takes out his back pocket is deadly smooth, and so is his broad step to the stranger and his budget, Amazon-bought phone case, pushing straight into his man-spread legs.

The fact there isn’t an immediate uproar, but the man’s face is blanched and staring up at him with a shitload of oh fuck on his face speaks to Soap’s own scary-ass career, and Bordelon can barely see the tip of the knife pressing into the spot just below the stranger’s ribs.

“Hey, pal, mornin’,” Soap says, bright and easy as anything, voice not droppin’ even a note, head tilted real friendly. “Do me a favor, eh? Just drop your phone next t’my boot, yeah? We’ll just get this little creeper session done and dusted.”

Can’t even hear the clunk when it slides out of the man’s limp hand, and it’s even quieter when the heel of Soap’s boot shifts over to destroy the screen, grinding it to dust.

“Good man,” he says, pulling the knife back to close it and slide it into his sling. “Next stop, you’re off. But you’re gonna leave your phone on the floor. Hope you dinnae eat shet on the way home to your ol’ lady.”

Bordelon resists the urge to slap a hand over her face, but when Soap kicks the phone back to her, she catches it under the toe of her boot, catching the expression of the tech to her side, unsurprised but impressed. Must have herself a man like Soap, waiting for her to make it home.

“Sorry ‘bout the screen, Perdie. Think you can get in there and delete his shet still?” Soap asks, tone a bottom lip pout, and Bordelon nods, tucking her fingers into the back of his belt before snaking them up under his shirt, swirling her fingertips into his back dimples.

“Hah. You know it, Johnny,” she hums, looking up at him from under her lashes. It’s a tenderness, sweet and true, taking up space between her lungs. Mad bastard. Crazy motherfucker. Loony bitch. When he looks back at her, he curls his fingers under her jaw, looking relieved. Poor thing knows hit dog hollers, and he long ago stopped yelping when he was struck. He’s looking to be told he didn’t do something bad. But she finds his pace, she always does. Of course, she did.

But that goes beggin’ the question: what’s a hellhole-heart like her supposed to do with a love like this?

Tag List: @alittleposhtoad @skinnyazn @dotcie @snail-eggs @parttimeprophet @kastlequill 💖💖

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 10: Equality vs Justice

Later that night we hold dinner for two hours before I finally decide to stop waiting for the Shelby brothers to return. Finn left to help about an hour ago and it’s just been Polly and me preparing Shepherd’s pies. When I tell her about Ada’s behavior she gets a funny look in her eye.

“I’ve got some suspicions. For now I’ll wait for Ada to come to me but my patience is wearing thin. She’s been avoiding me.”

A few more minutes go by and I check the clock. “Do you always wait for them to come back this late? If I were to stay out unaccompanied like this my mother would personally kill me.”

Polly laughs as she stirs the filling. “With those boys nothing is ever normal. Between John worrying about his family, Arthur wanting to be smarter than he is, and Thomas thinking he knows everything, I sometimes wonder how they can even function.”

“And Finn?”

She sighs heavily. “I hope he’ll turn out straight. He tries so hard to be like his brothers that sometimes we forget he’s still just a kid. How’s his lessons been going?”

I wipe my flower-covered hands on a towel. “No complaints at all, ma’am. Finn’s a prime student. He definitely has potential and dedication, though I’m glad to say he does not share his brother’s lack of resilience. Finn always has an open mind, which I think is inspired by his sister.”

We hear the front door open and all four Shelby brothers crowd into the room, all taking their places at the kitchen table. I can tell they’ve been drinking due to the smell of liquor but they seem to be level-headed enough. I just hope Finn hasn’t drank too much.

“How was the bonfire?” I ask lightly as I pass out a tray of slightly-cold pies.

“Affective.” 

Thomas is the only one to reply as they all dig into the simple meal. No doubt they’re tired. Finn is the only one that still shows any hint of ignorance. In these insane times a touch of ignorance might not be so bad.

“I got to leave early,” John says after he swallows. “Kids’ll be wanting their dad to tuck ‘em in.”

“Ever considered a sitter?” I ask.

Arthur slurs a laugh. “Ha! Yeah, so we can pay you double? Watch his tykes and teach Finn, ey?”

I shake my head and try to defend his accusation but John waves it off.

“‘S alright, Steenstra. I don’t expect you to. You’ve got enough on your plate as it is. I need a more stable solution.”

Thomas speaks up. “You need a wife, John.” He gets up and comes over to search through the cupboard. “Polly, where are those biscuits-?”

“In the refrigerator,” John says. “Though there may not be many left. Verena’s a damn good baker.”

“All the more reason why my decision to hire her has paid off well,” Polly comments. “Which is why you lot should treat her as the proper Peaky Blinders employee she is, Arthur.” She points a warning finger at the eldest Shelby brother, who just rolls his eyes.

“Respect is earned,” I reply. “Since my position is temporary I don’t expect to gain anything before-”

“Before you go back,” Finn grunts. “You’ve mentioned it once or twice.”

Thomas ruffles his brother’s hair. “Hear that, Verena? Someone’s gonna miss you.”

Finn swats his hand away. “I will not!”

“I will,” John says as he chews another cookie. “Without her there’s no biscuits.”

The brothers go on chatting about other Blinders business and I take the chance to finish cleaning part of the kitchen before slipping off to bed. It’s already midnight and my eyes are starting to droop. I don’t even bother thinking about reading as I dim the lights and slip under the covers…

“Clocking out early?” Thomas’ voice stirs me from my thoughts. He’s standing in the doorway.

“It’s midnight, Mr. Shelby. If I did have an established work schedule my shift would have ended hours ago.”

The man simply nods his head and walks over to look out my window. “Dinner was nice. And I know John’s exaggerated this already but your biscuits are to die for.”

In the dark I stand up to face him better. “Trying to butter me up with a compliment before delivering unpleasant news?”

Thomas’ reaction is covered by the shadows. “Only giving a compliment, Ms. Steenstra. I must say I’m surprised at how much you’ve changed around here.”

I tilt my head. “I haven’t changed much in the house besides my cooking-”

“I mean us,” Thomas gestures towards the kitchen. “You might not see it but you do more than what you think, Verena. And Finn will miss you, by the way.” He pauses. “Most all of us will miss you.”

“Most?”

“Well… Arthur’s still undecided about me hiring you.”

I nod respectfully. “I’m still grateful for your trust. In my family it’s a high honor for younger members to be part of something this big.”

Something I say doesn’t sit well with Thomas. His laid-back expression shifts to one of curiosity.

“Members? What kind of family are you part of, Steenstra?”

I slipped up. He suspects my involvement with the mob. 

“Like I said before. I’m half Dutch, half Irish. My father runs a chain of breweries.”

“And are there any business deals made under the table away from federal eyes?” Thomas inquires.

I keep a steady expression. “Do not accuse my father of bootlegging, Mr. Shelby. All his transactions are thoroughly legal.”

It’s not a lie. Father’s refused several proposals from Uncle Colon about selling his products to the Irish mobs. Thankfully my answer persuades Thomas to drop the subject.

“Your father seems like a good man. He raised a bright and resourceful daughter.” Thomas steps closer and I can smell the mint cologne and ash on him. “Good night, Ms. Steenstra.”

“Good night, Thomas. Prayers be with you.”

The gangster nods and exits the room, taking the chill of the conversation with him. That was close. At this point I’ve gone too far to confess to my family connections. The Shelbys trust me as myself, not as a mob asset. As I lay down once again to catch some sleep I can’t help but wonder if my family’s noticed I’m missing…

I open my eyes to a brand-new day and quickly get dressed. Now that I have my own clothing with English fashion I don’t feel like an oddball. It’s already 10:00. Much later than I wanted to start but there’s no use crying about it. I walk into the kitchen and am not surprised to find out that Thomas and his brothers have already left.

“Morning, love,” Polly greets from the table. “Finn’s running an errand and then you can do a lesson. He seemed eager to get back so you should expect him soon. The only other one who’s here is Ada.”

As if on cue, the Shelby sister walks into the room and slumps into the chair next to Polly.

“Good of you to join us.” Polly remarks as Ada pours some tea. “Where have you been all day?”

“In bed,” the brunette replies, sharing knowing glances with me. Sure. ‘Bed.’ “Couldn’t sleep. Then I couldn’t wake up.”

She goes on to ramble about dreams while Polly chats about recent bad news. It’s not until I hear Polly abruptly say “stand up” that I look up from the novel I’m reading. Ada does as she’s told and Polly walks around examining her, then suddenly feels up her chest.

“Polly what are you doing?” Ada shouts.

“Ada. How late are you?”

Her words take a moment to drift in the air, then it clicks in my head. You play stupid games, you win stupid prizes. It was only a matter of time before Ada’s affair would catch up with her. She’s pregnant.

“One week- 5 weeks- seven weeks, but it must be a lack of iron…” Ada desperately tries to patch up an excuse.

But Polly won’t have it. “I’m taking you to the doctor.” She gives Ada a stern look to quiet her then glances over at me. “Verena, love, it’s best you not tell a soul if you know what’s good for you. You can wait here for Finn while I take her.”

Hiding my face behind my book cover, I nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

Polly nods and drags Ada out of the room. Ada gives me one last panicked look before the pair walks through the front door. Don’t expect sympathy from me. You know what you were getting yourself into. I sit quietly at the table and continue reading until the door opens again and Finn walks in.

“Where’s Aunt Polly?”

Not a word about Ada. “She had something come up. Didn’t say when she’d be back.” I try to reroute the conversation. “What do you want to learn about today?”

Finn joins me at the table and sets down a new book. “I found this at the library. Before you say anything-” He points a finger at me. “No, I don’t agree with Tommy about using public resources. I like the library.” He holds the book up for me to see. “I found this today and was hoping you might know about it?”

The book is one I’ve never heard of before but the topic looks enticing. “You want to learn about equality and justice?”

“Yeah. We deal with social concepts like them all the time in the family business.”

“That you do, Finn. If only others would share your willingness to learn.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Thomas’ voice asks from behind.

Of course he’s here. I turn around to find the blue-eyed gangster leaning against the counter with an amused smirk.

“Good morning, Thomas. Care to join us?”

“Depends. Will I like what I hear?” 

I raise a brow. “Depends. Does talk of justice bother you? You Shelbys seem to admire it.”

Thomas doesn’t answer verbally. Instead he slowly walks over to sit next to Finn. I take that as my cue to begin.

“Equality is the state of being equal, regardless of background or social status.”

“So socialism, then,” Thomas says.

“Please hold all comments for after the lesson, Mr. Shelby. As I was saying, justice is the concept of what is fair. What is right and what is deserved.”

“That sounds like the same thing as equality,” Finn says, confused.

“Think of it like this, Finn. Imagine two people watching a horse race from behind a fence. They’re each too short to see over the top. In a scenario when equality is involved, each person is given a crate to stand on. However one person is still too short to see over. In a scenario with justice, the fence would be removed to allow both people to see.”

Both Shelbys take in my words with consideration. However our lesson is interrupted when Arthur bursts through the door.

“Tommy, where’ve you been? Been looking for you in the Bull Ring and you’re here being lectured by the American?”

I suppress the urge to argue. Thankfully I don’t have to because Thomas does the work for me.

“She’s got a name, Arthur. Verena’s a Peaky Blinders employee so she’ll be treated as such. We were just finishing a lesson with Finn.”

The oldest Shelby brother takes little notice to apologize and motions for Thomas to follow him. Probably more urgent business than a lecture.

“That’s enough for today, Finn.”

He gives a disappointed sigh. “Thanks, Verena.”

The rest of the day ticks by and I do my best to make the time pass faster while I wait for Ada and Polly to return. The sound of the door opening alerts me to look up from my book and see the two sit down on the couch across from me, both holding cigarettes.

“You’re pregnant, and you’re smoking?! What is wrong with you?”

“Quiet!” Polly hisses. “I’ll talk to Tommy about it later but for now no one knows. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She nods. “Good. How was Finn today?”

How can she expect me to ignore this blessing? “Ambitious as usual. Is the baby healthy?”

“So far so good,” Ada assures me. “Have you been stuck inside all day? You should get some fresh air.”

Come to think of it, I am getting a little antsy. Some time outdoors would do me some good. Polly and Ada probably need to discuss the situation more thoroughly with privacy.

“Good idea, Ada. I think I’ll step out back and take a stroll in the alley. I won’t stray far.”

After picking out a hat to block out what little sun there is I see Polly approach me with a pistol.

“For protection.”

I take it graciously and slip it into my skirt pocket. “How did you know I know how to shoot one?”

She gives me a subtle wink. “Intuition.”

The moment I open the back door I’m welcomed by a gust of ash and dirt. Today’s much windier than normal and is not in my favor. But beggars can’t be choosers. I should stretch my legs before I develop cabin fever. The pistol's weight pressing against my leg serves as a reminder that I can defend against any unwanted violence.

Just as I step into the alley and wander into the nearby street the sound of hooves signals for me to peek around the corner. Thomas is back, and he’s riding his new white horse. The horse almost looks out of place here, with the whole ‘gloom and doom’ atmosphere. Thomas halts the horse and dismounts, gently stroking the animal’s nose.

“Seems to me like you treat horses like people and people like snakes.”

Thomas rolls his eyes but takes the comment all in good fun. “Yeah, yeah. The humanity in me is dead.” He pats the horse and ties him to a nearby hitching post. “On another note, I just talked with Grace. I’m taking her to the races later this week.”

My thoughts come to an abrupt stop, like a freight train tumbling off a twisted track. Why? Why do I feel so… disappointed? It only makes sense that Thomas would ask her out. Grace is pretty and kind. He’ll only ever think of me as an employee, so at least he trusts me enough with his family’s business.

“Oh. That sounds fun,” I try to sound encouraging. “Are the races here exciting?”

“They never disappoint, love. Ever been to one?”

I shake my head and stroke the horse’s mane. “My father never lets me go to the races. Says it’s not ladylike.” Another thought surfaces. “What did you think of today’s lesson?”

The gangster scoffs and takes off his cap to run a hand through his hair. “I think part of that lecture was directed at me.”

“Oh really?”

“Really. You want me to reconsider my mindset of establishing justice, eh?”

Honestly I didn’t plan for the topic to hint at Thomas’ mindset but he makes a good point. “You have heart, Thomas. But you can’t act as life’s judge, jury, and executioner. It’s not always about what people deserve. It can be about what they need. No, they may not always want what they need. But God’s plans aren’t spelled out for everyone.”

Thomas looks over at me with a happy smile. “Keep that hope alive, Verena. We all need it.”

His praise causes me to smile too. Besides being a teacher I’m also on the good side of one of the fiercest gangsters in England all because I speak my mind.

But the moment is gone when Thomas reaches for a cigarette and I see something fall out of his pocket. I bend down to pick it up and dust off the ash to reveal a gleaming silver and bronze bullet with the markings Tommy etched into it.

“Thomas, what is this?”

My boss takes a puff of his cigarette. “Oh. That. ‘S just a gift from the Lee family.”

This is no gift, this is a threat! I’ve heard of threats like this from Uncle Colon and they are no light matter. How is he so calm?

“They’ve signed your death warrant, Thomas. The bullet literally has your name on it!”

But Thomas doesn’t share my worry. Instead he chuckles and puts both hands on my shoulders. “No need to worry, love. I’ll handle it.’S not the first time I’ve gotten a death threat. Now,” he rubs his hands together and starts walking towards the Shelby house. “Where’s Polly? I’ve got a few questions for her.”

Oh. Right. And he doesn’t know about Ada yet.

“Last I saw she was in the living room.” Lord, I do not want to hear this!

I follow him inside and briskly walk back to hide in the kitchen, where Finn has settled to do some reading. He is also smoking a cigarette!

“Finn! Not you too!” I throw my arms up in defeat. “Am I the only one who thinks smoking is a death wish?”

He just shrugs and continues reading. I don’t hear a reaction from the other room but after a few minutes Polly walks in with a determined look.

“I just told Tommy.”

“About Ada?” I ask softly.

“Yes.”

“What’d he say?”

Polly sets out the kettle and begins brewing tea. “Nothing. He just stormed out to find her. The instant Ada spills his name, he’s a dead man. Thomas won’t stand for it.”

I don’t blame him. If I were to ever try something like that my brothers would kill any man who looks at me in cold blood. All I can hope is that Thomas goes easy on the poor bloke.

[n1ght0f-nyx]

Could you do an Ezra x reader of how they met and how that relationship may have started?

new meetings

how you and ezra meet :)) gn reader

warnings/tags- minor mentions of anxiety, packs, love confessions, nothing much

word count- 1275

Ezra never liked parties. The noise, the crowd, the endless stream of overlapping voices—it all grated against his senses. For a werewolf with heightened hearing and a penchant for solitude, it was akin to torture. But his cousin, Brienne, had begged him to come. She said it would do him good to get out, to meet people, to stop isolating himself.

“Come on, Ezra,” she’d said with that big, disarming smile of hers. “You’ve got to live a little. Who knows? You might even have fun.”

Fun wasn’t exactly what Ezra had in mind when he found himself awkwardly clutching a plastic cup of soda in the corner of Brienne's backyard. Fairy lights twinkled in the trees, and a bonfire crackled in the middle of the yard, casting dancing shadows over the small crowd of partygoers. Music thumped in the background, mingling with the sound of laughter and clinking glasses. Ezra felt like an intruder, a ghost drifting through a space that wasn’t meant for him.

He was just about to slip away unnoticed when he heard a voice—soft but clear, cutting through the noise like a lifeline.

“Hey, do you mind if I join you? You look like you could use some company.”

Ezra turned, his heart lurching unexpectedly. You stood there, a friendly smile on your face, holding your own drink. You weren’t like the others at the party, who seemed to be competing for who could be the loudest or most attention-grabbing. There was something grounded about you, something... safe.

“Oh, uh, sure,” he mumbled, stepping aside to make room on the bench he’d been occupying alone.

You sat down, your presence warm and unassuming. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching out comfortably. Ezra braced himself for the usual barrage of questions that came whenever someone tried to make small talk with him. Instead, you just sipped your drink and looked out at the bonfire, your expression thoughtful.

“Not really your scene either, huh?” you said after a while, your tone light but understanding.

Ezra glanced at you, surprised. “What makes you say that?”

You shrugged. “You’ve got the same look I do when I’m at these things. Like you’re counting down the minutes until it’s socially acceptable to leave.”

He let out a soft, startled laugh. “Yeah. Something like that.”

Your smile widened, and for the first time that evening, Ezra felt a flicker of ease. You weren’t trying to push him into a conversation he wasn’t ready for. You were just... there, sharing the moment without demanding anything from him.

“I’m [Y/N], by the way,” you said, extending a hand.

“Ezra,” he replied, shaking your hand briefly. Your touch was warm, and it lingered in his mind long after you pulled away.

That night marked the beginning of something unexpected. You didn’t push Ezra to open up, didn’t flood him with questions or try to coax him out of his shell. Instead, you seemed content to let things unfold naturally, at his pace. You’d find him at future gatherings—always on the outskirts, always looking like he’d rather be anywhere else—and strike up quiet conversations about anything and everything. Slowly, he started to look forward to those moments.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later that Ezra realized he’d begun seeking you out, too.

You were sitting on a park bench, reading a book, when he saw you next. He hesitated at first, unsure if he should disturb you. But before he could talk himself out of it, you looked up and spotted him. Your face lit up with that warm, welcoming smile he was starting to associate with you, and you waved him over.

“Fancy meeting you here,” you said as he approached.

“Yeah, uh, I was just... walking,” Ezra replied, feeling inexplicably nervous. “Didn’t expect to see anyone I know.”

“Well, you found me. Or I found you. Either way, want to sit?”

He nodded, taking a seat beside you. The two of you fell into an easy rhythm, talking about mundane things—the weather, the book you were reading, the best places to get coffee in town. It was the kind of conversation that didn’t demand anything from him, and for that, he was grateful.

As the weeks turned into months, those moments became more frequent. Ezra found himself opening up to you in ways he never had with anyone else. You didn’t judge him for his quiet nature or his tendency to overthink. Instead, you seemed to appreciate him for exactly who he was.

The first time he brought you to the pack’s territory, Ezra was a bundle of nerves. He’d told you about his family, about the reservation where they all lived together, but introducing you to them was a whole different thing. Werewolves weren’t exactly common knowledge, and while you’d been nothing but accepting of him, he couldn’t shake the fear that you might find his world too strange, too overwhelming.

But as always, you surprised him.

“Wow,” you said as you looked around the sprawling forest that surrounded the pack’s homes. “This is beautiful. You grew up here?”

Ezra nodded, watching your reaction carefully. “Yeah. It’s... it’s home.”

You turned to him with a smile. “I can see why. It suits you.”

The tension in his chest eased a little at your words. He guided you through the territory, showing you the places that meant the most to him—the clearing where he used to stargaze as a pup, the river where he’d spent countless hours fishing and daydreaming. You listened intently, asking thoughtful questions and making him feel like his world wasn’t something to hide.

When you finally met his family, Ezra’s anxiety flared up again. The pack was boisterous and welcoming, but their energy was a stark contrast to his reserved nature. He worried they might overwhelm you, or worse, make you feel like an outsider. But you held your own, matching their warmth with your own quiet charm. By the end of the visit, even his toughest relatives were singing your praises.

“they're a keeper,” Brienne whispered to him as you chatted with one of the elders. “Don’t mess this up.”

Ezra could only nod, his heart swelling with a mixture of pride and relief. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve you, but he was determined not to take you for granted.

The shift from friendship to something more was subtle, almost imperceptible at first. It was in the way Ezra’s heart raced whenever you were near, the way he found himself looking for excuses to see you, to hear your voice. It was in the way your touch lingered just a little longer, the way your smiles felt brighter when they were directed at him.

One evening, as the two of you sat on the porch of his cabin, watching the sunset paint the sky in hues of orange and pink, Ezra found himself blurting out words he hadn’t planned to say.

“I think I’m falling for you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You turned to him, your eyes wide with surprise. For a moment, he panicked, thinking he’d ruined everything. But then you smiled, that soft, radiant smile that had become his anchor, and reached for his hand.

“I think I’ve been falling for you for a while now,” you admitted, your cheeks tinged with a faint blush.

Relief and joy surged through him in equal measure, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Ezra felt like he belonged. Not just in the pack, not just in his world, but with you. And that was more than enough.

[iridescent-petrichor]

i'm on my own in your arms tonight

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Reader

Warnings: none !

Words: 1K

Request: Hi !!! I was wondering if you could write jj maybank x touch starved reader? Like maybe she didn’t grow up in a household where affection was shown a lot especially physically so she has to get used to it because jjs very physical but he notices and promises to not be overbearing and is super comforting since he never wants to make her uncomfortable.

A/N: this idea was so cute i hope i did it justice !!

When you first met JJ Maybank, you were entirely unused to affection. He had quickly realized this when he saw the way you sat slightly away from the rest of the group. You were still fully engaged with the random conversation about what should qualify as an island sparked by some comment JJ made about everything being an island depending on how far out you zoom out, though you tucked your knees close to your chest and sat in a way that ensured you were out of the realm of anyone’s personal space.

It didn’t hinder your mood at all, you continued to laugh and joke with the group throughout the night, but JJ couldn’t help but observe the way you naturally kept yourself away from everyone else.

Similarly, you had very quickly noticed just how affectionate JJ was. You noticed it in the way he leaned on John B when he laughed at a joke, or the way he kept a hand on Pope’s shoulder when he listened to him talk, or the way he would wrap an arm around Kie while she was showing him something on her phone.

Years later, as the two of you got closer, he always tended to be around you. Often he had a hand on you, even if it was the smallest touch, and it was something you’d slowly gotten more used to.

Half the time you didn’t even realize how strong his want to be around you was, or how much he wanted to just be touching you. The rest of the group was well aware of it, however, and often gave each other looks when JJ would fiddle with the hem of your shirts when he sat next to you or when he would make sure he was sitting beside you, or even when his touch lingered when he would hand you something.

It was another quiet night at the Chateau when the group noticed it again.

JJ had collapsed next to you on the old couch, so close that you scooted away about a foot. You didn’t notice the look between Sarah and John B, nor the way Kie bit back a smile. You’d simply assumed JJ had miscalculated and moved aside to make more room for him.

He stared at you for a moment before continuing his conversation with Pope.

“I’m just sayin’ it doesn’t make any sense if you think about it!”

Pope pinched the bridge of his nose, earning a laugh from Cleo who sat beside him. “Every word you say makes me feel like my brain is melting.”

JJ rolled his eyes, leaning back into the couch to get more comfortable, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye before returning to the topic at hand.

It stayed that way for about an hour, with JJ occasionally chancing glimpses of you until Sarah sat up suddenly. You could practically see the light bulb forming above her head.

“We should do a bonfire!” She grinned, leaning forward in her seat.

No one said anything for a moment, with everyone looking at one another in silent agreement until Cleo stood decisively.

“Well, I’m down.” She said, earning a quiet laugh from Sarah who stood as well.

“Yeah, sounds fun.” Kie piped up, giving you an expectant look.

“I agree,” You nodded, grinning back at her.

“I’ll grab stuff for smores, then.” John B hopped up, making his way to the kitchen to search the cabinets.

Sarah followed him as well, grabbing a case of beer and holding it up with a wide smile before walking out the front door towards the beach.

The rest of you followed suit, with John B quickly grabbing what he had and rushing to catch up.

“How crowded do you think the beach is gonna be?” Pope asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“I doubt there’ll be many people there, it’s a Tuesday night,” Kie said from in front of you, stepping carefully over a root.

You, however, missed the root in the dark, catching it on your foot and losing your balance.

“Whoa,” JJ’s arm snaked around your waist, keeping you from falling to the ground. “Careful there.”

He kept his arm around you, pulling you closer while you walked. You looked up at him, surprised, and offered him a stiff smile.

You still weren’t entirely sure of what to do in the face of affection, much less JJ’s constant use of it. That wasn’t to say you didn’t like it, it was just something you’d never grown up with, so you never learned how to react to it.

But JJ, sweet JJ, could read you like a book.

He basically had a sixth sense for knowing when you were uncomfortable and had known you long enough now that he could almost entirely tell how much affection he was able to give without overwhelming you.

Still, he wasn’t perfect.

After he got the bonfire started with Cleo’s help, he once again sat down beside you. The way he sat close was much more intentional than earlier that night, but his closeness was almost suffocating.

You felt bad even thinking that, knowing that you did want to be close to him.

And yet, you shrugged off his arm when he threw it over your shoulder, apologizing quietly.

“Hey,” He moved slightly away from you, voice soft. “It’s okay, you know.”

You looked at him, the rest of the group deep in their own conversation.

“Sorry, I’m just not used to…” You continued to apologize before JJ cut you off.

“It’s okay,” He repeated. “Make sure you let me know if I’m ever being too much, okay?”

You nodded, surprised by the genuine look in his eyes.

“Okay.” You said, smiling lightly.

“Hey lovebirds!” John B’s voice made you jump, seeing everyone else already staring at the two of you. “You guys want smores or what?”