#i had to go to a&e sunday night and i had to go on a nebuliser and let me tell you. even feeling a little oxygen starved i was being a nerd

[neonhellscape]

dissassembly

[teaboot]

One time, I had an English professor tell me I should stop using my inhaler because it was bad for the environment.

Yeah an if you dropped dead it would significantly reduce your carbon footprint too, huh. What if we ALL just stopped breathing. Can’t be throwing fistfuls of plastic fuckin straws directly into the South Pacific when you got a BPM of zilch, can you? What a fuckin innovator. Was he head of your nation’s EPA *directly* before he retired to become world’s youngest baseline edgelord 4chan ass 14 year old boy with tenure, or did he wait for his 3rd consecutive Nobel peace prize before giving someone else a chance? Ask him if his back hurts from carrying the weight of all the world’s most pressing concerns to and from Chuck E Cheese each night or if his tiny spiny propellor hat lightens the load a bit. Did his big red clown nose come standard with his tweed set or he spring for the premium model with the biodegradeable sustainable foam and the super-boosted honk-honk action? Are his size 23 clown bitch oxfords custom? Does he take one off to use as a canoe on his annual vacations to his summer home in the balmy and tropical shit fuck dumbass islands or does he just levitate everywhere he goes by the power of his unparalleled Xmen level intellect. Can you ask him if Magneto is gonna spare the human race to run laps in his hamster wheel electrical generator complex or if he’s just gonna wipe us all the fuck out for the carbon tax credit. Ask him if the weight of his gigantic balls dragging in the ground behind him everywhere he goes adds to the mileage on his Tesla. When he wipes his ass does he use single ply to save the trees or just a fistful of baby ducklings that he can then gently bathe by hand with water collected by the rain barrel in the endangered orchid garden by the solarium on the west side of his sprawling villa, the one he bought when he sold the patent for the perpetual motion motion machine he built out of toothpicks and marshmallows in third grade before the obvious intellectual gap between himself and the rest of us bumbling simpletons weighed him down and killed his passion to create. What other wisdom has he yet to share with the world? What other knowledge that only he and my reiki-healing essential-oil-drinking violet-aura neighbour know that may benefit us all? Holy shit, have I been drinking WATER my whole life? That shit that whales live in? Guess I’ll just go lay in a hole out back and wait for the compost heap to take me. Should I confess my sins to Captain Planet first, so he may redeem my wicked soul in the true Eco Catholic way, or was that recyclable soda can I threw in the trash downtown at last year’s garlic bread festival because there were no recycling bins provided the final straw that made me unworthy of glorious green salvation? BRB, gotta go strip naked and flagellate myself before the begonias so that they may know the depth of my remorse. Don’t worry, I only buy locally-sourced hemp lashes produced by small home businesses at the farmer’s market, they have a three-for-two sale on Sundays if you bring your own reusable bag. Christ on a fucking cupcake

[soggyriceee]

cowboy ellie is so hot fuck write a flashback of when she was young and had no worries fucking in a field or stable

careless girl 18+ | E.W

<ellie is 18, flashback that doesn’t include reader, public sex, sub!ellie, oral(E!receiving), fingering, ✂️, lmk if i missed any>

growing up on a farm in bumfuck meant Ellie learnt almost everything from her parents. she was homeschooled, her mother too scared to send her an hour away everyday. she’d remember how hard her mother tried to make home feel like school, purchasing colorful books and toys to help her learn. but like most homeschooled kids, Ellie wanted to experience real school.

her parents would finally budge when she’d gone into highschool. it was almost a whole new world for the girl. so many people, classes, clubs. girls.

Ellie’s parents were your typical Christians, church every Sunday, super religious Christmas and Easter. that was normal for Ellie, though sometimes she would wish they could tone down all the Jesus stuff.

her parents only referred to her future partners as men, mentioning kids and pregnancy. she’d always agree, and force herself - well try- to see that future as well. and as much as she would “speak it into existence”, she knew deep down it didn’t feel right. and she’s feel guilty about it, never mentioning it out loud not even to herself.

but highschool only made those feelings stronger. seeing the girls in their right jeans, cute cowboy boots and ponytails. the guys were pretty much disgusting to her and ignorantly she’d think they all looked the same. same mullet haircuts, burnt red skin.

sophomore and junior year is when Ellie started to accept who she was. senior year is when she grew careless and needy.

Ellie wasn’t an alien, of course there were other girls like her in high school. she’d make one friend, a senior as well. she was in her english class, sat in the front row. this girl gave Ellie the type of attention nobody’s given her before. the way this girl was obsessed with her was foreign to the girl, but it only was a confidence boost.

Ellie would begin to realize the sort of effect she had on some girls. Ellie liked to dress a bit more masculine, at least in comparison to the other chicks. Ellie never wore a skirt or shorts. she wore a tight black tank, with a flannel and tight black jeans to match. she’d switch up the tee and flannel every day of course, but she kept herself covered.

her parents would question her, asking why she dressed so differently. Ellie would reply she wants to remain modest. her mother would mention that she can dress modest in dresses and long skirts, but Ellie would remain silent and sort of wait for her father to break the silence like usual.

it took Ellie 3 months into her senior year to get a tattoo, a master at hiding it from her parents. she got it knowing the girl in english would only fawn over her more, and she loved the attention.

as confident as Ellie was portraying herself to be, she was a bit insecure. she’d only begin exploring her own body late at night, learning what porn was from the disgusting boys at lunch. but she was just as disgusting secretly.

she’d rub her clit so fast, and then so slow, trying to learn what worked and what didn’t. the video was hot, typical milf stuff, but she just didn’t feel like she was doing anything. so she’s huff and give up, continuing the fake act.

but when her classmate pulled her into a stall during lunch, lifting her shirt and showing Ellie her tits, she felt what she was supposed to have felt the night before. her clit pounded, jaw slack as she straight embarassed herself. if she wasn’t giving virgin energy before, she was now.

she didn’t know how but all the power went to her classmate now, who somehow got ellie to agree to bring her over. Ellie would agree, eyes still glued to her hardened nipples. “never seen boobs before?” the girl would joke, making Ellie go bright red.

that same night Ellie would be pinned below the girl, back pressed against the haystack. she didn’t mind the pointy dry feeling, not with what she was already feeling between her legs.

her classmate would have her in the most vulnerable position, legs pressed to her chest. ellie would do a poor job at shaving, having to learn based off a youtube video rather than her own mom. but her classmate didn’t seem to mind, she was gentle with her. she didn’t care that ellie was a virgin, not at all.

she’s actually teach ellie about her body in the process, kissing from ellie’s wet hole, up to her throbbing clit, naming each part she was kissing. “fuck..” ellie would huff, not understanding why she felt almost pain as her pussy throbbed. she was so needy that it hurt.

the girl would suck ellie’s clit so gently, kissing it again beforehand. her fingers would slowly slide into her, one by one, stretching her out as slow as Ellie’s body needed. “so wet … don’t even think you’ve touched this pussy yourself huh?”

ellie was so embarrassed, the whines that left her plump wet lips. her parents window was wide open, and could probably hear what was going on. she tried her best to stay quiet she really did, but when her first ever orgasm came over her she didn’t even really realize it.

“o-oh fuck!” she’d cry out, pushing her body up and off the other girls mouth, her hole pulsing and toes curling. her classmate would giggle and watch as she came down from her orgasm, pushing her panties off.

“w.. what are you doing?” ellie would pant, peeling her eyes open. “let’s go to the field.. wanna try something.” and of course ellie would follow like a lost puppy, following her classmate arouns as if it wasn’t her house.

when the girls legs hooked arouns her hips, one resting over her leg, one resting under the other, she’d look into her eyes. “youre gonna like this.. promise.” the girl would smile.

hee hips would move forward, her hand gently pushing ellie back onto her elbows. her hips would rise to meet ellie’s, and for a moment ellie thinks she’s gonna faint. the feeling of the girl pussy on her own, the warmth and wetness, it made her whine immediately.

the girls hips would being to move slow, wanting to really feel how wet Ellie was for her. “fuck ellie.. can feel you throbbing on my baby..” she’d whisper, eyes drawn to where they met.

ellie’s eyes would roll back, shamelessly moaning like a bitch in heat. to the point her classmate had to kiss her to shut her up. “you’re so.. pathetic.. such a needy girl huh?” she’d tease, holding ellie’s face as she slowly picked up the pace.

ellie didn’t know what to say she was so overwhelmed in pleasure. she could only let out the most beautiful sounds, eyes glistening and big. “call me mommy.. tell mommy you want her to keep going.” she’s whisper into ellie’s ear.

holy fuck what was she doing to her? ellie could faint then and there. but she did as she was asked, she wanted to please her. the roles had reversed and she wasn’t mad at all. “p-please mommy i.. i feel it again.”

the girl would shove ellie’s back into the tall grass, towering above her. her hips wouldn’t stop as she locked eyes onto ellie. “cum for me ell’s.. you deserve it baby jus-“ the girl couldn’t even finish before ellie became undone under her, back arching up as she cried out in pleasure again.

the girl would cover her mouth, giggling once more at how well Ellie reacted to her. she’d follow not long after, praising and thanking ellie for letting her use her pussy to get off.

her classmate made it a routine to stop by twice a week or so, giving Ellie the same amazing sex over and over. Ellie thought she’d found her soulmate, she thought she was lucky. she’d found a beautiful girl, smart and funny. who seemed to like her back. they even went to prom together, to which Ellie had to do vide her parents it was as friends.

but when graduation came around, and everyone was going their serperate ways, the girl would block ellie. she’d block Ellie despite telling her “i’m never gonna leave.. no matter how far away I go.” she told her that while she was knuckled deep in her pussy, slowly thrusting into her as she stared into Ellie’s eyes.

it broke ellie so much, to the point she didn’t open up to a single soul in college. she got revenge on her classmate throufh other people, doing the same to girls who truly did want something with Ellie. but she was too scared. she was so submissive and open and vulnerable with someone, who now is just a memory.

her wife and her met after college, when Ellie was still at a low. her wife was a breath of fresh air for Ellie, but she was still scared and standoffish. their relationship had a rough start and Ellie was to blame. she could commit fully, no matter how hard she tried. but her now wife stayed, she was patient and was too understanding.

Ellie would marry her eventually at 27, moving to a new part of the country and starting a new life. she was happy, happier than she was before at least. her relationship was in a better place and she just wanted to feel.. secure. so she’d remember the bad times, and be grateful for her new life, because she had found someone who truly wanted her.

highkeyyy loved this request sm sm. ellie does call girls mommy idc byeeee

[7-deadly-cats]

killing me softly | 18

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

✿ G E N R E ✿ she fell first, he fell harder | slice of life | drama

✿ P A I R I N G ✿ s1!rafe cameron x overthinking!reader (f)

✿ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ✿ swearing, suggestive language & themes, hints at jjpope, cursed chat pics, mention of abusive household (aka rafe's), hints at reader getting turned on lmao, gentleman!rafe, reader one sec away from hyperventilating, slightly jealous!reader, awkward!rafe (um.. you'll see why), also FLUFF

✿ S U M M A R Y O F L A S T P A R T ✿ after rafe dropped you off at the beach, cara dragged you to meet sarah, kiara and cleo. everyone was nice, though kiara questioned what was going on with you and rafe. in the restroom of bob's iceshack, cara admitted she wasn’t sure if she wanted to hook up with jj. your conclusion: she was torn between him and topper. later, rafe texted saying he saw sarah’s story and wanted to pick you up an hour later. after some back and forth, you agreed on 7:30pm. still, you couldn’t help but wonder why he was suddenly so eager. after hanging out with the pogues for a while, you dipped. john b offered a ride for tomorrow’s open air movie night. back in rafe’s car, he called them losers but backed off when you questioned it. after some pushing, he finally admitted he felt like everyone was choosing sarah over him. you tried to reassure him and concluded (internally) that ward cameron was the root for his issues. during your late night drive you got mcdonald’s, and finally, he dropped you off with a surprise: a my little pony bracelet from a gas station to prove he wasn’t playing you. in bed, you showed the bracelet to the girls in the new group chat. last surprise of the day: the mirror selfie from rafe aka the same one you’d stared at earlier.

✿ W O R D C O U N T ✿ 13.5k+ (longest chapter yet help + max use of chat screenshots so prepare for a LONG reading session)

✿ A / N ✿ GUYS I TRIED WITH THIS ONE BUT i kinda feel like the second half sucks, and also it feels extremely rushed if we take the pace of the other days of the week into consideration but well guess it wouldn't have made sense to drag out sunday for no reason. i also feel like i fucked up the ending by the direction i've chosen but i kinda gave up lmao. i probably could've explored the full potential of this setting and, IDK AHHHH. dw there's gonna be a part 2 of the event. anyway, have fun reading and PLEASE lmk what you think, this chapter gave me sm anxiety <3

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a little warning: avoid the comment section bc of spoilers 🤣

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W E E K O N E // S U N D A Y 1 1 : 1 7 A M

"Okay, where did we leave off again?" you asked Cara as you made yourself comfortable in your little windowsill nook. "My brain is so full, I can’t keep track of anything anymore."

Cara chuckled. "Oh, I know exactly what it’s full of. Mr. ‘Let me give the girl I like a friendship bracelet so it’s not too obvious that I’m completely down bad for her.’"

A giggle slipped out and your cheeks instantly flushed. "You're gonna lose it when I tell you this next part."

“She’s already losing it,” came a voice, and your heart dropped to your stomach.

OH MY GOD, now that you saw the wall behind Cara… NO WAY. GIRL ACTUALLY SPENT THE NIGHT IN JJS WONDERLAND OMGGGG.

Cara scoffed, amused, and turned her phone to show JJ pulling a shirt over his very bare chest. You were so glad he at least had boxers on.

“Say hi and get out,” she said.

JJ looked up with a “Hey, my room,” and winked into the camera with a big-ass grin when he spotted you. “She’s even louder in bed.”

Too. Much. Information.

You just stared, stunned, and gave him an awkward little smile.

Cara rolled her eyes and turned the phone back to her face. “Chop chop, Dig’s waiting for his morning walk.”

“Not sure the leash’s even usable anymore.”

GUYSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.

Cara stared flatly into the camera. “He's joking.”

OKAY THEN.

“Okay, okay. The leash only almost came into play,” JJ called out, followed by a loud “Hey!” as Cara threw a pillow at him.

“Out. Now. This is a girl-to-girl talk,” she said. “Village idiots not allowed.”

JJ chuckled. “More of a jester anyway.”

Then came a soft thud, which you took as him finally leaving the room.

“Okay, where were we?” Cara looked into the camera with a blinking smile.

You blinked back. “So, I guess, you don’t wanna—”

“Nope.”

“Aight.”

Cara cleared her throat. “Sooo, the last update I got from you and Loverboy is basically just what you'd said in your voice memo last night. He brought your bag back, then you guys spent the afternoon together. He dropped you off, picked you back up later, and by the end of the night practically proposed, right?”

Um… something like that.

You’d obviously left out a lot in that memo. As sweet and welcoming as the Pogue girls were, you’d literally only known them for a day, and you didn’t exactly feel comfy going full overshare just yet. And considering one of them was Rafe’s sister, you weren’t gonna bring up his little hate-rant about her or start gossiping about him behind his back.

But Cara was different. She was your best friend. You could tell her everything.

And you did. You told her about lunch with your parents, your trip to Bulk & Bloom and Barry’s pawn shop, your full-on spiral that you and Rafe had talked through in the car, and of course your evening trip to McDonald's and how he'd walked you to the front door like a freaking gentleman.

You did leave out his angsty little moment in the car, though. He’d opened up to you so honestly, you didn’t want to betray that trust. Plus, it felt… special. Like something just for the two of you.

But the important stuff? Oh, you shared that.

Your parents basically already adopting him, Barry’s well-meant warning, OH and obviously the insanely awkward moment when Rafe had caught you scrolling through his chat with Kelce.

AND OF COURSE, the most insane, messed-up, crazy thing he’d said: that you were a cute chick and he’d (quote) bend you over in the backseat of his car if you said the word.

“WHAT!?”

Your phone speaker peaked just a little.

You chuckled, cheeks flushed. “Well, yeah, he—”

“WHAT?”

Another laugh escaped your mouth. Cara stared at you, eyes wide and jaw dropped like you’d just told her Harry Styles invited you to his private villa.

“GIRL, I—” She exhaled like she’d just sprinted a marathon. “I don’t even… holy fucking shit, like, oh my Jesus Christ, good Lord and all the heavens above.”

When Cara started praying, you knew shit was actually insane.

You giggled. “Now imagine what was going on in my head. The fact I managed to function after that is honestly one of the seven wonders of the world.”

"The fact that you didn’t immediately jump him and rip his clothes off—that is the miracle," she shot back, still staring at you like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. "I MEAN WHAT? Like, my kitty would’ve gone straight to—"

“OKAY!”

Cara shook her head like a madwoman. “Y/N! That boy is so down bad for you, how do you not see it?” She sighed, shaking her phone. “Like HELLO? Rafe Cameron said out loud that he’s into you.”

"Sexual attraction and having a crush are two completely different things," you argued.

Cara frowned dramatically. “How oblivious do you wanna be? Yes.” You heard frantic tapping sounds as she smashed at her screen. “He gifted you a fucking bracelet. Rafe Cameron. The guy who’s known for doing absolutely nothing for any girl, like, ever. What more do you need? He said you’re cute. He said he likes you. He said he ENJOYS spending time with you. And what else? OH RIGHT, that he wants to hang out even after your little project dates are over AND THAT HE WANTS TO CLAP YOUR CHEEKS.” She shook her head like she was malfunctioning. “THIS SCREAMS GET READY TO BE MY GIRLFRIEND.”

Did it?

UM, YEAH, KINDA DID.

Fucking hell, Cara could really make even the most chaotic shit sound like it followed cold, hard logic.

But here's the thing: Rafe was a direct guy. If he had no problem saying he’d sleep with you, surely he wouldn’t have a problem saying he was into you like that (hypothetically speaking, of course).

Which kind of threw her whole argument out the window again.

You shook your head. “This sounds more like, ‘I’ve never had a female friend before, and now that I do, guess I’m gonna keep her around.’”

“So you do realize he wants you,” Cara replied.

You let out a tired sigh. “Yeah, I guess, but not like that. I don’t know how to explain it… I just think he likes the idea of having a girl around.” You tilted your head. “Like with Topper and Kelce, he’s this kinda toxic-bro-masculine-alpha type. And I guess he misses the fun flirty energy." Then you remembered his emotional outburst last night. “And I feel like with me, he also doesn’t put on a front. I don’t know.”

Cara stared you down, deadpan. “That is literally the ideal foundation for a relationship.”

“Or for a really good friendship,” you countered.

How were you supposed to explain to her that this poor boy probably just wanted someone to see him for who he really was? Like, the frustration he let out last night—the way he basically admitted, without saying it directly, that he was scared of being abandoned.

And that could always happen in a relationship. In a short-term hookup? Inevitable. But a good friend? Ideally, that was someone you could have for life. And the fact you were a girl—just a side note in the whole equation.

“Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah.” Cara rolled her eyes. “So what you’re telling me is, he puts in all this effort just so he can call you his friend and still flirt for fun? Make it make sense.”

"Yeah, but, C," you said with a chuckle. "That's literally how our friendship works too. We both put effort into each other, that’s what friends do, and don’t even get me started on the flirting. Like according to your logic, I should question your intentions as well."

Cara curled her lips. "... okay, you kinda have a point there."

You nodded with a See? look on your face.

"But," she continued, "we’re girl best friends. You and him? That’s a whole different thing."

You raised an amused brow. "Are you seriously trying to tell me that a guy and a girl can’t have a platonic relationship?"

Cara scowled. "No, of course not, but—"

"But I’m okay with the way it is," you said with a soft smile. "I have no problem with just being friends with Rafe. Honestly, it might even be better this way. I don’t have to worry about screwing it up, or God," you chuckled nervously, "all my other insecurities."

Cara let out a sigh. “You really are the biggest mystery to me, girl. You’ve been crushing on this guy since fifth grade. And now, when you finally have the chance to actually make something happen, like, he’s literally offering you the perfect foundation, you just settle for the easiest option.”

Less risk of being disappointed. Less chance of embarrassing yourself. Less chance to lose whatever it was you two had built in just a few days. Accepting Rafe as a friend was the easy choice, yeah, but it was also the safest.

But you knew exactly what Cara would say to that: she’d start pushing you to take a chance, make a move, break out of your shell for once.

"Okay, look at it this way," you said with a playful eye roll. "A relationship can always grow from a friendship. Does that help?"

You doubted that would actually happen, but at least it would shut Cara up for now.

She chuckled and wiggled her shoulders. "Friends to lovers? Uhh, now you got me." She raised her eyebrows with a lopsided grin. "So… does that also apply to us, orrrr…?"

You quickly steered the conversation back to her. More specifically her evening with the Pogues, dinner at the Chateau later on, and eventually the magical night she had with JJ. Kiara, Pope, and Cleo had left at some point, leaving just Cara, John B, Sarah, and JJ behind.

The exact details and noises from that night, however, Cara could gladly keep to herself.

Anyway, her dad called a little later to tell her to come home—her grandparents were visiting to celebrate her mom’s birthday belatedly. With a quick "Oh shit, we’ll text later", your little call came to an end.

You’d barely touched the ground with your feet, just getting off your windowsill corner and ready to change out of your sleepwear into something actually wearable, when your phone buzzed again.

And what greeted you? Yeah…

Geez, it wasn’t even noon and your pulse was already at 180.

First Cara fueling your delusions, then Rafe and his newfound hobby (or more like obsession) with your reaction pics (UM THE FACT THAT HE'D DOWNLOADED PINTEREST FOR IT???) and how he instantly went into full-attack mode just at the mention of you being in the girlies’ group chat, like bro, we get it, you’re terrified of abandonment but PLEASE CALM DOWN I AIN'T GOING NOWHERE. And then back to Cara, aka the fact that you’d now have to endure the drive to the open air event without her.

Honestly, that last part was the least of your worries because if you'd managed to survive half of Kelce’s party solo (okay, with Topper, Molly, and Rob), then you could totally handle a short car ride.

No, what really had you spiraling was how comfortable Rafe had gotten with you in just one day. Like, hello? First the mirror selfie last night, and then those reaction pics this morning (okay, more like noon, oops), AND THEN THE FACT THAT HE STRAIGHT UP ADMITTED (or hopefully joked) that he'd had a little private session this morning, DUDE COME ON.

HELP AND THE FACT THAT THAT SENT YOU INTO INSTANT BRAIN CINEMA MODE OF A HALF NAKED, HEAVY BREATHING RAFE, BOXERS AROUND HIS ANKLES, EYES CLOSED, HEAD PRESSED BACK INTO THE PILLOW OR DESK CHAIR (WHO KNEW), HAND AROUND HIS—NOPENOPENOPENOPEHELPPP

Jesus Christ, suddenly there was a tingling sensation in your lower body and the urgent need to open the windows to cool your body down because your cheeks? On fucking fire. Not even mentioning the heart rate and that warm, funny feeling between your—OKAY ENOUGH HOLY SHIT.

You gotta be ovulating or something because that? What the actual fuck.

HAHAHAHHAA ANYWAY.

Lunch.

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"How's Rafe?" That was one of the first questions your dad asked once you all sat down in the dining room.

Great. Not even here you could escape the topic.

To make things worse, both your mom and dad were giving you this smirky look that screamed You were out late last night: Should we be getting excited about our future son-in-law?

UGHHH. It was so awkward, and if you even dared to give a shy smile or deflect it, it would only make everything ten times worse.

So you just shrugged and poured yourself a glass of water. “He’s doing okay, I think.”

Your dad let out an amused breath. “And his cheek? That looked pretty nasty yesterday. He should’ve iced it right away, then it wouldn’t have swollen like that.”

Trust me, I told him.

“Yeah, it looks worse than it is,” you said, adding, “he popped an ibuprofen yesterday.”

He had, actually. Swallowed it right in the McDonald’s parking lot with a Coke Zero. Like seriously, how was this guy even still alive?

You half expected them to hit you with a “You two were gone a long time—what exactly were you doing?” or some other nosy questions. But instead, the energy at the table shifted.

Your mom raised her brows slightly, concern (???) flickering in her expression. “And… at home? Is everything okay there too?”

um… what.

Your dad seemed to catch the confusion on your face. “It’s just, we've been wondering...” he let out a dry chuckle, “I’ve seen bruises, cracked ribs, busted faces—pretty much everything—my whole career. And that bruise? If he’d actually been hit with a golf club, I probably would've been patching him up in the ER Friday night.”

Oh. So your dad had seen right through Rafe's lie.

Well, of course, he had. Taking care of people was his job. He had to know the difference between different kinds of wounds and bruises.

But from the way your parents were hinting at it… did they actually think Rafe was getting hit at home? That was… wow.

But telling them what really happened aka Rafe almost starting a fight—you really didn’t want to paint him in that light. Didn’t matter that he’d stood up for you.

“No idea,” you said, furrowing your brows as you poked around your plate. ���I think things are fine at home too.”

Your mom tilted her head with a soft smile. “But you don’t know for sure?”

Your overthinking, spiraling, constantly-needing-answers issue? Mhm, yeah, you definitely got that from her.

“No, I mean, I barely know him,” you replied. “Are you seriously thinking he’s getting abused at home or something?”

Then again… okay, you didn’t know Ward personally, but something in your gut told you there was something off about him. Especially after the realization you'd had last night: Him probably being the root of Rafe’s issues.

Your dad leaned back. “Well, speaking as a dad, I’ve got a feeling there’s tension at home. I’m not accusing Ward of hitting his kids, I’m just guessing Rafe’s relationship with him is… strained.” He shifted in his seat. “And my gut? It’s never been wrong.”

O-kay. So apparently your parents had picked up on the same thing after interacting with Rafe once. Wow.

“Ward’s always been a difficult person,” your mom added. “Back in college, he was super ambitious, driven, competitive. Always pushing. Expecting the best results from himself and everyone around him. And anyone who held him back or got in his way? Didn’t stay in his way for long.”

Obviously he hadn’t killed anyone, so you just assumed he either threatened, manipulated, or schemed his way around people.

Your mom sighed. “And truth is, I know Rafe’s not exactly an easy kid. Rose told me he often takes off for hours and doesn’t come home until midnight. And school? Apparently not going so great either.”

Something about talking about Rafe behind his back like this… it just didn’t feel right.

“Rose isn’t his mother, though.” Shit. What a dumb thing to say.

Your mom furrowed her brows. “She tries to be. It’s not easy for someone like her to reach someone like Rafe.”

"Someone like him? "You raised your brows.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? And why were you suddenly feeling so defensive, HELP.

“Y/n,” your dad’s voice was gentle but firm. “Rafe seems like a good boy, I’m not doubting that. But it just feels like… something’s off. And the most likely explanation is that things at home aren’t exactly stable.”

He pressed his lips together, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. “I’m not trying to accuse Ward of anything or scare you, but… when I wanted to check the skin on Rafe’s cheek, he flinched when I raised my hand to do so. Not a dramatic reaction, just this quick startled blink, but in my head, every alarm bell went off.”

And that made your heart clench in the worst, most painful way.

Sure, maybe your dad had misread a harmless blink or twitch but deep down, you knew that wasn’t it. And the thought that Rafe might actually be getting hit by his own dad… GOSH, THIS BOY.

Drug problems, anger issues, and a toxic household? This guy didn’t need a girlfriend, he needed a loving family.

No. He needed a real dad.

“That doesn’t mean the bruise had to have come from home,” your dad continued, and his tone softened a little. “Honestly, I just assume he got into some testosterone-fueled fight at whatever party you were at.” He chuckled. “Thinking back to the way I used to look after I boxed with the guys from the 44th… that bruise is practically a scratch.”

Not your dad just casually dropping new lore.

Your mom rolled her eyes, mock-annoyed, the corners of her lips twitching with a smile. “I was the one who had to play nurse back then.”

OKAY NOPE YOU DID NOT LIKE THAT SMILEY LOOK ON HER FACE. DID NOT NEED TO KNOW THAT.

Luckily, your dad circled back to the actual point: “We’re just concerned. We’re both parents—we notice when something’s off with a kid. As a doctor who’s seen lots of children with seemingly perfect parents, I can tell you: eyes never lie. And Ward may be a great family man, but that doesn’t automatically make him a great father.”

He let out a heavy breath. “Abuse can show up in so many ways, not just physically. So if you ever notice anything, please don’t hesitate to come to us, okay?”

Well, this sunny Sunday just got very not sunny, very fast. Like… how did we go from “How’s your hopefully-soon-to-be boyfriend?” to child abuse—HELLO??

You didn’t even know what to say.

You were touched by their concern, the way they weren’t judging Rafe in the slightest. But also overwhelmed by how heavy the topic had just gotten. Sure, your parents did always notice this kind of thing right away but now that your suspicions had basically been confirmed by them...

Yeah, that didn’t sit well with you at all.

Of course, none of you really knew what was going on in the Cameron household. But if all of you had arrived at roughly the same conclusion, then either you were all operating on the same overthinking, assume-the-worst type of brain…

Or something was actually going on.

Both, you thought bitterly.

So all you did was nod with a somewhat forced smile and said, “Okay.”

Your parents nodded, seemingly relieved. And of course, since you were already on the topic of Rafe, they circled back to yesterday. Asking questions like, “So where did you guys go afterward?”, “How’s your school project coming along?”, “Did Cara give you that cute bracelet?” and dropping comments like, “He seemed very smiley around you,” and “Feel free to invite him over for dinner again.”

And just when the conversation was dangerously close to veering into the Safe Sex territory, you excused yourself from the table, mentioned that you’d be going to the Open Air tonight, brought your plate to the kitchen, and thanked Mary for the food.

Back in your room, you exhaled.

Wow. Apparently, there was no such thing as a break this week. But the fact that your parents thought you and Rafe would look cute together? AKCKKANFALJKD.

Also, the whole thing about how you both apparently glowed around each other? If Cara had said that? Yeah well, no, delusional queen just back again with her delusions. But your parents? Who were basically professionals when it came to reading people—your dad being a literal doctor, and your mom a CEO in sales, aka someone who had to be good with people—If they said Rafe liked you?

Fuck, then it had to be true.

Okay okay, he had kinda already said it twice himself—once just yesterday in the car—but STILL OMGMGM.

Okay okay, calm the fuck down.

You just became friends, no need to start building your wedding Pinterest board.

You played with the bracelet around your wrist as you sat down at your desk, smiling to yourself like a damn idiot at the soft rustling sound.

The way it fit just right around your wrist and how FUCKING CUTE IT LOOKED. Gosh, the fact that Rafe had thought of you when he'd spotted it, and then actually bought it for you and gave it to you AHHHHHH. AND JESUS, THEN HE'D BEEN ALL CUTE AND AWKWARD AND NERVOUS WHEN HE'D HANDED IT TO YOU.

HELLO??? Rafe fucking Cameron being awkward AND nervous around you??? As much as that made the butterflies in your stomach go into full freak-out mode, more than anything, it made you feel like a total winner lol.

I’m fine. I’m cool. Completely chill.

SMNJXWNDVHSJDKMXOIASJCDAVLSAÖ.

You would never get over this.

Well, you had to at least try for the next few hours. Because more important than giggling to yourself in your room like some hopelessly lovesick little girl was actually getting ready for tonight.

Okay, it was barely past 1 PM, buuuut you’d gladly take all the time you could get.

Sooo, Cara was probably busy with family stuff right now—spending the day with her grandparents and parents and all—so yeah, no chance of calling her.

Molly maybe? You knew she was also coming tonight because you’d heard her talking about it at Kelce’s party. AND HOLY SHIT YOU DESPERATELY NEEDED TO KNOW WHAT WENT DOWN BETWEEN HER AND KELCE OGMGMGM.

Never mind. Her little Bitmoji was currently chilling at Kelce’s place on the map, so there was your answer.

So Molly was out too. Sure, she’d probably be happy to chat with you—hell, Kelce too probably—but you didn’t want to interrupt these lovebirds (hookup partners??? soon-to-be-married??? WHO KNEW).

Hm. Okay.

Six hours until the boys were picking you up.

Well, you could always sit out on your balcony and sketch a little. You hadn’t really had the chance lately. The past few days had kept you on your toes so much that you'd barely had the energy to sketch a stick figure. And on top of that, the art project with Rafe had kinda sucked most of your creative brain juice dry too.

Senior Year was already a lot and it had barely even started yet. And now The Gloaming was right around the corner—next Friday, to be exact—and well, you were really not looking forward to that.

Midsummers was at least really nice, casual and fun. Dressing up in cute summery dresses, getting tipsy on overpriced prosecco and wine, giggling over boys in suits, and it just had this soft, fairycore kind of vibe to it.

The Gloaming, on the other hand? A school event.

Unlike Midsummers, it wasn’t held at the Cameron Estate, but at a big event venue on the North Side near the beach. One the mayor himself dubbed “Garden Eden.”

It was purely a Kook event, which… yeah, made sense, since it was organized by the Kildare Academy, which was technically a Kook school. But like, couldn’t they have at least teamed up with the South Side High School?

Sure, some Pogues would show up but only as workers. Bartenders, cooks, waiters, janitors who had to clean up everyone’s mess the next morning.

Anyway, this whole class division thing was deeply rooted in the Outer Banks. No point in getting all worked up about it.

And the worst part about The Gloaming? The absolutely RIDICULOUS amount of GOSSIP surrounding it. Gossip at KA was always present, but for some reason, this event turned everyone into real-life Gossip Girl contestants or whatever.

Who went with whom, who cheated on who, who wore the cheapest dress, whose parents were getting divorced, which guy bagged the most girls, and a bunch of other completely braindead nonsense you honestly wanted to stay far, far, far away from.

Unfortunately, your parents loved going. Catching up with old classmates, schmoozing, socializing, and Cara did too. So yeah, they always dragged you along. Plus, it was basically an unofficially mandatory high school event. No way you were risking a dip in your GPA just because you skipped it.

SPEAKING OF GPA.

SHIT.

Shitshitshitshitshit. THE MATH TEST TOMORROW.

Fuck.

You’d completely forgotten. Mrs. Richman had even given your class a friendly reminder last Monday.

Shit.

Well yeah, of course you’d blocked it out. Right before that class, Mr. Smith had put you in a project group with Rafe, and that had basically hijacked your entire brain.

Okay, okay, okay. No panic.

You’d sit down now, study a bit for the next five hours and thirty minutes, and then you’d still have half an hour to get ready for the Open Air.

HAHAHAHAHA TOTALLY DOABLE.

That was, if Rafe wasn’t constantly sending you random reaction pics slash memes slash kinda very suggestive fairycore-slash-emo-wolf pics.

Apparently, Pinterest was his new hobby.

Good for him (and honestly, kinda cute), but not for you. You had a math test to prep for.

And as much as you wanted to send stuff back because RAFE USING THOSE PICS IN THE FIRST PLACE AHHHHHH, you really couldn’t afford to fail math.

So you decided it was time to shut down his spamming.

With a laugh, you switched your phone to airplane mode and set it on the edge of your desk. No reply, because this would go on forever if you didn’t put a stop to it yourself.

This seriously required your maximum amount of self-control not to keep texting him, because GOSH, this felt like some kind of cute little silly version of Rafe.

You basically had the privilege of witnessing firsthand how he discovered Pinterest for himself—or, well, the cursed side of it—and all that just because of you. It was kinda wholesome. Like a dumb little boy realizing for the first time that dinosaurs were cool.

GIRL, STOP DRIFTING OFF.

You seriously needed to focus now. (Well, not your fault Rafe kept spamming your phone hihihihi.)

So you kinda half-focused, somehow managed to study your math book, worked through a few exercises, and even half a practice test until you finally gave up around 5:30—because, in the back of your mind, Rafe and the Open Air event kept spinning in loops.

You’d totally have some more time to study later tonight or tomorrow morning.

Hahahaha. Yes. Definitely.

You turned the airplane mode off again and—Jesus Christ. 200+ messages from the girls' chat and 33 from Rafe.

You quickly skimmed through both.

The girls were just discussing plans, departure times, pre-drinks yes or no, who should be picked up first, some opinions on the movie choice for tonight (Barbie), and other stuff you kinda just skimmed past (sorry girlies, I'm in a rush).

And Rafe? A bunch of cursed and weird-ass pics that just got progressively worse, him complaining about not being able to get rid of them, plus some teasing about you being a nerd because you were studying on a Sunday, bla bla. You left those on read too. (Not sorry about it.)

You jumped in the shower, dried off fast, and dumped a whole load of clothes onto your bed. Because—

WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU SUPPOSED TO WEAR TONIGHT AHHH.

Okay okay, the basic facts:

Occasion: Open Air Movie Festival When: Evening/night Movie: Barbie (main movie) and then Transformers Weather: Actually nice, sunny, warm, but a little breezy People: Both Kooks and Pogues, maybe even some Tourons

Conclusion: I DON’T FUCKING KNOW.

Something casual and chill would be the smart move, considering you’d probably be sitting or lying most of the time. Best to throw on a jacket too, just in case. There’d probably be blankets, but still.

And of course, no sweatpants look.

You kinda wanted to dress up a bit, but still keep the vibe right. OKAY NO YOU JUST WANTED TO LOOK PRETTY. With Rafe being there and... yeah. Just Rafe.

Shit.

Now it’s official. You were picking your outfit based on a guy.

A guy you didn’t even need to impress, because, well, technically you were friends now. And you didn’t dress up for friends… right?

Okay, maybe you did it for special occasions. But you didn’t hope that said friend liked your outfit and maybe... MAYBE gave you a compliment.

NOOOOOO I’M FALLING BACK INTO MY DELUSION HOLE AHHHH.

HOW COULD YOU NOT? HIM SAYING HE’D BE DOWN TO BEND YOU OVER KIND OF IMPLIED HE’S ATTRACTED TO YOU AT LEAST A LITTLE SO…

…SO WHAT NOW?

Were you the one sending mixed signals now by dressing up a little even though you’d made it clear you weren’t into short-term hookups?

...maybe.

Anyway. HAHAHAHAHAHAHHA (i’m going crazy.)

You tried on some different outfits, scattering your clothes all over the room, and in the end, narrowed it down to two options—both of which included a dress. Because YEAH WHY NOT.

One was more chill and the other a little cuter, but both showed some leg hihihi.

You took pics of both and were just about to send them to Cara for input when Sarah beat you to it:

These girls, dude. Feeding into your delusions without a single shred of shame.

Also, holy shit, they all looked so fucking gorgeous in the outfits they’d picked out. Now you had an even harder time choosing which one you should go with.

Okay, no time left. It was already almost 6:30.

So, a coin toss it would be.

You assigned each outfit to one side of the coin, then flicked that thing up into the air, nearly smacked yourself in the forehead trying to catch it, but managed to trap it between your hands and…

That should do.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

"Shiiii, look at you." Kelce was the first to speak as you opened the door of the white Range Rover parked outside your house.

Rafe had called you 10 minutes earlier to say they were on their way. You’d thrown your things together in a rush, said goodbye to your parents (who wished you a fun night), and waited in the driveway because no way were you risking one of them ringing the bell and getting wrapped into some awkward parent chat.

You smiled shyly and gave them a soft “Hey” as you slid into the seat behind Topper’s, next to Molly. Kelce was next to her, and Rafe sat in the passenger seat up front (of course, sitting in the back would’ve probably bruised his ego).

"That dress suits you so well," Molly said with a warm smile, and you chuckled.

She looked so unbelievably sweet herself. Her red curls hung wildly on her shoulders, and her red lipstick made the whole color pop even more. She was wearing the cutest pastel green skirt and a white corset blouse you'd ever seen and KELCE’S HAND WAS RESTING ON HER THIGH AJDNJKWNJDKW

And Kelce? Wearing a pink shirt, probably to match the Barbie movie but honestly, they looked like COSMO AND WANDA and it was just SO SWEET.

"Thank you," you said, unable to hide your grin. "I love your outfit too."

Kelce squeezed her thigh (AND SHE CHUCKLED) and added, "I deserve half the credit, I helped her pick it."

You could practically feel how much Rafe wanted to gag. Also… you felt a little (a lot) disappointed that he'd only turned his head once to glance at you without saying a word, BUT NOT GONNA LET THAT RUIN YOUR MOOD RIGHT :))))))

"So, Cara’s already gotten a ride, I heard," Topper said, the bitterness in his voice slicing straight through the mood.

You fiddled with your bag strap and nodded. "Well, yeah, she’s..." Shit. You didn’t actually know what excuse she’d given Topper, considering she was riding with John B.

"She prefers hanging out with little Pogue rats now," Rafe finished for you, dry amusement in his tone.

You couldn’t help but frown. If it was already starting like this…

"Ayo, bro," Kelce said with a chuckle, kicking Rafe’s seat. "You better behave tonight. Keep going like that and you’ll end up with a Dalmatian face full of bruises."

Wow, how was Kelce the voice of reason here? Internally, you were thankful because it meant you didn’t have to address it yourself.

Rafe scoffed and shook his head. "Not holding back if one of those fuckers starts provoking me."

Are we sure you’re not the one starting things, boy?

“Dude, don’t make me play peacemaker tonight,” Kelce shot back. “Gotta concentrate on my date.”

Molly chuckled, and you did too. THEY WERE SO CUTE.

Then your heart sank as Kelce leaned forward, pointing toward Rafe with his thumb while looking at you. "Your job tonight."

…What?

You blinked and smiled awkwardly.

“It’s not hard,” Kelce went on with a grin full of white teeth. “Keep him hydrated, stop him from talking to people, and bring up golf every now and then. That usually distracts him.”

Topper and Molly both laughed, and oh god, it was so hard not to laugh too as Rafe turned around with a scowl—first looking at you, then at Kelce.

"You’re gonna be the first fucker I beat up tonight," Rafe said, crooked grin on his lips.

Kinda cute how he always acted like Kelce pissed him off when in reality they had this weirdly wholesome friendship behind the scenes.

Kelce held up his hands as Rafe turned back around. "Ayy, thought you might appreciate the company of a pretty lady."

PLEASE.

Your cheeks heated up because that sounded dangerously like Kelce trying to play wingman or matchmaker, and somehow that made the whole situation SO FREAKING AWKWARD.

"I'd appreciate if you shut the fuck up," Rafe said, still frowning as he looked straight ahead.

This boy was so dramatic, holy shit.

THEN AGAIN, HE HADN’T DENIED WHAT KELCE HAD SAID, SO CLINGING TO THAT FACT HAHAHAAH #goingmoreinsanebytheday.

Topper cleared his throat. "So, uh, back to Cara..."

That earned a round of groans from everyone.

After some teasing of Kelce and Rafe, and some attempts at cheering Topper up by Molly and you, you all got tired of that topic (thank god because you just felt so bad for Topper), and a few minutes later you arrived at your destination anyway.

The huge gravel parking lot was already filled with cars. Some girl was directing Topper in and assigning him a spot for his big-ass Range Rover, which, as you’d found out, happened to be his mother’s.

As the engine shut off, everyone got out. Kelce helped Molly out of the car, and Topper held the door open for you while you struggled a little with your dress.

"Thanks," you said with a polite smile and slung your bag over your shoulder.

Topper looked like he was about to say something (judging by his expression, probably trying to get a moment alone with you to talk about Cara), but Rafe suddenly appeared at his side, grabbing his shoulder with a crooked grin.

"Aight, enough whining about Hall," he said, nodding toward the entrance. "Cheer the fuck up and go find another chick inside. Or go annoy Kelce and Molly, I don't give a shit, but stop dragging us into it."

Such tact. Truly award-worthy. Though, to be fair, that actually sounded like Rafe’s version of wanting his friend to feel better.

Topper pressed his lips together, clearly debating whether to argue, but in the end, he just sighed and nodded. "I'll go join the others."

With that, he walked off.

As much as you felt sorry for him, it wasn’t your place to speak for Cara’s feelings, so you were actually kinda thankful for Rafe’s little lifeline.

SPEAKING OF RAFE.

Dude was eyeing you with the smuggest grin ever, blue eyes locked on yours before letting his gaze drop down your outfit (and soul, the way his stares always felt so intense) for a second.

And the way he just nodded, his eyes landing back on yours, DUDE WHAT.

"What?" Heat rose to your cheeks and you smiled sheepishly.

Rafe shook his head, lips tugging into a downward smile. "Nothing. Just curious who you dressed up for."

HUH. NOT HIM CALLING YOU OUT LIKE THIS. THIS WAS SO FUCKING EMBARRASSING BYE.

You let out a nervous chuckle and shook your head too. "Myself?"

Somehow, you both seemed to know that was bullshit, and now you just kinda wanted to curl up into fetal position and stay there for the next one billion years.

"Bold choice for a self-date," Rafe said with a shit-eating grin.

You couldn’t tell if that was a compliment or a smooth way of saying, “Next time, pick something else.”

Hey, I kinda wanna die right now.

"Shit, don’t look at me like that." Rafe chuckled boyishly. "You look good, alright? That dress suits you."

...

:)

EDNCSKJDXCHNFEWJSKLFCHNVDLAKGSNJVSÖKLFDHXUVWDIUEOPSAXM;POSWLSCKUCJGFKD

Cheeks hotter than the sun, but you didn’t care because OH MY GOD. You couldn’t even hide your smile, and you also didn’t care that you probably looked like some stupid fucking idiot while doing it, but WHO CARED.

"Thank you," you said, gripping the strap of your bag.

AND THEN you mustered up the courage to look him over as well. Not as obviously as he had, because that guy just seemed to have zero shame, but well, you did appreciate the view.

Even if he was wearing one of his probably thousand polo shirt variations again, it suited him just as well as the other 999. Paired with some more or less basic white shorts that really showed off the tan on his legs and some matching white Dior B57 sneakers.

Kinda low effort but that guy pulled it off like crazy. And him deciding to wear his hair as curtain bangs again BECAUSE OF YOU (yes, you'd never forget how he’d admitted that yesterday) kinda made your heart rate shoot up even higher.

Rafe raised his brows when you met his eyes again, and you felt caught and awkward, but still, you managed to say, "Looking fresh yourself."

That made the cutest laugh escape his lips, and you could literally feel the butterflies in your stomach dancing to that soft sound.

"I'm just gonna assume that’s a weirdly executed compliment and you're not just making fun of me," Rafe said with a lopsided smile.

You shrugged. "Maybe it’s both."

"Aight." Rafe then eyed your jacket. "Might wanna take that off though. They’ve got blankets and stuff in there, you know."

You let out a soft laugh, raising your brows. "And I’m just gonna assume this is your weird way of caring about me being comfortable and not just a way to get me undressed."

DID YOU ACTUALLY JUST SAY THAT OMMGMFMMF.

Rafe himself was the biggest confidence boost you could get, and his boldness kinda rubbed off on you.

He chuckled. "It’s both."

ALRIGHT, DUDE.

Okay, honestly, you were kinda starting to sweat under the jacket. First, it was still super warm despite the time, and second, Rafe’s flirty comments (yes, let’s just call them that) were turning your entire body into a heatwave.

With flushed cheeks, you let out a soft giggle and awkwardly tried to take off your jacket while still holding onto your purse without dropping both.

"Jesus, give that shit to me," Rafe said, grabbing your purse with one hand while helping you out of your jacket with the other.

"Ayo, you lovebirds coming?" Kelce’s voice boomed from a few steps ahead. "Seats are filling up, you’ll have to share one soon!"

UGHHH PLEASEEEE DON'T MAKE THIS EVEN MORE AWKWARD.

"Gonna kill that fucker someday," Rafe muttered as he handed you your purse back, eyeing the bracelet on your wrist with a silent smile.

You chuckled sheepishly and slung your bag back over your shoulder, blinking in confusion when he kept holding onto your jacket.

Rafe's gaze drifted over your now-exposed upper half for a second before he looked back at you with a smug grin, tilting his head toward the others. "Come on, before I lose interest in the movie altogether."

DUDE. You REALLY had to get used to this kind of apparently harmless flirting without immediately spiraling into that one very specific overthinking rabbit hole. Like—he couldn’t just make comments like that and then--

The sudden touch of his hand on your back yanked you out of your thoughts, a buzzing warmth settling over your whole body. He gave you a gentle nudge forward and you fell into step beside him, already missing the heat of his hand the second he let it fall away.

As soon as you reached the ticket booth, it found its place again as Rafe softly guided you past the grumpy-looking line toward Kelce, Topper, and Molly.

"Finally," Kelce said with a wide grin as he took two tickets. "Thought you—"

"Shut your ass and keep moving," Rafe cut in, softer than usual.

Topper was up next and followed the other two through the archway. Muffled voices and soft music already drifted from inside.

You reached for your wallet automatically, but Rafe had already stepped in front of you, placing your jacket on the counter. "Two tickets, and this to coat check."

You blinked. "You don't have to—"

"Yeah, yeah," Rafe said, eyes focused on his wallet as he handed the cashier forty dollars. "Keep the change."

No way. He was paying for you again AND tipping the kid behind the counter twenty-five dollars?? First the McDonald’s food and now this? What, why, how.

Plus, um ... you kinda needed that jacket later…

Rafe took two pink tickets and a tag with the number 69, grinning like a five-year-old (grow up please), and handed you one. "Just shut up and take it."

And you did (with a "Thank you" nonetheless) while your heart practically exploded in all directions. Then you followed him through the archway onto the event space.

Dozens of people were already scattered across the area—locals and even some tourons—chit-chatting, laughing, lounging in groups or pairs. Some had already claimed a spot in front of the massive screen on floor cushions or deck chairs. A few had even brought their own blankets and pillows.

To the side were the restrooms and food stalls selling popcorn, nachos, and other snacks, plus all kinds of drinks from water to vodka-energy, and a variety of rental blankets and pillows.

And strung up between trees and posts were dozens of fairy lights and pink paper lanterns (clearly Barbie was the more anticipated movie tonight). It looked gorgeous, and cozy, especially now with the sun halfway down the horizon.

Which, as a matter of fact, made the whole setting feel... a little too intimate.

The others were nowhere to be seen, and it was just you and Rafe now, standing near the entrance. And the fact that he'd been all gentlemanly earlier didn’t help—THIS ALMOST FELT LIKE A FUCKING DATE, JESUS CHRIST.

OKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOK CALM DOWN. JUST LOOK AROUND, MAYBE I CAN SPOT--

"I guess you'll want some snacks and shit like that."

Your head snapped back to him, suddenly very aware of how exposed you felt without your jacket, without Topper, Kelce, or Molly AROUND AND AHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAH.

The only thing grounding you was the bag on your shoulder, which you were now holding onto like your life depended on it.

"Um, yeah, sure," you said, internally begging your brain to chill the fuck out.

WHY DIDN’T HE CARE WHERE THE OTHERS WERE THOUGH??? HELLOOO YOUR FRIENDS ARE GONE, PLEASE LOOK FOR THEM.

With a simple "Aight, come on" from Rafe, you followed him toward one of the snack stands, trying to maintain a respectful distance.

This time, there was no one for Rafe to cut in front of, so the two of you just stood there AND YOUR BRAIN COMPLETELY BLANKED ON EVERY TOPIC KNOWN TO MAN.

How was he so chill while you almost debated asking him what brand of microwave he’d recommend because you LITERALLY had nothing else to think of HELP.

Nervously, you hugged yourself, trying to ground yourself by gently pinching the skin on your upper arm.

"You cold?"

You met his raised eyebrows and instinctively dropped your hands, giving him a small, smiley shake of your head. "Wh—no. No."

Rafe eyed you for a long second before saying, "You're being weird."

NOT HIM CALLING YOU OUT OH MY GOD.

"You're always weird, but this is weird-weird," he added, dry amusement in his tone.

You let out a strained chuckle. "Okay, maybe I am kind of cold."

ughhhhhhhhhhhh. Please believe me, please believe me, please—

"Well, then we’ll buy a fucking blanket. Jesus Christ, you gotta chill."

oKAY.

WAIT—WE?!?!?!?!?!

You had zero time to spiral over that because suddenly, you two were up. WAIT—YOU TWO??? NO. RAFE. RAFE WAS NEXT. HELP. WHAT’S GOING ON.

He ordered some nachos with salsa dip and a large diet coke and then turned to you with an expectant expression.

WHAT. NO FUCKING WAY.

No no no no no no. Him paying AGAIN felt so insanely weird for no reason. You stepped forward and grabbed your wallet, and he looked at you like you just insulted his entire bloodline.

"That's some disrespect," he said, raising an eyebrow, though the amusement in his tone was undeniable.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. "I just... you really don’t have to—"

"Shit, only thing I wanna hear right now is your order," he cut you off, and the cashier's barely hidden smile just made the whole thing ten times more awkward.

And because you really didn’t want to drag this painfully awkward situation out any longer, you just told her your snack and drink choice.

Rafe placed two twenty-dollar bills on the counter and added, "And a blanket. Large."

The pretty cashier girl glanced between the two of you, lifting a brow with clear amusement. "We only have small ones left."

YOU’VE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME.

PLEASE ASK FOR TWO. PLEASE FUCKING ASK FOR TWO.

"Yeah, well, one of those then."

[Insert brain explosion sound here.]

You could literally feel the adrenaline flooding your body, nerves tingling and buzzing, butterflies flying around all confused and bumping into each other like WHAT DO YOU MEAN ONE.

You kinda felt like hyperventilating but all you did was smile with the most strained expression because what :) else :) were :) you :) supposed :) to :) do :)?????!?!??!!

Rafe took the change and shouldered the blanket bag over one strap, then reached for his snack order.

You grabbed yours too and followed him, your nerves shot to hell. You honestly felt like some helpless prey knowing it was about to get devoured but having no idea when.

Your cheeks burned hot and you were pretty sure your blood pressure was sky-high, except you had no idea why you were freaking out so much. All you could hear was your own heart pounding in your chest and ears.

You almost didn’t even notice that Rafe had stopped, or rather, that he’d been stopped.

Wait, no. Rafe had stopped because you’d been stopped.

Cara had grabbed your arm, halting you in your tracks, a huge grin on her face as she greeted you both.

Shit. And JJ was next to her, waving with a smile.

Your half-panic attack vanished instantly, now replaced with a new, different anxiety: Rafe freaking out, saying some dumb shit, or worse, starting actual shit with JJ. Or JJ not keeping his mouth shut. Or even worse, the other Pogues showing up.

But they didn’t. And all Rafe did was...stay quiet, other than giving Cara a casual "'Sup."

WHICH MADE YOU ALL THE MORE CONFUSED BECAUSE WHAT THE FUCK WAS UP WITH HIM TODAY.

"Already said hi to Kelce and Molly," Cara said, eyeing you with a grin that basically screamed I-see-one-blanket-and-your-jacket’s-missing-soooo-wink-wink. "Also spotted Topper, but didn’t wanna interrupt his chit-chat with Ruthie."

RUTHIE’S HERE? OF COURSE SHE’S HERE.

Rafe scoffed. "He’s salty 'cause you turned him down."

Cara blinked, genuinely looking a little guilty. "I didn’t turn him down. I just already promised someone else I’d join their group. And last I checked, his car only has five seats anyway."

"Could’ve thrown Kelce in the trunk," Rafe shrugged.

Dude.

"Or someone could’ve gotten cozy on a lap," JJ added with a smirk. Directed at you.

DUDE.

Rafe finally tensed and you found yourself relaxing (girl, are you okay???) because that was a sign he wasn’t some polite and gentleman-programmed clone of himself.

But before he could snap at JJ, Cara stepped in. "Or Topper could stop acting like a drama queen just because I turned down his invite," she said with a frown, though you knew better. She felt bad.

Rafe tilted his head, and the air shifted in a way you did not like. Great. Now you had to de-escalate this?

"I’m sure he’d still appreciate it if you say hi later," you said with a smile that was clearly meant to signal pls-this-is-getting-weird-fast.

Cara, thank god, got the message and sighed dramatically. "Guess you’re right." Then she looked at her wrist like there was a watch. "Oh no, movie’s starting soon. Gotta grab our snacks before we miss out."

Oscar goes to her for sure.

You just nodded, smile still strained. "Right."

"Okay, see you two later!" she grinned at both of you, then grabbed JJ by the arm and dragged him off toward the food stalls.

Bomb successfully defused.

You turned back to Rafe and he looked at you with a boyish grin. "Didn’t know she had piercings."

Wh—OH. WHAT.

You stared at him blankly.

Had he seriously checked out her tits? Okay, no judgment, like Cara had gone braless today and her boobs looked legitimately perfect—like GODDESS-LEVEL—in that pink dress of hers, and even you couldn’t help but notice the second she'd walked up but...

You didn’t like that Rafe had.

Of course, of course he could look. He was a guy after all, and what else did they ever see beyond tits and ass, and yeah, Cara was an absolute bombshell, but…

Hm.

HM.

A weird feeling spread through your stomach and the butterflies just kinda sat there now, not sure what to do or how to feel.

"Well, yeah, I guess," you said, and it was so painfully obvious how the slight bitterness in your voice still came through. So you tried to compensate with a smile, but you probably looked like someone being held at gunpoint. "She got them a few weeks ago."

Rafe seemed way too entertained by that and just nodded with a wide grin. "Bet that hurt."

"It’s a sensitive area, so... yeah," you replied, trying to sound casual and failing miserably.

An awkward silence started creeping in, adding to the sudden clenching in your chest, and you felt huge secondhand embarrassment for yourself. For being JEALOUS of your own best friend, especially when you and Rafe weren’t even a couple in ANY WAY and just UGHHHH.

Can I be normal for ONE FUCKING SECOND, please.

"Ayo, Rafe!" Kelce’s voice suddenly echoed from somewhere deeper inside the event space.

You and Rafe both looked up and spotted him somewhere between the seating area in front of the screen, waving with both arms.

Relief washed over you, and without waiting for any comment from Rafe, you started walking toward Kelce through the rows of bean bags, lounge chairs, and picnic blankets.

You found Kelce sitting on one of the lounge beds in the back rows… and Molly on a different one (?). A second later, you felt Rafe’s presence beside you.

Kelce patted the spot next to him, a huge grin on his face. "We saved you one of the best spots. Didn't want you sitting on some uncomfortable floor pillows. Bad for the spine, you know."

...no. Just. NO.

NONONONONONONONO.

There was no way you were gonna lie down on a damn shared lounge bed with RAFE, barely wide enough for two people. NOPE. NO. NO THANK YOU.

OKAY YES HOLY SHIT YES, BUT ALSO NO NO NO.

And Rafe—this NONCHALANT FUCKING GUY—didn’t give a single fuck. After Kelce had gotten up and moved over to sit with Molly, Rafe just dropped the blanket bag onto the bed and placed his nachos and Coke on the holder on the left side like this was the most normal thing ever.

You just stood there frozen, your heart SCREAMING AT YOU TO JUST SIT DOWN while your brain was spiraling, throwing thoughts and questions around, with the two big monsters called fear and anxiety looming over everything like a cold storm—

“Come on, Y/n.”

Molly. Her voice was soft and quiet next to you. “Enjoy yourself a little.”

She looked up at you with her sweet smile and kind eyes. There was a gentle understanding in her expression, and beneath it, this warm encouragement—like she got it. Like she really understood what was happening inside your head. The panic, the confusion, and mostly the sheer anxiety about this whole... situation.

And somehow, just that little sentence and her sweet smile were enough to bring a tiny bit of quiet to your brain.

YOU COMPLETELY UNDERSTOOD WHY KELCE HAD IMMEDIATELY FALLEN FOR HER BECAUSE DUDE.

“You waiting for an invitation or what?” And then there was Rafe with his passive-aggressive bullshit, already lying back with his legs up, shoes off, sipping his stupid Coke Zero.

Remember: he’s just a dumbass. Sure, he might be the biggest crush you've ever had, but deep down he's just a dumb little stupid boy. You had absolutely no reason to feel intimidated or nervous around him.

WELL YOU HADN’T—UNTIL HE'D DECIDED TO BE A GODDAMN GENTLEMAN TODAY WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.

Okokokok whatever, I’m gonna move now and just sit down. Yeah, yeah, a little smile, mm-hmm, that’s it. And now I’ll set my stuff down on my side. Okay, done. Oh shit, my drink nearly slipped hahah. Whatever, it’s fine. Now I’ll hang my bag on the hook at the side and then I'MGONNATAKEAPLACEJUSTINCHESAWAYFROMRAFEOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOK.

DONE.

KJDEWFBGVJKWRBGFVWSJKBHFCSKWHBFESQHRL.

You smoothed out the fabric of your dress, let your hands fall into your lap, and leaned not at all tensely against the pillow backrest, staring straight ahead like a normal person because everything about this was completely normal.

:) yes, normal :)

Oh, wait. Your shoes.

You kicked them off and tossed them into the grass, and because you could feel Rafe’s burning gaze on you the whole time, you finally met his eyes—and he looked so fucking done with you it was almost hilarious.

He didn’t even look pissed. Just straight-up The-Office-style deadpan, like he was staring directly into some invisible camera, and that camera was your eyes.

"You know, at this point, you might as well just sit in the grass," he said, walking that fine line between annoyance and amusement.

And okay, he kind of had a point. You were sitting so far to the right your right leg was basically hanging off the edge of the bed.

I’m so fucking embarrassing holy shit.

You gave him a sheepish smile, and your heart sank when his brows furrowed.

"Are you seriously scared I might try some shit?" He actually sounded hurt beneath all that faux offense, and now you felt like the biggest idiot alive.

You shook your head instantly, heart racing. "No, no, of course not." An embarrassed smile crept onto your face. "I just—"

"Some minion fucker said shit to you," he stated, voice and expression softening just a little now.

Nodding at that painfully accurate guess felt humiliating. Sure, by now he knew your brain was a little fucked up, but not being able to just sit next to him? So fucking ridiculous.

You forced yourself to scoot a little closer, away from the edge, feeling like the most embarrassing human being on earth.

“Okay, stop,” he said, clearly trying to keep his frustration in check. He motioned to his chest. “I’m not gonna sit here with you acting like I’m holding you at gunpoint, alright? So if you’d rather go join Hall and her lapdog,” he made a shooing motion with his hand, “go for it.”

Your heart clenched at how disappointed and lowkey sad he sounded rather than mad or annoyed. And he’d been so nice today anyway, all smiley and chill, and now he looked like someone had popped his favorite balloon. Or, more accurately: like you had.

Of course you WEREN’T scared he’d try anything. Not in the slightest, oh my god, no, it was just…

NOTHING. There wasn’t a single damn problem except you and your own damn head.

Fuck that. Seriously, fuck your brain and every thought it ever created. Just—fuck it.

Shaking your head, you said, “What? No. No! I’m fine here. It’s… I’m just being stupid, okay?”

Rafe gave you a look like he was considering getting up and sitting somewhere else, but his gaze softened into a smile. He tapped his head. “Nah, it’s your fucking asshole brain feeding you stupid shit.” He sighed, then shook his head again. “Can’t believe I even have to say this shit, but if it helps you chill the fuck out: I’m gonna keep my hands to myself, alright?” He picked up the blanket bag and moved it toward you. “And this was meant for you anyway. I don’t need it.”

Okay no.

You did NOT want him feeling like he needed to explain himself just to not be seen as a creep because YOU KNEW DAMN WELL HE WASN’T.

JESUS CHRIST. You were the one putting people into shitty situations like this. And Rafe, of all people—this guy probably had to put up with your bullshit more than anyone else these past few days.

Furrowing your brows, you scooted closer and grabbed the blanket bag, opening it up and tossing that stupid thing to the side. You tried spreading the fluffy pink blanket across both your legs, but it was so awkwardly rolled together you kinda failed and a giant ball of fluff just landed squarely on both your laps.

“The fuck are you trying to achieve here?” Rafe said, half annoyed, half amused, watching you struggle with the small-ass blanket.

You leaned forward, trying to figure out which side was up. “Proving to you that I’m not uncomfortable around you.”

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, letting out a strained breath as he gently slapped your hand away from awkwardly fumbling with the blanket. In one smooth motion, he spread it lengthwise across both your laps.

Then you realized—it was still too warm for a blanket, especially a fluffy one like this, and you could already feel sweat creeping onto your skin. Thank god, Rafe felt it too.

“Okay, point proven,” he said with a soft scoff. “Now can we ditch this thing before I get a fucking heatstroke?”

You let out a chuckle and nodded, pulling the blanket off and tossing it to the foot of your seat.

As you shifted positions, the background music faded and the sound of the movie started. Wait, no, just some commercials. The voices around you gradually died down anyway, and the last people were finding their seats.

The air between you and Rafe finally settled. Back to as normal as it could get. And so fast too, like, you never really had to be afraid of anything with him, because even if you got into a dumb little argument, you two always somehow figured it out right away.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him tilt his head toward you, hands resting on his stomach. “Have you seen the movie before?”

You tilted your head toward him too, adrenaline spiking the second you realized how close you were. Elbows just a few inches apart, his face still at a respectful formal distance but close enough for you to see the blue pattern in his stupidly pretty eyes.

And god, his cologne in the air between you.

You smiled and shook your head softly. “You?”

“Nah,” he said, and Jesus, his gaze was always so intense. “Didn’t even wanna see this crap, but Wheezie insisted I come.”

A soft chuckle escaped your lips. “She seems more and more likeable every time you talk about her.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, and he scratched his jaw. “She says the same about you.”

OH MY HOLY FUCKING GOD. HE TALKED TO HIS LITTLE SISTER ABOUT YOU???? AHUJCHDNSKCHNKEHVBSFD WHAT.

His gaze drifted back to the screen as the actual intro to the movie started playing. A woman’s voice narrated something over the scene of girls playing with dolls, but you weren’t really listening.

You were too aware of Rafe sitting right there, the scent of his cologne, how relaxed he seemed—and still thinking about that almost hurt expression he had earlier.

You stared blankly at the screen, biting the inside of your cheek. He’s actually trying to make me feel comfortable, and I made him feel like I was grossed out or scared of him.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you tilted your head toward him, eyeing his calm profile for a second. The softness of his skin, his cute little lashes, the focused look in his eyes—and the violet-tinted bruise on his cheek that almost looked like a blossom.

“Rafe,” you said quietly.

You almost melted at how soft he looked when he turned his head toward you. Big blue eyes staring at you, almost scared of what you were about to say.

"I’m sorry about earlier," you said with a soft look. "I acted like an idiot. Probably made you feel like one, too."

Rafe shook his head and waved it off. “Nah, it’s alright. I’m used to your shit by now.”

Nope. That didn’t sit right with you.

You pressed your lips together, turning your body to face him in a sideways position, legs pulled up toward you. His eyes flicked briefly to the curve of your hip before meeting your gaze again, clearly trying not to smile.

A rush of adrenaline surged through you, but you kept your gaze steady, your expression serious. “Still. I didn’t want to make you feel like you had to explain yourself.”

Rafe let out an amused breath. "Chill, okay? Seriously, I didn’t mind."

How was he sometimes so chill, and other times made a whole issue out of something that wasn’t even one?

"Or do you need me to shut up the asshole minion in your head?" he said, lips tugging into a downward smile.

You let out a quiet chuckle and fidgeted with the bracelet on your wrist. "I think I managed that myself, but thanks."

He pulled a mock-pained face. "Sucks. Would’ve loved to smash that guy’s face in."

Another soft giggle slipped from your lips, and with that conversation wrapped up, you turned back to your original position. The fabric of your dress had ridden up slightly, giving a peak at your thighs and you quickly tugged it back down with an awkward motion.

Barbieland was now being introduced on the screen, showcasing all the different Barbie variants.

And then it was Rafe who shifted, leaning forward to grab the blanket.

You eyed him with a confused smile as he pulled it back over both your legs. “So you are in fact cold” you said, amused, heart racing at the sweet gesture.

Rafe looked up, almost startled, as he pulled the blanket over his lap as well. “What? Yeah, no, just... feels more comfy.”

…

Oh.

You just stared at him in slight disbelief, then amusement, then full-on embarrassment, knowing exactly what the two of you were now sharing under that blanket.

"What," he said quietly, brows furrowed with an almost accusatory tone. “It’s not like I control that shit.”

You should probably be weirded out. No, actually—FREAK OUT, PANIC, stand up and leave. But instead, you just pressed your lips together, trying not to chuckle at how genuinely awkward he looked. And probably felt.

Shit, you actually felt sorry for him.

So, in a weak attempt to make him feel better, you mirrored his movement, pulling your side of the blanket over your lap too and quietly shifting your gaze back to the screen, where the stereotypical Barbie was just being introduced.

Your heart was racing nonetheless, because like... not Rafe getting hard at the most random-ass moment during a Barbie movie. And not you lying just a few inches away from him and OKAY MAYBE KINDA PANICKING A LITTLE.

nONONONONO. Stuff like that happens all the time. He probably felt just as embarrassed as you did. Honestly, maybe even more.

Okay. Just ignore it. It'll probably go away soon, right?

Keeping your focus on the movie was kinda hard though, with how uncomfortable you felt in your current position, neck all tense because you were lying too low, and being on your back felt awkward in general.

So now you had two options: either turn on your side, facing Rafe, or turn your back to him. And given his current…situation, you weren’t really sure which one was worse.

Shit, but you really couldn’t lie like that anymore, and you didn’t wanna risk a cramp or something just because you were too scared to move. So you decided to turn onto your side—facing him—because, well… you didn’t wanna make him feel bad by turning away.

Grabbing the pillow behind you, you slid one hand underneath it and rested the other next to your face. There. Much better.

"You doing that shit on purpose now?" Rafe asked, and your head snapped toward him, catching him glancing at the curve of your hip again, now hidden under the blanket.

You let out a baffled little laugh, shaking your head. "What? No. This is just more comfortable."

“Yeah, shit. Not for me,” he muttered, and poor boy actually looked like he was suffering.

Nerves buzzing, you just stared at him cluelessly, your heart racing at the possibility that you were the reason for his current situation. "I... what do you want me to do?"

"I don’t know, stop moving." He looked so genuinely embarrassed, wearing that little scowl, that somehow it didn’t feel that weird. Okay, it did, but not as much as you'd expected. And honestly, right now, you just wanted to make him feel a little less awkward.

"Well... maybe turning on your side might help," you said quietly, with a barely hidden smile. "Might ease the pressure, considering—"

"Please just shut the fuck up," Rafe muttered, his face contorted in the most dramatic frown possible. On screen, stereotypical Barbie was now getting ready for her day. Then, after a beat, he did in fact shift downward a bit and turned to face you, mirroring your position.

For a moment, you just stared at each other. A respectful distance between you, but still close enough to feel his breath on your hand. He looked at you like he might actually murder you if you dared open your mouth, and you tried your absolute best not to laugh.

“Did you know,” you whispered, trying to keep a straight face, “Mr. Martin’s buttcrack always peeks out when he tries to write on the upper half of the board.”

Rafe stared at you, deadpan, very obviously trying to suppress a smile. You decided to go one further: “Looks like a dark hairy caterpillar from afar.”

His features softened almost immediately as a baffled chuckle escaped him, the blanket on your side lifting a little as his body shifted onto his back. He dragged a hand over his face in annoyed amusement, letting out a quiet, "What the fuck."

You held back a smile, glancing up at him with raised brows, feeling a little proud for getting those soft chuckles out of him from time to time. “Did that help?”

Rafe looked at you with a crooked smile, amusement glimmering in his eyes. "Shit, yeah, it did. I’ll probably never get hard again with that cursed image now burned into my brain."

“Imagine him in a tankini, that should do the trick,” you offered, and Rafe’s face twisted in disgust.

He tapped a finger against his temple. “That weird-ass minion in your head is worse than the shit-talking one.”

You let out a soft giggle, and your heart did a little jump when you saw him smiling along too.

Rafe then fully shifted onto his back again and tried adjusting the blanket higher up, but since it was stretched lengthwise over both of you, your feet ended up exposed. A soft breeze hit them, now that the sun had finally dipped below the horizon.

"Okay, you gotta scoot closer if we both wanna fit under here," he said, scoffing at your expression. "Shit, relax. Thanks to your overly detailed description of Martin’s wrinkly, hairy caterpillar buttcrack, I'm probably gonna be impotent for the next few weeks."

NOT RELAXING IN THE SLIGHTEST RIGHT NOW.

“But I can get up and grab my own blanket if you want,” he added more seriously, catching your baffled look.

WHY WAS HE SO SWEET TONIGHT OH MY GOD.

Okay. This is your chance for SOME CLOSENESS WITH HIM. He might’ve had a boner just now HAHAHAHAHA and you were still kind of shocked at yourself for how weirdly chill you'd reacted, BUT LET’S JUST IGNORE THAT AND USE THIS FUCKING CHANCE GIRLLLLL LET’S GOOOO.

Quietly, you shook your head with a nervous smile, grabbed your pillow, and scooted closer to him. While you kind of struggled to figure out how exactly you were supposed to lie next to him that close, Rafe grabbed the blanket and turned it so that the long side actually covered the length of your bodies.

Okay, lying on your side wasn’t really possible here, so you turned onto your back. But now your upper arms were awkwardly pressed together, both of you with your hands resting on your stomach, and your hips were touching, too, AND JESUS CHRIST HIS BODY FELT SO WARM.

But hey, at least you were both covered now, even if you were pretty sure he could hear your heartbeat, with how loud it was pounding in your chest.

Barbie was now at the beach with her friends, the Kens were doing some beach stuff or whatever BUT YOU COULDN’T REALLY FOCUS.

Also, his elbow was digging uncomfortably into yours, so you tried adjusting yours, which made him move again AND JESUS CHRIST THIS WAS AWKWARD.

“Shit, wait,” Rafe said with a quiet scoff and leaned forward. “This isn’t working.”

You just blinked at him, afraid he’d actually get up now to grab his own blanket.

Instead, he gently grabbed your shoulder, signaling you to lean forward for a second. Which you did—letting him take the lead because your brain had gone completely blank at THIS ABSURDLY CLOSE PROXIMITY.

Rafe grabbed your pillow, scooted into a more upright position, then leaned back again, his right arm now resting on the low backrest, his head supported by his hand. With the other, he placed the pillow in the now empty space, half on his shoulder and under his armpit, and gestured to it.

GUYS.

“There,” he said. “You okay with that?”

JUST SAY YES AND LIE DOWN, NO SECOND GUESSING.

So you did. Heart hammering so loud you didn’t even hear yourself speak. You smiled—half anxious, half excited—and leaned back again.

Since he was lying slightly elevated on his back, you had to scoot down a little, your head pressing against the pillow, your left shoulder half resting on his chest, and you folded your hands comfortably on your stomach. Your elbow ended up resting against the side of his hip because of that, and you expected him to shift away...but he didn’t. And NEITHER DID YOU because acknowledging it would just make it worse and—

GIRL. RELAX.

Your body was relaxed. Rafe’s warmth helped you ease into it, and the fact that he was so chill made it even easier. BUT YOUR MIND? YOUR MIND WAS SCREAMING, RUNNING IN CIRCLES, SETTING EVERYTHING ON FIRE BECAUSE YOU WERE BASICALLY HALF-CUDDLING WITH RAFE RIGHT NOW.

It’s fine. It’s cool.

Everything’s completely chill.

Actually, yeah, literally chill. Your skin had goosebumps, both from the situation and the drop in temperature over the past half hour.

And then a whole firework erupted on your upper right arm as you felt Rafe’s arm behind you shift, to pull up the blanket on your side and cover the rest of your upper body, AND HIS FINGERS BRUSHED YOUR SKIN AS HE DID SO AND—

You held your breath.

Because.

THIS FUCKER just left his arm there. Not back on the armrest, not casually elsewhere—no, right there, lightly resting on your right shoulder, his fingers playing with the sleeve of your dress.

OKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOK.

You bit the inside of your cheek so hard you tasted blood because WAS THIS EVEN REAL?! WAS THIS ON PURPOSE OR WAS HE JUST SO FOCUSED ON THE MOVIE HE DIDN’T NOTICE? AHHHHHHHHH

But you let him.

You let him because you wanted this. Being close to him, feeling the warmth of his body, all cozied up. Your heart was racing, fluttering like it didn’t know whether to panic or melt. Every brush of his arm sent little sparks down your spine, too much and not enough all at once.

Because, as a matter of fact, it wasn't enough. Now that you’d had a taste of this feeling—of how it felt being so close to him—it was like something inside you had been lit up. There was this deep urge and longing to completely turn toward him, fully cuddle up, put your hand on his chest, drape a leg over his, bury your head in his chest and just inhale his scent and UGHHHH.

But you were a coward. A scaredy cat, too afraid he’d push you away. Especially because this right here? It was toeing a fine line between “we’re just cold and sharing a blanket so obviously we scoot closer” and “considering we’re just project partners who happened to agree on being friends, this was way more intimate than necessary.”

Hey, funny thought here: what if you just did it? :)

Because HE clearly never gave much thought to how his little flirtations affected you. He made it damn clear it was all just for fun. So maybe you could just… cuddle with him. For fun.

Worst case? He’d say something like “You wanna get into it now or what?” and then you’d just awkwardly laugh and go “Sorry, just felt more comfy like this” and scoot back into your old position.

Remember? With Rafe, you never had to be afraid of doing some dumb shit or embarrassing yourself.

FUCK IT.

You pressed your lips together and pushed yourself up on your elbow, ignoring the pang of disappointment as his arm slipped back onto the backrest, his expression confused. DOESN’T MATTER, PUSH THROUGH GIRL. Adrenaline shot up as you grabbed the pillow that had been under his arm and silently placed it across his ribs, READY TO LAY DOWN—

—only for him to stop you with a crooked smile, your heart dropping straight through the floor.

You froze. Completely. Like your body had hit an invisible wall. Eyes wide, breath hitched, you just… stared at him. You didn’t dare speak, didn’t dare move, afraid that even the smallest word might expose you in the worst way possible.

“Shit, you're gonna suffocate me with that thing,” Rafe said with amusement and moved the pillow to the side. Then he gestured toward the now free space on the side of his chest. “There.”

Your whole body buzzed as his right arm returned to your upper arm, now gently nudging you toward him.

Ignoring every voice of reason and panic in your head, letting yourself be guided into him, turning your body toward his, resting your head against the side of his chest, your shoulder naturally tilting in, your arm daring to settle on his upper stomach.

Every nerve lit up, hyperaware of the rise and fall of his breathing beneath your cheek, the heat of his skin seeping into yours through his shirt. It was terrifying and euphoric, like stepping off a ledge and realizing, just for a second, that maybe you liked the adrenaline you felt while looking downward.

And then you almost exploded, because this guy took it a step further. His left hand remained casually on his thigh, but his other arm wrapped around your back, HIS HAND NOW RESTING ON YOUR BLANKET-COVERED WAIST.

Okay. You were officially done for :)))))))

Your heart was racing, pounding so loud it felt like drums in your ears, pulse probably skyrocketing, and let’s not even talk about the adrenaline—you’d probably need the ER in the next few seconds.

And the craziest thing was how he'd just accepted it. He'd let you do this. Hadn’t said anything dumb, hadn’t made a joke. Instead, he just laid there, snacking on his nachos and sipping his Coke Zero occasionally, the only things he said being how stupid Ken looked and acted and how weird his rivalry with the other Ken was.

But you didn’t have the heart to tell him that, actually, that was exactly how you saw him and Kelce. So you just stayed quiet, chuckled softly whenever he made another snarky remark, and soaked in this surreal moment that would be over again in about 60 minutes.

And when his left hand absentmindedly started playing with the bracelet dangling from your wrist, you didn’t say anything either—too afraid to ruin whatever this was.

Because somehow, it felt like the little agreement of friendship you made just yesterday was already, very slowly, starting to slip away into something you were too afraid to name.

Or maybe. Maybe, this was just what it looked like when two people, thrown together by coincidence, trusted each other enough to get this comfortable without needing to put it into words.

Little did you two know—it was both.

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✿ A / N ✿ imma be real, i feel like i fucked up their whole dynamic with the last scene aka them lying on the bed and cuddling and ughhh, and i also feel like you can feel through the writing how impatient i grew with the ending of this ch. idk maybe i should've postponed this and actually think it through but i kinda lost my mind with this one and now it seems like i skipped over some steps. idk maybe i'm just tired or biased bc of how long this chapter is so what do you guys think? bc i'm srsly considering reworking the last part HAHAHAHAH #heart'sactuallyracingrn

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K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

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T A G L I S T F O R M (taglist for this series is CLOSED but you can sign up for my other stuff through this link)

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MASTERLIST!

pairing . . . jacaerys velaryon x reader

◦∘｡ﾟ. warnings . . . MINORS DNI! lewd language, smut (breeding kink, creampie (?), lactation kink, overstimulation, oral (fem receiving), worshipping).

◦∘｡ﾟ. summary . . . jacaerys' behaviour in the bedroom.

◦∘｡ﾟ. note . . . i am so so so happy to be writing for hotd again, i’m enjoying season 2 so much and i can’t wait for it to be sunday tbh. i haven’t written smut in YEARS (literally) so if this is bad it’s because i am quite rusty😔 requests are open (for aemond & jacaerys)!

[ word count: 2,2k ]

A — AFTERCARE . . . what they're like after sex!

Jacaerys was raised to be a proper prince, and with that, he learned how to respect women. He’s so gentle, drawing a bath himself and making sure you feel at comfort. Anything you need he will make sure you have. When you’re both back in bed, he cuddles you and falls asleep whispering sweet nothings.

B — BODY PART . . . their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner's!

THEIRS . . . He loves his hands, mostly because you love them. Loves to use them to hold you incredibly close, to cup your cheeks when he leans in for a kiss, or just loves them when you take his hand and proudly walk alongside him, hand in hand.

YOURS . . . He loves your tummy. Loves peppering kisses on it, resting his head and falling asleep soundly while you run your hands through his hair. If you ever get pregnant it will be a hassle to get him off you and your tummy.

C — CUM . . . anything to do with cum, basically!

Even if he didn’t have a duty to get you pregnant, he would still be cumming inside you. It’s quite the primal urge he has to make sure everyone knows you’re his. It doesn't matter what you're doing, he will not cum anywhere else but inside you. If he sees his cum dripping out of you, he will push it back into you either with his fingers or simply with his cock.

D — DIRTY SECRET . . . pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs!

Jacaerys is quite comfortable in being the giver of the relationship, but sometimes he fantasies about you taking over in the bedroom. To be the one crying from overstimulation, to have you take care of him. 

E — EXPERIENCE . . . how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?

He was one of the few men to save themselves for marriage, though not because of purity but more so because he never felt the urge to go to a brothel and have his first sexual experience be with a whore. Despite this, he does know what he’s doing. He had a talk with Daemon one time many moons ago, and because of it he’s gained some knowledge. But he only learns the true meaning of pleasure with you. 

F — FAVOURITE POSITION . . . this goes without saying!

Cowgirl. As previously stated, he loves the idea of you dominating him and while that isn't quite it, you on top makes him lose his mind. He also knows how much you enjoy the position, with him hitting you just right, as you once put it. With you controlling the pace and how much you take in, Jacaerys can perfectly take in the beautiful sight of your blissed-out face. 

G — GOOFY . . . are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.

When he’s in the bedroom he’s quite focused on making sure you’re okay and feel good, so there is no time to be humorous. Still, things happen and a giggle or two slip out when he’s going at it too hard and bumps your head against the bed frame, or when you're both desperate and trip over your clothes. Jacaerys doesn't necessarily try to make your intimate moments funny, but he doesn't stop it if it happens. 

H — HAIR . . . how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.

Before you he didn’t really care about grooming, but the days prior to your wedding night he decided to look his best. You have never asked him to groom himself, but he feels as though he has to. He knows how much you take care of yourself, why wouldn’t he do the same? As for the carpet matching the drapes they do. It’s a deep brown and slightly curly, just like the hair on his head.

I — INTIMACY . . . how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect.

Jacaerys is very romantic. He’s tender and sweet from beginning to the end, mostly because he’s madly in love with you, but also because he wants to take his time with you. He’s a big fan of eye contact, handholding, and kissing. Any opportunity he has where he can feel more connected to you, he will take it. Confessions of love and adoration are not rare, an “I love you” slipping from his lips when he’s thrusting inside you, or the looks he gives you that make you feel what he’s feeling. You don’t have just sex, you make love.

J — JACK OFF . . . masturbation headcanon!

He doesn’t often masturbate, only in situations when he’s away from you and misses you dearly. Truly, he gets needy. Usually, he waits until he’s back home with you and releases all that pent up tension onto you. But sometimes, when he longs for you and can’t have you, he resorts to his hand. It doesn't measure up to what your touch feels like, at all, but it does the job to at least quell some of the fire burning up inside him.

K — KINK . . .one or more of their kinks!

As previously mentioned this man wants you pregnant so bad. His breeding kink is very obvious to you, from the way he whispers in your ear how much he wants to see you pregnant, to see his seed take and make you swell with his baby, you want it as much as him, and that just makes him more feral. The Velaryon Prince loves feeling needed, which is why edging is one of his favourite ways to make you crave him as much as he craves you. Your desperate pleas to come fall to deaf ears, as he enjoys your whining and writhing just as much as the sight of you orgasming.

L — LOCATION . . . favourite places to do the deed!

Always somewhere private. Jacaerys is not much of an exhibitionist, although he likes people knowing you’re his, he also doesn’t want anyone else to be able to see you in a compromising position. That sight is sacred, reserved only to him only. As for a specific place, he thoroughly enjoys having sex in your bed. Maybe it's because of how intimate it is or that he knows there’s no way you'll be uncomfortable, but that is his preferred place.

M — MOTIVATION . . . what turns them on, gets them going!

Anything that you do is enough. Sometimes he fears how much power you have over him, how he’s so enamoured and almost obsessed with you. He gets turned on pretty easily when he’s around you, it doesn't take more than you speaking at him in your sweet, honeyed voice for him to be hard. 

N — NO . . . something they wouldn't do, turn offs!

Any type of experience where he has to share you with someone. No to threesome, no to exhibitionsim, and no to cuckolding. He also does not like seeing you get hurt, if he even suspects you’re not liking something he’ll stop until you’re comfortable. 

O — ORAL . . . preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.

Jacaerys doesn’t dislike the feeling of your mouth on his cock, but he much prefers the feeling of his mouth on your pussy. He eats you out like it’s his last meal, holding your hips down and feasting on the taste of you. He loves overstimulating you until you’re trying to push his head away, the pleasure too much. Loves how you push him back towards your pussy, grabbing a handful of his hair to make him continue his ministrations when he separates himself from you to breathe some air. Sometimes you fear he will suffocate between your thighs, when he doesn't come back up for air in a while, and what a sweet death that’d be to him. 

P — PACE . . . are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.

His pace is usually slow and sensual. He worships you, taking his time to appreciate all your sounds and the faces you make, forever burned in his memory. He loves showing you just how much he loves you, making you feel his adoration for you. Still, Jacaerys has moments where he can be rough, lost in the pleasure he frantically fucks into you. He rarely loses control, but when he does you’re both left a beautiful, sweaty mess.

Q — QUICKIE . . . their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.

Not the biggest fan of them. He likes to take his time, savouring those intimate moments so quickies are not something he would choose to partake in. If he’s really needy, he will consider the idea, but usually what starts as a quickie, ends in a long sexual endeavour. 

R — RISK . . . are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.

He’s pretty open to any ideas you might have, as long as they don’t involve sharing or hurting you in any way. He doesn't mind taking risks, but he’s pretty comfortable with the things you already do and will not be the one to propose different ways to spice things up, he leaves that to you. 

S — STAMINA . . . how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?

He can last a few, it all depends on what you're doing. Three rounds is the sweet spot for him. He eats you out, he fucks you and then fucks you once more to make sure his cum really takes. If you just want to make love, have one simple round where you’re both connected, then he’ll give it to you. But this man is insatiable, so it rarely ends in one round for him. 

T — TOYS . . . do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?

Neither of you really need them, you both consider the other enough. If you ever wanted to introduce toys in the bedroom, then Jacaerys is open to the idea. Maybe one day you’ll experiment, but for now the Prince has plenty of skill that will make you forget about any toys.

U — UNFAIR . . . how much they like to tease!

He loves teasing you. He makes you yearn for his touch, adoring the pout you give him and how glassy your eyes get when teasing you. Jacaerys slicks himself along your entrance, bumping against your clit which in turn makes you squirm and whine, and he takes his time until you’re almost sobbing for him to insert himself in you. He’s the worst in public, grabbing you by your waist and telling you how badly he wishes to be in bed with you, only to leave you to go speak to some lord. He watches your agape mouth as you look at him, and all he does is smirk because he knows how wet you’ll be when he finally has you alone.

V — VOLUME . . . how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.

Jacaerys is incredibly vocal. He groans when he finally sheathes himself inside you, moaning when you’re on top of him bouncing up and down without mercy. He’s not shy in telling you how good you're making him feel. He wishes he could speak more to you, but he becomes an incoherent mess pretty quickly and all you can understand are the few mumbles of “Need you” or “So good”, lewdly whining when you clench around him. A drawn out “Fuck” leaves his lips when he comes, squeezing your hips and almost shaking in relief when he feels his spend painting your gummy walls. 

W — WILD CARD . . . a random headcanon for the character!

Wants to fuck you while pregnant and see the milk from your tits dripping, to taste the sweet nectar your body produces. He dreams of how round your belly will be, and how ethereal you’ll look with the glow of motherhood. 

X — X-RAY . . . let's see what's going on under those clothes!

He’s around 15 cm or 6 inches. He’s quite girthy, with a heavy ball sack. He has some prominent veins which you can feel when he’s thrusting in you, the ridges making you sigh in pleasure. 

Y — YEARNING . . . how high is their sex drive?

Jacaerys has a high sex drive, better make the most of it while he’s young. He can control himself, he has great restraint because he knows the wait will just make it all the more sweeter. You can tell quite well when he’s yearning for you, sometimes all it takes is a good look at him and other times he’ll simply groan into your ear how badly he needs you. You guys have sex pretty much every day, with a few exceptions when you're sore or simply not in the mood. 

Z — ZZZ . . . how quickly they fall asleep after sex!

When you fall asleep, he falls asleep. He has great stamina but sometimes when he tires the both of you out, he can’t help but fall asleep almost instantly after he spends his load inside you. Adores cuddling you, makes sleeping for him easier and rids him of any bad dreams. He holds you close, drifting off to the sound of your slow breathing and the heat of your body against his. 

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

Rocking Chair - A Joel Miller Drabble

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader Rating: E, unprotected p in v, slightest of breeding kinks?, idk y'all I just went feral here. Word Count: 2156 a/n: Happy TLOU Sunday! I genuinely blacked out while writing half of this in some kind of NyQuil induced haze! Enjoy!

Something is bothering him.

You clocked it the second you walked over the threshold of his brother's home. Actually, you knew something was up long before that, when he kept trying to make excuses as to why you and Ellie should go and he should stay home, despite the fact that it was his brother. Eventually, you convinced him to follow you down the street, Ellie chattering excitedly about the prospect of having a baby in the family while Joel dragged his feet.

His mood only worsened as the evening went on, following the trend of distance he'd been following since the baby arrived, a pattern that made you uneasy. Tonight, it was difficult to tell if it was the result of the mirage of questioning from the handful of close friends Tommy and Maria had invited over to meet their new son or because of whatever was lurking in the depths of his mind, but you kept trying to pinpoint it. You could only assume that it was some combination of both, a hypothesis only strengthened by the look of disappointment in the younger Miller brother's eyes when his sibling politely declined the opportunity to hold his nephew.

You're next to Ellie on the couch, the newest resident of Jackson tucked into your arms, when you meet his eyes from across the room for what feels like the thousandth time since you arrived. He's leaning against the door to the kitchen and you can see the discomfort in his posture and the way his shoulders tense further as yet another person approaches to congratulate him as though he was the new father and not his brother.

"Can I hold him?" Ellie asks suddenly, pulling your attention back to your side of the room. You turn to find her bright eyes looking down at the sleeping child, and it's impossible to stop the spread of warmth through your chest at the teen's eagerness. After a quick glance at Maria for permission, you gently pass the bundle over to Ellie, showing her how to properly cradle his head.

Joel's still watching when you turn back to the kitchen, his gaze securely set on the way Ellie is beaming as she holds the newborn. There's something hovering beneath the surface of his dark gaze, the root of whatever has truly been bothering him, and you feel certain you've almost worked it out when Ellie elbows you.

"He's waking up! What do I do?!"

"Just keep holding him, it'll be okay," you reassure her, although when the crying starts a moment later you can't help but join in the laughter filling the room as Ellie quickly hands the baby back to his mother. She breathes a sigh of relief and flops back on the couch the second he's out of her arms, and you give her a pat on the shoulder before you naturally seek out Joel once more, only to find him gone.

You don't see him again until the gathering winds down. He's eager to get home, and soon he's resuming his vigil of silence on the walk back down the street. He's behind you, always behind you, his shoulders still set in the same rigid formation they've been in all night, and you walk a few feet ahead with Ellie, doing your best to answer her questions about when the baby will start talking or walking and whether you think he'll look more like Tommy or Maria when he gets older.

The delicate balance that has been hanging between the three of you all evening holds steady until you're back through your own door, when three sets of eyes land on the rocking chair that still sits nearby, the silence soon enveloping you all.

"I thought you were going to bring that for Tommy and Maria?" Ellie asks, breaking the tension in a way that has you wincing, even if she's right. The chair still smells of fresh lumber, the smooth edges molded by Joel's hands in the late hours of the night when he couldn't sleep, and it's still sitting in your living room.

"Didn't he want it?" she continues, earning her an elbow to the ribs courtesy of your right arm. Joel grumbles something behind you as Ellie winces, and you're already silently begging her not to push it further. She must catch the look you give her because a moment later she's heading upstairs with a heavy sigh, the door of her room closing with a soft click.

"Wanna tell me what's going on?" you inquire firmly once you're alone, arms crossing over your chest as you watch Joel move into the kitchen.

He dismisses you with a shake of his head and a muttered "nothin's wrong," but the way he stands, unmoving as he stares at the sparse contents of the fridge, tells you otherwise.

"No, something is bothering you, so do you wanna start with why you've been distant all week or would you rather discuss the way you tried to stay as far away as possible from your new nephew tonight?"

It's easy to see the way he tenses when you finish your questioning. You've known him long enough to recognize the subtle straightening of his spine whenever you hit a little too close to the mark and the way he avoids eye contact when he turns back in your direction, a signal that you have indeed gotten under his skin. It's in the familiar quiet that descends upon the kitchen as you wait for him to speak.

Only, unlike the clockwork routine you expect to follow, the one that usually has him letting down a few of his walls for you and you alone, you instead find yourself hauled against his body like a man possessed. When his grasp trails to your thighs, it's mostly instinct that has you jumping up to wrap your legs around his waist in a practiced motion.

He's pinning you against the counter within seconds.

"Joel," you mumble, trying to sound stern even as his lips trail along your jawline, down your neck, and across the expanse of your chest, trailing lower until he's found where you're wet and wanting. You try to get him to look at you, hands raking through the hair he's refused to cut as of late, hopeful that his gaze will tell you something about the way you can feel him avoiding whatever it is that's on his mind. A hint as to why he's using you to forget instead of working through the emotions that are obviously controlling his every move.

But when your eyes meet his again, you only see the feral haze of lust, and you can do nothing but give in when he's pressing his nose against the damp spot between your thighs, leaving you thankful for the warm summer air that made you choose one of the few dresses in your closet as your attire for the evening.

He's slipped your panties from your legs in record time, leaving you squirming atop the edge of the small island in the center of the room. It's obvious that he won't be gentle, not tonight, not when he's hard between your thighs a moment later, filling you in a swift motion that has you wondering when he managed to even unbutton his jeans. You bite into the soft flesh of his shoulder, holding in the scream that could alert the teenager upstairs about what's currently happening in the kitchen, but the sound crawls up your chest with each pound of his hips against yours.

"Quiet," he whispers harshly in your ear, an unnecessary command because a moment later he's devouring you again, the frantic movement of his lips against yours concealing any evidence that threatens to escape. It's fast, the way he's rutting into you, within you, driving you higher until you're no longer certain where he stops and you begin.

And then you notice it. You catch the way he's focused on something over your shoulder, but it isn't until he's lifted you from the counter and carried you effortlessly across the room that your mind begins to process.

Ellie's earlier question slips from your mouth when he settles you in his lap, your knees braced against the wood on either side of his hips. "Thought this was for Tommy," you grit out when he guides your hips against his own, the chair rocking back in a way that leaves you feeling off balance. "I thought it was for the ba..."

He cuts you off with a grunt, pulling you back down and holding you tightly against him as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. He's strangely silent, his movements slowing to nothing even as the chair continues to shift slowly back and forth beneath you. The only sound remaining is the heavy rhythm of your breath, your body relaxing further against his in a way that makes it impossible not to feel him everywhere.

"Hey," you ask, voice softer now, more at ease, because you know he'll hear you this time. "I saw the way you were looking at them, earlier." He says nothing as you trace your fingers along the greying stubble on his jaw and you wait to see if he'll answer you, even if you already know his answer to the question you haven't asked.

It wasn't a secret to anyone that Joel was struggling with the idea of his brother having a kid, but it left everyone treading a fine line between the eager new father and the man still plagued by the memories of his lost daughter. The prospect of new joys mirrored only by the multitude of moments stolen long, long ago.

So when Joel had brought up the idea of the rocking chair, it caught you off guard. Things had been understandably tense between the Miller brothers, but it felt to you like Joel was finally finding peace with the situation, the rocking chair serving as an olive branch. One that might just help repair the broken parts of their relationship. But now, wrapped up in his arms, you begin to realize that perhaps you've been reading it all wrong.

You smooth back his hair from his forehead, looking down at him, and you see it. It's not just the loss of Sarah he's mourning now. It's the loss of all of it.

So you do the only thing you can think of. You move.

The sound that escapes his lips as you lift from his lap can only be described as a growl, one that you can feel rumbling in his chest when you brace your hands against it. You're slow at first, letting his length drag along your walls until he's nearly slipped from your heat, and then you fall back down. Joel's hands slip beneath the fabric of your dress, pushing it up along the expanse of your back as his fingers trail along your spine.

He pulls you closer then, his grip just as possessive as earlier, tugging you against him in a way that has you keening. You do your best to cling to reality, gripping the wood behind his head, nails digging into the surface as he continues to guide you. But when he tries to lift you from his lap, as he tries to proceed through the practiced motions that will leave him spilling across your stomach, you stop him.

"It's okay," you whisper against his ear, "let go."

For a moment he resists, his eyes clamping shut with the effort it takes to ward off his own climax as you continue to clench around him. But when you whisper it again, it's all the encouragement he needs. He finally snaps, pulling you somehow closer as he buries his length in your heat, the movement causing the chair that supports you both to rock back and forth gently as he fills you to the brim.

The air in the room feels different as you come back to earth, the two of you still nearly fully clothed as you perch atop his lap. He's softening inside you, the gentle feeling of his release trickling down your thigh and onto his jeans, but neither of you have the will to move aside from the way you gently rest your head against his shoulder.

"Are you sure?" Joel asks a while after, the question sounding redundant as his hands run soothingly along your back.

You nod against him, pressing your lips to the spot where his shoulder meets his neck. "I'm sure. Although," you pause, pulling back, "I think you might need to make another chair for Tommy and Maria."

"And why would that be?" he questions in a way that, for the first time in weeks, makes you feel like the man you love is back.

"Because," you kiss him softly, "we're gonna need this one for us."

[i7nn8a]

You were always running away.

The first time Sukuna saw you was on a Sunday night. The city was already asleep, and the air was cold. He had gone out alone for a walk, trying to clear his mind from the increasingly torturous business matters, when he realized he was being followed.

His work had always taken priority over his personal life. Running betting houses, nightclubs, and a few trafficking schemes, Sukuna had always had many enemies. It wasn’t often that he got to go out alone, so when he did, he cherished those moments. Which only made him want to kill whoever was following him even more.

Trying to lure his pursuer into a more secluded area, he walked toward a dimly lit alley. But as he approached, he heard a low murmur, almost inaudible, and heavy breathing. When he looked inside the alley, he saw you. Sitting with your knees pressed against your face, rocking back and forth, crying. Frantically. Your fingers were covered in bandages, as was one side of your face.

It took you a while to notice him there, but when you did, you didn't waste a second. You got up from the ground and ran away before he even had the chance to say anything.

The moment you disappeared without a trace, he looked around and realized there was no longer any sign of the person who had been following him. He decided to call his men, ordering one of them to figure out what the hell had just happened.

The second time Sukuna saw you was near a bar. He was meeting with a powerful criminal who owed him certain information. When he left, he spotted a familiar figure turning the corner. You.

Driven by curiosity, he followed you to a small park until you suddenly turned around and looked straight at him. You were about 500 meters apart. Neither of you spoke, just stared at each other, until your eyes landed on something behind him. Your eyes widened in fear, and you took off running. Fast.

Sukuna didn't even have the chance to go after you.

When he turned to see what had scared you, there was nothing. Just empty space.

The third time he saw you, he was already in a foul mood. The police had intercepted a valuable shipment of weapons he had already sold. He did everything he could to shake off the anger—punched a few things, took it out on the idiot responsible for the failed plan—but nothing helped. At least he could say he tried.

When his brother took him to one of their family's nightclubs, he thought he might finally relax. But less than two minutes after stepping inside, someone bumped into him, spilling some kind of liquid all over him. His rage was already boiling over. When he looked down, there you were.

Your right arm was bandaged, and you held a half-empty plastic water bottle in your left hand. Your eyes met his, and he swore he had never seen emptier eyes. Not even in the faces of those he had just killed.

Before you could run, he grabbed your uninjured arm and led you to the bar. Saying nothing, he bought another bottle of water and handed it to you before pulling you outside. The two of you stared at each other, neither knowing what to say, until you finally broke the silence.

"Thank you." You spoke so softly he almost didn’t hear it.

"What’s your name?" he asked, momentarily forgetting about the stolen weapons, his soaked shirt, or the fury still burning inside him.

"I…" Before you could answer, something flashed in your eyes. You focused on a point behind him and started trembling. Without looking at him again, you bolted, terrified.

Sukuna didn’t hesitate—he started chasing you.

You ran like your life depended on it. You kept running, running, and running until you reached a busy street. Far too busy for that time of night. And just like that—you were gone.

More furious than ever, he called one of his men with clear instructions: Get the nightclub’s security footage and identify the woman who had been with him. Simple.

The fourth time Sukuna saw you wasn’t in person—it was in newspaper headlines from eighteen years ago. They all reported a horrific kidnapping of a seven-year-old girl taken by a thirty-one-year-old man. From the photos, he could tell it was you. Your face was almost the same, just a little older. According to the articles, you had been missing for a month before they found you. Your kidnapper was arrested but was released five years ago and was still out there.

With the right connections, it didn’t take him long to pull up your records. Your name was [Name]. Your parents had died when you were sixteen, forcing you to live with your grandmother. You worked nights at a diner and lived in a tiny apartment in the city’s poorest area until your grandmother passed away when you were eighteen. After that, you disappeared.

Digging deeper, he found a medical record. It was the last time you had seen a psychiatrist. No data beyond that. Your name was listed alongside a diagnosis:

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).

Post-Traumatic Psychosis.

The fifth time Sukuna saw you, it was nothing short of premeditated. Of course, he hadn’t expected it to happen like this, but you had proven to be increasingly unpredictable.

He had eyes everywhere in the city. It wasn’t hard to have all his men on alert, ready to notify him the moment someone spotted you. What he didn’t expect was that when that day finally came, you would be at the police station.

Apparently, you had a psychotic episode and attacked someone.

Getting you out wasn’t hard. Sukuna knew exactly what to do, and he had more than enough money to make it happen. When you were finally released from your cell and approached him, looking at him with curiosity, he knew something had changed for him.

"Did you get me out?" you asked, almost shyly.

Terribly adorable. He was completely doomed.

[queen-of-diamonds-xo]

Broken Nails and Broken Promises

Eddie Munson x Reader

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Summary:

Where Eddie Munson comes banging down Jim Hoppers door, desperate to fix you relationship. One he truly and entirely destroyed in a single moment.

Warnings:

angst! (I tried), Slight mention of cheating! Very minor mentions of violence! Eddie pining over reader! Slight father son bond between Hop and Eddie! I think that’s it!

Word count: 1.7k

A/N: Y’all, it’s been a while! Now I know I’m late to the party however, Eddie Munson is one of my many fantasy husbands and I’ll be damned if you think I’m not going to change cannon just to bring him back. Hope y’all enjoy!

PART 2 HAS BEEN POSTED! “Shackled to you”

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Eddie Munson is a royal pain in Jim Hoppers ass. An annoying, persistent, smart ass prick. Shoplifting, DUI, petty theft, assault. You name it, Hopper has caught Eddie doing it. But to be fair, Hopper had always been soft on the boy. Usually slapping him in cuffs before circling around the block and releasing Eddie with a few choice words and threats of actual, serious consequences next time. Hopper was always met with Eddies wicked grin and a mock salute as the boy stalked into the night.

But, that little prick did help save the world, and yeah he did try to be a hero and sacrifice himself, winding him up in the hospital for three months. Which is why, when Eddie comes crashing through Hops door, at 6am, on a goddamn Sunday, Hopper was ready to strangle the curly haired devil and drop his body in the lake. But he was stopped with an exaggerated raise of Eddie's pointer finger in his face. Eddies other hand lay perched dramatically on his hip as the boy heaved, years of smoking and minimal cardio was enough to wind the poor stoner. Who moments earlier had barreled out of his van, not even bothering to turn the damn engine off. The machine wining angrily in the distance at the decision.

“Okay I fucked up. Big.” Eddie manages to wease out, his hands emphasising his words with an exaggerated flap.

“And I need your help. And! Before you say anything, please just.” He stopped, eyes wild, scanning the room, looking anywhere but at Jim. Breath coming out heavy through his notisriles, lip pulled tight between his teeth. Still pacing the worn floor his fingers fly through his thick hair, curling into a fist at the back of his scalp. The familiar burn as his rings tug the unruly strands proves enough to ground him. His eyes flick up to meet Hoppers, desperate and wild.

He pushed out an exasperated breath as he started again;

“Please just, let me explain.”

—————————————————-

16 hours earlier:

You has been so excited, giddy even. Staring down at your freshly manicured nails. The ends rounded into a perfect point, coated in a deep, shiny crimson. Eddies favourite colour. A striking black “E” applied so delicately to your ring nail.

You had saved for months; pocket money, coins foraged from the depths of sofas, completing odd tasks for neighbours and friends.

Griminising at the memory of deep cleaning Steve Harrintons car, a tasks that most definitely wasn’t worth the twenty bucks.

All in an effort to surprise Eddie. Your Eddie.

You two tended to have wild conversations in his trailer, legs tangled together in the sheets. Bodies entwined so perfectly it’s as though you were made just to fit with him. ‘Sculpted from the gods like clay, moulded in their image’, thats what Eddie always said. It was one night, minds fizzy with a smoke filled haze, thoughts coming and going, bouncing between each other with smiles and quiet laughter. When he grabbed your hands in his, fingers tracing so delicately over yours.

“You know what would make you, like, even more breathtaking that you already are?” The boy pondered, that wicked grin encompassing his features,

“Oh. And what would that be, pretty boy?” You queried back, the nickname causing heat to rush to Eddies cheeks. His deep eyes meeting yours as he slowly lifted your hand closer to his face. You knuckles grazing lightly over his lips as he spoke.

“I’ve always been, distracted.” He hesitated, his lip becoming trapped by his teeth; “By a girls nails, you know?”

He answered his own question before you could speak.

“The way the look.” His free hand snaking around your waist, pulling you closer, ever impossibly closer.

“The way they feel.” His breath hot in your ear sending a shock down your spine as you arched your back.

“wrapped around me, dragging down my back leaving your mark on me. Pushing into my neck.” He had to stop, eyes closing as he inhaled in your scent. Fingers curling into the soft flesh of your hip. Bodies so close, his everything encompassing yours. Twisting together into one.

“Just something that crosses my mind is all sweetheart.” He nuzzles into your neck, stumble tickling your soft skin. Mouth inching closer to your neck, the area tensing as your heartbeat crashes against your eardrums.

Yeah, that night. That was the night you made your decision and began hatching your plan.

You were going to get your nails done if it was the last thing you do. For Eddie.

Which is why when you found him, lent so casually against a pole, with Crissy fucking Cunninghma’s tounge down his throat. He left hand pressed firmly on his chest, a perfectly manicured French tip of her right grazing his cheek. One single finger nail dragging down his neck. The fucker leaning into her touch, chin lifting to grant her more access.

Well, you lost your shit. Stalking up to the pair, reaching our to practically rip the petite blondes body away from his. Shoving her away, your brain went into overdrive, letting emotion take hold. Fist flying in the air before you could even comprehend your actions, colliding hard with the left side of Crissy’s dumb, perfect face. Her body hit the ground with a hard thud, a small steam of blood flowing slowly from the girls bottom lip. You sieved in anger, letting the emotion corse through your veins.

He had tried to explain, even dropping to his knees as he pleaded, begged. Hands clasped firmly together as he tried to be heard. But you weren’t listening, angry words spitting from your mouth in a hot rage. Crissy had come to Eddie to purchase from his illicit business. The girl practically coiled herself around him, limbs encompassing his like a cobra. She had tried to convince Eddie to allower her to pay him in a other way. Before he would refuse her lips were on his, stained with strawberry lipgloss.

He didn’t want this. But he didn’t stop her. He couldn’t, feet glued in place as his brain stopped communicating with his body. And that’s how you found him. Your anger was justified, of course he knew that. But what he didn’t expect was for you to just leave, to turn on your heels and walk away, as he sits on his knees in the dust.

“Princess. Please.” He pleaded, to wrecked to even pick himself up. One arm stretching slowly in your direction. Rind glad fingers grasping at the empty pace between you.

You turn, and for a moment, the boy has hope. He looks up at you, tears falling from his darkened eyes, staining his red face with hot tears. His arm lands pathetically in his lap, waiting, hanging on your every word.

You throw something at him. The impact as patietic as he feels as the small object bounces off his chest. His eyes darting to the small, burgundy oval, tip filed to a perfect point. A crack runs through a prominent ‘E’ in dark black block font. The letter stars up at him accusingly.

“You.” You point another sharp nail in his direction, his eyes widening in surprise at the new extension. “You, Edward Muson. Are an asshole. And I never want to see your face again.”

As you walked away Eddie slammed his palm over his lips. Wiping angrily at the lingering remnants of pink sparkled lipgloss. The sweet sticky substance clinging to his skin, mocking him as the sparkles engrave themselves into the deep filberts of his jeans. His stomach twisting and throat burns as electric stomach bile rises. He spits violently, doubling over onto his hands and knees and he gags and cries. The content of his stomach landing in front of him in a wet, steaming heap. And Eddie swear he will never taste strawberries again.

Eddie tried to talk to you. If only he could explain. If only he could just see your face again, even if it’s for the last time. To touch your face, to kiss your soft lips. Ones that taste of Vanilla Coke and dark chocolate, a deep lingering of smoke cutting through all your sweetness. He called what feels like a hundred times. Even drove to your house, which he found dark and empty.

No, he needs to see you again. He needs to hear your voice. He needs to explain. To say he’s sorry.

—————————————

So that’s how Eddie ended up in Chief detective Jim Hoppers living room at 6am on a goddam Sunday morning. Pacing the floor in a chaotic and unhinged fashion, long arms flailing around him, har bouncing wild with his movements. He hadn’t slept, too caught up in his plan. His plan to get you back.

Eddie knew that if you didn’t want to interact with someone, they would never know you even existed. Which is why he also knew that words wouldn’t work in you. No, actions speak louder than words.

Jim sits in his armchair, head placed heavily in his hands. Eyes screaming at him for sleep, head pounding as Eddies words bounce around his skull. Reverberating off every bone.

As Eddies words stop, his story coming to an end. He looks at Hopper, arms pressed harsh against his sides as he waits on the older man’s reaction.

“And what exactly do you want me to do about this?” The man grunts, annoyance and fatigue evident in his tone.

For the first time in a long time, Eddies thoughts screeched to a halt. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know where you are. And most importantly he doesn’t know why he even came here. Jim hoppers house of all places, to beg the older man to help him.

The feeling claws at him, the scars etched deep in his skin burn. A reminder of the battles he fought in the past. Of the people he saved, the ones he brought back, and the ones he lost along the way.

Eddies wasn’t about to lose you to.

No way.

No. Fucking. Way.

[aventurineswife]

hello! can i request aventurine, jing yuan, sunday, moze, boothill (separately) going to a bar with the reader, and the reader getting so drunk they forget they already are in a stablished relationship with them, so the reader starts flirtling with them. how would each one of them react? and then, their reaction to the reader getting absolutely shocked and happy when they reveal they already are in a relationship with the reader

Drunken Confessions and Sweet Surprises

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Jing Yuan x Reader, Boothill x Reader, Fluff, Humor, Drunken Confessions, Established Relationship, Romantic Humor, Lighthearted Banter, Unintentional Flirting, Affection

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, Mild language (slurring), Slightly suggestive content (in a humorous context)

The bar was alive with laughter and clinking glasses, the low hum of a jazzy tune weaving through the air. Aventurine leaned against the bar counter, his eyes glinting in amusement as he swirled the ice in his glass. He had been watching you for the better part of the night, your cheeks flushed and words tumbling over each other as you tipped back yet another cocktail.

“Can I help you with something, darling?” he asked, voice smooth and teasing as you stumbled closer to him. You squinted at him, your drunken mind struggling to piece together the familiarity of his smirk.

“Wow,” you slurred, propping yourself on the bar next to him. “You’re… really handsome, you know that? Like… dangerously handsome.”

Aventurine chuckled, tilting his head. “Dangerously, you say? That’s a new one. Do go on.”

“I mean it!” You jabbed a finger toward his chest, almost tipping over in the process. He steadied you with one hand on your waist, his touch firm yet gentle. “You look like someone out of a movie, or… or a dream. Are you single? ‘Cause if you are, I’m totally available.”

His grin widened, a mischievous glint sparking in his eyes. “Oh? You’re available, are you? That’s quite the bold proposition. What would your partner say?”

You blinked at him, utterly perplexed. “Partner? No way I’d have a partner as hot as you. That’d be… that’d be too good to be true.”

Aventurine’s laughter spilled out, warm and rich as he leaned in close. “Darling, you’re absolutely delightful when you’re drunk. But I must admit, you’ve already hit the jackpot. You’re speaking to your partner.”

Your jaw dropped, your wide-eyed expression almost comical. “Wait… what? No way. You’re serious?”

“Completely,” he replied, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “We’ve been together for quite some time, love. And might I say, your flirting is as charming now as it was when we first met.”

A stunned silence fell over you before a brilliant smile broke across your face. “Oh my god. That’s amazing. You mean I actually landed someone like you? I’m awesome.”

Aventurine chuckled, pulling you closer. “Yes, you are. And don’t you forget it.”

The bar was unusually lively, the hum of conversations and clinking glasses filling the air. Jing Yuan leaned back in his chair, one hand resting lightly on his drink while his eyes followed your every move. You were a few drinks in, your usual composure slipping into something more chaotic and endearing.

“Hey,” you said, plopping down into the seat beside him and pointing a finger at his face. “You’re really good-looking, you know that? Like… unfairly good-looking.”

Jing Yuan raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a soft smile. “Is that so? Thank you for the compliment.”

“I’m serious,” you continued, leaning closer. “You’re like… some kind of god or something. Are you single? Because if you are, I think we’d make a great couple.”

The general chuckled, his deep voice laced with amusement. “I’m flattered, truly. But are you sure you don’t already have someone in your life?”

You frowned, your tipsy brain struggling to process his words. “Nope. If I had someone as gorgeous as you, I’d definitely remember. So… how about it? Wanna give us a shot?”

Jing Yuan let out a low laugh, his eyes twinkling with warmth. “My dear, I hate to disappoint, but we’re already together. Have been for quite a while.”

Your eyes widened, a mix of shock and delight washing over your face. “Wait… really? No way. I’m dating you?”

He nodded, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You are. And I must say, it’s quite entertaining watching you rediscover it.”

A goofy grin spread across your face as you leaned against his shoulder. “This is the best day of my life. I’m dating Jing Yuan. I should get drunk more often.”

Jing Yuan laughed, wrapping an arm around you. “Perhaps. But let’s save that for special occasions, shall we?”

The bar was a little rough around the edges, much like Boothill himself. He sat at a corner table, his mechanical fingers tapping rhythmically against his glass. His eyes never strayed far from you as you wove through the crowd, your drunken laughter cutting through the noise.

You finally stumbled over to him, plopping into the seat across from him with a dramatic sigh. “You’re… really cool, you know that?” you slurred, propping your chin on your hand. “Like… mysterious and badass. Are you single?”

Boothill raised an eyebrow, his sharp teeth flashing in an amused grin. “Ain’t this somethin’. You’re hittin’ on me now?”

“Duh,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “You’re, like, the coolest person here. I’d be stupid not to.”

He chuckled, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. “And what if I told ya you already got me?”

You blinked at him, your alcohol-addled brain struggling to catch up. “What do you mean?”

Boothill smirked, tilting his hat back. “You and me? We’re already a thing. Have been for a while now.”

Your jaw dropped, and for a moment, you were speechless. Then, a wide grin spread across your face. “No way. That’s awesome. I’m dating you? That’s, like, the best thing ever.”

“Glad you think so,” he said, his grin softening into something more genuine. “You’re somethin’ else, y’know that?”

You reached across the table, grabbing his hand with both of yours. “I can’t believe I got so lucky. I’m never letting you go.”

Boothill chuckled, squeezing your hand. “Don’t reckon I’d let you if you tried.”

[buddierealm]

ʚ MISTAKES NEVER LAST — e. diaz x reader

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 Wordcount: 5.3k Summary: How long do good things last? Not long enough, probably. Warnings: angst angst angst, mentions of alcohol, this is the pseudocheating chapter, Doug Kendall is his own warning, jealousy, straight up loser4loser A/N: yea i accidentally lit this brick on fire before I threw it, sorry!

On a Sunday morning in mid-November, you wake up to the feeling of being tickled. You can feel a face buried in the crook of your neck, and kisses being planted on the side of your throat, as someone's stubble drags across the skin there. You quickly realize it's Eddie's face, and Eddie's undergrown beard doing all of the tickling. You giggle uncontrollably and squirm in his hold, but his arms around your waist are almost impossible to remove while you're awake, let alone half asleep.

Your eyes slowly open up, as you squint at the rays of sunlight peeking through his curtain. You must've slept over by mistake, something Eddie isn't ever bothered by in the slightest. He's confided in you multiple times that whenever you sleep over it's the best sleep he's had since before his days on active duty.

His fingers inch up your shirt, tickling your stomach. You squeal and you're sure you would've toppled over the bed by now if he hadn't been holding onto you so tightly.

“Eddie!” you yell, still in a fit of laughter, “Please, stop!”

“What'll you give me in return?” he asks, his voice still a little rough with sleep.

“Anything!” you negotiate, still cackling, “Anything, please.”

He finally stops, and plants a messy kiss onto your mouth. You close your eyes and put a hand on his chest, as he swallows up the quiet sounds you make. When he pulls back, he has a winning smile on his lips.

“That was good. Now you owe me 100 more of those and I won't do that ever again,” he teases.

“What? That's entirely too many. And not fair,” you respond.

“You said anything. If you keep whining, I'll ask for more,” he wiggles his eyebrows, trying to convey his innuendo.

You roll your eyes at him, pulling away to sit up, “I don't whine.”

He gets up and picks his shirt off of the floor, pulling it on.

“Mhm, sure you don't,” he comments, making his way into the bathroom.

You throw the first piece of clothing you can find off of the floor at him, but he's already out the door. You quickly realize you've thrown your pants, and sigh because the door is wide open. He walks back into the room, toothbrush in his mouth and then throws the pants at your head.

“Thank you,” you grumble from underneath the fabric.

On the 27th of November, you and Eddie, along with the entire 118, are invited to spend thanksgiving at Athena's, courtesy of one Bobby Nash. You bring both a store-bought cake and a homemade pecan pie, being the overachiever that you are. Eddie just brings a bottle of wine. You call him lazy in the car, and he laughs and threatens to tickle you again. You're on kiss number 27, which means you still owe him 73 until your debt is paid off and you can go back to living without fear.

When you walk in, you greet Athena with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. She returns both gladly. She compliments the dessert you brought, and jokes that Eddie should up his game. As you step inside, you greet everyone else, and even though you see them almost every day, this is different. Here, you're faced with the reality of how much of a full life everyone has outside of work. It would've made you incredibly envious before Eddie. But now that you have him and Chris, you can't help but relate. Your life is so, so full, and so much more than just your career with them.

As the night goes on, you begin to feel a little bored. There's very little to talk about when you see these people every day. You know practically everything there is to know about them. But your excitement returns when you get a text from Eddie to come to the bathroom. He's already been there for about three minutes, not to raise suspicion, you assume. So you get up and make your way to the guest bathroom. You knock twice, and he opens the door and pulls you in.

Immediately, he pushes you into the door. His lips crash into yours, and his hands are everywhere. On your hips, up your shirt, trailing the hem of your short skirt. You sigh into his mouth and lean into the long kiss, pulling him closer and delighting in your closeness. You hadn't kissed since that morning, and this was the missing puzzle piece to make your night a little more thrilling. You run your fingers through his hair, pulling the strands free from the gel he uses religiously. He groans into your mouth when you pull him away by it to catch your breath.

“Twenty-eight,” you mutter, through panting breaths.

“Wow. Are you seriously counting down our kisses?” he asks, acting betrayed.

“Don't act like you aren't either. It's why you've been so stingy lately,” you mutter, narrowing your eyes.

“Me? I'm very generous,” he whisper-shouts, “In fact...”

He grabs the sides of your face, while planting what can only be described as a smooch onto your mouth, and then whispers, “Twenty-nine.”

And another, “Thirty,” and another, “Thirty-one.”

“I can count, y'know,” you say in between.

He pays you no mind, and once he's reached Thirty-seven, he pulls back and raises an eyebrow at you.

“See? What about now?”

You grin widely at him, “I'd say you've fallen for my trick. Sooner rather than later, I'll be free of you.”

“Oh, you'll never, ever, be free of me,” he mumbles, leaning in for another kiss, until a loud knocking sound comes from the door.

Eddie puts a hand over your mouth and works to even out his breathing, hoping whoever's at the door will just give up and leave. Little does he know, it's Athena Grant on the other side and she isn't going anywhere anytime soon.

“I know you kids are in there,” she yells through the door.

A few seconds later, she continues, “You better not have sex in my damn bathroom!”

You both laugh out loud at that.

“We'll be right out, 'Thena! Sorry,” you yell back.

You fix yourselves up in the mirror, and then walk out of the bathroom to join everyone else.

That night, you share kiss number 38 as you slow-dance in the middle of the Grants' living room, surrounded by the people you love the most.

For the first time in, well, ever, Eddie is late for his shift. You're not too concerned about it for the first twenty minutes. But then fifty more minutes pass by and you start to panic a little. You know it's kind of irrational, but your mind conjures up every single bad thing that could've happened to him or, God forbid, Chris.

A number of accidents pops up into your mind, every emergency you've ever responded to, and he's at the center of all of them. You start to feel a little stupid and overly sentimental when he walks in a few moments later, muttering apologies to Bobby and running into the locker room to get changed. You sigh in relief and follow him into the locker room.

“Hey,” you greet him.

He can barely look at you, but he greets you back anyway. You frown and put your fingers onto the side of his face, pulling his gaze to yours.

“What's wrong?” you question.

He mutters something about Chris' school and runs off to take a shower before he clocks into his shift. You're left stunned and very curious to know what's been going on. You look at the ground in defeat. There you find a piece of paper that must've fallen from his shoulder bag.

You pick up the paper, and on it you find a document from Christopher's new school dated for yesterday, the 10th of December, and signed by one Shannon Diaz. Diaz? Diaz, Diaz, Diaz. The name replays in your mind so much you aren't even sure it's real anymore. Why would she keep the name? Maybe you're overthinking this, but your mind is reeling with all of the different possibilities of it all.

You sit on the bench in front of his locker, just staring at the piece of paper. When he returns, he's still pulling shirt on. You look up at him with narrowed eyes. You can't believe you're about to ask this.

“Are you still married?” you question furiously.

Eddie looks stunned, frozen in place. Then, he sees the piece of paper in your hands. He sighs and takes it away from you like he could burn it away and you'd magically forget you ever saw it. He rubs his face and looks away.

“Yes? Kind of,” he answers, and your vision grows redder, “It isn't like that.”

“What's it like, then?” you ask.

He doesn't respond. He can't. He isn't sure how he'd be able to tell you any of it.

“Why? Why didn't you tell me? I thought I knew everything there was to know. You told me as much. I told you everything.”

You blink away the tears, “Why?”

He looks up at the ceiling, “Tell you what? Which part? The fact that I'm still married, because she walked out on us or the fact that I've been thinking about getting back with her?”

“You what?!”

You get up from the bench, “Since when, Eddie?”

“Just before Halloween,” he mutters, and you're pretty sure if it wasn't for the adrenaline carrying you through, you'd already have collapsed on the floor.

You can feel your blood boil, your anger simmering, begging to be let out of every pore in your body. As you pass by Eddie to leave, he instinctively grabs your arm. You pull it back so hard, you're pretty sure your wrist might sprain.

“No! You don't touch me, okay? Don't ever touch me again,” you shout, so loud it rebounds off of the walls, creating an echo.

He pulls his hands to rest behind his head, breathing quick and shallow, “Please, just let me explain-”

“Explain?!” you ask, walking closer and getting up in his face, “No, you don't get to explain anything! You know when you should've explained? At halloween, or on our first date, or one of the eleven times I slept over in your home. Or, better yet, that first night, at the bar. Before any of the rest of it, dammit!”

You can feel your voice break and tears well up in your eyes, but you don't back down. You point an accusatory finger in his face. He isn't even looking at you. He's staring at the ceiling with his eyes closed.

Why won't he fight? Why isn't he groveling?

You shake your head and then you're pulled back gently by your shoulders. You can tell it's Hen from the familiar way she comforts you. You have to bite back a sob that bubbles up your throat and threatens to reveal all of the betrayal you're feeling.

“I just thought that…” he begins.

“Do not! Don't think about me, don't talk to me, don't even look in my direction,” you order him, and step away with a finality.

You make quick work of grabbing your bag out of your locker and walking away. Hen follows you and offers to drive you home, which you gladly accept. Your phone flashes with Eddie's name as he calls you a little over ten times before eventually giving up. Hen sits in silence the whole ride home, which is much appreciated. You're not sure you can say another word without completely breaking down.

And once you're home, behind the safety of your own four walls, and surrounded by the insistent memories of him, you do.

Your job's always been difficult. Every second counts as a firefighter. Milliseconds can determine who dies and who lives. It's why you've become so quick on your feet. Being around Eddie right now has ruined your focus and made your job 10 times harder.

No one's going to die, of course, but you're just not all too there most of the time. The team picks up whenever you're slacking off, Hen and Chimney being the most helpful. It's still obvious you aren't doing your best, though.

You're needing to sleep more while on call, your brain takes a little longer to catch up to the emergency situations you face on the daily than before. You hate that he's made you ordinary, at best, at the one thing you've ever felt you're really good at. And that he's completely fine. At least that's what it seems like. He actually might've gotten slightly better at his job, because he's been throwing his all into it lately. He doesn't look any happier, but you're guessing he must be.

It'a all you can think about as you sip on your coffee, at the firehouse's kitchenette island. You have a book laid out in front of you, but the words aren't making any sense. Nothing really is right now, you suppose. People betray each other and boyfriends end up having wives, that's really the only thing you can wrap your mind around right now.

Chimney waves his arms in front of you as you realize you'd been using him as a spot on the wall for your quiet contemplation. Your eyes snap up to finally meet his and then you look back at your book. You can hear him sigh and pull up a high chair to sit beside you. You just hope he isn't here to pity you.

“You need to get over yourself,” he says.

Evidently not.

“Sorry?” you ask.

“You think this whole thing with Eddie's about you,” he whispers, “You're tying it to your self worth and it's slowly killing you.”

You look at him incredulously, your eyes narrowing. You slam your book closed violently and he flinches for a moment.

“What?! Seriously, Chim?” you yell.

“The person I'm dating ends up having a wife, who he's been trying to get back with, and it isn't about me? Who the hell is it about, then?”

Chimney sighs, “Christopher? Eddie? You can't know for sure yet, but I know it isn't about you.”

He sits up straighter and puts a hand on your shoulder, “Look, when Tatiana left and I saw her a few months later, already pregnant, like I was nothing at all, it broke my heart. But then, I realized it wasn't about me. It was about her,” he pauses for a moment, “I know it sounds like I'm breaking up with myself, but hear me out here.”

You nod, and decide to listen in, just to see where he's going with all of this.

“She was always going to leave a guy like me for the guy she settled down with. It doesn't matter if I had jumped up and down, loved her to death, or gotten a rebar stuck in my head, apparently,” he jokes.

You laugh a little, and nod at his statement, trying to grasp what he's trying to say.

“It just probably isn't about you. Hell, maybe it isn't even about Eddie,” he reasons.

“He has a kid, and you know he'll do whatever it takes to keep him happy. I'm sure he's sad it had to come at your expense, but you should try removing yourself from the whole equation. You're worth a lot more than what he did to you. It was just bad timing, kid. I'm sorry.”

You gulp, and take a deep breath, in an attempt not to cry at his words.

“Wow, Chim, you're a very sappy guy,” you tease.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” he mutters with a smile, rising from his seat, “Just keep what I said in mind.”

The pity the team feels for you truly rears its head in moments like these. Buck and Chimney insisted up and down that you join them and Maddie at a bar for some drinks. Normally, they'd let it go after the fifth 'no, thank you," but they only became more insistent and annoying. They had to drag you out of your uniform into the dingy bar you were currently entering, not of your own free will.

“The world feels so different now that I'm single again,” Buck comments, as you find a seat at a high-table.

You sit down beside him, strategically leaving an empty seat beside Chimney for Maddie.

“Buck, you've been single for months now,” Chimney notes.

“Yeah. I mean, technically, when your girlfriend disappears for months, the relationship becomes null and void,” you agree.

“Well, it's only circumstantial. I know Abby's been gone for a while, but in my head, we've been together this whole time,” he comments, and you think it's the saddest thing you've ever heard.

You tell him as much. And you're glad he doesn't bring up the whole your-boyfriend-left-you-for-his-wife thing in response. But, you aren't going to be nice to these dickheads who've dragged you out of your comfort zone to come to some disgusting bar and listen to them drag on about their equally sad love lives.

Buck rants about self discovery and staying Buck 2.0, when the waitress comes by. Buck orders two IPAs for himself and Chim, you opt for a margarita, and Chimney adds a glass of chardonnay for Maddie.

“Who's the wine for?” Buck asks.

“Maddie,” Chim clarifies, “She was parking.”

“Uh, you invited my sister?” Buck asks Howie, as he looks in your direction, expecting you to have the same shocked expression on your face.

“You didn't know?” you ask innocently.

“Hi. Sorry I''m late,” Maddie announces, “I don't know why I got on the freeway, I always regret it.”

She puts her bag down and you get up to hug her.

As she leans in for a hug, she whispers into your ear, “I'm so sorry to hear what happened. If you wanna talk, you can always call me. Eddie's a dick.”

You nod in agreement with a smile, and then go back to sit down.

“It's because you are an eternal optimist,” Chimney says to Maddie as she sits down.

“That's true,” she responds.

You listen to them ramble on like a married couple. It makes you think about how you and Eddie were, and that feels like a stab in the heart. So you redirect your focus on calming down Buck from his confused state about the nature of their relationship. If you aren't going to find love yourself, you might as well have a hand in some matchmaking.

You regret thinking that later, though, when Buck ditches you to go talk to Taylor Kelly, and you can hear Maddie and Chimney sing karaoke in the distance. You drink the rest of your margarita and order an Uber for the ride home.

As you stand outside the bar's entrance, your phone in hand with a large map on the screen. When it says '5 minutes away,' you can hear someone walk up behind you. Your instincts tell you to look behind you, and you find a man standing there. He smiles, and you'd be lying if you said he wasn't quite attractive.

He introduces himself as Jason Bailey, and shakes your hand.

“I'm not a stalker or anything like that, I just saw you inside and thought I should tell you I think you're gorgeous,” he says.

You laugh at his compliment, “Yeah, thank you.”

You glance at the floor, and you can feel his eyes follow your own. There's something eerie about him, and you would've walked away by now if he wasn't so charming.

“I was hoping I could grab your number,” he asks.

Any other day, you would've said no, but witnessing everyone fall in love or get lucky but you was a great big cloud to your judgment. Even more than the alcohol you were slightly tipsy on. So, you give him your number. You're sure you won't respond to any of his calls when you're sober, anyway.

The Christmas spirit always dulls your edge. It makes you gentler, more forgiving. It's the one and only reason you decide to stop acting so outwardly bitchy towards Eddie. You figure that since you're going to be working together for the foreseeable future, you should try to be amicable. And, Y'know, forgive and forget.

Christmas is five days away and the LAFD is holding its annual toy drive. The station is decked out with fake presents, a Christmas tree, signs everywhere. Kids are running around, and climbing the firetruck. Buck's also running around for some reason in a Santa hat. He'd put one on your head, too, during your shift. Your shift had ended hours ago, though.

You've decided to stay behind, packing donated toys into boxes to be separated later by yourself and the team. You smile and thank everyone for their graciousness. Eddie comes up to the empty box beside you to begin collecting toys too. He's been obeying your wishes that he not think about, speak to, or even look in your direction. At least when he thinks you don't notice. Like right now, he's definitely staring, but he thinks you can't see him.

When he finally looks away, you turn to look at him. He immediately turns his head to stare into your eyes like he was already just waiting for a sign from you. You smile at him, and he grins back.

“Hi,” you say, but before he can respond someone walks up to his side with a large toy box.

You both turn to look at her. It's a woman, and she's really pretty. She looks completely free. So not tied down by anyone or anything. She exactly the type of person you'd expect live in LA, do yoga every other day, and be childless by 40.

“Shannon,” Eddie says, and you freeze up immediately, like you've been caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

You look down at your box, the toys suddenly becoming very interesting. You try to think about how you're going to sort them out later. Anything to keep your mind off of the woman currently standing in front of the man you were dating less than ten days ago. The woman he's still married to.

“What are you doing here?” he asks tensely.

You try to even out your breathing. You want so badly to be able to tune them out. Or even just walk away, but you can't move a muscle somehow.

“You won't answer my texts or return my calls,” she explains.

It shouldn't make you feel better, but it kind of does.

“This is not the place,” he chastises her.

You take toys from the people too intimidated to approach him now, and put them in your already full box, but you can't manage a smile for them anymore.

Her tone becomes angry, “Maybe it's the perfect place. We can actually have a conversation that doesn't end up with us in bed.”

He grimaces at her, as everyone turns to look at them. Everyone but you, whose eyes are still glued to the toy boxes. You knew it was real, obviously, but hearing it and seeing her makes you want to throw up. You're sure if you weren't so surprised by it all, you'd already be hyperventilating. Your face grows hot as you consider the implications of what she’d just said.

Wow, they’re already sleeping together?

“Follow me,” he utters through gritted teeth.

They walk away and Chim stops pouring people fruit punch to put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. You look up at him and shake your head. He immediately removes his hand and goes back to what he was doing.

You hate Eddie Diaz, you decide. You hate him a lot. So much for trying to stay amicable.

Going back to ignoring Eddie comes as naturally as breathing to you. It is human instinct to avoid pain, after all. Or at least that's what you're trying to convince yourself. Hating him might be the farthest thing from breathing you've ever had to do.

It's also just objectively difficult to hate someone you have to watch save people on a daily basis. But you manage pretending just fine. And you find you aren't any closer to understanding why he lied to you, so moving on is out of the window.

For now, though, you can focus on getting your groove back, one emergency at a time. Bus accidents are fairly uncommon, and you like exploring new aspects of the job, so this call was a more than needed respite.

You apply a tourniquet on a woman's upper thigh, disinfect her wound, and put her into an ambulance for safe transfer. You also tend to some minor scratches, wounds and sprains. One specific woman with a minor injury on her arm points out a Marine who was riding the bus, as you treat her. She tells you all about how he'd been riding the bus to get to his daughter's performance on time. As you sneak a look at him, you realize why he's still here.

He has blood on his uniform, and has a clearly broken phone in hand. He stayed to help stabilize a citizen, and now he's going to be late to see his daughter. Well, that's just not right. You frown and when the woman thanks you, you step away and walk towards the Bobby, Buck, and Eddie.

“Hey guys, didn't that Marine over there help you with a victim?” you question.

Buck nods, “Yeah, why?”

“A woman who was on the bus told me he's about to miss seeing his daughter perform at school, because of this whole thing,” you explain.

You turn your gaze to Captain Nash, “I was thinking maybe we could help him out? Y'know, return the favor. What do you think, Cap?”

Eddie looks at you with unbelievable admiration and then turns to Bobby with pleading eyes. Buck follows suit.

“Sure, why not,” he says, and Eddie immediately rushes over to tell the guy.

You jump into the driver's seat of the firetruck, as everyone crams inside. Once you've secured a location, you turn the sirens on and start driving as quickly as possible.

“Better hurry up and get dressed. We're gonna be there before you know it,” Eddie instructs.

You can hear Buck talk about how he's going to be crying and it makes you laugh out loud. In truth, you'll probably be crying too, but no one needs to know that.

Once you reach the theatre, you all run out of the truck, leaving the keys behind with a paramedic who rode with you. Your pace doesn't grow any slower as you make your way inside.

It's completely packed, and a little girl who looks so much like the Marine you drove over is singing into a mic with the voice of an angel. When she spots her father, she gasps, and walks off of the stage with the choir finishing the song for her. They hug, with the spotlight shining down on them, and everyone claps.

You look down to avoid letting anyone catch the tears lining your lashes. Buck does no such thing, though, and wipes his tears off shamelessly. Your head turns to look around at the team with a victorious smile, and you see Eddie's about to cry. You turn away immediately to give him some privacy. And then you can't help but remember the harrowing experiences he'd shared with you that night on your couch.

Like puzzle pieces clicking into place, you finally understand what Chimney meant by what he said before Christmas. 'Maybe it isn't even about Eddie,' he'd said. Maybe it isn't. Maybe it's about making up for lost time. Maybe it's even about forgiving Shannon the same way she forgave him for leaving all those years ago. Did she? She didn't exactly stay, but you have no idea what exactly transpired, so you can't be too harsh in your judgement.

The real Eddie, your Eddie, would do anything for his son. He'd even languish in a loveless marriage just to see him happy and give him a sense of security. He genuinely believes it's the only way he can make up for his errors. You get it. Or you're going to try to.

When Buck and Bobby turn to leave, you instinctively wipe a tear off of Eddie's cheek. He almost sighs at your touch, but decides against it. Then, you grant him a curt yet genuine smile, and turn to walk away.

Eddie was so sure the only thing between you now was bad faith and animosity. Here in the back of a church theatre, though, it feels more like understanding, and maybe even forgiveness.

You're grabbing a bottle of water out of the fire station's fridge when a wolf whistle sounds from behind you. You look back and realize Chimney's whistling at you...? You frown at him deeply, very confused at how he's acting.

“A little birdie told me someone asked for your number at the bar, the night we all went,” he says in a sing-songy voice.

Your eyes dart over to Hen, and you point an accusatory finger at her.

“I told you that in confidence!” you yell.

She shrugs and makes her way to the kitchenette's island to grab an apple out of the fruit bowl. You scowl at her and fold your arms.

“Soo, has this mystery guy called?” Chim asks.

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Eddie listening in intently. His shoulders are holding a lot of tension, and his face is set into a frown.

“That's none of your business, Chim,” you inform him, looking away.

“Nope,” Hen responds for you anyway.

The truth is he did. Many times. You just never responded. You aren't ready to be with anyone else. At all. You're glad you hadn't told Hen that part though, because you can actually keep it to yourself.

You're pretty sure you can see Eddie's shoulders relax and his expression turn a bit calmer, but you can't tell if it's delusion, the toll this 24-hour shift is taking on you or reality.

“Oh. Tough luck,” he says, patting your shoulder.

You swat his hand away, “Hey! It isn't like you're killing it with the ladies. You can barely officially ask out the girl you've been dating.”

Hen, Bobby, and Eddie laugh at that, while Buck just grimaces at the mention of his sister dating Chimney.

Someone calls for Chimney from downstairs, announcing that Maddie's here to see him. You smirk at him as he nervously makes his way down.

You all immediately run to the railing of the top floor to watch their interaction. You're standing in between Eddie and Hen when Maddie reveals her divorce papers. Wow. What a way begin a relationship. You're glad they've found each other, lord knows how hard it is to find someone willing to get divorced to be with you.

When they're done talking, you wolf-whistle at them the same way Chim had done for you. You laugh when you notice everyone else is teasing them too.

Then, everyone makes their way downstairs to congratulate them. You and Eddie stay. You stay, because you want to congratulate Chim privately so you can reveal all of the matchmaking you've been doing for him without seeming insane. You're not sure why Eddie stays, though.

His hands still wrapped around the railing so tightly his knuckles turn white, he turns to look at you. It seems he's decided that looking isn't off limits. You sigh and look in his direction, ready to remind him of your blatant opposition to him looking in your direction.

But quickly you realize how close he is. And how much you've missed his eyes, and the admiration that they’re currently filled with. You see in his eyes the potential life you could've had together. Maddie and Chimney are proof that good relationships can start with a divorce. It’s a childish and slightly evil thought, but you can’t help but wish, and hope, and pray he’ll show up with divorce papers at your door one day.

Even though you won't talk to him, your eyes are pleading. For anything. For everything.

When it gets too intense, he looks back downstairs at everyone. You watch him muster up all of his self control and walk away, leaving you there.

A/N: these FREAKS having conversations with their eyes... also did u guys peep the Hamilton reference or not?? pls say yes

[steddieas-shegoes]

don't want to move on

for @steddiesmuttyseptember prompt 'make-up sex'

rated e | 18+, minors dni | 3165 words | read all tags on ao3

❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

If Steve knows one thing, it’s that Eddie knows how to get under his skin and in his bed.

Ever since their breakup, a disaster of epic proportions for the entire friend group, Steve’s kept his distance from every possible interaction with Eddie. He’s made sure to find reasons to miss group outings and put himself on the schedule at work on the nights when he knew Eddie would be at movie nights or dinner. He purposely scheduled pool parties for days and times he knew Eddie would be busy.

But he couldn’t get out of this one.

And now he has Eddie’s eyes on him from across the room, staring into his soul, reading his mind probably.

It makes him want to hide. Or take his pants off.

He hasn’t quite decided yet.

“Are you gonna glare at him all night or go talk to him?” Jonathan asks from behind him.

Steve turns, feels ridiculous that he’s been caught, and crosses his arms across his chest defiantly.

“I’m gonna ignore him until he leaves and then excuse myself so I can sulk in peace,” Steve admits.

Robin was his platonic soulmate, but Jonathan has become a sort of unexpected best friend. He was there the morning after the breakup, barely holding Steve together with spoonfuls of peanut butter and reassuring words that didn’t stick quite as hard as the peanut butter. They got even closer after that, and hardly a day passed where Jonathan wasn’t texting Steve or showing up at his apartment with take out and stories from whatever modeling shoot he was working on.

“And you think he’s gonna let that happen?”

“If he knows what’s good for him.”

Jonathan snorts. “Okay. On that note, I’m gonna go check on Nancy. She got into the weed earlier and she’s probably at the stage where the walls are squiggly and she can feel her lungs touching her ribs.”

Steve’s eyes widen and he nods. He knows what she’s like at that point. Jonathan needs to get her home before everyone knows what she’s like at that point.

The moment Jonathan is gone, Eddie is walking towards him.

Steve’s never felt more like prey in his life, never seen Eddie strut like this. He’s frozen. He forgets how to breathe.

“Didn’t know you’d be here,” are the first words Eddie says to him in six months.

No hello. No awkward exchange of pleasantries.

Just a mild accusation and a piercing look.

“I wouldn’t be if I’d known you’d be here,” he retorts, deciding to match his energy. If Eddie is allowed to be at this party of a mutual friend’s mutual friend, then Steve is too. “Didn’t even know Ivy had your number.”

Ivy was one of Nancy’s friends from school, and Steve had been invited to quite a few of her parties over the last few years. When they were together, Steve always brought Eddie, but he didn’t know if Ivy and Eddie had ever even met.

“I know Ivy pretty well, actually,” Eddie says in a way that makes Steve pause.

What the fuck does that mean?

“So you’re…friends?” Steve asks even though he thinks he knows where this is going and he thinks he’s gonna be sick if he’s right.

“Yeah.” Eddie smirks. “Friends.”

“Oh.”

Steve has to abort whatever mission he thought he was on. This is gonna end with him crying in front of Eddie and everyone else at this stupid party that he came to because he’d had a rough week and just wanted to have a drink with friends and-

“Are you gonna be sick?” Eddie asks, reaching out to him as if that would even help.

“No!” Steve backs away. “I just need to head out. Got an early morning.”

“On a Sunday? You don’t work Sundays.”

“And how would you know?”

Steve needs to leave. He can’t engage in anything else with Eddie. He won’t recover.

“Because you wouldn’t have come at all if you had work in the morning. And everyone you would hang out with is here.” Eddie steps closer to him. “Unless something’s changed?”

Steve shakes his head. “I’m not sure I owe you an explanation of my schedule.”

Eddie seems to realize that Steve’s right, taking a step back.

“Right. That’s true. I guess.”

And suddenly Steve can see how uncomfortable Eddie is, how much courage and energy it took him just to walk up to Steve at all. He’s always been pretty easy to read, at least for Steve, but right now it’s like he’s made of glass.

“How you been?” Steve asks, ignoring the pull he feels to the door for the pull he feels to Eddie.

“Um, good. Yeah, great. Fantastic. You?”

Steve raises a brow at the response. Eddie’s never been fantastic a day in his life.

Except maybe that one time he ate Steve out on a patio chair by the pool and then fucked him in his parent’s hot tub and claimed that he’d never been happier in his entire life.

“I’ve been fine.”

Not a lie. He has been fine most of the time. Fine isn’t anything special, or anything good.

“You look…good.” Eddie settles on, as if he was going to say something else entirely. “Still going to the gym?”

“Not as often as I should,” Steve admits. He’s about to call this quits when he sees Jonathan giving him a thumbs up from the doorway. “Uh. I should actually probably head out though.”

“Right. Yeah. Sure. Want me to let Ivy know you had to go?”

Steve shouldn’t fucking push. He knows he’s gonna end up hurt worse if he gets any form of confirmation on what he thinks is going on.

“I’ll just text her. But I guess if you see her before you go…”

“I mean, yeah, I’m kinda…living here right now?” Eddie rubs his hand along the back of his neck.

Steve thinks he might pass out.

He’s living with a woman not even six full months after he broke up with Steve because Steve wanted to take the next step and move in together?

He feels like he’s going crazy.

“With Ivy?” Steve can barely hear his own voice, doesn’t even know if Eddie hears him until he responds.

“I couldn’t renew my lease so she offered to let me stay here for a few months while I looked for something else,” he explains, as if that clears anything up. As if that helps the jealous fire in Steve’s heart calm. “That’s the only reason I’m even here tonight. I was off and she needed an extra pair of eyes to make sure no one tried to drive home after drinking.”

“Well, I haven’t even been drinking.”

“I know.”

“How do you know?”

“You think I’ve looked anywhere other than you since you walked in the door?”

Steve feels like his entire body is lifting above the floor, and he’s reminded that Eddie’s good at this. Flirting like he means it, using words but not wanting more than that.

That he may have feelings for Steve, but god forbid those feelings lead anywhere other than a bed or a date.

“Doesn’t seem appropriate to stare at me all night with your girlfriend in the next room.”

“Girlfriend? What? I don’t have a girlfriend.”

Eddie seems genuinely confused, his brows furrowing as he looks around the room and back at Steve.

“Isn’t Ivy your girlfriend?”

“Ivy?! Ivy Jane? The woman who told me on day one of me living here that if she even so much as accidentally saw my dick she’d cut it off?” Eddie laughs, unamused. “She’s a friend at most. More of a useful annoyance.”

Steve is confused. Why did Eddie make it seem like there was more to it than that? Why couldn’t Eddie renew his lease? Why didn’t anyone tell him about any of this?

“Look, you probably shouldn’t head home on your own. I know you didn’t drink, but it’s still pretty late, and I know you walked here.” Eddie sighs. “Can I at least get you an Uber?”

“To go less than a mile?”

“Or I could walk you.”

“And then walk back alone?”

“You don’t have to argue with everything, you know,” Eddie grumbles. “I’m just trying to make sure you’re safe.”

“I didn’t know ex-boyfriends cared that much.”

It’s a low blow and Eddie’s physical withdrawal is immediate. Steve instantly feels bad.

No matter what happened between them, he knows Eddie. He knows he’s trying to be nice and all Steve’s doing is making that task more difficult.

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” Steve sighs. “I’m just surprised that you’d care this much when we haven’t even talked in months.”

“Steve, I’ll always care about you.”

It’s a knife to his chest.

Because that’s not even remotely close to what Eddie had said to him months ago when he was throwing his shit in a bag and running as fast as he could. It’s not how he made Steve feel when he told him they were done.

”I’m not gonna keep pretending this can end well for either of us.”

He’d made it pretty obvious he had no intention of loving Steve beyond the year they spent together, and Steve had no choice but to assume he’d been faking feelings for him to try to get over him.

Steve doesn’t realize he’s let tears fall until Eddie’s thumbs are brushing them away, his touch so soft it makes Steve want to sob.

Before he can say anything or push Eddie away, Eddie’s hand is on his lower back, guiding him down the hallway of the apartment.

He doesn’t fight it, even though alarm bells are ringing in his head telling him to pause and go home, maybe try to talk to Eddie when he’s calmed down from the shock of seeing him. The warmth of Eddie next to him is enough to silence any fears he has.

He’s sitting on Eddie’s bed. The room is surprisingly plain for a room that belongs to Eddie, but the sheets on the bed are scattered and one pillow looks more like a ball, so he knows it’s his. Eddie sleeps the same way he talks: constantly moving, shuffling around, trying to find comfort in touch.

“I’ll take the couch once everyone leaves. You probably shouldn’t be alone right now,” Eddie says from in front of him, keeping his hands to himself.

He probably shouldn’t, but if Eddie’s on the couch, doesn’t that leave him alone anyway?

“You can come get me if you need anything,” Eddie explains further. “And I can come check on you.”

“Right,” Steve’s voice is shaky. “But you could stay?”

Eddie’s eyes are scanning his face, always trying to see what Steve isn’t saying. He’s always been good about reading Steve.

“Is that what you want?” Eddie eventually asks.

Steve nods because he can’t think of anything to say that won’t sound like he’s desperate for more of Eddie’s touch.

He lays down and waits for Eddie to join him, but he’s not sure what he’s hoping for anymore. The best thing to do would be to tell Eddie he changed his mind and send him to the couch, the second best would probably be to go home. But what ends up happening is Eddie locks the bedroom door and slips his shoes off, strips his jeans down his legs, and slides into bed with him.

He doesn’t touch him at first, though the bed isn’t quite big enough for them to not accidentally brush arms as they find comfortable positions.

Steve lets his eyes close, even though he’s never felt more awake, even though he feels every breath Eddie takes as if it’s his own.

“I love you.”

Steve’s eyes shoot open at Eddie’s whispered confession.

They were together for a year and Eddie never said it. Steve didn’t even say it for fear of Eddie running. And when he finally did say it, when he had the nerve to ask him to move in with him, Eddie ran.

So, he couldn’t have possibly heard what he thought he just heard.

“I know it’s too late. I should’ve told you six months ago.” Eddie scoffed at his own words. “Actually, I should’ve told you when I realized it on our third date. There’s no excuse. You told me why you were hesitant to tell people how you felt and I should’ve known it would be harder for you than it would be for me.”

Steve turns on his side, eyes wide as he takes in the way Eddie’s eyes are slowly blinking up at the ceiling, fingers tapping anxiously against his own stomach.

“Why did you leave, then? If you loved me, why did you let me think you didn’t?”

Steve’s impressed with his sudden ability not to cry when he’d so easily let tears fall earlier.

Eddie turns his head. His fingers still. The room is silent, but Steve can feel the vibrations of the music playing down the hall.

“I don’t know.”

It’s anticlimactic, and not good enough, but Steve believes him. He believes that Eddie truly doesn’t know his own thought process behind walking away from what could’ve been a good future for them.

“Why say it now?”

“Because I needed you to leave here in the morning knowing that what you were asking for wasn’t unreasonable. I needed you to know that your feelings were fine, and that nothing you did pushed me away. You deserve the chance to move on properly.”

Steve can feel his heart in every nerve ending of his body, pulsing to a wild beat, a dangerous tempo that he isn’t sure he wants to control. Eddie always made him feel like this, like he was one step away from jumping off a ledge, like he was flying through the air without a parachute.

“I don’t want to move on.”

Steve crushes his lips to Eddie’s, letting out a pained groan that’s muffled by Eddie’s lips pushing against his own. It’s not soft, not even gross the way their kisses got when they’d been sweaty and pushing each other to their limits for hours.

It was forgiveness and yearning and need wrapped into a single point of contact.

But once Eddie’s hands found Steve’s hips, all he wanted was to feel Eddie everywhere.

“Missed you,” he admits breathlessly.

“Missed you, too, Stevie. So much,” Eddie gasps against his mouth.

It doesn’t take long for them to strip out of their clothes, for Eddie’s mouth to find all of Steve’s sensitive spots, for bruises to be left in places that will be hard to cover up tomorrow. They’re both panting, trying to hide moans against the pillows and sweaty skin.

Steve laughs when Eddie’s lips trail down to the head of his leaking cock.

Eddie looks up, frowning as if he’s disappointed that he was interrupted.

“What could you possibly be laughing at?”

“How easy it was to get me in your bed. Did you know I was coming tonight?” He does his best not to sound accusatory, but a small part of him worries that Eddie’s plan all night has been to get him naked. It wouldn’t be the first time those were his intentions.

“I had no idea you’d be here,” Eddie nips at his thigh. “But if I did, I would’ve planned this exact outcome, yeah.”

Steve slaps at his shoulder but moans when Eddie’s lips wrap around the head of his cock, tongue lapping up the precum that had been gathering for a while.

They get lost in it, in being able to touch each other, in finally having what they’d both missed for so long. Steve’s hands hardly ever leave Eddie’s hair and Eddie’s tongue is like a magnet to every inch of his skin.

He kisses down his length, he sucks bruises into his thighs, he sucks his cock until Steve’s trembling under him, saying his name over and over. Begging, praying, he didn’t even know anymore.

Steve doesn’t even realize he’s close until Eddie’s asking if he wants to finish like this or with Eddie inside him.

“Want you inside, but I don’t know if I can last that long,” Steve pouts. Now that he feels the coil in his belly and the flush of his chest and neck, he knows there’s no way he’ll make it through Eddie stretching him. He’s half-tempted to just have Eddie fuck him with no prep, but Eddie will never go for it. “C’mere?”

Eddie kisses his way up Steve’s body, biting a nipple and licking sweat from his collarbone before settling perfectly between his legs. He’s smiling down at Steve like he could stay there all night, like he didn’t just get interrupted in the middle of one of the best blowjobs of Steve’s life.

“Can we just…” Steve tilts his hips up so his cock rubs against Eddie’s. Both of them groan as Eddie hangs his head. “Like this?”

Eddie nods before resting his forehead against Steve’s and letting out a breath.

“I’m not gonna last long,” he whispers, like it’s a secret that he’s been getting off making Steve feel good.

“Me either. ‘S okay.”

Their cocks brush together as Eddie leans down on his elbows. Steve lifts his legs up to wrap around Eddie’s waist, pulling him down so there’s a constant friction between them.

“Fuck, I love you.”

“I love you,” Steve’s breath catches on his words.

Eddie’s hips move faster, and Steve does his best to meet every thrust. They’re in sync as if they were never apart, and Steve thinks this is all he needs for the rest of his life.

He knew that before, when they were together, and after Eddie left. But feeling it now, with Eddie above him, surrounding him, practically sharing his breaths, he knows Eddie’s it for him.

That thought is what sends him over the edge.

He cups Eddie’s cheek in his hand and pulls him into a searing kiss, one that’s more tongue and teeth than lips, more passion than finesse.

But it sends Eddie over the edge, too.

After, when they’ve stopped shaking and Eddie used his t-shirt to wipe up their mess, Steve taps his fingers against Eddie’s chest in a familiar pattern.

“Since when do you know the beat to a Metallica song?” Eddie asks, smirking down at him.

“It’s what you always used to tap on my arm when we were falling asleep. I didn’t know it was Metallica,” Steve yawns as he speaks, exhaustion seeping through every pore of his body.

“You remembered that?”

“Mhm. Remember everything.” He yawns again and lets his eyes close.

He’s pretty sure Eddie starts tapping a new pattern on his arm as he drifts to sleep. He doesn’t recognize it, but he’ll have plenty of time to learn this one, and the next one, and whatever else the future brings for them.

[jennxxe]

SFW Alphabet // Bobby Campbell.

pairing — bobby campbell x fem! reader

a/n — my first alphabet eveRrrRR

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

— He is so sweet. He's the sweetest boy you've ever met, and it shows every time you’re with him. He shows affection in little, constant ways. Forehead kisses when you're tired. Bringing you snacks because “you looked snack-deprived.”

— He’s super physically affectionate, always touching you, pinkies linked when you walk, a hand on your thigh in the car, absentmindedly stroking your back while watching TV.

— Gift giving is a huge love language for him. If he sees something that reminds him of you, it’s in his hands within 0.2 seconds. Hair clips, socks with frogs, keychains shaped like tiny sandwiches—he brings them all like a lil penguin giving you pebbles.

— He writes your name on everything he loves. His water bottle has a heart with your initials on it in Sharpie. His controller that you use when you come over? Same. The back of his notebook? Covered. Subtle? Never.

B = Best Friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

— The friendship probably starts from him defending you in the most unexpected way. Someone says something annoying and Bobby just blurts out, “Hey! Don’t be a asshole!” and suddenly he's sitting next to you like you're besties.

— He’s the type to remember your favorite chips and buy it every time you hang out. He will absolutely show up at your house just to ask how your day was.

— He sends you memes at 2 a.m. that are so dumb they're funny. He is also a sucker for wholesome memes from 2020.

— He’d be loyal to you even if you lost touch for months. One message from you and he’s back in your life like you never left.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

— He was made to cuddle. He needs cuddles like oxygen.

— He likes to lay on top of you like a koala, all limbs and sleepy weight, humming softly when you run your fingers through his hair.

— He’s especially clingy in the mornings. He’ll whine if you try to leave bed early. "Five more minutes," he mumbles, then wraps around you tighter like he’s Velcro.

— Movie nights turn into snuggle piles, head on your chest, legs tangled, one hand holding yours while the other absentmindedly pets your thigh or stomach.

— Post-nightmare? He clings to you like his life depends on it, whispering little thank-yous for being there until he falls back asleep.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

— He wants the house, the dog, the lazy Sunday mornings, all of it. The idea of building a little world with you? That’s heaven to him.

— Cooking? He tries, bless him. You’ll come home to something that vaguely resembles pancakes and him proudly saying, “I used a whole egg this time!”

— He’s a cleaning chaotic neutral. He tries, but he’ll get distracted halfway and you’ll find him lying on the floor with a broom across his chest whispering “this is my final form.”

— Laundry is a mystery to him. He once washed an entire red sock with your white clothes and now refers to it as “The Pinkening Incident.”

— But he’s got the heart. He’ll bring you breakfast in bed (even if it's just toast), and he’ll fold your clothes wrong but kiss your forehead when he hands them to you. He’s trying.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

— He would be heartbroken. Even if he’s the one initiating it, you’d see the pain all over his face.

— He’d do it face to face. Eye contact. Voice shaking. Trying not to cry. He’d constantly reassure you that you’re not a bad person, that it’s not because of anything you did. He’d be big on “I still care about you, even if this isn’t right anymore.”

— And oh, he’d probably keep something of yours, quietly tucked in a drawer. Not because he can’t let go but because he’ll always have love for what you were.

— You’d probably hear from him on your birthday. He’s the kind of ex who still hopes the world treats you gently.

F = Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

— He’s so down. He falls hard, and when he knows, he knows.

— The moment he realizes you’re his forever person, he starts planning. Not the wedding, the life.

— He doesn’t need a huge ceremony. Just you, a ring, and the promise of always waking up next to each other. He proposes clumsily, probably with a speech he forgets halfway through, dropping the ring box because his hands are shaking from excitement.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

— He’s so gentle with you. Like you’re made of stardust and warm cotton.

— He gets clumsy sometimes, knocking things over, tripping on his own feet, but when it comes to your heart? He handles it like it’s fragile and precious.

— He’s the kind of guy who cups your face in both hands before kissing you, just to look into your eyes first.

— He’s soft. He’ll cry if you cry. He feels deeply and wants to know everything you’re thinking, always trying to make you feel safe.

— He apologizes when he raises his voice even if it was just during a video game. “I wasn’t mad at you, I promise,” he’ll say, nuzzling your shoulder.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

— He lives for hugs. No greeting is complete without one. Big, strong arms wrapping around you, lifting you slightly off the ground like you weigh nothing.

— He’s the kind of guy to hug you from behind while you’re brushing your teeth or doing dishes, burying his face in your shoulder and swaying slightly.

— His hugs are warm, grounding. When you’re upset, he holds you like a shield. When you’re happy, he lifts you up and spins you.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

— It slips out way earlier than he planned. Maybe you did something small like laughed at one of his bad jokes or touched his hair in that way he loves and he just breathes it out.

— “I love you.” Cue him freezing. “Wait. Wait—I meant—*no I meant it but—*crap.”

— He panics for half a second until you say it back. Then he melts.

— From that moment on, he says it constantly. In texts. In whispers. Shouted from another room. Drawn on foggy mirrors. Scribbled in the margins of his notes.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

— He gets puppy jealous. Not possessive—but adorably pouty. If someone flirts with you, he’ll cling to you more after. Stand a little closer. Hold your hand tighter. He’ll quietly sulk on the couch, arms crossed, until you cuddle into him. Then he softens. “You still like me the most, right?”

— He trusts you entirely, but sometimes his brain goes “what if I’m not enough?” and you have to smother him in kisses until he believes you again.

— Honestly? He loves when you remind him he's yours. It turns the puppy pout into full-on golden retriever tail-wagging mode.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

— His kisses are soft, a little eager, a little messy but always full of love. He kisses your cheeks when you're sad, your forehead when you're sleepy, and your lips when he just can’t help it anymore. He loves kissing the tip of your nose, it makes him laugh every time you scrunch it up.

— He absolutely melts when you kiss his neck or his jawline. Will literally groan and go boneless like you cast a spell on him.

L = Little Ones (How are they around children?)

— He’s adorable with kids. Like full-on jungle gym level of adorable. Kids climb him like a tree and he just laughs, giving piggyback rides and letting them tie his hair up in little bows (even though it’s barely long enough). Not to mention that he would 100% be doing whatever the kids are. ESPECIALLY trampolines ;)

— He makes silly faces, plays pretend with zero hesitation, and is somehow always the monster or the horse—roles he commits to like he’s winning an Oscar.

— If a kid is shy? He gets down to their level and gently offers his hand like they’re meeting royalty. “Sir Bobby, protector of snack time, at your service.”

— You once caught him showing a five-year-old how to do a secret handshake he made up on the spot. It was twelve steps long.

— He’s in love with the idea of being a dad someday. Probably doesn’t say it out loud at first, but when he holds a baby, that soft, reverent look in his eyes says everything.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

— He’s not a morning person, he’s a morning cuddler. You’ll wake up before him and be trapped under 190 pounds of clingy affection, his arms around your waist, face smushed into your neck.

— When he does wake up, he’s soft and raspy and kiss-happy. Kisses your temple, your shoulder, your back, any part he can reach.

— He makes a mess of the kitchen trying to make breakfast for you. Pancakes are burnt, the bacon is questionably crispy, but he brings it to you proudly on a tray with juice and a flower he picked from outside.

— Sunday mornings with him are sacred: cozy clothes, lazy music, newspaper comics, and his head in your lap while you play with his hair.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

— Evenings are for unwinding. After a long day, he wants nothing more than to be tangled up with you under a blanket.

— You’ll watch movies, usually comedies or action movies, because he likes seeing you laugh. He rubs your back while you drift off, pressing lazy kisses to your hair.

— Some nights, you two have deep conversations in the dark, your fingers laced, voices barely above whispers. Other nights? He just wants to hold you and hum a random tune until you’re both asleep.

— He snores a little but it's cute. You can bury your face in his chest and feel the way his heartbeat slows with yours.

— Every night ends with him murmuring, “G’night, babe. Love you so much.” Sometimes he says it two or three times, just to make sure you heard.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

— He’s surprisingly open, but in a gentle way. He doesn’t unload everything all at once, he waits until it feels safe and the moment is right.

— The first time he tells you something serious, it’s probably during one of those quiet night talks. He stares at the ceiling, voice soft, words careful.

— He tells you about the weird things that hurt him as a kid, about his biggest fears (like disappointing people), and about the dreams he doesn’t tell anyone else.

— He doesn’t like seeming weak, so he’ll try to joke sometimes when he’s nervous but one look from you and he folds, eyes getting glossy.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

— He’s not quick to anger at all. He’s got the patience of a saint especially with the people he loves.

— If something frustrates him, he gets more puppy sulk than rage monster.

— He does get overwhelmed sometimes, especially when he feels like he’s failing, but he’ll step outside, run a hand through his hair, and breathe before ever snapping.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

— He remembers everything. Even stuff you don’t remember telling him. You mention once that your favorite candle scent is jasmine? Boom. Jasmine-scented candle shows up next week.

— You told him when you were five you wanted to be an astronaut? He brings you a plushie in a tiny space suit “for your childhood dreams.”

— He knows the date of your half-birthday. He remembers your go-to boba order. He’s memorized which days you’re most likely to get overwhelmed and sends you comfort memes on those days.

— His notes app is full of “Things She Likes” and it’s just… pages of tiny details. Songs you hum. The color you wear when you feel confident. That one tea that helps when you get headaches.

— He may seem ditzy, but when it comes to you? He’s tuned in 100%.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

— It’s the first time you looked at him like he was your entire world. He remembers it in vivid detail. Maybe you were sitting on a park bench, and you turned to him mid-conversation with this look of awe.

— He swears time stopped. The sun caught your hair just right, and you smiled at him like he was the best decision you ever made.

— That moment lives rent-free in his mind. He thinks about it when he’s falling asleep, when he’s missing you, when he’s doubting himself.

— Nothing will ever top that memory except maybe when you say “I do.”

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

— He’s incredibly protective but never overbearing. It's not about control, it’s about care.

— He protects with warmth. He’ll hold your hand when you're anxious, walk you home at night even if it’s out of his way, and always, always double-checks that you’re okay even when you say you are.

— As for being protected? He lives for it. If you gently tug him behind you or speak up for him in a tense moment? Boy melts. Fully gooey-eyed.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

— He tries so hard. Like it might not always be Pinterest-perfect, but the love is bursting at the seams.

— For anniversaries, he hand-makes you something. A playlist. A scrapbook. A list of all the reasons he loves you written in glitter pen on notebook paper.

— Dates range from elaborate picnics under the stars to surprise pizza nights with handmade menus.

— Gifts? Thoughtful as hell. He once bought you socks with little suns on them because “they remind me of how warm you make me feel.”

— He’ll fold your laundry while humming, cook you badly scrambled eggs with a proud grin, and always carries your bags without being asked.

— He’s all effort, no ego. It’s messy sometimes, but he just wants you to know he cares every single day.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

— He leaves socks everywhere. Like... everywhere.

— He eats way too fast. Like, blink and his plate’s clean. It’s barbaric and kind of terrifying. That being said, he also forgets to check what has peanuts and what doesn’t.

— He hums constantly. Even in quiet moments. Even at 3AM. You’ll be spooning and suddenly hear “Sweet Caroline” hummed into your shoulder.

— He’s bad at texting back. Not because he doesn’t care, he just forgets. He’ll open your message, smile at it like a dope, and then put his phone down without answering.

— When he's nervous, he bites his nails and pulls at his sleeves like a kid. He doesn’t realize he's doing it until you gently stop him.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

— He pretends he’s chill about his looks, but he totally flexes in front of the mirror when he thinks you’re not looking.

— He’s lowkey proud of his arms. And his jawline. And his hair (especially after you ruffle it and call him handsome).

— He doesn’t care about being flawless, but he does care if you think he’s hot.

— “Do I look okay?” he’ll ask before a date, cheeks pink, hands tugging at his shirt. He always looks good but your compliments make him stand taller.

— His guilty pleasure? Skincare. He lets you do face masks on him and he loves it. Bonus if you massage in the moisturizer.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

— Without you? A puppy in the rain.

— You’re truly his best friend, his safe space, his therapist when he loses Mortal Combat.

— He doesn’t cling in a toxic way, but the thought of losing you is his worst fear. He’d miss the way your voice sounds when you’re sleepy, the smell of your shampoo, the way you always stroke his hair before falling asleep.

— If he ever lost you, he’d still talk about you like you were the best thing that ever happened to him.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them)

— He has a playlist called “Songs That Remind Me of Her” and he updates it weekly.

— He also has a habit of doodling your name in notebook margins. Sometimes surrounded by hearts. Sometimes in bubble letters.

— When he’s sad, he wears your hoodie. Even if it’s tiny on him. He’ll stretch it over his broad frame and bury his nose in the collar like it’s holy.

— He keeps a Polaroid of you two in his wallet. He looks at it when he’s nervous. Once he pulled it out before a presentation just to feel brave.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

— He hates cruelty. People who mock others for being vulnerable? Instant ick.

— Like, if someone thinks they’re too good for cartoons or cry-laughing at dumb jokes? Bye.

— He’s also sensitive to yelling. If someone raises their voice just to intimidate, it rattles him.

— He doesn’t vibe with coldness, he needs warmth, laughter, touch. Someone emotionally distant would make him feel unwanted.

— Also: he physically can’t handle scary movies. Once screamed and threw popcorn in the air during a jump scare.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

— He’s a blanket thief. You start the night tucked in and wake up shivering while he’s rolled up like a human burrito.

— Sleeps with one arm over your waist at all times. If you move away, he instinctively pulls you back in like a sleepy magnet.

— He talks in his sleep. Half the time it’s your name.

— He has a habit of kissing the top of your head while still asleep.

— You are his favorite pillow. Full stop. Chest, thighs, belly, wherever you are, he’ll be on top of it.

— And his favorite position? Koala-mode. Arms and legs wrapped around you like you’re his emotional support tree branch.

[ominoose]

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 - 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐇𝐂'𝐬

Can't write Valentine hc's without including the romantical king himself.

V - Vase (What flowers he gets you)

The bouquet wouldn't be huge, but it wouldn't be a small, cheap one either. Steven makes sure your favourite flowers are present, with a sparkly butterfly on a stick amongst some babies breath and daises.

It's either from Tesco or a local vegan stall, depending on how late he is to the bus.

A - Affectionate (How openly affectionate is he?)

Steven is at his happiest when he can freely shower you with affection, anywhere and anytime preferably. No one respects you boundaries like Steven, you don't need to explain anything, but if you aren't averse then he'll find away to convey his love.

Hand holding is his favourite, it's simple but something that only couples do, gives him the ability to squeeze you, rub his thumb across your skin, drum his fingers if he needs a little stim.

Kissing your nose, laying a head on the other's shoulder, playing with each other's hair, any and all PDA is his hobby.

This doesn't really change much with Valentines, the only new thing he does is stare at you lovingly with hearts in his eyes for minutes at a time.

L - Love Language

Words of Affirmation

As a man with the gift of the gab, it's easy for Steven to show his love by spewing it to you via his usual word vomit. This comes in the form of simple "I love you" when he's popping into the toilet, startling you by suddenly breaking a silence and telling you how beautiful you are, comparing you to his interests ("You should've seen the jewels Cleopatra wore, I mean, oh my god, she had these big scarab beetle pendants that were absolutely gorgeous - Not as beautiful as you, obviously, but-".)

E - Eat (Where and how does he dine you?)

Steven is a quaint man, his soul already that of an elderly man resting at a bus stop on a Sunday Morning. The morning starts with breakfast in bed, a classic toast and vegan scrambled egg with your hot beverage of choice and a nice lunch at the park from a local farmer stand.

Dinner is where he really shines, and perhaps almost does too much. Steven will have spent weeks on Trivago and Google Maps searching for the best restaurant to take you to, scouring the menus and pictures for one that has an atmosphere you'll like.

One downside is how long he takes faffing about with which suit to wear and getting himself out of the knot in his tie that's somehow looped around his belt.

N - Nicknames (What nicknames do you share?)

The typical British pet names make up most of his vocabulary for you, think 'Love', 'Darling', 'Sweetheart'. Occasionally he'll try and throw in something new, likely stemming from something he's interested in at the time or a show you've both watched.

When you watched Game of Thrones together (he could only sit through two seasons) he'd called you his 'Khalesi' for a week.

Sometimes it's an entire cheesy phrase, like "the stars to my moon" or something in French that he's accidentally mispronounced without realising.

The one line he won't cross is comparing you to any god(ess), for fear that comparing you to someone like Aphrodite would get you smited.

T - Tacky (How cliche is he?)

Very. Steven romanticizes romance, spending too much of his single life watching romcoms and nearly crying when he saw couples walking in the park.

He's aware of this and while he tries to hold back a bit and be more realistic most days, Valentines is when he gets to go all out.

Enchanted is a Valentine's tradition for you both, always sitting down to watch it sometime between the 13-15th, curled on the couch and singing along without a care in the world.

Once he made you sit in his lap and rest your cheek on his mouth so he could spend an entire night kissing you while he read a book. When you brought up how that would quickly grow uncomfortable, he put on his best puppy eyes and said it could be your Valentine's present to him.

I - Innovate (How did he fix a Valentines gone wrong?)

Unless you count slightly less mainstream activities like making Lego flowers together or painting matching mugs, he doesn't do anything too groundbreaking during Valentines, so if plans go south he's left scrambling a bit when thinking outside the box.

This is made up by the fact that he's always a listener, sitting with rapt attention to your needs and whatever feelings you can communicate. You tell him what you need, he's getting it done in record time. You can't quite word your wants, he'll try his best to match up what you need with what you're saying.

N - Naughty

Ideally, Valentines end in some very intimate and slow sex, full of soulful eye contact, slow kissing and reverent touches. It's much less about getting off and more about doing something that you can only do with each other, a private little world under the covers where you bare your hearts.

He's more than fine if you aren't up for that, or want something different. As long as he gets to at-least cuddle with you in bed, his Valentines closes with a happy ending.

E - Ending (How does he wrap up Valentines day?)

In bed. Doing what? Doesn't matter. Playing Scrabble, watching Peter Rabbit, discussing the fall of capitalism, having some toast, it's all the same to Steven. The one thing he wants is to be snug as a bug under the covers with you, legs touching blanket up to his chin.

No matter how the day has went, if he can come home to you, he's got the world.

S - Song

British classic that he thinks is cheeky and fun, probably what he dances around the kitchen to while he makes your breakfast in bed, thinking himself suave.

[gremlin-girly]

Day 14: Winter Soup

Pairing: Winter Soldier x gn!reader

Fandom: MCU

Tags/Warnings: FLUFF, insinuation of ptsd/past abuse, ya'll are just having some nice soup :), petnames (sweetheart)

Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be translated, copied or reposted or put through an AI machine.

Summary: When a strange man turns up in your home for some unknown reason, you decided to offer him some soup.

Word Count: 448

Prev | Next | Fluffcember | Flufftober 2024 | Navigation

Not many people know what to do when there's a strange man in their kitchen. The usual ports of call, according to life and TV, is to:

a. Scream

b. Call the cops

c. Hide

d. All of the above

But somehow you created your own special fifth option (hereby referred to as option e): Give him soup.

He pokes at the soup with his spoon and you watch him over your own bowl. You can't tell if he's about to burst into tears or dart off into the night. There's something about his eyes, something that tells you he's a lost, stray in need of food and probably a hot bath rather than a six foot lug of a man in tac gear.

After a particularly hot slurp of soup, doing the whole hoo-ha-ooh charade, he looks up at you.

"Sorry," You mumble with an apologetic look. "Hot."

He nods but doesn't say anything. So, he clearly understands English. You watch as he stirs his soup again before finally bringing it to his lips. The air is heavy. You don't know why you care about what he thinks of your soup, but you do.

You want to make a joke; asking him not to kill you if it's awful but you think better of it. You still don't know if he would kill you.

His hum catches you off guard and you jump, looking over at him. His eyes flutter, and you think he definitely will cry. He sniffs a few times and raises a shaky hand with a second spoonful again, before he's suddenly gorging the soup.

His spoon clatters against an empty bowl and he looks over at you worriedly and you just smile at him around your own spoon.

"Want seconds, sweetheart?" You ask gently, getting to your feet and angling yourself to the stove. You're face is blasted with the smells of basil, garlic and roasted tomato as you lift the lid from the pot. You hold out a hand for his bowl which he carefully hands to you.

Ladling the soup to the brim (thank God for Bulk Soup Sundays), you reach into the bread bin and butter two slices of bread, placing them next to his soup when you set the bowl down. Retaking your seat, attempting to finish your own bowl, you watch him curiously.

He mumbles a thank you as he tears into the bread with his teeth, and you offer a warm smile.

"No worries. Help yourself to as much as you need."

You had the strangest feeling like your life was going to change, thanks to the stranger before you. Although, you didn't know just how much.

[maybege]

Lessons Learned

Summary: Someone accuses you of the most horrendous crime possible. Paz makes sure to prove them wrong.

Pairing: alpha!clan leader!Paz Vizsla x omega!fem!Reader

Wordcount: 6.0k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, marriage of convenience, enemies to lovers vibes (but really it is just idiots to lovers), (unfounded) accusations of child harm, fluff, yearning, scenting,

Big shoutout to @mostly-megan who helped me bring this story to life! I am so excited to share more about etl!Paz, it really is one of those AUs that I constantly think about but very rarely do I actually write about it. I hope you like it as much as I loved writing it! Please let me know what you think in a comment or a reblog – they are the best things about sharing it with you. Happy Sunday!

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

Had anyone ever told you that you not only would wed Paz Vizsla, leader of your enemy clan, but you would live a somewhat happy life in the covert, you would not have hesitated to call that person a liar. Yet here you were, living a somewhat solitary but not necessarily unhappy life.

Sure, the mountain halls had needed some getting used to. You missed the sunshine on your face whenever you roamed the hallways, but the tunnels and rooms carved into the mountains kept you nicely cool in the summer and allowed the nature above to grow freely. You had heard from many people, independent of their clan, that the Vizsla territory was well-kept and well-protected. The flora and fauna were thriving and you had never seen so many butterflies as when you spent a few minutes outside.

Sadly, the glimpses you got from nature were through carved windows or courtyards that allowed you to gaze at the colours of the sky. You could not remember when you had simply lain down in a meadow, allowing the sounds of nature to soothe you to sleep. Your guards were quite strict, and though you had a feeling that they would not keep you from going outside, surely, they would report back to your husband and you were not ready to have to justify your comings and goings.

It was a pleasant surprise, then, when Maudii from the foundlings’ nursery asked you if you would like to help out in the classrooms. Teaching little ones was something you knew from your time back home and you enjoyed reading stories to them, teaching them the old legends and helping them improve their reading and writing.  

However, your favourite part by far was when Maudii announced an excursion out of the covert and into nature. The trips to the outside were an absolute success. You got to wander through the meadows, along the edge of the woods, carefully crossing small streams as the children took in everything with big eyes and even bigger grins. You knelt down in the bushes, showing them the difference between the delicious berries you could put in cakes and the ones that were only meant for birds.

Each night, you lay in your little guestroom, tired out from spending the day in the fresh air and sunshine and finally felt like you had found a place where you could belong. Your husband might not love you and your body might betray you whenever you saw him, but finally, you had people in the covert who did not sneer at you whenever you crossed their paths.

Of course, that was only wishful thinking.

“What is going on?” you asked the guard who had suddenly appeared in the midst of your lesson the next morning. Kroks was not a stranger to you. Dieko had introduced him as one of the warriors in training and the young man was always very cordial towards you. Which is why his worried gaze set you on alert.

“Will you come with us, please?” Kroks looked uncomfortable but the guard next to him did not wait for your reply. His grip on your arm came as a surprise and it hurt, the physical pain overshadowed by the betrayal that even after months in this clan, you were still treated like an enemy. Maudii looked on with helpless fear and shock as you passed her, but you knew there was nothing she could do.

The walk to the throne room was not an unfamiliar one but it felt longer than usual now that you were dragged through the hallways like you had committed murder. No one spoke to you, no one told you why you were summoned and you could not help the panic that rose in you. If you were summoned by the guards, it could only mean that Paz knew about it. And what could possibly cause your husband to summon you like a common criminal?

Images flashed in your mind of wars and battles, all of them involving Paz and your family at home. What if your sacrifice had all been for nothing? What if it had not been enough to broker peace between your clans and now you would be the first victim of the new wave of battles?

But even as you thought it, there was a trust in you that Paz would not harm you.

The heavy doors to the throne room were pulled open, and your eyes immediately settled on him. Your husband was sitting on his throne, legs spread, chin resting on his hand and your heart skipped a beat at the memory of how, not too long ago, you had joined him there.

The moment he spotted you was clear because he sat up, back straight and a deep frown on his face. Like he had not expected to see you. That was a good sign, right?

You were not the only ones in the room, of course, and after you finally ripped your eyes away from your husband, you recognised a few council members and some guards standing around the room. Right in front of your husband was a man you did not recognise.

“You interrupted my council meeting with empty accusations and now you drag my wife here,” Paz’s voice boomed through the room, sounding very bored, “Please enlighten us to what end you interrupt my very day, Roalm.”

“I am here because our guest,” Roalm spat out the word, “has committed the most treacherous and spiteful of acts.”

It took you a minute to realise he meant you. You were the guest. You were the one who had committed something so horrible, you had been dragged here to face the consequences. The frown on your face did little to also cover the anxiety that surged up. Your heart beat loudly in your chest and you got nervous.

What did he mean? What had you done? You were more than aware that although you were all Mandalorian, there were differences in your culture that you had not caught up on completely. All in all, though, you got the impression that you hadn’t done something completely stupid. Yet.

“It brings me no pleasure to say this,” Roalm continued gravely before pointing his finger at you, his eyes full of hatred, “She has poisoned the foundlings.”

His accusation sat in the empty room for a moment, the shock following soon after. His words kept echoing in your head as you tried to determine if all this was real or if maybe you were still dreaming. Maybe you were still asleep, curled up in your bed with blankets, and at any moment, you would hear one of Paz’s advisors enter his room, updating him on his daily schedule. Maybe you were close to your heat? You always had the most absurd and scary dreams then.

None of that happened, though, you were still standing on the stone floor, your eyes wide as you watched Paz sit up straighter, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees. The guard behind you seemed to understand what had been said earlier than you, because your knees suddenly met the floor as you were pushed to kneel in front of Paz.

“What?” you breathed, wincing through the pain, “No, I – I would never – I haven’t …”

“She's been taking the foundlings out to the fields for weeks now,” the man interrupted you, sounding so sure of himself, “And several of them have said they were being fed berries by her. Poisonous berries! Clearly, she has been sent here by her pack of traitors to cause us the most possible harm. Not only is she infiltrating us by being married to our leader, she is jeopardising our entire future.”

Tears gathered in your eyes. You wanted to be strong. You needed to be strong. But stars, you were so tired. You had done everything to make a good impression, to make sure that you were polite and kind to everyone. And you had been so happy to finally find a place where you could do something. Where you could be happy and useful and –

“I would never …” you sobbed, “I would never harm them. I didn’t harm them. Paz, please,” you looked up, finding your husband’s gaze on you, "Please. Please, believe me.”

Your husband always looked imposing on his throne. It was hard to believe that it had not been too long ago that you had joined him on his lap, letting his fingers explore parts of your body that resulted in ecstasy and now you were kneeling on the floor, teardrops forming a little pool in the grooves of the stone beneath you. Oh, how the mighty could fall.

“You know,” Paz’s voice was cool but it had an edge to it that you could not identify, “One might say that everything my wife does is a reflection of me. Would you suggest that your own clan leader has been conspiring to kill foundlings?”

“N-no, no! Of course not, m’lord. I was merely suggesting. I-it was –“

“Then you had better have proof of such things,” you watched with baited breath as the alpha rose up, towering over everyone in the room, even more so now that you were kneeling, “I hope you’ll be able to back up those claims when me and my guards join the trip tomorrow. Or else you’ll have not only insulted my wife, but you’ll have threatened her well-being. Now, everybody leave.”

*

You had never slept so badly, tossing and turning all night as you tried to give your panicked thoughts a rest. Not even the night before you had snuck out of your clan’s quarters to offer yourself to the scary enemy alpha, you had been this nervous. Maybe because you knew there was nothing keeping you from being killed if people thought you actually poisoned the foundlings.

You frowned, staring at the dark ceiling. None of the foundlings had been sick in the last few weeks (with the exception of one case of a cough which had turned out to be from too much dust in a carpet) and you trusted your abilities enough to know poisonous from edible berries.

Surely, your excursion today would prove your innocence.

Because if it didn’t …

Tears threatened to spill onto your cheeks again.

Hearing Kroks enter Paz’s room, greeting up, felt like a relief then. The day was starting and so was your chance to prove yourself.

You chose your prettiest dress to wear, made of long linen that had been dyed with flower petals. The children loved to find the flowers in the wild that had been used for the colours on your dress and with all the excitement of today, you wanted them to have as much fun as possible.

The sun was shining as your larger-than-usual group finally reached one of the hidden exits of the caves. There was not a cloud in the sky and you were greeted with a cool breeze that rustled the trees and made the meadows look like green oceans. Everyone was in a good mood, chattering happily as you made your way along the edge of the woods.

Well, not everyone.

The only people who were more serious than you were the few council members and guards that Paz had ordered to accompany you. Roalm was one of them.

You tried your hardest to ignore the man as you knelt in the grass, letting the children explore and run around to their heart's content. You had been scared that the unannounced guests on your trip would throw them off, but you should not have worried. The little ones were very happy with the extra attention they got, running this way and that way and picking berries to show the guards which ones were for them and which ones were for the birds.

The council members stayed back but you did not let yourself be tricked by their silence. You knew they were watching every move you made and listening intently to every word that left your mouth. There was no room for mistakes. No room for ambiguity.

Luckily, the children did not share your predicament and instead let themselves be distracted whenever they deemed the lesson too boring.

One of the distractions they found was their clan leader.

You would not have expected Paz to be as relaxed as he was. He let himself be tugged along by tiny hands, climbed on by the toddlers, all with the biggest smile and a deep laugh. You watched in awe as he carried them on his shoulders, making sure they did not fall, even as they hung from his arms with happy squeals.

Paz Vizsla, for all his talks about the importance of foundlings, had not made a particularly child-friendly impression on you. Clearly, you had been wrong.

The sight of him surrounded by the children made your heart flutter and you found yourself able to take one deep breath after another as you and Maudii pointed out new plants to your students. Your eyes met your husband’s on more than one occasion and there was a strange expression on his face, with just the hint of a smile on his mouth.

Maybe everything would turn out to be okay.

*

Lunch was taken on a meadow. No one had arrested you yet, which you counted as a win and when Maudii and some of the guards opened the baskets full of food, you had the first moment of today to just relax.

You were all alone when you sat back against a tree, right underneath the shade, and bit into a delicious berry bread. In front of you, you watched the children play with Paz, their little forms almost hidden by the tall grass as they tried to escape from the “monster”, a role your husband impersonated surprisingly well.

His roars and laughter and were interrupted by the children’s giggles as, one after the other, they were plucked from the ground and put on his shoulders. You could barely see him by the end, with all the children clinging to him as he slowly made his way to where all the adults were waiting. Maudii greeted them with a smile as Kroks helped her distribute the packed lunches the kitchen had prepared for them.

“But we are not done,” Lia pouted, “The monster hasn’t caught us all yet.”

“Of course, I did, little warrior,” Paz laughed as he lifted another kid off his shoulder, “I caught all of you hiding in the grass, didn’t I?”

Lia took a big bite of the bread, her words muffled. “You need to chase her, too,” she pointed to you and you could see Paz’s gaze darken as he followed her arm.

“Um, I don’t know …” you trailed off, highly aware of him now mustering you.

But Paz did not seem to share your worries. Your husband stood up, seeming taller than usual. “C’mon, ‘mega,” he chuckled, putting his helmet on, “It could be fun.”

Chancing a glance at the council members, you realised that no one really was paying attention. And it did sound fun, it certainly sounded like a distraction. Maybe that was exactly what you needed, right now?

You carefully stood up, smoothing a wrinkle out of your dress and looked up to find Paz's face fixed on you. Through the black visor of the helmet, you could not see his eyes, but you knew he was watching you. You could feel it, the tingle in your spine whenever this alpha focused on you.

One tentative step backwards by you was followed by one step from him, following you. The grass was soft under your shoes and the sun was warm on your skin as you left the shade of the tree.

There was something stuck in your throat that made it hard to swallow when he took another step.

Before you could debate your decision, you hurled around and ran.

The children cheered, and you swore you could hear one or two of the guards whoop as you raced around the meadow. You could not remember the last time you had run around freely, much less because you were playing catch. The wind in your hair felt freeing and you could feel a laugh forming in your chest.

However, you weren’t as fast as you thought you were because only seconds later, you could hear thundering footsteps behind you. And they were getting closer.

Paz really was chasing you and although you had simply wanted to indulge the foundlings’ wishes, you could not bring yourself to just … lose. You wanted to make him work for it, maybe even win, and you certainly did not want to put on a weak performance before the council.

Your hands gripped your skirt tighter as you lifted it higher, allowing you to lengthen your strides and you could hear Paz’s puffs of air as he ran behind you. Chasing you. Hunting you.

A shiver ran down your spine as you tried to ignore how your body reacted to him. Panic and something thrilling coursed through you when you could feel him at your back. The anticipation made your pussy pulse which had nothing to do with the fact that it was your husband behind you. Nothing at all.

There was a brush of fingers on your back and your heart lurched.

I’m not ready to go back, your head screamed, I’m not done yet.

And so, you did the only sensible thing: You stopped suddenly before sprinting to the sharp left, right into the woods.

Paz’s chuckle behind you made you feel all sorts of things (most of them which you tried to ignore because, again, your husband had no effect on you, whatsoever).

“You’re really making me work for it, huh?” he called behind you as you twisted around the trees, the trunks getting thicker the more you ventured into the forest.

Your response was only a laugh, jumping over a little stream that Paz must have just stomped through from the sounds of it. If you could just stay in this moment forever, maybe then everything would be alright. The kids would be safe and so would you because even if the council decided against you, there was no way they would find you here in the midst of –

“Oof!”

All the air left your lungs as you crashed against a tree trunk. You waited for it to hurt but nothing followed the slight discomfort of your sudden stop. Your back was against the tree but there was something between your head and the wood. His hand.

Paz had cushioned your crash, crowding you in with no means of escape while also cradling you to him like you were the most precious thing in the world. His body was huge, shielding you from your surroundings but instead of intimidating you, all you felt was safe.

Like this had been the goal of your run all along.

“Got you,” he rumbled and you watched as his chest rose and fell evenly. He wasn’t even out of breath, that bastard.

“And now?” you asked, your voice trembling.

He tilted his head and you hoped he would not ask you to elaborate. You didn’t want to admit that you like being this close, that you wanted to stay like this for as long as he would allow. The embarrassment would kill you, surely.

But then he tilted his head the other way and you realised he was listening for something.

When he heard (or didn’t hear?) what he wanted, you watched with baited breath as he leant back, putting an unacceptable amount of distance between the two of you, and lifted his helmet.

You knew what your husband looked like. You always had. For the longest time, you had convinced yourself that he was as ugly as your family had made him out to be. That his evil personality translated into an appearance that made him just as repulsive.

But now that you had spent time with him, that you endured his teaching and his cocky self-assurance and witness his joy with his friends and the foundlings and had him touch you – intimately – in ways no one ever had, you had to admit: Your husband was the most handsome man you knew. Inside and out.

(He was still annoyingly cocky, though.)

Watching his face be revealed to you once again, made your heart switch to an unusual pitter-patter, skipping every second beat and pumping so string, it almost hurt. The lines on his face, the crease between his brows, the crinkles next to his eyes, it all made your pulse run faster. And then he smiled at you, so softly, you were done for.

“Seems like I caught my prize,” he rumbled, his nose brushing against yours, “Wonder what I’ll do with her.”

“Oh,” you gasped, shifting against the tree, your hips bumping against his. His scent washed over you and you wished he hadn’t worn his full training get-up. You wished he had worn the soft pants he had worn that night, the ones you had been able to feel his hard flesh through.

Your husband seemed to be just as unhappy with your position because his helmet landed on the ground, cushioned by the grass, and his hands grabbed yours, lifting them above your head.

“Stay still and let me scent you,” he rumbled, one hand closing around both of your wrists, the other landing on your hip. His touch was hot, making you squirm even more. When his nose brushed over your scent gland, coating you in the smell of pines and smoke, you had a whole-body shiver. The kind that made you very aware of how wet your underwear was getting.

“Paz,” you gasped, tilting your head back so he had more access.

The only response you got was a growl. His hand around yours tightened and then his mouth opened against your neck and he sucked.

Was it possible to come from just this?

You wanted to touch him, you wanted to be closer to him, but his grip on you was steadfast, only letting you move however he wanted you to.

“You smell afraid, omega,” he praised you, the tip of his nose brushing all the way up to you just under your ear, “Am I scaring you?”

“No!” you protested quickly, eyes widening with fear that you had just pushed him away, “I’m not – not of you, I promise!”

“Shh,” he calmed you, dark eyes looking at you so warmly, “I know the only person you’d ever want to kill is me, love”, he whispered against your neck, “You’d never hurt any of the children and I believe you.”

You hadn’t realised how high-strung you were until his words registered in your head. Paz believed you. He had never doubted you. Even if everything went horribly wrong now, he was the one person in your corner whom you could trust.

The knowledge that he believed you lifted a weight off your shoulders you had not quite realised you were carrying. But now that it was gone, you could feel the fear and panic of the last 24 hours crashing over you.

“Oh, ‘mega,” he breathed as your body started to shake with tears. Paz did not loosen his grip. He stepped even closer, his front completely pressed against yours until he was close enough that you could tuck your head into the crook of his neck.

His hold on your hands went away and seconds later, he had you wrapped up in his arms, holding you while you sobbed into his neck.

“I didn’t do it,” you whimpered, “And I – I don’t understand what else I need to do to get them to trust me. I – they’re kids, Paz! I’d never hurt the kids.”

“I know,” he rumbled, “Let it all out, love. You’d never hurt anyone, I know. We’re proving him wrong today, you’ll see.”

“I’m just so tired of it,” you admitted, feeling your chest calm down, “I’m so tired of having to prove myself and no one believing me.”

Paz started moving and you realised he was slowly swaying you back and forth. “I believe you.”

And in that moment, it was enough.

*

This time, when you were called to the throne room, you felt hopeful.

Paz was sitting back on his throne, dressed in more casual clothes, and you could feel your cheeks warm at the heat in his gaze.

“Omega,” he greeted you, his voice filled with fondness that made your heart clench, “I called you here to convene with the council before Roalm comes in.”

You looked up, realising he had spoken true. The only people here were the council members who had accompanied you on your trip and Paz.

“Do,” you swallowed and shifted your feet, “Do you want me to defend myself now?”

“I see no reason for you to defend yourself,” Dieko said, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “The children seemed to have fun and were quick to identify which berries were good and which ones weren’t.”

“And when they were unsure, they approached you or Maudii to consult,” another one added, “And received the correct answer. You did a good job at teaching them, m’lady, and I am sure I am not the only one who would support our foundlings to have more trips to our lands.”

It was one thing to know that you would not be in danger of execution from the council; it was another to actually be praised by them. You were so stunned, all you could do was look at him, trying to find words of gratitude.

“C’mere, omega,” Paz called and you turned around, “I want you here for this.”

His hands rested on his thick thighs and you hoped no one noticed how nervous his request made you. Sitting on his lap wasn’t that extraordinary for them. You had learned from Maudii that that was how previous leaders had held court in this clan.

For you, it felt oddly intimate.

“This is less fun than the last time we sat like this,” he joked quietly as he helped you settle on his lap. Your ears burned at the memory of how his fingers felt inside you. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Oh, hush,” you hissed and he chuckled, his big arm wrapping round your back until you sat sideways on him. It was so much easier to focus on him than on the rest of the room.

“Let me tease you, love,” he rumbled, his nose brushing over your jaw, “It’s my favourite part of the day.”

You were about to retort something very smart, you were sure of it, when the doors opened and you were faced with Roalm. He looked worse for wear than the first time you had seen him in this room but his presence still made you tense, your spine stiffening until Paz’s nose was on your neck again.

“Oh,” you breathed, pines and smoke filling your nostrils, “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, love,” his mouth moved against your sensitive skin, “Anything to keep you calm and happy, hm?”

You ignore the flutter in your heart in favour of melting against him, fully relaxing against his chest and letting yourself be encompassed by his scent.

“M’lord Vizsla,” Roalm started, his voice wavering as his eyes darted between you and your husband and the guards surrounding him, “I am so –“

“Since you did not give my wife the benefit of speaking in her defence, I will return the favour,” Paz’s voice cut through the hall and you flinched in surprise. Where did all that anger come from?

Your hand settled on his chest and you could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady. But there was something sharp and acid tickling your nostrils and you swallowed. Paz wasn’t only angry. He was furious. And all of this on your behalf.

“Did you see my wife poisoning the children?”

“Uh … well, not exactly, but that doesn’t mean –“

“Did any of the children feel unwell?”

“No, but …”

Paz’s hand squeezed your hip gently and you heard his sharp inhale, breathing you in. “So, you mean to tell me that my wife has been trying to murder innocent lives without having seen anything, without having any proof and even after seeing how beloved she is by them?”

“I am so sorry,” Roalm whimpered, cowering before you. You knew he must be scared. Stars, you would be, too, if Paz were this furious with you. Still, you couldn’t find it in yourself to feel sorry for the man who had accused you of the most heinous crime.

“It’s too late for apologies,” Paz hissed, “You implied my wife deserved to be executed for her crimes. Do you think you deserve that same fate?”

Your head whipped around, seeking your husband’s gaze. You were angry, yes, and you were not ready to forgive him yet. But did you want him to die in your name? No. You didn’t want anyone to die because of this.

Paz met your gaze, his frown softening. “He’ll be unharmed, my love,” he whispered, quiet enough for only you to hear, “But he will regret the day he dared to put you in danger.”

The determination in his voice made your heart sing and you turned around just in time to see Paz motion for the guards. “A few days in a cell should give you enough time to think about the consequences of your actions,” he announced, “Now leave my sight.”

Roalm’s wailing lasted only for a few seconds before the heavy doors closed behind him and the guards and suddenly everything returned to its usual business. People filtered through the doors, talking in small groups and you could see a few of the guards leave while the rest took their posts by the entrances.

Everyone acted like nothing happened at all but you could not bring yourself to it.

“Can … Can I stay here for a while?” you asked, not trusting yourself to look at Paz to face his rejection, “Just for a bit?”

His response was immediate. His hands pulled you even tighter to him and you could feel him shift in his seat until your head could comfortably lie against his chest. The way your body relaxed into him was not lost on you.

“You can stay here however long you wish to,” his fingers gently circled your scent gland, “And you can return tomorrow, too, if you like.”

*

“I want you in my bed tonight.”

The announcement came after dinner when you both had retired to your rooms. You were sitting on your bed, trying to subtly arrange the many blankets into a nest, discreetly sneaking your dress in there as well. Only because it was soft, of course, and not because his scent still clung to it.

You squeaked at his appearance in your doorframe. Paz usually spent his evenings in the parlour, sitting by the fire and reading notes before going to bed in the bedroom that was meant for the two of you.

Ever since you had married, Paz had made it clear he wouldn’t force himself on you. But maybe after the excitement of the day, he had changed his mind? Maybe his protecting you was bound to some sort of expectation that you now had to fulfil?

The fear on your face must have been obvious because the grin he sent you made your knees weak. “Not for any marital duties,” he winked, “Though I’m not opposed to it if you decide you want to know what a knot feels like.”

Do not think about taking his knot. Do not think about what taking his knot would feel like. Do not think about how he would praise you for taking his knot.

“Why then?” you asked, hands folded in your lap as you avoided his gaze, “Why do you want me … with you?”

Silence followed and you prayed to the stars that he could not smell how wet you were for him.

“I need to know you are safe,” he said, finally, “I would sleep better when you are close by.”

You would never admit it but it was the first time someone had voiced genuine concern for your well-being. The thought of it made your heart ache. After all, you had lived your entire life trying to serve your family’s – your clan’s – best intentions and all it got you was their rejection and life in a covert that you had been taught was enemy territory.

It was easy, then, to follow him back to his bedroom and carefully settle on one side of the giant bed while Paz settled on the other.

Despite its size, it did not take long until you reached your hand to the side and found him under the blankets.

“You probably need to visit the foundlings more often after today,” you said, a smile on your lips as you remembered how they had used him as a playground, “they really enjoyed themselves.”

“And did you?”

You turned to the side, finding him already looking at you. There was something so gentle about seeing him in the dim light of the embers, the lines on his face all smoothed over, the thin sheet pulled up only to his waist. “I did, too,” you confirmed, feeling out of breath for no reason at all, as you looked over his broad chest, “Although the thing you said today …”

“Which one?” he enquired, his hand reaching out to pull you closer. A warm feeling started in your chest when you cuddled up against him, his large hand swooping up and down your back, “I say many things when the day is long.”

You smiled. “You said, uh, you said that you know the only person I’d want to kill in the covert is you,” you recalled, rubbing your feet together for warmth, “Do you really think that?”

“Is it not true?”

The casualness with which he said it broke your heart. Did he really think you thought so little of him? Had the past few months not affected him at all, so he thought they hadn’t affected you either?

“I wouldn’t want to kill you,” you said firmly, needing him to hear you. “Maybe there was a time when the thought brought me comfort but it’s been a long time since then. I … feel comfortable here. With you and the foundlings and Kroks and Maudii.”

Hu hummed in acknowledgement and in a matter of seconds, you went from feeling like you needed to share your feelings to feeling like you had overshared once again. Paz may not be interested in you in that way … Were you even interested in him in that way?

The answer to that was clear.

“Can I scent you?”

“Yes.”

He rolled you around so he was on top of you, his eyes serious. Just like in the forest, his hand found your wrists, pinning them into the soft mattress. Your foreheads rested against one another and your breaths mingled-

His eyes searched for something and you wondered what it was, wondered if you could give it to him.

“I need you to know, little wife,” he murmured, his thumb brushing steadily over the scent glands on your wrists, “Everything I do these days is so you feel safe and comfortable. If I can’t offer you that,” you watched his throat bob, “Then maybe I do deserve to killed by you.”

Your brows furrowed in protest. Trying to free your hands was futile because his grip was so tight, so you did the only thing you could. You lifted your face up, right to his jaw and started scenting him. The shudder that went through his body made you smile and you continued, brushing your nose to the point right behind his ear.

His entire weight was resting on you now, making moving impossible but you didn’t care. You didn’t want to move anyway. You wanted to stay here and breathe him in – the familiar scent of pines and smoke making you feel at ease.

“I am right where I want to be,” you admitted into the quiet of the night, your eyes drooping closed, “And I want to be here with you, alpha.”

[milkbobatyun]

a flightless dove

pairing: yandere!sunday x reader

genre: angstober, events, yandere

summary: you thought you could be free, spread your wings and fly. but flight, it isn't inherit for all birds.

word count: 350

C O N T E N T W A R N I N G : yandere behaviour, manipulation, fear, injury, slight quest spoilers (?)

a/n: this was inspired by the 'beauty and destruction' quest, if it isn't obvious enough, i haven't done it, but i've heard voicelines from a playlist i listen to.

what a foolish little dove you were. you thought that your best behaviour and candied words could exchange you the freedom you had wanted. an extra blanket for the cold night, a new book, some more water, all sorted with the clear ring of a bell and good behaviour.

it had taken you a week of good behaviour and light treading, before sunday relented. after all, a bird with clipped wings couldn’t fly, so what harm was there in letting you go out onto the balcony?

what a silly little dove you had been, thinking you could escape from sunday’s clutches by jumping from the balcony.

you gathered up all your courage, choosing a moment when you knew the servants wouldn’t enter. this was it—your leap to freedom.

your body was weightless, a bird soaring into the sky, the wind whipping against your face as the ground rushed to meet you.

then it hit. a sickening crack. the sharp, searing pain tore through your legs, radiating from your ankles. the pain was blinding, tears prickling at your eyes as you curled in upon yourself.

the toes of a pair of well-polished black leather shoes tapped into your eyesight.

“little dove,” sunday’s voice purred, a dangerous edge in his voice. “what were you thinking?”

that was the last thing you remembered, before the pain and darkness consumed you.

when you awoke again, you were lying on the soft mattress of your confines. the pain in your ankle was agony, bright and hot, bringing tears to your eyes. sunday sat on the bed beside you, lovingly stroking your hair.

“shhh…” he comforted, his gloved thumb wiping at your tears. “don’t cry, little dove.”

he leans down, brushing your hair aside and leaving a kiss on your forehead. another, against your cheek.

“you can’t leave, little dove.” sunday whispered, his hot breath fanning across your cheek. “you’ll live here, with me, forever.”

the fall had shattered the dove’s wings, robbing it of its freedom. you writhed, helpless and powerless in your gilded cage, all your fight, all your efforts, it was for naught. you would never escape his clutches.

taglist (open): @yeonjunsfox

∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳)  © curated with love by milkbobatyun 2024 / づ ♡