#I’m actually just fighting the urge to be like

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Gentle On My Mind - Chapter 5

Initially set in 1967 when Elvis is filming Clambake. Feeling miserable and trapped after the Colonel banishes Larry and the spiritual texts, Elvis invites Gloria to keep him company through the last five days of filming. Gloria is an aspiring movie editor and more importantly she's a lot of fun. Will she be what Elvis needs to get him out of the depressive funk he's in?

Catch up with the other parts here.

Many thanks to @sissylittlefeather being my beta reader on this one.

Pairing: Elvis x OC - Gloria, a budding film editor.

Word count: 4.2k ish

TWs: Gloria's filthy mouth, angst, infidelity, blowjob, fingering, p in v sex, possessive kink, size kink, spanking, Elvis is quite dominant, think that's about it.

Elvis spends that afternoon’s filming trying very hard to concentrate on his lines and not daydream back to his lunch break, him almost dragging Gloria back to his trailer, both of them giggling like naughty kids and probably making what they were about to do incredibly obvious to half of the film crew. Going through additional takes of some of the opening scenes in the gas station, he fights the urge to think about the feeling of Gloria’s mouth all around him as he leant breathless up against the wall. Tries to forget for a few minutes the puzzle of what it was she’d done with her mouth and hands that had made him come so quickly right down her throat. Between takes, chatting to Shelley about how hot it is and whether that makes LA seem more like Florida, he repeatedly pushes the thought that this was the second time he’d left Gloria full of his come out of his mind. 

Gloria also finds herself a little distracted, her mind drifting back to the fun they’d had at lunchtime. But, as she walks back to his trailer at the end of the day, a little later than usual because she’d got so stuck into what she was doing, she reflects that maybe she’s actually learning enough to get herself a proper job. Or at the very least, enough to make those stuffy old men think that she knows what she’s doing. She bites the skin beside her thumbnail a little, thinking briefly about going back to San Francisco, and then her mind drifts back to Elvis in the trailer earlier, his hand over his mouth so everyone on the film set wouldn’t hear him moaning as she sucked him off. She’s pretty impressed with herself for somehow stuffing all of that dick into her mouth and down her throat, it’s definitely a record. 

“Where you been, honey?” 

Elvis is sprawled on the couch, taking up the entire thing. She looks down at him. 

“Got sucked into editing. I’m really enjoying it, I can’t believe how interesting it is when people actually let you do things rather than just making you get them coffee.” She picks his feet up just enough to give her space to sit down, replacing them on her lap. “Thanks for making it happen it for me.”

“No problem, Glory.”

She tilts her head to the side. “You okay?”

“Hmmm. You ever been to Hawaii?”

“Family vacation in Honolulu a few years ago.”

“Did ya like it?”

She nods, her hands resting on his shins. “Mmm yeah. Beach life. It’s definitely a nice vacation spot. But there are beaches here!” 

Elvis frowns. “Can’t really go to the beach here. Too busy.”

Gloria doesn’t miss a beat. “Not if you went in disguise,” she suggests. “Why don’t we sneak off now and go to the beach and get dinner there? Instead of just sitting in here and eating burgers again.”

Elvis is briefly completely baffled by this turn of events, and he’s about to say he probably needs to take at least one of the guys with him, and that he doesn’t know if there will be food he wants to eat at the beach, and that he really doesn’t go places that are so busy… and then he just doesn’t say any of those things and instead just says “okay.”

Gloria sits for a few seconds blinking in confusion. She had been expecting a little more resistance, but since she hasn’t got it she just pushes his legs out of the way and leaps up off the sofa. 

“Let’s go!”

***

They take her car, and he hides in the backseat as they drive off the set. Gloria has a hard time keeping a straight face driving through the gates, thinking of him in shorts and a denim jacket she’d somehow found for him to wear, lying down as flat as possible. Once they’ve got far enough up the road she pulls over and he gets out and into the front seat. She can’t help giggling at him. She’d jammed a baseball cap on his head and made him wear his shades too, and he looks successfully nothing like himself. He had complained a lot, looking at his reflection in the long mirror in the trailer, but he relented when she put her arms around him and kissed his neck and told him she thought he looked sexy. She wasn’t lying. Looking at him now, once the giggles have subsided, she thinks he looks really good. More casual than usual, which she likes. And he’s not wearing too many clothes. One of her main gripes with the movie, whenever she stops to watch a take or two, is that they’ve over-dressed him. Since it’s meant to be set in Florida, she’d have expected him in shorts and a t-shirt a bit more often. And more sensible shoes. She does have a soft spot for that all-denim outfit, especially remembering him changing out of it and giving her her first glimpse of the outline of that fucking huge dick, but it still seems an odd choice for the movie. 

“What’re you thinking about, Glory?” 

She shakes her head a little and looks over at him. “Your fantastic outfit.”

“I can’t tell if you’re making fun of me.”

“I like it.”

“Even this?” Indicating the baseball cap.

“Even that. In fact, you can leave that on later if you want, in bed.”

She starts to giggle again. Elvis shakes his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I know.”

He smiles as he looks across at her. She’s just put the top down on her car so her golden hair blows gently around her face under her sun hat. Her hazel eyes are shining with amusement and he watches her tanned arms on the steering wheel. She drives comfortably, seat back, keeping her eyes on what she’s doing but never looking remotely bothered by anything that happens. The car never jolts, the whole journey is a very smooth ride and Elvis wonders if he’s ever been driven by a woman who is this good at it. 

“God must’ve sent you to me,” he murmurs, almost to himself. 

“God?” She asks, spinning the steering wheel quickly as she looks for a space to park. “I’m agnostic, I don’t know if he’d have sent me. Probably would’ve wanted you to have a true believer.” 

She sticks her tongue out slightly in concentration as she backs the car up into a space. Elvis frowns slightly. 

“Agnostic?” 

“Hmm yeah. C’mon, we’re good, I’ve just seen a hot dog stand over there too. I bet you like hot dogs.”

“You don’t believe in God?” Elvis asks, following her as she bounds out of the car, barely stopping to lock it before she runs over to get in the line for the stand.

Gloria shrugs her shoulders. “Don’t think we can know so I don’t try. Maybe there is one, maybe there isn’t. Presumably I’ll find out eventually. Two hot dogs please, one with extra mustard.”

Elvis blinks at the heady mix of theology and fast food. He puts his arm around her as they walk down to the beach together. There are a lot of people, but none of them give him a second glance.

“I read the bible every day,” he tells her, somehow becoming deadly serious. “God is an important part of my life.”

She nods. “That’s cool. I wish I could believe in God but I just don’t have it in me. What about here?” She gestures to the bit of sand just in front of them. 

“Sure.” 

They sit down and start to eat. “You just believe in that white bearded guy up in the sky, or anything else?” She asks, with a mouthful of food. 

Elvis laughs and finds himself suddenly less serious again. “I’m interested in a lot of things. I’ve got this book which shows you how to calculate your number, and once you do that you can find out about your destiny and…”

“Numerology!” Gloria declares, completely interrupting him. “I love that shit.”

Elvis is immediately torn between loving her enthusiasm and being embarrassed by how loudly she just cussed.

“I’m a five, look,” she shows him the bracelet on her arm which has the number 5 hanging off it in the form of a golden charm. “What’re you?”

“An eight.”

“Oooooh we’re so compatible!” 

Elvis laughs. He finishes his final bite of hot dog and looks into her eyes. “Well it makes sense that you’re a five. It’s the number of freedom.”

“Yeah and I am still free from my panties, which I have to say is a very dangerous situation on this beach.”

“Oh. You could’ve brought a swimsuit.”

“Well no-one told me that!”

Their eyes sparkle as they tease each other back and forth, getting in a little play fight which ends with Elvis lying on his back in the sand, his cap knocked off, and Gloria half-sprawled on top of him. 

“Okay, so what are eights like then?” She asks, once she’s got her breath back.

“Great leaders,” Elvis replies, then giggles. 

“Oh, great leaders. I see. I’m just a mad impulsive girl who came to the beach with no swimsuit and you’re gonna be the president or something.”

He pulls her closer to him with the arm that’s currently wrapped around her shoulders. 

“It doesn’t look like I’m going to be the president right now, does it? No-one here has recognised me. Not one person.”

She puts her chin on his chest. “You’re in disguise.”

He huffs. “I was wearing a hat.”

They lie there for a while longer, talking about their respective numbers and debating whether Elvis wants to be recognised or not, and then he looks at his watch. 

“Think we should be getting back, Glory. The guys will be wondering where I am.”

***

Gloria notes the look of disappointment on Elvis’ face when he discovers that far from sending out a search party for him, no-one had even realised he hadn’t been in the trailer for the whole evening. 

“Can’t even pay people to give a shit about you,” he mutters, throwing himself melodramatically onto the bed, even though it's still early. 

Gloria kicks off her sandals and tries to dust the sand off her feet before getting onto the bed next to him. “I give a shit about you,” she says quietly, into his neck. 

Elvis is startled into looking down at her. He can’t see her face, buried as it is in the crook of his neck, but she sounds sincere. “I’m sure you do, honey.” He runs his fingers through her hair. 

She doesn't like his tone. It sounds like he’s dismissing her feelings, which had sort of snuck out of her when she wasn’t looking. She does give a shit about him though. It’s hard not to. 

“Well I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

Elvis isn’t sure how to respond. He had thought that she just liked sleeping with him. But she has spent a lot of time listening to him over the past few days. 

“Um, thanks,” he mumbles, awkwardly. 

Gloria sighs quietly. Never mind her feelings then. Back to being her usual fun, sunny self. Only one day of filming left anyway. There’s no point in getting deep. 

***

The final day of filming is a busy one for Elvis, and he barely has a moment to himself. He looks longingly at Gloria from time to time, but there’s no opportunity to talk let alone anything else. He keeps thinking back to what she said about giving a shit about him. Running the conversation over and over again in his mind, he feels like he should’ve said something better than thanks, but once he’d missed his initial opportunity she had just started prattling on about numbers again. And not long after that she’d taken her dress off and he’d forgotten all about anything she might’ve said. 

“That’s a wrap!” 

Elvis sighs with relief at the words. It’s fairly late and he’s desperate to be alone with Gloria, on their final day together. Then he remembers the wrap party. There’s no way he’s going to get away without going, and probably staying for most of it. He doesn’t have any excuses. 

***

Gloria flits about the party, talking to anyone and everyone. She loves an opportunity to socialise, and this is even better because she’s making contacts in the industry too. Contacts outside of her daddy and his friends. And because no-one knows who she is, they treat her differently. With respect. She can see Elvis out of the corner of her eye, his flirting with Shelley getting almost completely out of control. She knows he’s trying to get her attention, but she doesn’t care about him flirting with actresses. After all, it’s not as if they’re going to be together after tonight. He’s going home to marry Priscilla. 

***

Elvis is pulling out all the stops with Shelley. Laughing loudly at everything she says that’s remotely funny, leaning in close to her when she’s talking quietly, carefully brushing a strand of hair from her face. Even going so far as to wrap an arm around her waist. Shelley’s enjoying herself but she’s not daft. She can see Elvis’ eyes flicking across to the pretty blonde on the other side of the room to see if she’s noticed what he’s doing. Shelley is amused that Elvis Presley is trying to get a girl’s attention, and in such a roundabout way. She decides to help him out a little. 

“Do you think it would help her notice if I did this?” She asks, putting both of her arms around his neck and looking up into his slightly surprised face. 

“Ah-I-I… I dunno what you’re uh… talking about,” he replies, stumbling over the words but putting his hands on her hips instinctively. 

“Ah come on, yes you do. You’re flirting with me to get her attention!”

“Oh no, baby, I wouldn’t do that… I-I-” 

“If you wanted to talk to me you just had to come over.”

Elvis looks away from Shelley’s amused face to see Gloria standing next to her. 

“Oh-Ah-I… honey, I jus’...” 

Both women laugh as Shelley removes her arms from around his neck. “See you later. Nice working with you again,” she tells him, giving him a kiss on his now burning cheek. 

“You looked busy,” Elvis tells Gloria, sheepishly. 

“I was networking.”

“Networking?”

“Yeah, you know. Making friends who don’t know who my daddy is.”

He nods. “I’m dying to get out of here.”

“Me too. Think you have to do a bit more though,” she nods at a man with a moustache making a bee-line for them. “Let me know when you’re ready to go. You can just come over and tell me this time.”

***

They finally get back to the trailer in the early hours of the morning. They’re barely through the door before they start pulling at one another’s clothes in an attempt to get them off. 

“I’m disappointed I was too busy filming to do this earlier,” Elvis pants, between frantic kisses. 

“Me too,” Gloria moans as he starts to kiss her neck. “And I hate that the party went on for so long. God, I thought we’d never leave.”

He unclasps her bra now that he’s taken her dress off. “When Bill started that speech…” he groans, then slides his mouth over her nipple. 

“The world’s longest, most boring speech, you mean?” She arches into his mouth as her hands find his belt and undo it. 

“Mmmm. Worst. Speech. Ever.” He punctuates each word with kisses that get lower and lower until his mouth is just above her clit. 

She squirms, her hands in his hair trying to push his head further down. He smirks and kisses his way back up her body again, lips finding hers. Moaning into his mouth, she grabs one of his hands and tries to guide it to where she failed to get his head to go. He chuckles as he pulls away from her again. 

“Needy little girl, aintcha?” He teases. 

She nods. “Been needy for you all day, big boy. Feel.” Finally managing to get his hand between her legs, she directs his fingers to run over her soaking pussy. 

He groans. “Bet ya ruined that skirt you were wearing earlier.”

“Yeah, it’s actually a great way to give yourself extra laundry,” she jokes. “As I’m sure you know, Mr. I Don’t Wear Underpants.” 

“Don’t do my own laundry,” he replies, before picking her up and putting her over his shoulder. “Right, you. Bed.”

Gloria squeals and kicks her legs and he gives her a quick sharp slap on the ass. She squeals again, in surprise and delight. Walking the few steps to the bedroom, he throws her down onto the bed so hard she bounces back up slightly. 

“Oooh Mr Dominant!” 

He shakes his head, trying to look stern but unable to keep himself from smiling. “It’s Mr Presley.”

She throws her head back and laughs uncontrollably. “Oh, is that what you want me to call you?”

Still giggling until she finds him on top of her, pinning her hands above her head, his eyes full of lust. “No, you know what I like you to call me. My needy girl.”

She moans a little at the name, trying to wriggle her hands free but unable to get away from his firm grip. “I want you… so bad… big boy,” she whines, arching towards him, desperate for more contact. 

“Think I might want to tease you a little first.”

She can’t resist trying it, despite what he just said. “Yes, Mr Presley.” 

He feels his dick get immediately harder at her words. He hadn’t thought he’d like it, usually people calling him Mr Presley made him feel old. But her cute west coast accent, her fluttering eyelashes and the slightly desperate tone in her voice have changed his mind. He leans down, kissing the skin just beneath her ear. 

“You can keep doing that.”

She bites her lip and rolls her body into his, now he’s that bit closer. “Yes, Mr Presley.”

He groans. Fuck. It’s going to be more difficult to tease her than he thought, if she keeps saying that. It’s going to be very hard for him to not just come in his pants. He kisses her again and then shifts so he can take the rest of his clothes off. Leaning back over her, he starts kissing gently down her body, enjoying watching her squirm trying to get him to move more quickly, deliberately stopping and peppering her with kisses just below her belly button until she’s groaning in frustration and begging him to move lower. 

“Please. Oh fuck. Please. I’m dripping for you.”

His eyes roll back in his head at the description and he decides to give her what she wants, spreading her legs with his palms and kissing her soaking wet pussy. She moans pornographically, hands grabbing his head as she grinds her hips up into his face, completely ignoring the fact that he’s only gently kissing her. He growls against her, vibrations making her moan even more loudly. Grabbing her hands and pulling them off his head, he looks up at her. 

“Don’t think my girl is doing as she’s told.”

She whines and wriggles. “I just want you to touch me…”

Shaking his head, he suddenly grabs her and wrestles with her until he has her over his knee. He brings his hand back and then slaps her hard on one ass cheek. She squeaks. 

“Feel like my girl needs to learn her lesson.”

Gloria rubs her thighs together, desperate for some friction. She’s so turned on she can barely stand it. She’s starting to wonder if she could just just come from him spanking her and calling her his girl. 

“Yes, Mr Presley,” she breathes. 

He bites his lip and tries really hard not to let on how much he’s enjoying this, though he’s sure she must be able to feel his erection digging into her. Slapping her ass again, he watches it jiggle and get red and listens to her moan and whine. Then he slides two fingers into her pussy. 

“Oh, fuck.”

Her head flops down onto the bed as she feels his fingers slowly thrust in and out, pleasure building inside her. Just as she’s starting to really enjoy herself he removes them and slaps her again. She screws her eyes shut and tries to control the noises that are coming out of her mouth as he continues alternating between touching her and spanking her. Eventually she completely loses control. 

“Oh fuck please Elvis please I want you so bad I’m sorry for being a bad girl.”

He chuckles and gently lifts her head with his other hand. “I better put ya out of your misery, huh?”

Her head flops back down again as he starts rubbing her clit quickly, pushing his thumb inside her, listening to the pleasured noises she makes as her orgasm builds quickly and then completely overpowers her. 

“FUCK.” 

If he thought her cussing on the beach was too loud, this was on a completely different scale. He puts his hand over her mouth as he gently rubs her through her high, shushing her. Her hot breath and mumbled curses against his skin. He doesn’t let her lie there for long though, he’s so desperate to have his fill of her.

“On your knees, baby.”

She gets up slowly until she’s kneeling on the bed, looking up at him expectantly. 

“No, not like that. Hands and knees.” He gestures at her to turn around so she’s facing away from him. 

He strokes her ass with one hand and his dick with the other. “All that looking at your ass made me want you like this.”

Her moans start off soft and soon crescendo again as he starts to push inside her. Groaning as he finally bottoms out, he pushes her head down onto the bed. 

“I need you to be quiet.”

She whimpers a little at the feeling of being so stretched in this position. “Yes, Mr Presley.”

Trying his best to hold it together at those words, his hands grip her hips as he starts to move inside her. She presses her face into the bed to muffle the noises she makes as he pulls almost all the way out and then slides in again, repeatedly. Elvis is driving himself crazy too, the intensity of the feeling of her all around his dick is almost too much. He gives up on moving slowly, his thrusts hard and fast now, making her body rock with each one. Her fingers dig into the mattress, trying to stop herself just collapsing on the bed with the force of his movements. He’s pounding her so hard she can feel tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. But it feels so good too. So good that she can feel her second orgasm building in the pit of her stomach.

Elvis is so close it’s almost killing him but he really wants to feel her walls squeeze him again. “Is my good girl going to come again?” He pants. 

“Y-yes… yes Mr Presley…” she pants back, getting up onto her forearms and pushing back against him with every thrust. 

His eyes roll back in his head and then all of a sudden he feels it, the squeeze of her walls around him as she falls forward onto the bed, only the force of him gripping her hips keeping her from collapsing completely. 

“Oh fuck,” he murmurs, and just like the last time it’s only one or two more thrusts before he’s coming too, deep inside her. Letting go of her hips they both collapse in a heap, breathing hard. 

He rolls off her and then pulls her into his arms, covering her face in kisses. She smiles and wraps her arms around his neck. Breath still uneven, he looks at her with grave seriousness. 

“Are you okay Glory? I don’t know what came over me then…”

Her mouth curls into an even bigger smile. “I’m great, thank you, Mr Presley.”

Wrapping a leg around his waist as she watches him cringe a little and blush.

“Oh God you’re never going to stop with that now, are you?”

“Never. Thought you were enjoying it. I know I was.”

He moves to kiss her neck. “Yeah I was,” he murmurs against her skin. “You sure I didn’t take it too far?” He looks up, his face worried. 

“No way. That was so hot. You can throw me around like that any time you want.”

She watches as his face changes from worry to a look that’s almost pride. Then it changes again to sadness as he remembers that “any time” will be over in a matter of hours. 

“Do you have to go back home tomorrow?” He asks, urgently. 

“I don’t have to do anything,” she replies. “But um, no I can stay, if that’s what you’re asking?”

Is that what he’s asking?

“Yes please. Please stay.”

***

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[thelazyhermits]

After reading the first TWST novel and seeing how Yuu/Grim's first meeting with Ace went there, I decided to write a drabble about how that encounter went with my Yuu, which I'll put underneath the cut.

Also, I've gone back and edited An Unlikely Team as well as Grim/Ace's chapters in An Unlikely Friendship, although there was only a minor edit in Grim's chapter as compared to Ace's chapter which got a whole different dialogue added in the final scene thanks to me getting inspired by the novel.

I hope y'all enjoy the new content! 😊����

He’s definitely up to something.

That was the first thought that crossed your mind upon meeting Ace Trappola, a first-year student who introduced himself after approaching you and Grim while you both were studying the seven statues on Main Street that, for some reason, look exactly like popular Disney villains.

Grim, however, obviously felt differently since, ever since Ace showed up, he’s been amicably chatting with the redhead about the statues, all the while not looking the least bit suspicious of Ace.

Meanwhile, you’ve been working on cleaning the surrounding area, which is the job that had been assigned to both you and that procrastinating monster, because you really don’t want to risk getting in trouble with Crowley for not doing your job since said job is the reason you now have a free place to stay as well as a means to make money for food and everything else you'll need to survive in this strange, foreign world you've somehow found yourself in.

Plus, you had wanted to put some space between you and Ace since you don’t trust him and that fake smile of his, especially since he’s wearing the kind of fake smile that looks so genuine that only someone like you who’s grown up surrounded by adults, who use their professional fake smiles to take advantage of others for a living, would be able to see through his façade.

The whole time you’ve been cleaning, you’ve been surreptitiously scrutinizing Ace, trying to figure out what his hidden agenda is, all while simultaneously listening carefully to all the information he provides about the statues - information that matches well with what you know about the Disney villains they resemble.

Except for the fact that everything Ace says makes these villains sound like actual decent people who are worth revering rather than the scoundrels they were in the movies from your world.

Every time you hear Ace compliment the people the statues are based on, you have to fight the urge to scoff since so much of what he says is just so difficult for you to believe.

I can’t believe these villains’ stories got so twisted that they became people who are seriously revered in this world. You incredulously shake your head. Even worse, the Queen of Hearts’ story is pretty much the same as it was in Alice in Wonderland, meaning these people seriously didn’t mind a crazy queen who decapitates people as a regular form of punishment.

Just what kind of world have you found yourself in?

You wearily massage your temple. Hopefully, all that nonsense is just a part of this world’s history and not its present. Otherwise, I’ll need to steer clear of the part of the world where the Queen of Hearts reigned for the sake of my own well-being, although I can’t see myself leaving this school anytime soon, considering traveling requires money among many other things.

Obviously, I’ll need to do some more research on this subject. You muse. If I’m gonna survive in this crazy world, I need to learn as much about it as I can since knowledge is power.

Plus, you’re genuinely curious about this world’s “Great Seven” and want to see if there are any more commonalities between them and the movie villains from your world whom they so greatly resemble.

“Pretty cool, huh? Not like some piddling weasel.”

You’re abruptly pulled away from your thoughts when Ace’s previously friendly and cheerful voice suddenly becomes noticeably cold and malicious.

While Grim makes a surprised sound, you quickly focus your now narrowed gaze on the redhead. So he’s finally making his move. It’s about time. Now, I’ll finally find out what his deal is since I couldn’t get any clues from his earlier behavior when I was watching him.

“Pfft! Ah ha ha! I can't hold it back anymore!” Ace declares as he starts laughing, hard enough that he doubles over. “It’s too funny! I can’t breathe!”

For several seconds, his loud, wild laughter fills the air, and during this time, you give Ace an unimpressed look while Grim just stares at him with wide eyes, appearing stunned.

Once he eventually manages to compose himself, Ace wipes away the tears of mirth from his eyes. “Come on, you're the ones who turned orientation into a fiasco, right?”

“You two seriously stand out.” Ace sneers as he points at you. “A total normie, the perfect punchline to a disappointing joke. Every eye in the school focused on you last night, and you can’t even use a drop of magic.”

Completely unfazed by his mocking words, you maintain your unimpressed expression, which you can tell bothers him because his face briefly appears annoyed when you don’t give him the kind of reaction that you know he was hoping for.

Since he clearly won’t have any fun with you as his target, Ace quickly moves onto his next one and points at Grim. “And a monster who wasn’t even summoned by the Dark Mirror in the first place but crashed orientation anyway and got beaten to a pulp by my dorm leader.”

Wearing a cold smile, Ace gives both you and Grim a once-over before saying, “You’re perfect for each other.”

“W-What are ya-” Grim briefly stammers before scowling, “Ya don't gotta be a jerk! Comin' at us all of a sudden like this!”

“It’s not all of a sudden, dude.” Ace smirks, “The look on your face when they picked you up and tossed you out was hilarious! It took everything I had not to burst into laughter right in the middle of the ceremony!”

After giving you and the cleaning equipment that’s beside you a particularly withering look, Ace snickers, “So, in the end, neither of you got admitted, and now, you're janitors? SO lame!”

Upon realizing that Ace seriously is only here to taunt you and Grim, the tension in your frame eases as you roll your eyes. Really? That’s it? I was worried he might be someone secretly dangerous since his fake smile is so convincing, like the ones I always saw back in my world, but he’s really just an immature brat. I don’t know if I should be relieved or disappointed.

In direct contrast to you, who has calmed down now that you’ve realized Ace is no threat to you, Grim becomes increasingly more irritated. “Shaddup, you! I’m gonna be a student at this school in no time!”

“Nuh-uh! No way!” Ace shakes his head. “You're so clueless you don't even know who the Great Seven are. Not a one of them! Maybe before you try getting into the academy again, you ought to take a second crack at kindergarten?”

Unable to help yourself, you dryly retort, “Really? YOU’RE the one who’s saying someone should go back to kindergarten - the grade that so obviously suits you way better?”

Caught off guard since you’ve been silent pretty much the whole time he’s been here, Ace, along with Grim, turns to look at you in surprise.

Soon after, Ace’s surprise turns into annoyance. “And what’s THAT supposed to mean?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Isn’t it obvious? Even though you could’ve been doing way more productive things with your time, you instead went out of your way to come taunt us ‘cause you hated how much attention we got thanks to the orientation fiasco, like an immature, jealous brat.”

“Not only that, you’re getting in our way when we have work to do.” You huff before making a shooing gesture. “So can you just leave already? I have way more important things to do than listen to someone whose opinions I don’t give a damn about.”

Once he overcomes his surprise, Grim starts guffawing, “Way to tell him, Henchman! That’ll teach that jealous brat not to mess with the Great Grim! Myahaha!”

“I am NOT jealous!” Ace scowls, “Why the hell would I be jealous of losers like you two who are only still around ‘cause you got lucky enough to get a job cleaning up all of the WAY more important people’s trash?!”

After saying that, Ace angrily stomps over to where you’re standing and jabs a finger at your chest, glaring all the while. “You have a lotta nerve looking down on me when I actually earned my place here fair and square after working my ass off, unlike you who just waltzed right in and did whatever you pleased. A magicless loser like you has no place at this school, so get off your damn high horse already before you get knocked off.”

Completely unfazed by his anger since you’ve gone up against far scarier people in Japan’s underworld, you boredly swat away his finger. “I’m not looking down on you.”

Faster than he can react, you reach out and grab onto Ace’s shoulder with a tight enough grip that makes him cry out in pain.

Using your grip on his shoulder, you push down with enough strength to force the redhead, whom you quickly realize has no real fighting experience, to his knees.

In hopes that he will refrain from bothering you and Grim in the future if you give him a scary enough warning, you fiercely glare down at the shocked boy who’s now kneeling before you. “NOW, I am, and if you don’t want to end up in way worse shape, I highly recommend that you leave me and Grim alone and just focus on your studies like a good little student.”

As expected, upon being on the receiving end of your heated glare, Ace flinches and becomes noticeably paler.

Unfortunately, it would seem Ace Trappola is not as smart as you had originally thought he was since, rather than follow his instincts, which have surely identified you as an opponent he has no hope of ever beating by this point, Ace, whose fear quickly turns into ire, instead immediately shoots back up to his feet and tries to grab you by the collar of your hoodie. “You arrogant bastard! Don’t you dare make fun of me!”

Naturally, you smoothly avoid his hands since he’s nowhere near fast enough to grab hold of an experienced fighter like you.

“Alright, Henchman, you’ve done your part! Now, it’s time for your amazing boss to take over! Myaaaaah!”

Catching you and Ace off guard, Grim, who had been laughing on the sidelines up until this point, decides to get in on the action and proceeds to use his fire magic on Ace who just barely manages to avoid Grim’s fireball attack.

“Whoa!” Ace exclaims before turning to scowl at Grim. “What are you doing?!”

Grim smirks, “Now that my henchman’s had a turn, it’s time for me to dole out some payback ‘cause no one makes fun of Grim, Master of Fire, and gets away with it! I'll make ya regret messin’ with me!”

Ace scoffs, “You wanna throw down with me, shorty? You got some guts.”

Realizing that the two boys look like they seriously intend to fight, you face-palm. This is not what I was hoping to accomplish when I tried to intimidate Ace. If I had known this would happen, I wouldn’t have done anything to him.

Just when you think this situation couldn’t possibly get any more exasperating, several NRC students, who had been on their way to class, start approaching the area where you, Grim, and Ace are, obviously curious about what’s going on between Grim and Ace.

Upon realizing that a fight is about to happen, the crowd of boys starts jeering and cheering, earning themselves an exasperated look from you. Boys…

Deciding it’s better to ignore the crowd for now, you quickly get in between Grim and Ace. “Enough! Grim, you can’t use your magic to fight here! If you cause any property damage, we’ll both get in serious trouble with the Headmage, and I do NOT wanna have to deal with that! And I bet you won’t be happy either when your tuna funds get taken away!”

Much to your annoyance, rather than heed your words, Grim scurries around you, moving fast enough that you can’t catch him. “Relax, Henchman! The only thing gettin’ damaged here is Ace’s ugly mug! Myahaha!”

Right after saying that, Grim launches another fireball at Ace. Unfortunately for the monster, his attack misses its mark just like it did last time, although it’s because of a completely different reason.

Instead of moving to dodge the attack like he did earlier, Ace, after pulling out what looks like a pen with a red gem on it, summons a gust of wind that knocks away Grim’s fireball before it can reach him. 

Ace smirks, “Ha! How do you like that?”

As Grim complains about Ace blowing away his fireballs and the redhead taunts him in return, you just blink. Huh, guess magic can control elements here like it can on TV back in my world. Good to know.

Seconds after that thought crosses your mind, realization suddenly dawns on your now pale features. Wait a minute. Fire and wind together? Oh no…

Realizing that this is a recipe for disaster, you shout, “Both of you, stop! If you keep mixing fire and wind magic together, you’ll-!”

Before you can finish that sentence, Grim, who has chosen to completely ignore you, angrily fires off another fireball at Ace, which the redhead once again blows away with his wind magic.

Unfortunately, unlike last time, the fire doesn’t simply get diverted to an area where it can’t harm anyone. This time, it hits a target.

The worst possible target.

Horrified, you watch as Grim’s attack, which became stronger thanks to Ace's wind magic fanning its flames, just as you had feared would happen, lands a direct hit on the Queen of Hearts’ statue, causing the statue to become completely engulfed in flames. Oh, shit. We are so screwed...

And, of course, you were exactly right.

[jeeseth]

sorry! , izna ot7

pairing , izna x fem!reader

context , how will izna apologise to their girlfriend after an argument!

tags — fluff! might be a little angsty tho, drabble?, idol/non-idol au, literally a different ways of apologising, this is just how i think the izna members will apologise!

﹟mai !

mai will def be the type that will apologise to you IMMEDIATELY after you two had a fight, like i can already imagine her holding your hands while apologising slowly to you 🥹 PLUS her loving and caring gaze staring right into your almost teary one at hearing her apology.

"baby, i’m sorry i didn’t mean it. i love you so much." she apologised while interviewing your hands with her!

i love our calm baby, like how can you stay mad at her when she’s looking you in the eyes while speaking to you softly. I LOVE HER SO MUCH

﹟jeemin !

our calm baby number two! will definitely stay quiet (sulk) for a while then she’ll realised that it was actually her fault and would come running to apologise to you <3

imagine you’re just chilling in the bedroom and she suddenly come running to you like a puppy seeing its owner! she’s a bear tho but whatever. anyway, i literally can see her standing over at the door with the biggest guilt look on her face.

"baby… i’m sorry." she mumbled, looking down on the floor. you swear you immediately forget that you’re mad at her once you saw the pout on her face. i would too tbh

﹟jiyoon !

she’s lowkey testing your patience even more after the fight AND during the fight (argument). jiyoon staring at you blankly as you keep scolding her, how can it not piss you off? but that’s the thing! she knew about it and she tried her best to try and get your forgiveness since she can’t stand the silent treatment you’re giving her.

imagine waking up the next day and you open your front door to get some fresh air but then, you see a bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolate on your doorstep! oh and of course you saw a little note saying ‘sorry for pissing you off.’

dw, you texted her after that and said i love you to her! which makes the worry in jiyoon’s heart melt away!

"i love you more, stupid"

﹟koko !

one thing about her is that i can clarify that she’s a bit stupid! but cute kind of stupid obv <3 she won’t even understand that you were scolding her but after she realised it, she would just stare off to space and think about how should she apologise to you.

well the first thing she tries to do is definitely not to approach you… let’s just say that koko is the type to be scared of her own girlfriend. who wouldn’t but anyway! she’ll def tried to bake something but ended up almost burning the house down. you immediately rush to the kitchen after smelling something burning and you’re laughing your ass off after seeing all the flour splattered on her face. and that’s how you forget that you were mad at her! girlie barely tried and is already forgiven <3

﹟sarang !

clingy. physical touch. kisses. three words to describe the ryu sarang. you were already getting skeptical when you saw sarang just smiling at you as you scold her, but sarang just couldn’t resist the urge to kiss your stupid face right there! it does caught you off guard but it also does lessen your madness a bit!

"what was that for?"

"that’s the only way to make you stop scolding me" sarang giggle and pulls you into a tight hug like nothing happened. you don’t blame her tho, you really enjoyed being in her warm embrace <3!!

﹟jungeun !

hmm… why do i feel like she’ll just say a quick ‘sorry’ then went to sulk in her bedroom. jungeun def HATES fighting or arguing with you. so after every argument it’s always ended up with HER giving you the silent treatment… only for a while tho because it doesn’t affect you at all but it does affect her!

so she’ll just straight ahead and stand in front of you while you’re watching Netflix on the couch.

"i’m sorry. please don’t be mad at me. it was my fault."

cutie.

﹟saebi !

our cute crybaby!!! she would already be breaking into tears as soon as you stop arguing with her. she tried to not make it obvious that she’s literally bawling her eyes out but her sniffles really betrays her. also saebi sucking in harsh breath every five seconds 😭 i can imagine it.

would immediately failed at holding back her tears and went to cry into your arms instead. i’m not sure how’s that possible since she’s sooo tall but.. it’s fine cause it’s saebi!

and that’s how you spend the next few hours comforting her as she keeps apologising to you. it was cute tho it got you giggling the whole time.

"i-i’m.. i’m sorry.. please don’t leave- don’t laugh!" she sobbed burying her face on your shoulders <3

[conkers-thecosy]

*whispers* oh my god oh my goddddd ohhhhhhhhh myyyyyyyy godddddddddd vicious_summer read my work and left a comment and now I feel like I’m going to disintegrate and crumble into a pile of ash because my soul has left my body and I?????? *dies*

[slav-every-day]

[innko]

this is not a meeting new people phase of life for me right now. and that is okay.

[crossbackpoke-check]

do u ever speak too soon & immediately regret it.

[yellobb]

The unending urge to reveal every last detail of my personal life to the little gay people in my phone.

Like, oh yeah I love talking to you about blorbo from our shows. Here’s my full legal name, home address, parents’ home address, phone number, workplace, and security questions answers :)

[voiceshearingyouloud]

I was like dude why am I spilling my guts to my parents even after everything and why am I risking letting something slip that I don’t want to, and how do I stop doing that. And then I realised that I’m trying to fix my parents’ relationship with my brother and I went ah. I need to stop trying to fix other people’s relationships because it is not my job as the child to explain emotional maturity to my parents, nor do I need to hear ‘there are always extenuating circumstances’ from my mother ever again.

[thisiswhereikeepdcthings]

Bruce once said, half-jokingly, that anyone who wanted to marry any of his kids had to beat hik in single combat first. Unfortunately, joking on the Bat looks dead serious to everyone not in his circle, so now Wally is busy learning Muay Thai, Roy is brushing up on Krav Maga, and Conner has resigned himself to living in sin. Steph just figures she'd ask Cass to fight her battles for her.

Conner: I’m sorry. I love you, but we can never marry.

Tim, thinking about who he might need to politely go ask Jason to take care of:

Conner, entirely serious: I’m never going to be able to beat your dad.

Tim, hearing “beat UP” because he was thinking about Jason punching Luthor:

Tim: I feel like further explanation might be necessary here.

Wally: Okay. I think I’m ready to fight Batman.

Dick, only half paying attention: *nods* I understand completely. I have the same urge all the time.

Jason: What do you MEAN you can’t marry me because Batman will beat you?

Roy: But Bruce said-

Jason: I don’t care what Bruce said. Actually, no. I do care. How DARE he-

*cut to Jason fighting Batman*

Roy: So does this count, or…

Bruce, at six am in a bathrobe and slippers: Steph, what are you doing here?

Steph: Outsourcing.

Cass: *comes flying at Batman from two stories above*

[cosmosis]

MOVED TO @seratopia

miguel o’hara x reader (fluff) - jealousy

miguel gets jealous possessive after a new intern flirts with you this is part of the same universe as my call oneshot!

Being 2nd in charge of the multiverse is... honestly not that hard for you. It’s mostly just co-leading, and being a secretary. Lyla helps out a bunch, but sometimes, a sassy AI can only do so much. 

Jess informed you of a new intern she recruited. Apparently, he’s having his first day today, which means you’ll probably have to do a quick run-through of things with him later. 

For now, it’s your fated duty to sit with Miguel at his desk so he doesn’t get all pouty later. He starts huffing and puffing when you aren’t near, takes it out on the kids sometimes. 

Thanks to your suggestion, Miguel invested in a nice desk and swivel chair for the office, so now it looks more like an actual workspace instead of a maniac’s plot room. (either way, he his one lmao)

Since Lyla’s gone for the time being, you’re standing up on the office platform, tapping away at a multitude of screens. Miguel lays lazily in the office chair, swiveled up behind you to rub his face into your upper back, as well as run his hands along your tummy. 

“Hun, you gotta let go. I needa tour the intern.” You mutter, closing in on an ID photo of the recruit.

“No.“

“Well, if I don’t do it, then who will?“ You ask. 

“Jess.“

“She’s busy on her break. Pregnant women need breaks, you know.“

“Ugh. I don’t want you to leave.“ He whines. squeezing you tighter. 

You start squirming out of his grip, pulling his pinky off of your stomach. Inching away, you push Miguel away by his head. Reluctantly, he starts letting you go, lazily running his hands onto the skin of your hips and lower thighs before letting go. 

“I’ll see you in a bit, baby.“ You say, scuffing up his hair with your palm. Gracefully, you leap down from the platform, somersaulting onto the floor and skating out the exit. You hop over a few stray cardboard boxes. 

Miguel watches you stroll away, and fixes his hair back into place. 

Lyla magically appears, phasing in and out with a different sly look each time. She snickers, flickering all around Miguel’s head. 

“Whipped.“

“Shut the fuck up.“

. . .

Miguel’s blood starts to boil as soon as you roll in with that stupid, bastard of an intern. He’s too close to you for comfort, so close to his arm nudging yours... Miguel’s teeth start to clench, his fangs close to drawing blood from his mouth. He’s paying too much attention to you, there’s a vibe he gets that he hates to his core. 

Everything about him is aggravating; the blonde hair, the snarky smirk, all of it.  

“...and this is Miguel’s office!“ You say, gesturing your hand to the majority of the area. 

“Sweet, nice to meet the bossman.“

Bossman, his ass. Miguel would only ever let you call him bossman. 

“Miguel! Come down!“ You yell, and his heart warms in his chest. He turns around from his standing form on the office platform, eyeing the intern in order to scare him a bit. 

“Hey, what’s up man! Glad to finally meet the man behind the slaughter!“ The intern exclaims, his hands rested on his hips. 

Miguel fights every urge to both roll his eyes and tackle the recruit, keeping a somewhat straight face on. He chuckles a little, not a single trace of a smile on his face. 

“Heh, yeah? Excited to meet the bossman?“ Miguel taunts, but it looks like the intern can’t tell he is. 

“Heck yeah dude! Where do I start?“

Miguel starts nodding a little, plastering on a face smile, chuckling a bit...

Before he throws the entire office chair at the recruit. Not to hit you, though. He’d never, ever hit you. 

Instantly, the intern turns away, shielding his body with his hands. In the nick of time, though, you latch your webbing onto the chair, slinging it away to side before it could harm anyone. You cross your arms. 

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry about tha- MIGUEL!“ You scream. 

And he throws a literal file cabinet at the man. Again, you latch it out of way without problem. 

“What th'heck, man?! What’s your fuckin’ problem?!“ The intern yells, spreading his arms out. 

“My fuckin’ problem is you nagging my wife!“ He roars. 

“Wait a sec- she’s your wife?“

Miguel then  leaps down from the platform, chin held up high in a sinister glare. Slowly, he steps over towards the both of you, fixing his eyes on the intern the entire time. 

Miguel’s tall, really tall compared to the newbie. He pokes his finger to the recruit, leaning in real close. 

“Stay at least 5 feet away from my wife at all times.“ Miguel utters, and you kinda feel bad for the new guy. 

You cross your arms. “C’mon, Miguel. He’s literally new, take it easy on him!” You say back, and Miguel pouts, whines. Possessively, he reaches over to you, pulling in you in by the hip to try to soothe you. It doesn’t work, and you present yourself from giving into his needy touches.  

And then, you turn around back to the newbie. “Gosh, I’m so sorry about that! He’s usually not like this-”

“Man, fuck this.“ The intern exclaims, taking a few steps back in agitation. “Take me back home, I ain’t dealin’ with this shit!“

He storms off, kicking a stray cardboard box on the way out. 

“Aw, crap.“

“Finally.“

You swerve back around, hands on your hips. “Miguel, that was uncalled for.”

“Yes it was! He was smothering all over you!“ He yells, throwing his hands up in the air like it was the most obvious thing ever. 

“Well, now thanks to you, we lost a recruit.“

“One of literally thousands!“

“And now, there’s papers everywhere on the floor!“

“Shhh, honey, I’ll clean it up later.“

Ignoring your frown, Miguel finally pulls you into him, pressing your lower back into his own with a nose into your hair.

“I saw the way he put his arm around you. He was flirting with you too. Hated it.“ Miguel utters. 

“When?“ You ask.

“On the surveillance.“ He says, and you sigh. He’s right, the guy was flirting with you for a bit, but you chose to ignore it so you could get over with the tour faster. 

“Eh, he gave me the heebie jeebies from the beginning.“ You say, and Miguel automatically squeezes you tighter into him, a deep grumble bellowing from his inner throat.

“I’m never letting you tour anyone ever again.“ Miguel admits.

“After that? Go ahead.“ You scoff, and finally, he sighs in relief. 

He tries drags you back to the office platform again, but then forgets that he threw the chair, grumbling in regret. Instead, he just hovers behind you for the rest of the day, occasionally pressing a smooch to your head. 

[ponderingmoonlight]

Reader and Sanemi going from hating to marrying each other + meeting up with the Kamado family post infinity castle

Pairing: Sanemi x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,2k

Synopsis: Gosh, you hated that guy. Just the way the wind hashira talked to you pushed you over the edge far too often. Little did you know that you'll feel different about that hot-tempered man after everything is over, that you'll find yourself convincing your husband to meet the Kamado family...

Warnings: THIS IS SPOILER FREE Y'ALL, I wrote this without ANY spoilers in it, so none of the outcome is what actually happens in the manga like that (I actually aim for a spoiler-free blog so anime onlys don't have to worry, death of basically every other hashira, language, angst to fluff

Special thanks to cutie patootie @effetsecndaires for that super cute suggestion 🤍

„Me and that guy?“

„Yeah, there’s ain’t no way I’m working with that spoiled brat-„

„Who are you to call me spoiled, you prick-“

“Did you just call me prick you little-“

“Can you two just stop?”, Giyu mumbles under his breath, all pairs on eyes set on you and the wind hashira who is only inches away from your face by know.

God, how much you hate that guy. Since the first time you saw him beating up a bunch of innocent demon slayer to now where you literally feel his urge to slap you right into your face, you can’t stand him. Out of all skilled demon slayers, why does it have to be him? How did he even achieve the status of a pillar in the first place?

“Stay the hell out of it, Tomioka”, Sanemi barks at the water hashira in an instant.

“Stop acting like a jerk. Don’t you get that nobody will ever like you if you treat them like that!?”

“Not liking me? Look at you, (y/n). You’re a total loser.”

“Take that back right now!”

“That’s enough, stop already”, Gyomei finally speaks out.

Oh, you couldn’t care less about the stone hashira lifting himself off the ground or the thick tension that fills the air. Out of instinct, you yank towards, your fist aiming straight for his face. That little fucker will pay for every single insult, for every time he put you down-

“I said enough, (y/n).”

“Let go of me!”, you cry out when Gyomei catches you mid-air.

“You heard him, (y/n). Enough is enough”, Sanemi jeers at you with a slight grin.

Oh, how much you would have given to get teased by Sanemi Shinazugawa like that one last time. How desperately you wish you could turn back time to see all their faces again. When all of you arrived within the infinity castle, you knew you might not make it out alive, that some of your beloved friends will eventually never find their way out.

“Sanemi!”, you cried into the countless chambers around you, eyes aimlessly searching for the man your eyes locked with just seconds ago.

“(y/n)!”, he shouted from afar.

Where is he? Is he safe? What if you’ll never see him again? You swallowed hard, desperately trying to stop your dumb eyes from watering. What if…you’ll never see Sanemi again?

“Where are you?”

“Don’t you dare to die on me here!”, he yelled on top of his lungs.

Before eventually, he stopped replying.  Before you faced countless demons on your own, all at once.

You would have never imagined that those crazy eyes you hated so much since joining the chosen circle of hashira would be the ones you’ll see last before your lifeless body collapses onto the floor.

“No, you can’t leave me like that. Not you too, (y/n). Get yourself together and fight!”, he hissed through gritted teeth while grabbing your body tightly.

“S…Sanemi?”

What a relief it was to fall asleep in his muscular arms.

And what a surprise it was to wake up with him by your side again.

“I’m so tired”, you mumbled before being able to even think straight.

Everything hurt. From your little toe to your shoulder, over your torso and your crushed leg. It feels like you just returned from a trip to hell.

“You’re awake.”

Don’t so familiar voice that suddenly sounds so soft and broken, that maniac orbs that suddenly turned…hurt. Is Sanemi Shinazugawa crying?

“Are you okay?”, you croaked.

What about the others? Are they safe? Did you make it? What about Muzan, the upper moons, Tanjiro and his sister? Your brain threatens to give him, a breathtaking wave of nausea close to hit you with full force.

“Dumbass, look at yourself first. Are you okay?”

Gently, he caressed your cheek with his bruised knuckles, forcing your heart to skip a beat. Is this really the Sanemi Shinazugawa you know and hate?

Hate?

You furrow your eyebrows. Did you really hate him those past few weeks when you sat together after training past after midnight? Did you really hate him when fighting against those demons, when he was all you were able to think about? When on earth did you start un-hating him?

“I’m fine…But…the others?”

Just the way he shakes his head in defeat is enough for you to know. You swallow hard. All the people you loved…Mitsuri who always braided your hair, Shinobu always stitched you up after another fight with Sanemi, Giyu who always scolded you for acting out like that. Tanjiro, Nezuko, Gyomei, Obanai, Muichiro…Are all of them gone?

Suddenly you fail to breathe. Your friends, your found-family.

Everything’s gone.

“Hey, don’t panic.”

Did they suffer? How many people were forced to die in that senseless war?

“Look at me, (y/n).”

You can’t catch your breath, shaky hands clinging onto Sanemi’s sleeve for what feels like dear life.

“(y/n).”

He grabs your face with both of his hands. And all of the sudden, everything around you starts to get calm.

“It will be alright. Not today, not even tomorrow or next week. But we’ll get through this together.”

“I hate you”, you breathe out while getting lost in the new-found peace his eyes radiate.

“I hate you too”, he mumbles.

Why do his lips suddenly look so inviting, roaming closer and closer? Why do you enjoy the way he holds your face in place with his rough hands, how he stares at you in distress?

But there’s something apart from distress, a new-found feeling you’ve never seen before.

“More than anything else”, you add.

“Absolutely, yes.”

And then his lips crash into yours. Longingly, almost desperate Sanemi Shinazugawa kisses you with every fiber of his being, allows his body to finally give him. He never allowed himself a single positive thought when it came to you, always hated every minor thing you did. Until the infinity castle made him realize what he truly feels for you, that he needs to catch a taste of your forward lips before it is too late.

That was exactly one year ago.

“What’s on your mind again?”, Sanemi mumbles into your hair while staring into the sunset and holding you tight.

“Oh, I was just thinking about how much you hated me back then”, you chuckle.

What a relief it is. Being able to watch the sunset without fearing the night. Being able so live another day with your husband by your side.

Your husband, Sanemi Shinazugawa.

“I wonder what they would think, seeing us like that”, Sanemi comments dryly.

“Oh, they wouldn’t believe us.”

“Absolutely not, nah.”

“But I bet they’d be proud, right? I’m sure it’s fine that we’re doing okay…”

“You’re talking nonsense again, (y/n). Why would they ever be mad at us for living our lives?”

“Because they couldn’t.”

You swallow the lump that forms itself deep in your throat down. Not a single day went by without you thinking about your comrades. How they always had to keep the two of you separated, how much fun you’ve had despite the circumstances.

But now, there’s only you and Sanemi left. And Tanjiro Kamado.

“I think we should pay the Kamado family a visit”, you add before thinking about it any further.

To this day, Sanemi refused to meet up with Tanjiro and his sister. Maybe because he still hates the boy with the scar, maybe because seeing Tanjiro means being confronted with his past all over again. Over and over, you begged him to go, to make sure both of them are doing alright.

“Didn’t I say no 100 times already?”, Sanemi grumbles behind you.

“Well, you said you hate me at least 100 times as well and still, I’m here”, you bite back.

Sanemi shifts his weight, his muscles tense behind your back. You know too well that this isn’t easy for him, that seeing Tanjiro means getting confronted with a part of his past he’s so eager to forget. But the Kamado family never gave up their hope, always keeps their doors open if Sanemi does decide on meeting them someday.

“That’s not the same, idiot.”

“Sanemi.”

You turn around and cup his face gently with both hands.

“Maybe you should pay him a visit. We didn’t see him in a long time.”

“Why would I care though? It’s not like I liked that kid at one point”, he barks back at you.

You let out your breath. Despite the fact that infinity castle made both of you softer, Sanemi still didn’t lose his stubbornness and attitude. Well, so did you.

“You wanna act like an asshole? Go ahead, then. I’ll leave tomorrow morning, with or without you.”

Without another word, you get up and make your way back into the house. How frustrating living with him can be. But still…The past is scarry, maybe even too much too bear. After today, you won’t speak up about visiting the Kamado family again.

-the next day-

“Nezuko!”

She doesn’t hear you. The girl with the wavy black hair tied into a knot, her tender eyes focused on the garden in front of her feet. How breathtakingly gorgeous she is, a true beauty just like back then.

“Nezuko!”, you cry out again, waving at her like an idiot.

Back then, she saved your life by almost sacrificing her own. Even though you weren’t as kind as the other hashiras, the Kamado family always stood by your side and believed in you. Seeing her so unbothered and happy forces a wave of tears up your eyes, makes your vision go foggy.

Thanks to your comrades, all of this is over now.

“(y/n)!”, the girl finally greets you while mindlessly dropping her sickle and dashing towards you.

“(y/n), is it really you? I can’t believe it!”, Nezuko breathes out.

“Yeah, the original”, you giggle.

She still wears the same patterns she did back then. But her eyes, they look so different. Nezuko really is fully human again. You can’t stop a single tear rolling down your eyes. And all of this, only due to the sacrifice of your friends.

“No, don’t you cry, (y/n)! Not when both of us should be happy”, Nezuko croaks out, a thin coat of tears now covering her very own eyes.

“Those are happy tears. I’m so sorry for not visiting you sooner, it’s just…”

Yes, what is it? Did you hesitate because Sanemi wasn’t ready, because he refused over and over to accompany you? No, you yourself needed that time to heal, to get over all the terror and suffering you’ve been through.

“You don’t have to apologize at all. After all, Tanjiro and I needed some time to adjust to this new life as well. Do you mind me asking how Shinazugawa-sama is?”

“Sanemi? He’s doing okay. But he isn’t ready yet…”

“Of course, I get that! But there’s no need to rush, right? After all, we now have plenty of time left”, Nezuko replies with that oh so gentle grin plastered onto her face.

“(y/n), is that you?”

Your heart skips a beat. Oh, you’d recognize that voice from everywhere with its unwavering optimism and tender undertones.

“Long time no see, Kamado Tanjiro.”

In the matter of seconds, you find yourself embraced into a tight hug, surrounded by nothing but the signature ichimatsu pattern that burned itself into your brain.

“Oh my, I’m so sorry for casually hugging you like this, (y/n)-sama!”, he adds in a haste, quickly letting go of you and bowing.

“I’m not a hashira anymore, Tanjiro. And both of us are equal. Well, now that I think of it, I should be the one who bows in front of you”, you contradict jokingly.

“It’s so nice to finally see you again! How are you?”

“I’m doing alright. Sanemi and I, we worked quite hard to renovate his estate after what happened. These past few months, we enjoyed watching the sunsets for the very first time in ages”, you explain briefly.

“I couldn’t believe my ears when I heard that the two of you married. It makes me beyond happy you found your luck, (y/n).”

“Don’t you dare making my wife cry, brat.”

Your eyes widen, heartbeat instantly picking up. You’d recognize that voice out of a thousand people. When you turn around, you get greeted by the annoyed expression of none other than your husband.

“Sanemi”, you breathe out.

Did he follow you? When did he decide on meeting the Kamado’s? You’ve been bugging him for ages, almost begging him to pay Tanjiro and Nezuko a visit.

And now he stands there, arms casually crossed in front of his chest.

“Shinazugawa-sama, what a honor-“

“Spare me with that bullshit”, Sanemi interrupts the boy immediately.

“Just tell me how you’re doing.”

Oh. Your eyes threaten to overfill with joy all over again, Sanemi’s arm now wrapped around your waist tightly. Just 2 years ago, you didn’t even think about the possibility to even like Sanemi, to look after the Kamado’s.

But this is your life now. Your oh so sweet life.

“You might have been right. Maybe this isn’t so bad after all”, Sanemi whispers into your ear.

“So, does that mean you finally don’t hate me anymore.”

“That’s a bit out of line, Kamado. You’re still a brat, after all.”

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls (your fic will be next) @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine

[cherienymphe]

His Father's Son

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: After the untimely death of his father, Rafe takes it upon himself to become the man of the house.

warnings: NON-CON, STEPCEST, AGE GAP, mentions of major character death, depression, alcoholism, stepmom!reader, underage drinking, canon ages

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

⭑

The overwhelming feeling of being watched turned out to be true.

You flinched at the sight of the figure standing next to your bed, eerily still and eerily familiar in the darkness. Reason took over, and your heart started to slow just as quickly as it had started to race. You struggled to move, legs twisted within the sheets as you reached over to turn on the lamp. Sleep was still clinging to you, desperate to pull you back in, but you pushed it away with one look at Rafe’s face.

“It’s 8 o’clock,” was all he said in that tone you had never cared for.

Once his words actually registered though, you swallowed down the mild irritation that had threatened to bubble up. You felt your heart drop to your stomach as you blinked, staring at him with parted lips before hurrying to search for your phone. When it bounced out of your unsteady hands and onto the floor, you cursed.

Sliding out of bed, you unfortunately confirmed that it was indeed 8 o’clock.

Now 8:03.

“Shit,” you breathed, pressing your hand to your forehead. “Um…”

You swiped your tongue between your lips, noting how dry they felt.

“Tell Wheezie-.”

“I already took Wheezie to school.”

The teenager’s words surprised you, and your hand fell, staring at him in a mixture of shock and shame. At those words, you finally registered the look on his face, and you found yourself thinking that his tone earlier made a lot more sense. You opened and closed your mouth, fighting to figure out how to respond. Unfortunately, you didn’t come up with anything clever.

“…oh.”

You watched the blond cross his arms over his chest, head tilted with the barest of frowns between his brows.

“I’m sorry,” you finally added, letting out a sigh. “I overslept and my alarm didn’t go off and…”

You found yourself trailing off, hating the sound of your excuses.

You got the feeling that Rafe hated the sound of them too by the even stare he fixed you with. You imagined that he hadn’t planned on dropping Wheezie off to her first day of school this year, and while it was something you both knew he should expect to do sometimes, it was also something he should’ve been asked to do. You couldn’t even remember going to bed the previous night, and you were sure the two bottles of wine you’d consumed had something to do with it.

“Should I anticipate dropping her off tomorrow too?”

There was an edge in his voice that you didn’t like but couldn’t necessarily be angry at.

“No,” you told him, tone sheepish. “I’ll get up on time.”

Rafe didn’t respond, but he also didn’t leave right away. He simply stood there, drinking you in with a frown. There was a look that passed through his eyes that made you think he probably wanted to say something, but if that were true, he swiftly changed his mind. You watched him silently leave, and you resisted the urge to sigh, closing your eyes instead.

When you married Ward Cameron two years ago, it wasn’t for the most honorable of reasons you’d admit. However, the same could also be said for him. After all, what would a forty-year-old man possibly want with a twenty-seven-year-old woman? Probably something equally as superficial as the same reasons a twenty-seven-year-old woman would want to marry a forty-year-old man. With that being said though, you hadn’t actually expected to fall for him. In hindsight, how could you not?

He had never been bad looking, and he was far kinder than you ever expected. Sure, the money and security of a comfortable life were what pulled you in, but after saying yes, you realized that he wasn’t the typical cold and rich husband you expected him to be. Seeing him do his best with his children only made it harder to pretend like it was some loveless marriage of mutual benefit.

You loved him.

…and then he died.

With one boating accident, you were suddenly the single mother of three teenagers. It wasn’t something you were prepared for, and while one was technically an adult, that still left two who weren’t and couldn’t possibly fend for themselves. On top of it all, you still found it hard to get out of bed most days, a problem that wasn’t so bad during the summer.

…but the new term was here, and you couldn’t put your responsibilities off any longer.

Reminding yourself that you’d quite literally drank yourself to sleep the previous night and therefore overslept, you noted that you were off to a bad start. The thought made your eyes burn, the full realization of your new reality hitting you. After Ward died, Rafe was basically the one to take care of everything while you spent most days in bed, but months had passed and summer was over and now your time had come to be a parent.

Resisting the urge to cry, you stumbled to the bathroom, hoping you didn’t look as bad as you felt.

“Did you hear me?”

His voice pulled you out of your own head and you slowly turned to look at him.

“What?”

Rafe stared at you for what felt like a long time, and it was then that you realized he’d probably been speaking to you for some time. You swallowed at the realization, noting that you’d spaced out again, and when Rafe heaved a sigh, you actually felt like the scolded child.

“Sarah’s staying over at a friend’s house tonight,” he told you.

You could feel his gaze on you when you nodded, and deep in the back of your mind you knew that you should’ve asked some follow up questions, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. You’d always trusted Sarah and her judgement—Rafe being the one you and Ward always worried about—and considering the circumstances, you wouldn’t question her on this. In your current state of mind, you were positive she could ask you to smoke a blunt and you’d give her the okay.

You were pulled from your thoughts again by the sound of your name.

You were unsurprised to meet Rafe’s gaze.

You couldn’t place the look on his face, but he seemed like he was deep in thought. Rafe’s behavior and demeanor had taken a 180 after Ward’s death you had to admit. Granted, you supposed that was to be expected, but for some reason it surprised you. Maybe it was because the change was so drastic or maybe because Rafe seemed so set in his ways that it was hard for you to remember that he was only nineteen and still had so much capacity to mature into someone entirely other than what you knew him to be.

Your thoughts on the matter didn’t really matter, you supposed. All that mattered was that he’d stepped up where you’d so clearly dropped the ball, and maybe that was why you found it so hard to snap out of it and be the responsible parent, now. There were days when your grief paralyzed you, and you didn’t feel that nagging obligation to get out of bed because you knew Rafe would handle it.

The blond didn’t say anything, but his thoughts were plain as day as he reached along the counter and slid your drink from in front of you.

“Rafe-.”

“I think you’ve had enough,” was all he drawled, and you found yourself frowning.

“Who’s the parent in this scenario?”

“Apparently me,” he fired back, making your jaw tick. “I’m the one running the business and taking Wheezie to school and making sure there’s actually something to eat in the house.”

You blinked at that, recalling that you couldn’t remember the last time you went grocery shopping. Shame filled you once again, and your gaze lowered, eyes tracing the patterns of the granite. The silence that descended between you was thick, and just when you were about to apologize, Rafe spoke.

“Look, I get that you loved him or whatever, but… So did we…,” your eyes met his at that. “…and Wheezie and Sarah still have to go to school, and I still have to talk to people and deal with contracts and bullshit I didn’t think I would for at least another ten years.”

You realized that Rafe was right, and it made you feel worse because you didn’t think Ward would have married you if he didn’t think you were capable of looking after his children should something happen to him. Yet here you were…letting him down…

Rafe moved from his spot on the other side of the counter, and you only let him when he gently took your arm and forced you to stand. It was a far cry from your dynamic only five months ago. In your defense, you never clicked with Rafe. It wasn’t for lack of trying on your end, but Rafe was so troubled and had so many pent-up emotions and awful drug habits that it only proved to be a breeding ground for disaster.

You could think of too many instances in which you tried to be a parent to him only to be met with the same snarky and cruel demeanor he gave to everyone. He never quite took to you as his new parental figure, and you’d quickly learned that Ward was the only authority he’d respect and listen to. You tended to try and stay out of his way as a result, but Rafe was the one to catch you when you collapsed after getting the news that day.

Overnight, he’d gone from treating you like the ugly stepmother and instead like some injured foal he needed to look out for.

“That’s not healthy,” Mrs. Thornton said to you a few days later.

You watched her set her tea down, lips twisted into disapproval as she marinated on your words.

“You are the parent,” she sternly told you. “It’s your duty to pick up right where Ward left off, and instead you are letting some teenager run things.”

You knew that she was right, but you didn’t exactly relish hearing it.

You had never cared for the older woman, her upbringing influencing the majority of her opinions and stern exterior. However, after the boating accident, you desperately needed another actual adult to talk to. You were out of your element, and everyone knew it, and the first time you sat with her after your husband’s death felt humiliating. Now, however, you practically relied on her to keep your head on straight.

“…but I don’t know how to parent two teenagers all by myself, let alone handle the family business that I was never all that privy to.”

She made a noise at your admission, and it only served to humiliate you further. You had long suspected that she didn’t approve of Ward marrying a significantly younger woman, and by telling her that you weren’t included at all in the important decisions, you only validated her suspicions that you were only ever for show.

You forced yourself to ignore it.

“Their relationship was rocky, yes, but… No one knew Ward like Rafe,” you quietly admitted. “…and Rafe is the only one Ward talked to about all of this. Rafe knows how to make the decisions Ward would want.”

“He’s nineteen,” she scoffed. “Barely older than my own son.”

At your unsure expression, she leaned in closer, brows drawn together and lips pursed.

“You are his parent,” she repeated. “…and the longer you refuse to act like it and let him handle the business and the household and his siblings, he will forget it and start to challenge you in your own home.”

You didn’t have the heart to tell Mrs. Thornton that it didn’t exactly feel like your home anymore. At least not without Ward. While it relieved you that Sarah and Wheezie still treated you as they did before his death, you still couldn’t help but worry that without him around they would soon refuse to take you seriously as a parent. Part of you wouldn’t even blame them.

You’d only been in their life for three years, six months of which you were just their father’s silly twenty something girlfriend. You didn’t need to be a genius to know that they never expected him to actually marry you. Rafe had made that pretty clear when Ward had broken the news with you at his side.

It was a week later when you found yourself knocking on the door of Ward’s study. You supposed that it belonged to Rafe, now, and that correction made your heart clench. Even seeing him in the same spot where Ward often sat made you falter, and it took you a moment to remember why you’d disturbed him. Mrs. Thornton’s words were front and center in your mind.

“We need to have a serious talk about the business.”

At your words, Rafe only tilted his head, and you noted how out of place he looked in Ward’s space. Rafe was so young and everything about him betrayed his mindset and inexperience and impulsive tendencies. He didn’t belong, at all, but who were you to deny him his birthright?

“What about it?” he finally wondered, and you were hyperaware that he was watching your every move as you walked about the room.

“I think that I should be more involved with it,” you told him, continuing at his frown. “Rafe, you’re only nineteen, and like you’d said. You weren’t prepared to be fully involved in this for at least another decade.”

You watched him toss some papers aside at that, and the look he fixed you with made you swallow. It was reminiscent of the Rafe you were used to. You didn’t miss the way he dragged his blue gaze over you, sizing you up, and you definitely didn’t like it.

“You don’t know anything about it.”

The acknowledgement that Ward had never included you in these matters stung, but you only sighed.

“No…but…”

Your words died in the air as Rafe stood, and you had an inkling of what he was going to say by the look on his face.

“Do you even want to be involved in my dad’s business?” he asked you, leaning against the desk with his hands pressed into the wood. “Or are you just listening to Topper’s mom again?”

The blond chuckled at your silence, and it lacked humor.

“My dad left it to me,” he finally said, holding your gaze. “…and I know you think you should be involved because…well…you’re the parent, now…”

You didn’t like the way he rolled his eyes at that, and you blinked when Rafe straightened, nearing you.

“…but you don’t get it.”

Rafe looked between your eyes.

“I disappointed him too much while he was here, and this… This is my chance to make him proud,” he admitted, and your shoulders drooped.

“Rafe…”

“…and not just with his business,” he continued. “He’s gone…so now I have to step up and be the man of the house.”

Despite the fact that you could see where Rafe was coming from, you didn’t necessarily agree. He was too young to be putting so much pressure on himself to follow Ward’s footsteps and make up for his absence. That was your job, and you heaved a sigh, looking down. You’d just started to shake your head when he spoke again.

“Besides…you’re still knocking back…what? Twelve bottles a week?”

You reared back at that, lifting your gaze as he’d already started turning away from you.

“I’m not saying it to be mean,” he assured you, leaning against the desk and intently watching you. “I’m just stating a fact.”

Your throat felt incredibly thick all of a sudden.

“My dad’s death hit you really hard, and I get it. Mrs. Thornton is telling you that you’re the parent—the adult—and so you need to put me in my place and step into your role.”

You looked away, avoiding his eye.

“…but you can barely function most days, and I treated you like shit on more than one occasion, so…” you reluctantly met his gaze again. “It’s only fair that you let me look after you, now.”

You wanted to tell him that that wasn’t his job, and that more importantly, it should be the other way around. However, he was right. In your condition, you’d screw everything up and drive the whole family into debt. It wouldn’t be like this forever, you knew that, and so you reluctantly agreed that you needed time to get yourself together before you fucked it all up.

You woke up in tears, chest tight as you struggled to breathe.

It wasn’t the first time you dreamed about Ward, but instead of a good dream it was only a memory of that day Shoupe had knocked on your door. You’d felt trapped and panicked as you watched on, telling yourself not to answer it. Somehow, if you didn’t answer it then it wouldn’t be true. He wouldn’t be dead but just…still on his boat…enjoying a long vacation.

The events played out just like they did that day. You’d been able to feel the dread deep in your gut at the look on Shoupe’s face, and you kept screaming at yourself to kick him out of your house, that he had nothing good to tell you. You watched the way your face fell and the way your hands shook, and Rafe had only walked into the room for two seconds before hurrying to grab you when your knees buckled. He’d held you, fighting to calm you down as you wailed…

Much like he was doing now.

“Hey, hey,” you heard him harshly whisper, arms tight around you as he kept you from bucking around on the bed. “Y/N…”

Your nails dug into his arm as you tried to catch your breath, but your choked sobs were coming out too fast to give you any kind of reprieve. You could feel Rafe’s chest at your back as he moved closer, and one of his arms snaked around your neck as he held you in place.

“Is she okay?”

It was only then that you realized the hallway light was on and bleeding into the otherwise dark room. Wheezie sounded worried—scared—and you cursed yourself for doing that to her. You were supposed to be their support, comforting them and providing a safe space during this awful time in their lives, and instead it was the other way around.

You both heard and felt Rafe sigh.

“Yeah, she’ll…she’ll be fine. Wheezie, you should go back to bed,” he told her. “Now.”

You could only assume she listened to him, and Rafe only let you go when your breathing started to slow. You weren’t crying as hard when he laid you back down, and his absence was only felt for a few minutes before the bed dipped again. You felt him put a pill in your hand, and you frowned at it as he pulled you into a sitting position.

“Take this,” he told you, pushing your hand towards your mouth.

“What…?”

“It’ll help you sleep,” was all he said, forcing you to pop it into your mouth, a glass of water being pressed to your lips almost immediately.

In your distress, some slipped past your lips, and Rafe beat you to it in brushing his thumb across your chin. Slowly blinking, you laid back down, and you heard Rafe set the glass of water aside. You naturally thought that he’d leave, but you were surprised to feel his hand on the side of your face, smoothing it over your face and hair.

You really didn’t like that he was taking on a role that should’ve been yours, and after some time, you quietly mumbled an apology.

“I loved him,” you whispered in the darkness, and you felt Rafe freeze. “I know you guys think that I didn’t. I know what you and your friends have probably said about me behind my back.”

You tiredly scoffed, more tears escaping as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“…but I loved your father very much, and I wasn’t prepared to do this alone.”

Rafe didn’t say anything, but he didn’t move either, and you pressed your hand to your face, feeling the pill taking effect.

“I don’t know what to do,” you choked out. “He was supposed to be here, Rafe, I’m not supposed to do this alone.”

You could feel your chest tightening again, and Rafe shushed you. You could feel your body becoming lighter, and you welcomed it, face relaxing and breathing slowing. Rafe was still next to you, his body so close to yours that you could feel the heat coming off of it. You didn’t have the strength to push his hand away as his fingers grazed your cheek, and after some time you felt him pull the cover over you.

You didn’t feel him move or leave, but you became less concerned about that the more your fatigue grew.

You stared at Wheezie’s hopeful face, chewing on your lip as you contemplated her request.

“Have I met Natalie’s parents before?” you wondered, and you realized your mistake in asking that when her face dimmed.

“I don’t think so, but…dad did.”

You slowly nodded at that, whispering a small ‘right’ before looking away. It was a Friday evening, and in order to make up for your less than stellar behavior, you’d planned to cook and have dinner as a family—something that hadn’t been done in months. However, Sarah’s plans with her boyfriend put a damper on that, and now Wheezie was asking to stay over at a friend’s.

It didn’t seem fair to make Wheezie stay while Sarah didn’t. Granted, Sarah hadn’t exactly asked you, but still. The plan was to have dinner as a family anyway, and without Sarah, that wish was already ruined. The way you saw it, you might as well let Wheezie go, but you didn’t know Natalie’s parents, and so you felt unsure.

Rafe came into the kitchen then, and with one look between you, he deduced that a serious discussion was being had.

“What’s wrong?” he asked no one in particular.

“I’m asking mom if I can sleep over at Natalie’s tonight.”

“…and I’ve never met Natalie’s parents so…”

You watched Rafe chuckle at that, lips curving into a smirk as he moved to taste the vodka sauce on the stove.

“They’re almost as uptight as Topper’s mom, so Wheezie will be in good hands if that’s what you’re worried about,” he told you, tone light.

While that reassured you, you still felt a little down about your plans for the evening being ruined. You got the feeling that it was noticeable, and you flinched a bit when you felt Rafe’s hands briefly come down on your shoulders before brushing past you.

“You can do your family dinner thing another night,” he suggested, shrugging at you. “Sarah won’t be here anyway.”

Wheezie gave you a pouty lip, and you thought it over. If she said that Ward had met them before, and Rafe confirmed that they were indeed trustworthy, then you didn’t see why not. Even still, you unintentionally found yourself looking to Rafe, and when he gave you the barest of nods, you smiled at the thirteen-year-old.

“Okay,” you breathed, and she jumped up with her phone in hand.

“Natalie’s mom is picking me up,” she threw over her shoulder, hurriedly heading for the stairs.

You were happy to see her coping better with things, so you tried to focus on that instead of the fact that you’d be eating alone. Turning back to the stove, you turned the dial down to a simmer, half expecting Rafe to be gone when you turned around. He wasn’t, and you didn’t miss the way he eyed you as he leaned his arms on the counter.

“Let me guess, you have plans too? It’s Friday, and that usually means you’ll be out somewhere with Topper and Kelce.”

The crooked smile on his face was mocking as he peered up at you from beneath his lashes.

“It’s family dinner night.”

You only rolled your eyes at that, turning away from him.

“You’re nineteen, Rafe. I don’t expect you to turn down plans with your friends just to stay home and sit across from your stepmom,” you sighed. “You can go, it’s fine.”

“You and I both know I don’t do anything I don’t want to do,” he said, something you silently agreed on. “I want to stay.”

When you looked at him again, you were surprised to find him standing much closer, now. You hadn’t even heard him move nor realize just how close his voice was. You couldn’t place the look on the blonde’s face as he stared at you, and you watched him reach up to grab a plate.

“Why?” you chuckled.

Despite how nice he was being now, you both knew that it was only the case because of Ward’s death. Rafe had never cared for you, and if the circumstances were different, he wouldn’t hesitate to get as far away from this house as possible. You felt like Rafe’s thoughts were probably mirroring your own, something passing through his gaze that looked a lot like confusion.

“…because you loved him. Probably more than me,” he shrugged.

You frowned because you didn’t agree with that, at all, and you told him so.

“I think there are very few people who can love someone as much as a son loves his father.”

You threw Rafe a small smile, reaching out to rest your hand on his arm.

“…and you did love him, Rafe. Sure, you guys fought worse than teenage sisters at times,” you breathed, frantically blinking at the memories. “…but that’s just because he wanted the best for you, and you had your own problems that didn’t stop you from disappointing him.”

You tilted your head at him when he looked away.

“You idolized him, and all you wanted was to make him proud. It made things very complicated, but please don’t ever say I loved him more than you did.”

When Rafe looked at you again, there was a deep frown on his face, and for some reason, you felt very small beneath his stare.

“…but you did,” he said with a small shrug, gesturing around. “I mean, look at you.”

You blinked.

“You have to be medicated just to get some sleep, and you still don’t remember staring at the wall for days after he died.”

You felt a chill pass through you at his words, hating how much you’d let them down, but also because there was something about the way Rafe stepped towards you and held your gaze that you didn’t think you liked. It made an unsure feeling twist deep in your gut for some reason.

“So, no. I don’t want to go anywhere with Kelce and Top, not when my dad’s wife is one bad day away from a psychotic break,” he whispered. “He would want me to take care of you.”

His words were reminiscent of the same ones he’d spoken to you in Ward’s study that day, but unlike that day, today they made you feel uneasy, and you didn’t know why. You dropped your hand, taking a step back from him just as Wheezie’s voice reached your ears.

“Natalie’s mom is outside, I’ll text you when I get there,” she called as she ran through the house.

Your voice cracked when you told her to have fun, but you didn’t think she heard, the door slamming shut mid-sentence. Forcing yourself to turn away from Rafe, you grabbed a plate with shaky hands, Mrs. Thornton’s words echoing in your mind that Rafe’s new role in the household wasn’t healthy.

“I swear I’m not doing it to be a bitch, okay?” Sarah’s voice reached your ears. “It’s just really hard to be around her without thinking about dad.”

You swallowed at her words, taking a step back on the stairs,

“Especially when it’s obvious just how hard she’s taking it,” she said. “I mean, she’s a little better, sure, but those sleeping pills you give her aren’t doing a thing. She’s not tired, Rafe, she’s depressed.”

“Well, you’re making her feel like shit,” you heard him reply, a tone in his voice that you hadn’t heard in quite some time. “This is the fourth dinner you skipped out on for your Pogue boyfriend.”

The younger girl didn’t respond right away.

“I’m sorry,” you heard her eventually say. “When did you start caring about her anyway? Weren’t you the one who called her some gold-digger, saying she was coming for your spot in the will?”

That didn’t shock you nor hurt you, long imagining that Rafe had said far worse. You heard him heave a sigh, and it sounded angry.

“Dad’s gone, Sarah, and that means we should stay together as a family,” he sneered. “…and I’m doing what I can to make that happen.”

You heard a slight scuffle, and you hurriedly made your way down the stairs and towards the kitchen. It had been some time since you heard Rafe and Sarah fight, something you definitely didn’t miss, but considering the topic of this discussion, it didn’t surprise you that it was a little more emotionally charged than normal.

When you rounded the corner, Rafe had a tight grip on Sarah’s arm, the younger girl trying to leave with her purse in hand. The expression on his face was unnerving, a deep frown between his brows with his lip curled over his teeth a she got in her face.

“Things are going to be different, now.”

“Rafe.”

Sarah’s eyes were wide and terrified when she looked at you, relaxing a bit at your presence, and you were relieved when Rafe let her go. Sarah only briefly acknowledged you on her way out, desperate to get away from Rafe, and you watched the way he glared after her.

“Rafe, it’s fine,” you told him. “She’s allowed to hang out with her friends for whatever reasons she wants, especially now.”

“Are you going to use that excuse forever? Just because dad died it doesn’t mean that she can do whatever she wants,” he snapped, gesturing towards the door.

“She’s grieving!”

“She’s using it as an excuse to be a shitty daughter, and you’re just letting her.”

You reared back at both his words and his tone, and for the first time in months, you felt something like anger bubble up in your chest.

“It’s not your place to tell me how to raise her. She’s not your daughter,” you spat.

The small laugh that he let out lacked humor, and by the look on his face, you knew that there was something on the tip of his tongue that you would hate.

“Yeah, well, she’s barely yours.”

You could tell that he wanted to take it back almost as soon as he said it, and you pressed your lips together just as he touched his forehead.

“Fuck, that’s not…”

His words trailed off, and you crossed your arms over your chest. You were only thirteen years older than Sarah and knew her for all of three years, so it wasn’t like you didn’t feel the same at times, but it still hurt to hear. It’s like Rafe was voicing your worst fears that she would come to lack respect for you and your presence in her life as a mom.

You didn’t know how to do this…and everyone knew it.

“I just feel like…you’re treating her like dad did, letting her get away with everything, and I hate it,” he slowly said.

Rafe’s feelings about Sarah had never been a secret, and neither had Ward’s. You wouldn’t ever deny the fact that Ward favored her, and it was unfortunately noticeable, something that was always visibly distressing for Rafe. With Ward gone—and with Rafe feeling like he now needed to be the man of the house—this made for a very complex situation.

You couldn’t tell what was rightful concern and what was just Rafe wanting to put Sarah in her place, something he’d never been subtle about.

“I wasn’t expecting to be left raising teenagers by myself before I was even thirty, Rafe,” you finally replied. “I’m trying…”

“I know you are,” he hurried to say, quickly approaching you and reaching for you. “That’s why I’m trying to help.”

You backed away from him before he could touch you, and you didn’t miss the way his expression clouded over at that. Looking away, you swiped your tongue between your lips, choosing your next words carefully. You could feel his heated gaze burning a hole into your face.

“I get that you’re trying to help, and believe me when I say I’m so appreciative of it, Rafe, but… It is not your place,” you carefully said, looking at him again.

You watched him roll his eyes towards the ceiling, nodding to himself. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and when his gaze fell back to you, you immediately knew that you didn’t like it. Rafe’s nostrils flared, and you didn’t need to be a mind reader to know that your words had bothered him, no matter how carefully you chose them.

“What you mean is you’re the parent, I’m not, and I need to stay in a child’s place.”

You sighed at that.

“Not necessarily, I just-.”

“…because if that were true, who would’ve driven Wheezie to school on the mornings when you couldn’t even get out of bed?”

You didn’t appreciate him throwing that in your face, and by the look in his eyes, you could tell he wasn’t done.

“You want me to stay in my place, but I’m the one who made the funeral arrangements and answered the important questions and kept this house together when the woman our dad married was too grief stricken to even stand on her own two feet.”

You bit your tongue, warily eyeing him as he moved to stand directly before you.

“Dad died, and I stepped up. Not you…me,” he firmly told you. “…and now that you’re sort of kind of getting your shit together, you just want to pretend like I should have no say in any of this.”

You didn’t like how close Rafe was, but when you went to take a step back, his hand shot out to dig into your arm, preventing you from doing so. You winced at the tight grip, and you swore you saw his face soften some at the sight. His grip certainly did, and you almost wished that it didn’t because the gentle way he held your arm and the gentle way he looked between your eyes made you deeply uncomfortable.

“Someone has to be the man of the house, now…and it falls to me,” he whispered.

You didn’t even have a proper response for that, feeling wholly unnerved as you stared at one another, and you took a deep breath.

“Let go of me, Rafe,” you quietly said.

You were relieved when he listened, almost convinced that he wouldn’t, and you touched your arm with a step back. You studied his face, searching for what? You didn’t know, but again…Mrs. Thornton’s words would not leave your mind, and you hated the way your lips trembled.

“Do not touch me like that again.”

Your tone was even, but you were sure your eyes betrayed you because Rafe merely raised an eyebrow at you.

“Or what? You’ll send me to my room?”

Your heart sank at his mocking words and the subtle challenge in them, and despite how much nicer Rafe’s next words were, they didn’t make you any less uneasy.

“I’m just trying to do right by my dad and look after everything he left behind.”

His words seemed innocent enough, but for the first time, you allowed yourself to wonder just what that entailed exactly and what role he expected to play in this family. You didn’t want your mind to linger on something that couldn’t be true, and so you left him without another word.

The feel of a hand shaking your shoulder is what pulled you from sleep, and it took you a long time to peel your eyes open. Doing so felt difficult for some reason, and when you exhaled—smelling the wine on your breath—you realized why. Rafe’s face was the one that met you, and you immediately squeezed your eyes shut.

“Y/N,” he gently said. “It’s late.”

As he said this, you realized that you were on the couch, and it didn’t take you long to surmise that you’d fallen asleep there. You didn’t want to move, but you also didn’t want to spend the rest of the night on the couch, knowing you’d regret it the moment you stood up in the morning. Just when you were about to mumble to Rafe to leave you be, you heard him sigh before feeling his arms slide underneath you.

In an effort to keep from falling, you quickly held onto him.

“Rafe,” you mumbled, disapproving.

“Wheezie has friends coming over in the morning,” you were barely able to make out. “I don’t think their moms would appreciate stumbling upon you asleep and hungover on the couch.”

He chuckled to himself as he climbed the stairs.

“They already don’t like you…”

You merely hummed at that, and you were relieved when you felt yourself being deposited onto the bed. Rafe was saying something else to you, but none of it registered as you sought out sleep once again. Your intentions were interrupted though when you felt a hand on your face, and even in your inebriated state, you knew it didn’t feel right. Forcing your eyes open, you struggled to push Rafe’s hand away.

“I just want to make sure you don’t throw up in your sleep,” he mumbled when your eyes blearily met his. “Is that okay?”

You drunkenly blinked at him, lips trembling.

“Why don’t you call me ‘mom’?”

Your question was whispered, voice shaky, and as much as you wanted him out of your bedroom, you also wanted him to answer the question. The house was quiet, both Wheezie and Sarah asleep, and the only light was that of the light in the hall. You didn’t take your eyes off of Rafe as you waited for him to answer no matter how much you wanted to.

In the low lighting, you could see the way his dirty blond hair hung onto his forehead, the light glinting off of his blue eyes.

“I never have,” was his response.

“Well, maybe you should,” you forced out. “I don’t want you saying my name anymore.”

You didn’t miss the way his nostrils flared at that.

“Why not?”

“…because I don’t like it,” you confessed, tears kissing your eyes. “Not anymore.”

His face fell a bit at the way your voice cracked, and when he reached for you again, you hurriedly sat up.

The silence was loud as you just stared at each other, something unspoken passing between you. You felt like you wanted to crawl out of your own skin whenever he so much as looked at you, now, thoughts running wild with what you prayed to be untrue. His stony expression told you that they weren’t, that he’d been found out, and in your drunken state, you couldn’t stop your tears from spilling over.

When he reached for you again, it startled you right off of the bed.

The night stand shook as you fell against it, and you cried out in pain just as Rafe cursed. You didn’t want his help, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t need it as he hurried to reach you. The feel of his hands on you burned and not in a good way, causing you to flinch away from his touch. That didn’t deter him though, and his grip was tight as he kept you in place, his other hand reaching for your head.

“Did you hit your head? Are you-?”

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, shoving at his chest, and Rafe grew quiet.

The only sound for a while was your soft sobs, and Rafe’s refusal to leave you alone kept him kneeling before you. When you tried to stand up, he ignored your protests, reaching out and helping you. You swayed, and Rafe kept you close much to your chagrin. You wanted him gone as soon as possible, so you were quick to sit back down, but Rafe didn’t let your waist or your hand go.

Swooping down, he captured your lips in a kiss.

You wanted to gag.

His hand was almost painfully twisted around yours, making you wince, and every attempt to scoot back was only met with the resistance of his hand on your waist. Your stomach churned as he moved his mouth against yours, wanting to be sick at the feel of him kissing you on the same bed where Ward used to sleep. When his fingers dipped beneath your shirt, you bit him.

Hard.

You took the moment to remove yourself as he cried out, hurrying towards the bathroom and locking yourself inside. That awful sick feeling wasn’t as hollow as you thought, your knees hitting the floor almost as soon as you made it inside, head bent in the toilet. You couldn’t stop crying as you emptied your stomach, throat scratchy from the alcohol that was coming back up.

When you were able to catch your breath, you were shaking. You could still feel Rafe’s lips on yours, and on top of everything else you were forced to deal with in the months following your husband’s death, this was the last thing you’d ever anticipated.

You’d slept on the bathroom floor that night, refusing to leave and face Rafe. If Sarah and Wheezie noticed the tension between the two of you, they didn’t comment on it or at the very least, not to you. The knowledge that Rafe wanted to take Ward’s place in every facet of the household made you sick, and while neither of you mentioned that night, it also felt clear between the two of you that it wouldn’t be ignored forever.

You wanted him out of the house.

…but that wasn’t your place, was it? Rafe had more of a right to all of this way more than you did, and you couldn’t be the one to leave. Rafe may have been nineteen and an adult in the eyes of the law, but no matter how much of a 180 he’d done, you couldn’t trust him to properly raise Wheezie and Sarah. Especially now that you knew his 180 had less to do with just wanting to be a better person or more about taking on the role Ward had played in every way.

You shuddered at the thought, and oddly enough, this tempted you to drink yourself into a stupor more than Ward’s death ever did.

You and Rafe were ten years apart, so seeing him like a son had always been hard at times, but it didn’t stop you from treating him like one in the years that you’d been with his father. You’d liked to think that the sentiment was returned, and maybe at one time it had been, and maybe after Ward’s death things just…changed.

Was this your fault?

Had you dropped the ball so hard that he couldn’t even bring himself to see you as a parental figure anymore? Did he stop trying to respect you as one or…? Or did it have to do with how much he’d had to take care of you? You didn’t treat him any different, talk to him any different, so maybe you hadn’t done anything to change his perception of you.

Even if you had…what could you possibly have done to make him see you as a potential partner?

As if your nights weren’t bad enough—haunted by memories of Ward and that day you’d been told he was dead—you were now also kept awake by the knowledge that your stepson very much wanted to fill the void left by his father. And maybe if Rafe were anyone else, you could’ve talked about this, tried to sort through this, but Rafe was Rafe, and you reminded yourself that the Rafe you were accustomed to had only disappeared less than six months ago.

…and you’d seen hints of him just peeking from below the surface.

You resisted the urge to drink these days, positive that one sip would have you spiraling. You didn’t know how to cope with this new development, but you knew it couldn’t be that way. It didn’t go unnoticed that the night Rafe kissed you, you’d been drunk out of your mind, completely vulnerable to him. You also couldn’t bring yourself to take anymore sleeping pills, recalling Sarah’s words that day as she’d told Rafe that you were depressed…not tired.

She was right.

…and so despite the difficulty, you forced yourself to try and sleep without medication night after night. It was hard for several reasons, the most pressing of which being the unnerving presence of the nineteen-year-old just down the hall. It made it hard to find sleep most nights, and on the nights in which you did, you still do so with only maybe four hours to your name.

It was noticeable.

“I can stay and help, you know. It’s just John B., and he’ll understand why I’m late,” Sarah offered.

You could see by the look on her face that she was worried about you, and despite your attempt, you knew that your reassuring smile didn’t convince her.

“Sarah, it’s a Saturday night,” you told her. “I’m not going to make you stay and help me clean the kitchen, especially when you helped me cook and stayed for dinner.”

She looked like she wanted to argue but decided against it.

“Yeah, I’m glad I did.”

Her tone told you that she was feeling bad about the other dinners she’d skipped out on, and you were proven right.

“I’m sorry about not staying for all the others and…basically avoiding you,” she quietly apologized. “It’s just that Ward cared about you a lot, and when I’m around you, it’s easy to see why…and it just makes me think about him.”

You only exhaled at that, letting out a small chuckle as you washed the dishes.

“You don’t have to apologize, Sarah. I get it,” you whispered, pausing. “I miss him too.”

“Yeah, well, he’s an asshole, but Rafe was kind of right in confronting me over my behavior.”

The mention of Rafe had your hairs standing on end, and you swallowed down a sigh, still unsure what you were going to do about the blond.

“There were better ways for him to get his point across…”

Sarah only found that funny, softly laughing to herself.

“Yeah, but he wouldn’t be Rafe if he didn’t be rude about it, so,” she trailed off, pushing away from the counter. “I’ll be back before 1.”

You hummed at that, letting her know that was okay, and it was only ten minutes later that you were alone. Wheezie went to a sleepover just after dinner, and Rafe hadn’t been home all day. Before where that would have concerned you, now you could only be relieved to get some reprieve from the oldest Cameron. God knows that you needed the space to think.

Going over every scenario in your mind, the best one seemed to be to hope that it would just go away. You didn’t want to find yourself in some sort of legal battle if you even attempted to kick Rafe out and basically bar him from his own home. Legality of it all aside, it just wasn’t morally right. This was where he grew up, his safe space, and you couldn’t even pretend to feel comfortable at the thought.

The other option just wasn’t even an option. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t just pack up and abandon Wheezie and Sarah. Never mind the fact that you’d been in their lives for three years now, but now more than ever they needed stability. Their father only just died, and what kind of person would you be if you decided you just didn’t want to be responsible for them anymore? Allowing Rafe to run you off wasn’t an option.

Besides, there was a tiny and terrifying voice in the back of your head anyway that said he wouldn’t even let you.

It was an hour later that you found yourself in bed after cleaning the kitchen and taking a bath. You needed the soak, needed to do whatever you could to relax you. It wasn’t even ten o’clock, but considering how hard sleep was for you to find lately, you figured there was no harm in letting your head hit the pillow early.

Maybe you could trick your body into going to sleep at a decent time.

The minutes dragged on and were made to feel like hours, but the silence of the house and the fact that you were alone did more wonders than you thought. You could feel your eyelids becoming heavy, and what little sounds you could make out from outside slowly started to fade. The last thing you recalled was your body feeling heavier…

…and then you were standing in front of Shoupe, and he was telling you that Ward was dead, and you couldn’t even stand on your feet anymore.

You sat up with a gasp, struggling to breathe, and by the way your vision blurred, you knew that you’d been crying in your sleep. There was a voice in your ear shushing you, and despite the fact that you knew who the hands on your arms belonged to, your mind was too preoccupied with painful memories to fully register it.

Rafe pulled you against him, holding you to him as you sobbed, thinking to yourself that it had been a few weeks since you’d had a really bad reaction. You shook in his hold, head bowed as you wailed, and you were momentarily grateful that the house was empty. The blond rocked you, forcing you to press your face into the crook of his neck, and it was only then that you registered the smell of alcohol.

Before you could gather yourself to ask Rafe where he’d been, his hands were clumsily grasping at your face.

You sharply inhaled when he kissed you…again. You could taste the alcohol on his tongue, and you were so distraught that it took you too long to realize what was happening. The kiss was hungry, Rafe tasting the inside of your mouth and kissing you in a way that might’ve taken your breath away under different circumstances.

As it were, you could only register that you were being kissed by your deceased husband’s son again. It made your stomach twist uncomfortably, and your efforts to reach up and pull his hands away from your face were futile. You made a noise of protest, attempting to lean away, but he ignored it. Even when you bit at him like before, he ignored it.

With horror, you realized that Rafe wasn’t stopping it.

Panic began to set in, and when you shoved at his chest, he quickly reached to close his hand around your wrist. At the same time, he leaned into you more, forcing you back, and you didn’t put your hand down in time to prevent that. With him now on top of you, your heart was threatening to leap from your chest.

“Rafe,” you gasped when he pulled away. “Rafe, stop!”

Your voice came out panicked and shrill, but instead of listening to you, the sounds were only joined by that of your shorts ripping.

“He would want me to look after you,” he drunkenly murmured, making your stomach drop.

You both fought for the right to your shirt, you trying to keep it on and Rafe trying to take it off. You felt like you were on the verge of a panic attack, telling yourself that this wasn’t happening. In the worst way possible, you discovered that Rafe was much stronger than he looked, feeling like you got the wind knocked out of you when he roughly shoved you down after your attempt to sit up.

You could hear yourself crying, and you knew that Rafe could too.

With a hand tightly snaking around your throat, his other fumbled to get his own pants off. Focused on trying to breathe, you reached up to pull at his hand. You could hear a ringing in your ears, and your chest felt tighter than it did when you first woke up from your nightmare. His lower half was pinning you down, and the blood you could feel yourself drawing on his hand and arm didn’t slow him down.

He was shushing you when you felt his skin against yours, and one of your hands twisted into his shirt as he started to push himself into you. The feel had your feet stretching, and you let out a choked sound despite the pressure on your throat. He was torturously slow in stretching you out around him, and with every further push of his hips, you clawed at his shirt some more.

He only let your neck go when his hips were firmly pressed against yours.

As you coughed and wheezed, he reached behind his head to pull the fabric off, tossing it somewhere without a car. The moment his chest was bare, he reached for you again despite your difficulty to breathe, and his lips covered yours in another kiss. You didn’t even have time to register the kiss because he was thrusting into you with abandon. His hips were wildly snapping against yours, and you gasped into his mouth.

Rafe searched for your hands, threading his fingers through your own and pinning it against the bed next to your head. His other hand was digging into your hips, kipping them in place as he fucked you. You struggled to catch your breath, sharply inhaling and gasping with every thrust. The stretch was unfamiliar, and your mind spun with the fact that you hadn’t experienced this in months and also who it was with.

When Rafe pulled his lips away from yours, you let out a sob, and he gently shushed you, curving his hips into yours.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmured in the darkness. “It’s okay.”

You had so much you wanted to scream and shout at the blond, but you couldn’t even find the words. With every feeling of his cock sliding against your walls, your eyes rolled. His head fell next to yours, his heavy breathing in your ear as he pinned you down with his entire body. You weren’t able to move, only forced to lie beneath him and feel what he was doing to you.

He grunted in your ear with a particularly hard thrust, and you let out a yelp.

Just then, you heard the door open downstairs, and hearing it too, Rafe stopped. He was quick to cover your mouth with a hand, and he was completely still as you heard who you surmised was Sarah coming up the stairs. Your heart was so heavy in your chest, and it was all you could hear in your ears.

When she made it to the hallway, she stopped.

“Y/N, are you asleep?” she called.

At that, Rafe pressed down harder on both your mouth and you, and after a few moments, you heard the younger girl sigh. When the sound of her room door shutting reached your ears, Rafe kept his hand on your mouth, but he felt compelled to keep fucking you.

He was slow in doing so, now, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

He slowly dragged his cock in and out of you, pulling his hips back until just the tip remained—sometimes pulling out completely—before pushing back in and making your chest arch up into his. He quietly told you that it was okay, softly groaning as you unintentionally squeezed him. Rafe’s lips brushed against your neck and jaw, and now that the two of you were no longer alone, the room was deathly quiet.

So quiet that you could hear the sound of his cock plunging into you.

It was a sound that embarrassed you, a sound that made you want to cry. Rafe’s arms trembled as he fought to keep himself from just relaxing on top of you completely, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him that if he uncovered your mouth, you wouldn’t even scream. You would be too ashamed to let anyone know what Rafe Cameron was doing to you.

With his lips at your neck, you could feel them move as he talked.

“My dad’s gone…”

The mention of Ward in this moment made more tears spill over, and when he slowly removed his hand, you let out a shaky breath as you silently cried. Lifting his head, Rafe’s gaze found yours, his hips still slowly pushing against yours.

“…and I know that it’s killing you, but…”

He swallowed, looking between your eyes.

“…but you have me, now,” you let out a soft cry at that. “You do, and I’m…I’m going to take care of you.”

His hand reached up to touch your face, the tips of his fingers grazing your wet cheek. You shook your head, feeling like you were going to be sick, and Rafe only shushed you. His lips followed yours as you attempted to turn your head away, and you could taste your tears in the kiss.

“I’ve got the business…I’ve got the family ring…” his lips moved against yours as he spoke into the kiss. “…and I’ve got you.”

[steddiealltheway]

One thing that sucks about fighting monsters from some weirdly dusty and gooey parallel universe to your own… is going back to school. Specifically going back after telling all your friends that they’re actually trust fund assholes and your girlfriend - ex-girlfriend - ends up with the one guy she swore up and down was just a friend.

Not that Steve really blames Nancy for that. Jonathan’s a good dude. Plus, it’s not like Steve was the perfect boyfriend or anything. He tried, but maybe it just wasn’t enough.

Maybe it’ll never be enough.

Steve takes a sudden right, making a detour from all the student rushing into the lunchroom in favor of being anywhere but there. He barely registers walking out of the school until he notices the woods in front of him. Why does everything always lead him back to here?

He doesn’t know why, maybe it’s what Dustin call his “mother hen” instinct, but Steve continues walking into the woods, wondering if maybe there are more monsters lurking about that he can spot early this time. God knows he would do anything for those kids - not that he would tell them that. Dustin especially does not need the ego boost.

So Steve wanders, listening closely for any unusual noise.

And then he hears one.

It’s just the thud of something metal sounding against maybe… a tree? Something solid. Then a crunch of leaves. And…

Singing?

Steve slowly peaks around a tree and finds the source of all the noise.

Eddie Munson.

Steve nearly rolls his eyes but finds himself fondly watching the boy as he drums on a wooden picnic table singing some song Steve has never heard. It’s when Eddie does some type of ridiculously uncoordinated twirl that Steve ends up snorting. It’s loud enough that Eddie ends up hearing it, startling mid turn and head bang that has him misstepping and landing right on his ass.

Steve tries to let some sheepishness bleed through the amusement in his expression. “You okay, man?” He asks, stepping forward to offer him a hand.

Eddie eyes it wearily. “Depends. What are you doing out here?”

“Just…” Steve stares at Eddie for a moment, trying to find a normal answer, but instead he shrugs and sighs, “I don’t know, man.” He takes another step closer and pointedly looks down at his offered hand.

Eddie narrows his eyes at him before taking it carefully. Steve is caught off guard by the cold metal rings but hauls Eddie up easily who wobbles when he gets to his feet. “Thanks,” Eddie breathes out, lingering in Steve’s space.

Steve just nods and wonders if Eddie Munson’s eyes have always been so big and brown.

“So, Steve Harrington,” Eddie starts, drawling out his name while taking a step back and brushing dirt off his pants, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Steve raises an eyebrow.

Eddie marches over to the picnic table and gestures dramatically at his lunch box. “I’m assuming you’re here for the goods?”

“The what?”

“Drugs, Harrington. Are you alright?” Eddie asks with a tilt of his head leaning forward as if assessing him.

Steve shrugs. “Fine. And no. I’m not here for your drugs which you evidently keep in your lunch box for any teacher to find.” Eddie’s brows furrow. Steve rolls his eyes. “I know you sell, but Tommy usually does this part.”

“I know,” Eddie replies as he hops up on the bench and crosses his arms. He faces Steve and bends at the waist - Steve ignores the urge to reach out and steady him so he doesn’t fall again. “So what are you doing out here? Are you here to… beat me up?” Eddie asks dramatically, hopping onto the table and pretending to brandish a sword.

Steve simply raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms.

Eddie’s arms drop. “Okay. Surprising but I guess you would’ve already taken a swing if you wanted a fight.” He squats down on the table until he’s eye level with Steve. “You’re not here because of the rumors, right?” Eddie asks, dropping his voice and appearing weirdly serious.

As for the rumors, Steve’s sure he’s heard more than he can count - including one about Munson being a vampire - so he’s not sure what he’s talking about. He’s also not sure if he wants to know which rumors he’s talking about. Steve runs a hand through his hair and settles his hands on his hips. “I just needed to clear my head. I didn’t know you were out here.”

Eddie squints at him. “You’re clearing your head by taking a walk in the woods?”

“Yes.”

They hold eye contacts for a few moments, and Steve can’t really tell what they’re silently sizing each other up about. Eddie reluctantly stands up and jumps off the table. “Fine. What are you clearing your head about?”

Steve stares at him.

“What?”

“Why do you want to know?”

Eddie steps closer to him and obnoxiously twirls a piece of hair around his finger. “Because you’re Steve Harrington, and I must be the luckiest guy in all of Hawkins since I’ve got you here alone with me.”

Steve laughs loudly and gently shoves Eddie away. “Shut up.”

Eddie’s cheeks flush pink, and Steve can almost see him biting back the words “make me.” Then he’s reminded of the rumor that Eddie bats for the other team, and Steve suddenly wonders if it’s true - not that he would mind.

Steve pushes the thought away as Eddie smiles sincerely and pushes some hair in front of his face. “Maybe I wouldn’t mind the company. Plus,” he turns and sprawls back on the picnic bench, “You can tell me anything. I’m great at keeping secrets, and even if I wasn’t, it would be your word against mine.”

Steve considers what he’s said before asking, “And how crazy of a secret would you not only keep but believe?”

Eddie smiles almost manically. “Try me.”

Steve looks around wondering if the government people or whoever they were can hear him out here. He’s not sure if it’s been long enough to guarantee there’s not someone keep track of each of them, waiting for them to slip up. He also wonders how cruel it would be to unload all of this onto Eddie. Steve knows life was much simpler before he knew that demogorgans existed.

“I’ve been fighting… some monsters recently,” Steve settles on, hoping Eddie doesn’t take it so literally.

“Yeah?”

Steve nods and takes a step closer to where Eddie is sitting, gesturing at nothing as he continues, “It started when I was an asshole to Nance and then she ran off with Jonathan and the rest is history there but… they really dragged me into some heavy shit.”

“I can imagine. It’s not every day that your girlfriend runs off with another guy. Which is a shitty thing to do by the way.”

Steve tries to steer the conversation away from his failed relationship without setting off Eddie’s alarm bells. “It’s not that I really blame them. I mean you’ve seen them, everyone has, they’re kind of made for each other. Who am I to get in the way of that? Especially since I was a shitty boyfriend. But that’s not the point. Before Nance left, I was pulled into helping some…” he pauses, trying to think of a way to talk about the kids out of context without sounding like a creep. “Well, there was this guy who needed help and so… I helped him and his friends out.”

Eddie fixes him with a carefully blank look. “Helped this guy out… how exactly?”

Steve shrugs and sits next to Eddie as he figures out how to phrase things. “He… well. His cat… di- escaped! It escaped. And I was helping him find it, and we actually grew pretty close.”

Eddie knocks his knee against Steve’s. “So… you and this guy grew… close.”

Steve nods and smiles. “Yeah, he’s this dumbass genius k-,” he cuts himself off before he can say kid. “Anyways, then his friends needed help, and I helped them fight… their monsters.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows at him. “So you helped… multiple guys… fight their… monsters?”

Steve nods. “Yeah. But that’s over and now I have to go back here and pretend that none of that ever happened. It just… sucks, man.”

Eddie nods. “Uh. Yeah. I can imagine pretending for so long is... exhausting.”

“Tell me about it,” Steve says with a laugh.

A silence falls between them and Eddie glances over at him. “You know… you don’t have to pretend with me.”

Steve smiles and wonders what not pretending means now, but it’s sounds good nonetheless. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

Eddie softly smiles and his eyes move down to Steve’s lips slowly. “Yeah?”

And oh. Oh. There was definitely a miscommunication somewhere along the way. And… okay. Fighting monsters and helping guys fight their monsters is maybe not the best phrasing. But Steve thinks he likes Eddie remaining so blissfully ignorant.

So, Steve kisses him.

And yeah. Maybe there are quite literally hundreds of different ways he could’ve let Eddie remain oblivious to the whole vague Upside Down retelling, but Steve can’t really complain when Eddie kisses him back, finding the scrape of stubble against his face surprisingly pleasant.

And Steve finds himself taking his time thoroughly allowing Eddie to believe this story that Steve wishes were true rather than the real thing. It’s only when Eddie’s watch beeps that they finally pull away for longer than a few seconds.

“Shit,” Eddie mumbles, resting his forehead against Steve’s, “Time to head back in.”

“Can’t skip?” Steve asks, wondering why he’s trying so hard to solidify his false story.

Eddie sighs and pulls away. “Unfortunately, if I skip anymore, they’re not going to let me graduate. Although right now I think spending more time with you might be more important than my diploma.”

Steve laughs and feels himself pleasantly flushing. He nudges Eddie’s shoulder with his own before standing up and offering his hand to him again. “Come on. We can’t have you not graduating again.”

“Again? Harrington, are you keeping tabs on me?”

Steve raises his eyebrows at him as Eddie takes his hand and pulls himself off the bench. “And what if I am?” He flirts easily.

Eddie smiles giddily and grabs his lunch box. “Then I really must be the luckiest boy in Hawkins.”

Steve doesn’t say anything when Eddie doesn’t let go of his hand as they walk out of the woods toward the school. It’s only as the school slowly comes into sight that Eddie drops Steve’s hand and shoves his hands into his pockets. He stops in his tracks and turns to Steve. “Hey, thanks for not pretending with me.”

Steve glances at the school before moving in to give Eddie one final kiss. He lingers in it before breaking away to say, “Thank you for listening.”

They wordlessly separate as the head back to the building, knowing that even with the few weeks of school left and both of their tarnished reputations that they can’t truly risk it all.

As Steve makes it to his class just before the final bell rings, he’s left to wonder if maybe he really does have some other type of monsters to fight. And he really hopes Eddie Munson can be there to help him with those ones again.

[dilfsfordinner]

a/n- this is how i cope with aot ending

pairing- husband gojo x wife!reader

—————————————————————————

“Satoru, I’m back!” you called out, feet quickly slipping and kicking your shoes at the front door, arms struggling to keep the 10 grocery bags you had balanced from smashing to the floor.

“‘m sorry it took so long-” shuffling to the kitchen, you continued to talk to the open space, assuming your husband was actually listening, “-traffic was terrible. I didn’t even think it could snow this early.”

Your words trailed off into little mumbles, talking to yourself about every irritant you’d encountered in the grocery store. It was strangely quiet in the house, the usual squeals of laughter and giddy conversations gone from the common routine, the oddity oblivious to you and your focused state.

Leaning back with your hands on your hips, you sighed in relief, muscles relaxing as you took in your good work, cabinets full and refrigerator stocked, the kitchen now completely organized to perfection. Humming contentedly, the previous relief you’d felt turned awry, smile disappearing from your lips.

It was so.. quiet. Too quiet.

“..Toru.?” for the first time in the last 20 minutes, it had finally clicked that something was off. A kiss and hug weren’t given to you at the door, the tv was off, there was no nighttime bath running for Megumi. Everything was so still and silent.

Padding throughout the house, you quickly checked every room, the empty spaces throwing your brain into panic mode, all your worries coming to mind as you looked for your husband and little boy.

After your thorough search, one room remained, the door of your shared bedroom just the slightest bit ajar.

You were about to call for him again when a familiar tuft of white hair caught your eye. Pushing into the room, you took in probably one of the cutest sights you’d ever seen.

There, curled up in bed, fetal position, was your 6’6” husband, his chest slowly rising and falling with the pattern of sleep. Almost laughing at yourself for being so worried, you inched closer to your side of the bed, about to join him under the covers.

A patch of black hair stopped you this time though, little Megumi hidden in the pool of blankets that surrounded him and your lover’s bodies. Stifling an ‘aww’, you fought off the urge to film the two of them, Megumi’s little fingers clutching onto Gojo’s shirt as the two of them snored.

His tiny form was nuzzled into Gojo’s side, chubby cheeks pushed against Satoru’s ribs, drool collecting at the corner of his mouth, staining your man’s new, black sleep shirt, a fact you ignored as you imagined Gojo’s melodramatics certain to occur.

Although they acted like yin and yang, the way Gojo cradled him was so sweet, you really had to fight off the waterworks. His large hands held the little boy securely, long fingers resting on Megumi’s back and head, keeping him close, protecting him, like a real father would for his son.

Leaning down, you brushed Satoru’s hair away from his forehead, leaving a gentle kiss to his porcelain skin, then continuing to do the same to little Megs, the young boy’s breath hitching, dark eyelashes fluttering before his quiet snores started back up, fingers curling even tighter around Gojo’s sweater.

Tip-toeing to the door, you looked back one more time, the two of them nestled perfectly in a sea of blankets. “My sweet boys..” you murmured to yourself, shaking your head with a smile as you turned out of the room, clicking the door shut, leaving your two favorite people to their much needed rest filled bonding time.

—————————————————————————

[moonstruckme]

Love love love the roommate james series! Thank you <3

Me too lovely! Thank YOU <3

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1.4k words

Lightning strikes outside the window just before your laughter reaches James. He perks up, an electric current skittering down into his fingertips. He’s glad no one’s around to witness the way he swivels around on the couch to look out the window, searching for the source of the sound. 

Your key is in the lock a moment later. “Are you sure you don’t want me to run up and grab my umbrella?” you ask someone outside as you walk in. 

“No, thanks,” a male voice, sounding just as jovial as you do, responds. Without thinking, James stands up. “What’d be the point? I’m already soaked through.” 

“Seems like it’s really coming down out there,” James says, stepping into the doorway. You look over as though you hadn’t realized he was there. You’re sopping wet, hair dripping onto the floor and work clothes clinging to your body in ways James takes care not to notice. The man outside is similarly drenched, looking cold but remarkably happy as he takes shelter under the small awning outside your door. “You alright, mate?” 

“Good,” he replies, looking at James like he’s not sure if this is someone he’s supposed to be able to place. “And yourself?” 

“This is James,” you say, “my roommate. And this is Art, we work together.” 

“Pleased to meet you.” Art sticks out a hand, shaking James’ firmly before retracting back out onto your doorstep. “I’d better get home,” he says to you. “See you Friday?” 

“Yeah.” You nod briskly, giving him a small smile as he turns around and goes. James shuts the door after him with a definitive thud. 

“Christ, love, aren’t you cold?” He fights the urge to set his hands on your arms and rub warmth into them. His friends are so touchy, it’s a bit difficult to adjust for someone who isn’t. 

“Yeah,” you admit with another little smile (James likes this one better, though he’s unsure why). Now that you’re standing still, you’re beginning to shiver. “Could you maybe grab me a towel from upstairs? Sorry to ask, I just don’t want to track water in.” 

James is already moving. “Don’t be sorry,” he chides as he climbs the stairs. 

As he looks for where you keep your towels, he can’t stop thinking about the thrilled way you and Art had looked at each other. Your ringing laughter outside the door. He’s happy you feel comfortable enough at your job to laugh and have fun with your coworkers, but he’s a bit hurt that you don’t seem to feel the same sort of ease around him. James has managed to coax a few smiles from you since he moved in, and a decent amount of laughter, too, but more often than not it comes with some resistance. He’ll catch you trying to conceal a grin, cutting your laugh off before it’s really begun. Then you’ll look at him like you’re embarrassed for being caught in a joyous moment. As if they’re something to be bashful about, and not something that lightens James’ heart until it threatens to float off and take him with it. 

He ends up grabbing both the towel and that giant sweatshirt you like, tossing the latter in the dryer on his way back to you. 

“Thanks.” You reach for the towel, but James wraps it around your shoulders himself. 

“Don’t mention it.” He breaks, giving the tops of your arms a couple of good rubs before stepping back and letting you take over. “Do you want something warm to drink?” 

Your eyes light up, but then you purse your lips. “I’m fine, thanks.” 

James gives you a look. 

You must really be in a good mood, because you crack easily. “Fine, a hot cocoa would be night-making,” you admit, grinning at him again. He wouldn’t be surprised if his chest was actually, visibly glowing. “Thanks, James.” 

“So,” he asks, hating himself just a little bit, “why did Art walk you back if neither of you had an umbrella?” He flicks on the kettle. 

“He lives nearby,” you reply. “We actually walk home together fairly often, whenever we’re both working at night.” 

James feels a stab of guilt. Of course, it makes perfect sense that you’d need someone to walk with you when you’re leaving work after dark. He feels stupid and inconsiderate for not thinking of it. 

“That’s nice of him,” he concedes. “I’m sorry I didn’t think of walking you home before. I could always come and get you.” 

A pause. “Thanks, but you really don’t have to. And please don’t be sorry, it’s not your issue to think about.” 

It feels like his issue. He wants to think about it. “Still. I wouldn’t mind.” 

“Yeah, but for Art it’s on his way home. You’d have to go both ways.” 

James doesn’t care. For reasons he doesn’t understand and refuses to reflect upon, he wants to be the one who makes sure you get home safely. That’s got to be a typical roommate responsibility, right? 

“You forget, I have a car,” he says, pouring the hot water into two mugs. He stirs in the cocoa mix. “I could drive both you and Art, if you’d like. Could have saved you a lot of trouble on a night like tonight.” 

“I actually really love the rain.” Your voice sounds clearer, and James turns around to find that evidently you’ve dubbed yourself dry enough to walk around. You’ve squeezed most of the moisture out of your hair, but your lashes are still clumped damply. Your face shines. “We ran because we were worried about our phones, but it was fun.” 

“Well, glad your impending hypothermia was worth it.” He starts to push your mug towards you, then pauses. “Oh, wait just a second.” 

He quickly goes back to the dryer, getting out your warmed sweatshirt and bringing it to you. Your face when you see it makes James wish he had a camera, your eyebrows hooking upward and lips actually parting like he’s brought you a kitten rather than a sweatshirt. You’re truly in rare form tonight. 

“Oh my god, thank you.” You start to position the hole over your head, then hesitate. “Actually, would you—” Your bottom lip goes briefly between your teeth, a flash of that shy girl he’s been seeing less and less of lately. You wrap your hands in the fabric of your sweatshirt. “I should probably take my wet clothes off. Would you mind turning around for a minute?” 

“Oh—yeah, of course.” James does. He covers his eyes for good measure, smiling to himself when he hears your amused little huff from behind him. Then there’s the wet sound of some item of clothing hitting the floor, and his smile fades. He can hear your skin shushing against fabric, your quiet breaths, the tiny sound you make when your clothes stick obstinately to your skin just for a moment before you peel them off. James feels somewhat warmer than he did a minute ago. 

“Okay, you’re good.” 

He turns around, and you’ve already got your hot cocoa in hand. Your sweatshirt hits at mid-thigh, sleeves covering the better parts of your hands that aren’t wrapped covetously around your mug. It takes a great deal of willpower not to look at the clothes piled on the floor and see if your underwear are among them. 

“This is really good,” you say, somewhat awkwardly. You’re looking at James bemusedly, used to him being the one who talks. 

He jumps back into his role. “I don’t know why you sound surprised. It always is, when I make it.” 

James leads the both of you into the living room, plopping down on the couch. You, of course, have the option of going upstairs to your room, but he knows you’ll follow. You sit down carefully, tucking your knees under the hem of your sweatshirt and resting your mug atop them. 

“So,” he says, reaching forward and unsticking a piece of hair from your eyebrow. You fluster but let him, and he smooths it behind your ear, “are you the type of person who likes to stay in and watch films when it’s storming, or do you only enjoy running about in them?” 

You hum into your hot cocoa. “I like a film.” 

“Perfect, then it’s your pick this time.” You start to protest, but James holds firm. “No, you’ve bullied me into picking the last three. It’s time to start pulling your weight around here.” 

It takes you a bit longer to relent, but finally he gets you to admit to a preferred film. As the intro credits are playing, thunder cracks outside, and an excited little shiver has you bringing up your shoulders. A smile, seemingly unconscious, ghosts over your lips. James grins in response. Cute.