#MAN WE COULD HAVE HAD IT ALL. NO I’M NOT LETTING THIS GO

[jinjoohaa]

Jealousy looks good on you, baby

where geto's ex shows up (Roommate! AU)

CW : Explicit sexual content, public fingering, jealousy themes, possessive dirty talk, poly flirtation, light nipple play, possessive language, suggestive teasing, light voyeuristic dynamics, group affection/polyamory themes.

“Do you think this suits her ass better?”

Gojo’s voice made you flinch—he was kneeling next to your bag, holding up a red bikini like it was sacred lingerie. The bottom was a triangle of fabric, if you could even call it that. He tossed it on the bed beside five other bikinis that barely passed as clothing.

He grinned over his shoulder, “I’m packing this one. It gives ‘fuck me on the sand’ energy.”

You were blushing. Hard. Sitting on the edge of your bed, legs swinging slightly as he packed your bag for the beach trip.

He was, quite literally, packing your bag.

Correction: packing you into a walking wet dream.

The white one had been labeled “innocent slut vibes,” the red one “cocktease on a mission,” and the sparkly baby blue? “Cute but begging to be pulled to the side.”

Gojo grinned. “I think this one. Let’s see if it wiggles when you walk—”

This whole thing was Gojo’s idea, obviously.

You’d made the mistake of letting him take you bikini shopping yesterday—where he spent thirty minutes walking around the changing room, loudly narrating how each swimsuit would cling to your ass when wet, how your tits would bounce while running down the sand, and how he “definitely wouldn’t behave if you bent over for sunscreen.”

Nanami had refused at first.

“I don’t think going for a beach trip is necessary.”

That’s when Gojo had leaned in, grinning like the devil.

“Think about it, Nanamin. She’s running through the sand, tits bouncing, little bikini riding up her ass—sun hitting her skin just right—and then she trips and falls into your arms all soft and giggly—”

Nanami had muttered “Christ,” under his breath and said flatly, “I’m coming.”

Toji, however, had gone into full internal monologue mode.

He’d been pacing the living room while everyone discussed plans, muttering to himself like a man on the edge.

“Pros,” he grunted. “I get to see her in a bikini. Her skin all shiny, ass bouncing, tits perfect. Fuck. Definitely a pro.”

He paused, hands on hips. “Cons. Can’t jerk off watching. Can’t bend her over the damn beach chair. Some dipshit might talk to her and I’ll have to rip their jaw off.”

He sighed, deeply. “Shit. I’m conflicted.”

Back in your room now, Toji stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching Gojo dig through your drawer.

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Gojo didn’t look up. “Why not, old man?”

Toji scowled. “Her. In a bikini. Fuck. Wanna see that. Skin all glowy, ass bouncing around, tits nearly spilling out in that sunlight.” His eyes narrowed. “But some fucker’s gonna flirt with her or brush against her and I swear to god, I will kill someone.”

Gojo just snorted. “They wouldn’t dare. Not when she’s showing up with four hunky bodyguards. We’ll just flex a little. They’ll get the message.”

Toji raised a brow. “We? Bro, you look like a fuckin’ twink with sunglasses and a sunhat. Nobody’s scared of you."

Gojo turned slowly. “This twink is gonna fuck our girl right infront of you if you keep talking.”

Toji stepped forward. “Try me.”

They were nose to nose now, chest puffed, about three seconds away from full-blown WWE-level fighting when a third voice cut through the air and Nanami finally stepped in :

“Enough.”

His voice was calm. Cold. Final.

He adjusted the cuffs of his linen shirt as he glanced between them, unimpressed. “No one’s going to bother her. We’ll be there. And more importantly—don’t either of you start bothering her.”

Toji grunted. “Tch.”

Gojo rolled his eyes. “Here comes the lecture.”

Nanami ignored them both.

Meanwhile, Geto—king of quiet chaos—was at the kitchen counter, humming under his breath while slicing mangoes and laying out strawberries in a Tupperware. Not a single complaint. Just smiling faintly to himself while the others fought over what bikini would make your nipples harder.

Because of course—he’d already prepped snacks. The man was plotting your beach picnic while Gojo debated if pink made your tits look perkier, and Toji planned a massacre for any man who even looked at you.

And all you could do was sit there, trying not to blush while your bag filled up with swimsuits that looked like they were made of dental floss and bad decisions.

Gojo turned back to the pile and held up a mesh cover-up so see-through it might as well be invisible.

“So. This with the pink bikini underneath?”

He wiggled his brows.

You stared at him.

He winked. “Bet Nanamin would call in sick just to rail you on the beach.”

You choked on your spit.

Toji muttered, “Keep talking like that and I will fuckin’ kill you.”

Nanami sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Geto just grinned and slid fruit into a little zip-lock bag like a smug housewife.

The day hasn't even started yet.

Nanami was driving like the responsible adult he was, hands on the wheel, sunglasses low on his nose, calm playlist humming through the speakers.

Geto sat shotgun, relaxed, window down, hair tied up, arm resting lazily on the frame like this was just a sweet Sunday trip to nowhere.

Meanwhile, you were sandwiched in the backseat like a goddamn treat pack—Gojo on your left, Toji on your right.

And they weren’t subtle.

“Mm-mm-mm,” Gojo hummed, slipping his hand under the hem of your sundress like it was second nature. “Are these the thighs that are gonna jiggle on the beach?”

Toji’s palm was already on your bare knee, sliding up slowly. “Not jiggling, more like bouncing. Like she’s built to distract everyone.”

“Built to ruin lives,” Gojo whispered against your ear, grinning when you tensed.

You were already warm from the sun and now your body was practically overheating—skin prickling, panties sticking, heart pounding.

And you hadn’t even made it to the sand yet.

Your hands were tight in your lap, thighs pressed together, trying to act normal while both men kept teasing you under the guise of "car affection."

Gojo leaned down slightly, lips brushing your shoulder. “What’s got you so quiet, baby? Cat got your tongue? Or is it someone’s fingers?”

You jolted when Toji’s knuckles grazed higher, dangerously close to your core. “She’s dripping already. Beach’s gonna get jealous.”

You whimpered—soft, shameful—and caught Geto’s eyes in the side mirror.

He just smirked knowingly and said to Nanami, “We might need to hose her down before we even lay the towel out.”

Nanami didn’t even blink. “Keep your hands off her until we get there. Or I swear, I’ll pull over and make you both walk.”

“Tch,” Toji muttered, fingers slowly retreating. “Buzzkill.”

Gojo made a show of raising his hands. “Sir yes sir, no touching the pretty girl. For now.”

You melted back into the seat, flushed and wet and panting quietly as the waves came into view.

When the car finally stopped at the beach, you were practically dizzy from arousal and embarrassment.

Gojo opened your door with a flourish. “C’mon beach bunny,” he sang, “time to get naked—I mean changed.”

He grabbed your wrist and tugged you toward the wooden change stalls, grinning like he was about to make trouble.

“Gojo,” Nanami said sharply, appearing behind you with a vein pulsing in his temple. “Let go.”

Gojo pouted. “But I packed her swimsuits, I should at least help her pick!”

Nanami swatted his hand away with enough force to make Gojo stumble, nearly toppling into the sand.

“There’s a women’s changing room that way,” Nanami said firmly, pointing. “She’ll change alone.”

You nodded quickly, muttering something incoherent and jogging off before any of them could follow.

Inside the changing stall, you opened the beach bag Gojo had packed.

And of course—he’d packed eight bikinis. EIGHT. In various shades of whore. All strings. All tiny. One of them had rhinestones that spelled out ‘WET’ across the tits.

You groaned and pulled out the most modest one—a string-tied blue triangle top with a matching thong that barely clung to your hips.

You tied it up quickly, adjusting the fabric so your nipples weren’t totally visible. Though, let’s be honest, it was hopeless.

When you walked out and stepped onto the sand, you saw them all at once.

Gojo, Toji, Nanami, and Geto—shirtless, glistening, abs on full display.

Only Nanami had on a loose button-up, thin and light, swaying gently in the breeze.

Gojo was already rubbing sunscreen on his chest, looking like a summer god.

Toji was stretching his arms overhead, back muscles flexing like he wanted to punish the sun.

Geto was laying out a towel, his toned body bronzing effortlessly under the rays.

And Nanami?

He stood tall, arms crossed, looking like a man trying desperately to hold onto his dignity. His shirt hung open slightly, sunglasses shielding his eyes—but not his glare.

Because Gojo had clearly tried to rip Nanami’s shirt off five minutes ago.

Evidence? The fact that Gojo had an icepack pressed to his face, cheeks puffed out, lips red.

“You didn’t have to punch me, Nanamin,” Gojo groaned.

Nanami didn’t even look at him. “Touch me again, and I’ll bury you in the sand.”

Gojo sighed, spotting you walking toward them, and instantly perked up.

“There she is,” he grinned, icepack forgotten. “Looking like a damn mirage—”

Toji’s eyes dropped to your chest and his mouth twitched. “Fuck.”

Geto raised his brows and handed you a bottle of cold juice. “Need a minute before the beach even starts?”

You were red-faced, already overheating.

"Fuckin’ hell," Toji muttered under his breath, his voice soaked in hunger and mischief. His eyes raked over your body without an ounce of shame, zeroing in on the blue string bikini that barely counted as clothing. "You trying to kill us out here or what?"

Gojo wasn’t any better. He let out a whistle, swinging the bottle of sunscreen in lazy circles as he eyed you. "I swear, that ass needs its own postal code. Is this even legal to wear in public?"

"Public place," Nanami cut in sharply, though he didn’t even lift his gaze from where he was securing the umbrella in the sand. "Try not to get arrested."

You sighed and sank into the lounge chair, brushing sand off your thighs as the wind picked up again, tugging your ponytail and throwing strands into your face. You twisted your neck, trying to get it under control, but the humidity made everything worse — sticky, clinging, heavy.

A shadow passed behind you. Then, gentle fingers brushed your shoulders.

"You’ll hate the tangles later," Geto said, soft-spoken and patient. He was already running his fingers through your hair, parting it into two sections. "Hold still, sweetheart."

There was something so calm in the way he braided. His touch wasn’t possessive — not like the others — but there was a quiet fondness in it that made your chest ache.

"All pretty," he murmured once he was done, and you gave him a quiet smile.

But peace was short-lived. A cold shock made you flinch as sunscreen touched your lower back.

"Time for me to rub you down~" Gojo cooed behind you, voice far too cheerful. “C’mon, bunny. Lie down.”

You lay down on your stomach, letting your chest press into the towel, cheek turned to the side.

Without warning, the strings of your top went slack, the sides of your chest spilled out.

"Gojo!" Nanami’s voice was sharp now.

"I'm just applying sunscreen," Gojo replied innocently, though his hands were anything but innocent. He smirked as he re-tied your top — barely — and slid his palms slowly down your back.

The lotion was cold, but his touch was warm, languid, exploring. Too thorough. Fingers dipping far too low before retreating, circling places they had no business circling.

He hummed a tune, all fake-innocence and beach-boy charm, while your cheeks grew hotter by the second. Even Geto had gone back to his snacks with an amused grin, letting the chaos unfold.

Eventually, Toji had enough. With a grunt, he stood and dragged Gojo off you with one hand like a rag doll.

“My turn.”

Gojo whined but gave up, already turning to drag Geto into the water with him. The two of them splashed and roughhoused like children, laughing too loudly, kicking up waves as you sat up and fixed your top properly.

That was when she appeared.

She was stunning. Her bikini was scandalous, even by your standards — barely-there straps, deep cleavage, glossy skin — and she made a beeline straight for Geto. Her shriek of delight echoed off the water.

“Suguruuu~ missed you so much, baby!”

She flung herself into his arms like it was rehearsed.

Toji leaned in with a low, amused whistle. “Oh-hoh. You seein’ this?”

You forced a smile, tightening your grip on the edge of the lounge chair. You didn’t want to look, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away. That easy way she laughed into Geto’s neck. How his hands steadied her automatically. The smile he gave her—fond, warm, familiar. A history you didn’t know.

“Must’ve been an old friend,” Nanami said softly, like he could read the flicker in your expression.

You nodded, but it was empty. Your chest felt tight.

Then Gojo came bounding back, flopping down next to you like he hadn’t just witnessed your heartbreak.

“Bunnnnyyy~” he grinned, resting his head in your lap with exaggerated affection. “Missed ya!”

Toji looked over with a scoff. “Who’s the chick, huh?”

Gojo shrugged lazily. “Old classmate. They used to date.”

Used to.

The words echoed in your head.

Your smile vanished completely. And then she kissed Geto’s cheek.

You didn’t think. You just acted.

“Gojo,” you said quietly. “Can you move your head?”

“Huh?” He looked up, confused. “But your lap’s so comfy—”

“Move. Please.”

You stood up, brushing your hands on your thighs.

“I’m just going to the washroom.”

Gojo scrambled to follow. “Wait—without me?!”

But Nanami’s hand clamped down on his shoulder, and Toji grabbed the back of his neck like scruffing a dog.

"Sit down," Nanami said flatly.

"Ughhh!" Gojo slumped back dramatically. “So rude!”

You didn’t hear the rest of their arguing. You didn’t look back.

The heat in your face had nothing to do with the sun now. Not really.

You walked away faster than you meant to, heart tight in your chest, eyes stinging with something you didn’t want to name.

Back on the sand, Geto had just returned when Nanami’s voice cut through the sound of waves.

“Suguru,” he said, calm but firm. “You might want to go with her.”

Geto blinked, brow furrowing. “Why? Is she alright?”

Toji sighed, half-laughing. “Just go, man…”

Gojo, ever the dramatic one, threw up his arms. “This isn’t fair! Why does he get to go and not me? You guys are so discriminating—it’s cause I’m prettier than all of you, isn’t it?!”

Toji scooped up a fistful of sand and flung it straight into his hair.

By the time Geto caught up with you, you were already sitting alone under a tall tree, its shade casting dappled shadows over your skin. There wasn’t a single person nearby — just you, with your arms folded and your knees drawn up, pouting into the wind.

He smiled the second he saw you. Quiet, upset, and trying not to show it. He knew the look. He walked over and sank down beside you, but you turned your face away like he was invisible.

He scooted a little closer.

You shifted away.

So he scooted again.

You moved one more time — and that’s when his hand caught your wrist, gentle but firm, and pulled you into his lap in one swift movement. Your jaw hit his chest, and his arms circled your waist.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice low beside your ear.

“Nothing,” you muttered, refusing to look at him.

“Cat got your tongue?”

“There’s lipstick on your cheek,” you said flatly. “Wipe that.”

He blinked, amused, then wiped it off casually. “Oh? That better?”

Still no answer.

He tilted his head. “Baby looks so pretty when she’s jealous.”

You huffed. “I’m not—!”

He kissed you before you could finish. Deep and slow, with teeth tugging at your lower lip until it tingled. His hands cupped your jaw, then dropped to your hips, thumbs stroking over the strings of your thong.

He broke the kiss, breath brushing your lips. “Wanna tell me why you’re upset with me now?”

“I said I’m not,” you insisted, cheeks flushed and voice breathy.

His hand slipped beneath the band of your bikini thong. One long finger slid through your folds, making you jolt in his lap.

“A-Ah! Suguru!!”

“How about now?” he murmured, the pad of his finger circling slowly. “Gonna tell me?”

Your breath hitched. “Th…that’s… w-who was that girl?”

“Mmh. Yeah, thought so,” he smirked, pressing another kiss to your jaw. “Pretty baby. All jealous and possessive, huh?”

“I—I’m not! I was just asking!”

He delivered a sharp little slap to your ass, just enough to make you gasp.

“Ow!”

“Try again.”

You sighed, cheeks burning. “Fine… I don’t like her much.”

“There you go,” he chuckled. “She’s an ex. From college.”

“Yeah… Gojo said.”

“Oh?”

“Why’d she kiss you? And why’s she calling you baby and all…?”

Another finger slipped in beside the first, and you let out a soft hiss, gripping his forearm.

“She’s a bit like Gojo,” he murmured, fingers moving in a slow rhythm. “Flirty. Extroverted. I didn’t think she was gonna do that.”

“…Mmmhm… fine—Ah!”

He smiled as you squirmed against him, his fingers scissoring gently, teasing the tightest parts of you. “She said she misses me.”

You clutched his arm tighter, and he chuckled in your ear.

“You know what I said?”

“…What?”

“That I don’t feel the same.”

Your heart jumped a little. “…You did?”

“Yeah,” he said, warm and honest.

“She… said anything else?”

“She asked if I wanted to meet her this weekend.”

Your stomach dropped again. “And…?”

“What do you think I said?” he teased, curling his fingers inside you.

“I… I don’t know…” you mumbled, pouting again.

He bit your nipple through your top, making you flinch and whine.

“Ah! Ow!”

“I said I’m—” *thrust* “not—” *another thrust* “interested.”

“Suguru! Ah—stop! Please… people will see!”

“There’s no one here, baby,” he murmured, fingers still working you open. “Just you and me. And you’re soaking my hand while whining like a needy little thing.”

His hand lifted to cup your breast, thumb brushing your nipple through the thin fabric. You moaned softly, too lost in his touches to pretend otherwise. The heat coiled deep in your belly, rising fast.

“Let go,” he whispered. “Come for me, baby. Show me how jealous you are.”

Your head fell into Suguru’s shoulder, lips parting on a trembling moan as his fingers kept up their slow, rhythmic pace. Your walls fluttered around him, too slick and swollen to resist anymore. His other hand cupped your breast, thumb lazily stroking over your hardened nipple through the thin triangle of your bikini.

“You’re such a mess, baby,” he murmured, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “All this jealousy, just to end up dripping down my hand like this.”

You whimpered, thighs tensing as the pressure coiled again — this time tighter, hotter. His fingers curled just right, finding that spot deep inside that always made your voice catch. He pressed a slow kiss behind your ear.

“Come for me. Let me feel it. C’mon, let go for me like a good girl.”

Your body broke in waves — heat flooding your cheeks, breath catching, soft cries muffled against his throat. He slowed his hand just enough to ride you through it, murmuring praises against your skin.

“That’s it. My pretty baby. Always so perfect for me.”

You were still trembling when he slipped his fingers out, his arm snaking around your waist again. Before you could gather yourself, he scooped you up into his arms, bridal-style, and rose to his feet with a smirk.

“Let’s get you back, yeah?”

Your arms looped around his neck instinctively, face still flushed, thighs still twitching. By the time he stepped back onto the warm sand, Gojo spotted you and his eyes lit up instantly.

“OHHH! My bunny’s back!” he practically sang, making grabby hands. “Suguru, pass her here!”

Before Geto could say anything, Toji casually yanked you out of his arms like a prize being stolen.

“Move, temple boy,” he muttered.

You let out a tiny squeak, your arms now around Toji’s neck as he carried you with one hand under your thighs, the other sliding just a little too close to your ass.

“Toji—!”

He didn’t answer right away — just smirked and marched straight toward the waterline.

Once he reached the edge, he stepped into the shallows, then dipped you low, letting the waves splash against your skin. The cold hit your overheated body hard, making you shiver.

“Mmm,” he drawled, voice low and thick, “bet you’re even sweeter wet like this.”

“Toji—stop—!”

“Nope,” he grinned, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek. “Soon as we’re home, I’m dragging you into the shower. Gonna bend you over the sink first, then fuck you into the mirror so you can watch yourself fall apart.”

Before you could protest, Gojo came splashing in from the side, cackling.

“Whoa, whoa, leave something for the rest of us, old man!”

Toji rolled his eyes but didn’t let go of you. Instead, he dunked you gently again while Gojo splashed your thighs and stomach like a child.

“Look at her—she’s glowing. We should get her wet more often,” Gojo teased, eyes glinting.

“Touch her again and I’m breaking that pretty jaw of yours,” Toji muttered.

You pushed at both of them half-heartedly, squealing as Gojo flicked water at your chest.

Eventually, laughing and dripping, you pulled yourself out of the sea and walked back toward the beach chairs. Nanami was waiting, still sitting under the umbrella’s shade, book in one hand. When he looked up and saw you, he set it down and opened his arms.

“Come here.”

You didn’t hesitate — you dropped into his lap, arms sliding around his neck. One large hand rubbed soothing circles on your thigh while the other plucked a small piece of pineapple from the tray beside him.

“Open,” he murmured.

You did, and he fed it to you, the sweet citrus bursting over your tongue. You hummed quietly, leaning into him. .

“Oho? Pineapple, huh?” Gojo plopped beside you both, grinning wickedly. “Did you know it’s supposed to make you taste sweeter? Not that you needs any help in that department…”

You choked slightly, face burning, and Nanami flicked a piece of pineapple at Gojo’s forehead without even looking at him.

Gojo laughed and caught it in his mouth.

Toji just shook his head and muttered, “Fuckin’ idiot.”

Suguru came strolling up from behind, now freshly dried with a towel over his shoulders. He dropped a kiss to your head and whispered, “Feeling better now?”

You nodded, the warmth in your chest finally matching the sunshine around you.

With Nanami’s arms wrapped around you, Geto’s soft kiss still lingering, Gojo teasing beside you, and Toji grumbling like a menace in the background — you realized something.

You didn’t need a perfect beach day.

You already had your favorite view:

Them. All of them.

And somehow, you were their favorite too.

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[galene-gothic]

𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗀𝗍𝗁𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗌

ˏˋ༻ʚ♡︎ɞ༺ˎˊ˗            PAID SERVICES PATREON

SUMMER SALE ˖ TIP JAR

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 1 ꒱

You have dealt with situations not turning out the way you wanted them to despite heavily investing into them. These situations in fact, made you feel very naive and taken advantage of. Ugh I just heard “a woman’s loyalty is tested when the man has nothing and a man’s loyalty is tested when he has everything.” I also suddenly got a vision of a TikTok that I saw a while ago. The man in the video was saying that if a woman stays with him at the lowest point of his life, he’d leave her when he gets to a high point because she clearly doesn’t respect herself 💀. It doesn’t necessarily have to do with a man or boy but it could have been a similar situation. You invested a lot into someone or possibly even multiple people and you were incredibly generous. The value was being provided only one way i.e. only you were the one bringing ANYTHING into the connection but you were the one being treated as though you didn’t have any value, as though you didn’t bring anything valuable into the connection or this person’s life. It definitely could have been an experience with multiple people for some of you. I was earlier hearing ‘without me’ by Halsey in my head and now I’m hearing that song, I’m not sure about the title I’ve only heard it through reels and TikTok. It goes something like “It’s not your fault I ruin everything and it’s not your fault I can’t be what you need.” This is honestly very sad, this person or people used to rely on you when they were sad but when they were enjoying life and had happy moments, they didn’t really share those with you, they didn’t spend those with you. It’s like when they experienced really good and happy moments, they just disappeared, and despite everything that you were offering them, they wanted a ‘happily ever after’ with other people. They used to take what you had to offer and use your resources to their benefit but they didn’t want you, they didn’t offer you anything of value, they didn’t even truly appreciate your value and only used it.

There definitely was this feeling of insecurity because why didn’t they see your value and treat it as such despite you doing, and offering so much? It was just a really bad investment on your part because all you were doing was wasting your time and energy by depleting your time, energy, and resources on an ungrateful person. I really wanted to use the b-word just now but I stopped myself. I’m feeling angry on your behalf here. You did everything with a very pure and affectionate heart. When you were doing and giving anything at all, you were being genuine with it. It was a very innocent kind of love that you were extending yourself with. You were sensitive to their needs and almost psychically picked up on things in regard to them, and even if you didn’t, you actively tried to because that’s just how pure hearted you were and their stinginess… gosh. They didn’t even try to invest in you at all, did they? You seem to have questioned your value and worth back then. Due to how you were investing into the connection with a sense of innocence, you were wounded like a child is. Let me explain it to you, kids have not seen enough of the world so when they get scolded or punished by their parents, it’s easy for them to question themself and believe that they must’ve done something wrong. They also forgive the trespassers again and again because that’s just how pure kids tend to be but whatever kids experience during their childhood sticks with them on a very deep level and is inevitably going to affect them as adults. You experienced a similar experience back then. It hit your inner child quite heavily. “How long could we be a sad song, till we were too far gone to bring back to life. I gave you all my best me’s, my endless empathy and all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier. Fighting in only your army, front lines don’t you ignore me. I’m the best thing in this party. You’re losing me and I wouldn’t marry me either, a pathological people pleaser who only wanted you to see her.”

That’s ‘you’re losing me’ by Taylor Swift. I keep on hearing the part that goes “my heart won’t start anymore, my heart won’t start anymore.” I feel like you genuinely cannot bring yourself to feel anything for this person or these people anymore because when you were, they were abusing it. While I was writing ‘abusing’, I mistakenly typed ‘anus’ and that describes them pretty well :D. Despite having experienced all of this, you haven’t hardened. In fact, you’ve softened more. The more pain that you had to experience, undergo and heal from, the more pure hearted, innocent, loving and childlike you’ve gotten. Somehow, your inner child has healed and feels more comfortable expressing themself after everything you’ve experienced. There’s also an acceptance of your own contradictions here. You’re quite misunderstood and have always been. I just heard “I was a mature child so now I’m a childish woman.” You’ve always been mature yet childish. Some of you are incredibly mature on the inside but might be very childlike in the way you live and express yourself externally while it may be the other way around for the rest of you. Also, you have likely embodied both of these sides at different points of your life. There could have been a point when you wanted people to take you seriously because you were very mature on the inside and another point when you wished you could express yourself in a lighter, softer, and more playful manner because you were very sensitive and soft on the inside but on the inside, you ended up expressing yourself as more serious. Having embodied both of these, you are aware that others will criticise and misunderstand you either way, and that you won’t be happy with yourself either if you don’t accept your own contradictions and aren’t comfortable with being misunderstood so now, you don’t really care about whether someone misunderstands you.

“Sometimes I can’t even understand those perceptions, it feels unfair at times but the misunderstandings that make up the countless versions of me. All of them are ‘me’ in the end.” I feel like most of you are perceived as childish and are in fact very pure at heart but having been taken advantage of has caused you to develop a cautious approach and not commit to situations recklessly, and that’s a strength of yours. You also do not really give too much importance to a happy ending anymore. You don’t seek belonging and joy from others anymore, and are fine keeping to yourself and are very careful with the situations, and people that you invest in. The thing is, you’re not exactly closed off. You’re still open, pure hearted, loving and affectionate but it’s just that you’re finally more impatient. You can now leave situations as easily as you entered them if the other person doesn’t seem as invested. You know that you deserve a pure, loving and affectionate connection that is innocent, playful and genuine where you’re always chosen, and can always choose them and share a lot of intimacy with the other person - friend, lover, whatever. So when you don’t see things going to that direction, you don’t mind putting an end to things. You’re not willing to settle for anything except the most genuine and pure form of love, and connection because you know that you can provide it. You want to be treated as softly as you treat people and have them stick with you through thick, and thin with proper investment and to adore you, and value you affectionately and genuinely. You are unwilling to accept anything less than that. Having experienced whatever you experienced, you’re aware that you have a lot to offer but that giving more does not equal to receiving more so you don’t try as hard anymore. You’re still the same, you still try to extend yourself generously and provide value to the other person wholeheartedly but even now, you notice one sidedness, and it doesn’t bother you because you choose to either leave entirely and not invest any further or just pull away, and are not committed to trying and investing anymore. You are fine with getting away from people now.

You are alright with people not seeing your value and missing the opportunity to be in your close circle. You just don’t invest heavily into situations for a long time anymore. You try initially because you’re naturally a giver and are incredibly generous but when you feel like you’re not receiving the same, you don’t even question your worth or think about “why?”, you just let them. Also, this generosity of yours is not a method of finding belonging. It kind of is but it is more about how you feel about yourself rather than how others see you. You want to be kind and generous because you just naturally are a giver, and you find a sense of comfort in how much you do for the world, how much value you provide and how much good you put out into the world even if you don’t have anywhere you find belonging, and joy, even if you don’t have those personal connections. Instead of chasing a ‘happily ever after’ and joy, and fulfilment through external sources and connections, you chase purity of spirit, genuineness and generosity. There’s this mantra coming through but I’m not sure how it will resonate. The following includes mention of the hindu god ‘Shiva’ but even if you’re christian or muslim, or any other religion. I need you to take the message and try to interpret it rather than shunning it completely just because you don’t believe in the god or religion. Let me give you a little piece of advice before we move onto the mantra, if you find anything from other religions or concepts that you don’t follow, believe in or understand but it’s something that resonates with you, could help you going forward and just help you lead a better life, take it. The mantra goes “om tryambakam yajaamahe, sugandhim pushti vardhanam, urvaarukamiva bandhanam, mrityur mukshiya mamritaat.” It translates to “om, we worship the three eyed one (lord shiva), who is fragrant, increasing the nourishment (spiritually). From these many bondages (of samsara aka worldly cycles) similar to cucumbers (tied to their creepers). May I be liberated from death (attachment to perishable things), so that I’m not separated from the perception of immortality.”

I feel like many of you have already reached a point in which you understand that attachments are illusionary. If you haven’t yet, you will. You care about your soul and the truth of it - the purity, essence and nourishment of it more than you care about worldly cycles, and things that are perishable i.e. attachments which is why when you aren’t receiving love, don’t have personal connections or are misunderstood, even if it bothers you, it doesn’t. Your soul is whole and immortal, and so is love and joy, and it’s also ever present as long as one can maintain their soul and its true essence so you are just focused on that. Religions and spirituality both put an emphasis on love, and purity and I don’t mean purity as in not being allowed to enter temples during your periods, etc. but instead that they put an emphasis on remaining loving, always leading with love and keeping the heart as light as a feather. You are doing that and you’re spiritually aligned. Obviously with the hurt that you’ve faced, you sometimes may feel heavy or have felt heavy in the past but you have a loving spirit that is still pure at its core and you maintain it with utmost reverence, and that’s your strength. I was earlier getting the quote “do you know how much anger it took to be this gentle?” And now, I’m getting the bridge of ‘solo’ by Jennie coming through. “After the relationship, romance and emotions there’s breakup, tears, regret, and longing. I like being alone because I should be true to myself. Like the flowing wind, like the stars above the clouds. I want to go faraway, I want to shine brightly.” That’s the energy that you seem to possess, you know what you offer and deserve now, and you let go of any attachments that make you feel less than. If you aren’t here yet, you can be. All the best 💞. You’re doing really well. When it comes to your wounds, you are a stubborn one. You’re really persistent and determined to make things work, and are so busy doing so that you don’t notice when the other person has already given up.

You put in work diligently from the start to the end with consistency which is why it hurts more when they give up because you put so much effort into it. You also have long term intentions or even if you don’t, you put in work as though you do because you naturally are long term oriented and you maintain loyalty consistently without a single slip on your part so when the other person gives up, you feel really betrayed and hurt. Lifelong connections are beautiful because they require work and both parties not wanting to give up. You are willing to make things work by putting your all into whatever it is that you want to succeed because of your long term oriented approach. You don’t just give up without trying, you don’t give up without a fight, you can’t because you just value it so much and want it in the long run so the awareness that when someone wants something in the long run, wants someone on the long run, they won’t just run away when things get hard and they have to put effort in is something that wounds you because people have been too easy to give up in the past. You seem to have dealt with a lack of loyalty from others too and what is upsetting is that you were loyal to them. What seems to have happened is that you met someone (possibly even multiple people for some of you) when they were going through a time of discontentment, stagnation, apathy, isolation, boredom, yearning, etc. and you were present for them consistently but when they got better, they left you behind while you were still putting in work and trying, and they didn’t explicitly tell you that they had given up right away. You fell victim to the classic method of being wounded until you couldn’t try anymore. The wounds could have come from their carelessness, negligence, lack of gratitude or acknowledgement of all that you had done and been for them, or well all of the above.

In fact, for some of you, they could have been wounding you actively by treating you as if you were a burden and talking to you in ways that scarred you. In many cases, it could have been both. Whether their approach was passive, active or both, it was equally bad and you didn’t deserve that. You simply just knew that love and connections were hard work, and were willing to put that in. You knew that things aren’t always easy but you still tried until you absolutely couldn’t anymore. Once you finally gave up, you had to consistently put in work into your own betterment in order to heal the wounds that were inflicted on you back then. You’re showing strength even when I’m trying to tap more into your wounds. Despite how wounded you were, you persisted with courage. You learned from your previous failure and wounds, and endured the pain and managed to get better eventually. I feel like at some point, you tried to maintain strong routines in order to get better and it worked wonders for you. You gained clarity on your past, present and future as well as a desire to be present, pleasant and proud. One thing is for sure, you started wanting to focus on the present moment and make the most out of it. You released your emotions and saw where change was needed, and created those changes. You left the past behind you and grew emotionally to the point of feeling almost enlightened. Now, you’re self aware, focused, content, grateful for what you already have, try to be present, accept yourself and situations as they are, and know your responsibilities and try to carry them out properly. Also, you reflect to learn but try to be and are present. The journey to get here wasn’t an easy one, the path was really rocky and rough with twists, and turns but you still made it. Pat yourself on the back, you’re doing so well. Thank you so much for reading. I hope that the reading resonated and that it provided you with the answers, and guidance that you wanted and needed. Much love and take care 💋.

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 2 ꒱

Your strength is that you’re a protector and provider, and your wound is that people either don’t see it, take it for granted or are intimidated by it. Also, a very interesting thing that was happening when I was shuffling for you was that I wanted to channel ‘strengths and wounds’ but I kept on messing up and saying ‘strengths and weaknesses’. I feel like it was because your wounds have caused you to feel really weak or have created a weakness within you in some way. Don’t worry, we’ll look into it properly so that you can heal these parts of you and reclaim your power. I just heard that audio “they gonna hate me regardless, that’s why I do what I do.” Also, you’re more of a man than most men are 😭. You’re naturally a protector and provider, and I’m picking up on a lot of passion from you including an emphasis on sexual intimacy. Currently if you’re single, this can simply manifest as feeling horny frequently or/and masturbating a lot (or well just craving that orgasm even if you’re unable to touch yourself) but you’re definitely very passionate in romantic relationships, likely physically affectionate in other ways outside of sexual intimacy as well. You’re friendly and charismatic, and approach others with a fairly soft yet a bold and almost flirty demeanour. I feel like you’re this way with your same sex friends more than anyone else. You have a strong aura and it is because you possess a lot of integrity. ‘Substance over form’ is the kind of person that you are and that’s your strength. You’re really solid on the inside possessing courage, generosity, principles, ethics, a sense of responsibility, maturity, passion, loyalty, so on and so forth. You have turned out to be a strong person with a well rounded and strongly grounded character despite everything that you’ve undergone instead of letting it turn you bitter, and resentful. I’m hearing ‘easy on me’ by Adele. “Go easy on me baby, I was still a child didn’t get the chance to feel the world around me. I had no time to choose what I chose to do. So go easy on me.”

“There ain’t no room for things to change when we are both so deeply stuck in our ways, you can’t deny how hard I’ve tried. I changed who I was to put you both first but now I give up.” Some of you could have childhood trauma - endless sacrifice for your parents while some of you didn’t have parents and did everything to please your guardian(s), and the rest of you dealt with bullying or aggression from others and the ones who don’t relate to any of the above could have lost someone (possibly multiple people) and they could have been acting very egotistically, making you feel weak but it was not exactly your loss even if it may have felt like it at the time. Some of you may have hit the lottery and dealt with all of the above 😍. You could have also lost someone who you sacrificed a lot for. I just got the word ‘everyone’ and earlier at the beginning of the reading I had received the word ‘burnt’. Did you at some point feel like you lost everything and were burnt by everyone? You may have also felt as though you sacrificed a lot, too much of yourself for others in the past. “So you can love me, hate me, you will never be, never be, never be me. Try me, I’ll break free, you will never be, never be, never be me.” The song is literally titled ‘rebel heart’, I feel like back then despite any feeling of weakness and despite surrendering for the sake of peace, and feeling as though you lost, you knew that you hadn’t. You were rebelling from within and not egoistically but by channelling all your inner strength. You’re really confident in yourself now. I’m trying to dig up your past but you’re showing me how great you are in the present. You know that no one can ever be you. “I’ve tasted being the bigger person, I’ve also tasted matching energy. I recommend no contact.” You value your peace more than anything. You are ethical, reliable, long term oriented and seek excitement, and passion in long term matters rather than by seeking fleeting thrill. In fact, the more safe, stable and grounded a connection is, the more passion, excitement and joy you experience.

You do not feel any desire to wander or be unfaithful, your passion is reserved for just your significant other and your significant only. Like, you don’t even get tempted 💀. For example, if you’ve been in a relationship with someone for years, you’d rather try to experience new sorts of passion and excitement with them rather than get connected with someone new, and ruin something beautiful that you already have going and even if that’s not possible in grand ways just the fact that they’re loyal, and that you share a stable, safe and grounded connection is enough for you to be able to find passion, joy and excitement in the littlest of moments. You don’t get tempted or attracted to others. Also, you watch your character because of who you are as a person and who you want to be rather than to impress anyone. You may be someone who tries to avoid wandering eyes even when you’re single and just really try to watch your character in every way that you can because you are, and want to be a certain way. You’re a really well rounded person - you seek peaceful resolution and if you don’t find that, you seek peace even if it is by yourself, you don’t mind compromising, and have in fact, sacrificed majorly in the past. You know how to make amends with situations by now and you also have a side within you that’s like “I am me, you are you. If you do me dirty, fuck you” but your ethical peace seeking side overrides this. You’re loyal and try to maintain a strong character for yourself rather than for impressions, and are passionate as well. Also, you’re very romantic and care deeply, and genuinely about your partner. You want teeth rottingly sweet romance i.e. the shoulder kisses, climbing up the fences to get into some forbidden property, candlelight dinner, watching fireworks together and you going “so pretty” while looking at the different designs in the sky while they look at you and repeat your words, basically the whole nine yards. You’re also highly capable of it. You’re willing to do anything and everything for your partner as long as it doesn’t go against your morals.

I wonder if many of you are elder daughters or something because there’s so much about sacrifice, maturity and provision. I don’t mean to be a misandrist but I don’t think that I’ve ever met a man this well rounded and with such a strong character. You could have always sacrificed and done so much for your family, provided so much to them, and just been so mature and responsible from such a young age that that’s just who you are now. I wouldn’t be surprised if you already are or will provide financially for your family in the future. “I knew you, leaving like a father, running like water.” It doesn’t mean that your father or any parent left you (though it could be) but that you didn’t feel safe and stable with them so you have become a stable, and reliable individual to feel safe within yourself and to find a partner who provides the same qualities to you. Looking at your wounds, you feel like people let you go too easily. They often chose other people too. Oh my god, I just started hearing ‘the other woman’ by Lana Del Rey. It seems to have been a pattern for you. You were in contact with them in a very consistent manner so it could have been a friend who was using you as a placeholder for a romantic relationship until they found someone to commit to 💀. You are very diligent and have basic human decency so when someone is in your life, even if it is not a situation with commitment involved, you do whatever you can for them and are very present so when you were not fully claimed but not fully let go of, and had them let you go after finding a romantic relationship, you felt really manipulated. By this point, you don’t really question your worth anymore but back then, you wondered if you were unworthy of being chosen and committed to. For those of you who do not resonate with this, when it was time for people to make choices, their loyalties seemed to lie elsewhere. Even the closest connections that you had didn’t live up to their potential and in fact, you felt deceived.

“How long could we be a sad song till we were too far gone to bring back to life I gave you all my best me’s, my endless empathy and all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier. Fighting in only your army, front lines don’t you ignore me, I’m the best thing in this party (you’re losing me) and I wouldn’t marry me either, a pathological people pleaser who only wanted you to see her, and I’m fading thinking ‘do something babe, say something. Lose something babe, risk something. Choose something babe, I’ve got nothing to believe unless you’re choosing me.’” “I can’t find a pulse, my heart won’t start anymore for you cause you’re losing me.” “My heart won’t start anymore, my heart won’t start anymore.” You feel as though you’ve never been able to develop and share deep intimacy, and love with someone that is pure and whole, and where you choose each other again and again. I just heard “she has other friends that she likes better”, you’ve just felt as though everyone chose and enjoyed other peoples company more, and that you were let go of so easily as though you were worthless. “If you feel too abandoned by others, it’s because you’ve abandoned yourself” ofcourse, it’s okay to feel bad about being abandoned and used. ‘Enough for you’ by Olivia Rodrigo is coming through. “Stupid, emotional, obsessive little me. I knew from the start this is exactly how you’d leave. You found someone more exciting, the next second you were gone and you left me there crying, wondering what I did wrong and you always say I’m never satisfied but I don’t think that’s true cause all I ever wanted was to be enough. Don’t you think I loved you too much to be used and discarded? Don’t you think I loved you too much to think I deserve nothing? So don’t tell me you’re sorry boy, feel sorry for yourself cause someday I’ll be everything to somebody else and they’ll think that I’m so exciting, and you’ll be the one who’s crying. You always say I’m never satisfied but I don’t think that’s true, you say I’m never satisfied but that’s not me, it’s you cause all I ever wanted was to be enough and I don’t think anything could ever be enough for you. No, nothing’s enough for you.”

You felt as though you abandoned yourself and didn’t have any boundaries or standards just because you wanted to be chosen, and loved back then and you’ve forgiven yourself for that, and grown into your power immensely by strengthening your character and I’m so incredibly proud of you but the shame, guilt, regret, and pain that you experienced back then was on another level. You felt as though you failed to maintain loyalty to yourself and choose yourself. There was this sense of having lost yourself due to a desire to be chosen mixed with a feeling of inferiority. You felt inferior and powerless in the connection or well, connections but even after they ended, you felt inferior and powerless, in fact, now that you could see things more clearly, you felt more inferior, powerless and ashamed of yourself. You lacked direction back then and were misdirecting your energy into trying to receive love, and be chosen by acting inferior and slowly started believing it yourself because others treated you like such when you could have been improving yourself, your skills and your life instead. You felt like you betrayed yourself. The song ‘I’ll never fall in love again’ by Dionne Warwick is coming through. “What do you get when you fall in love? A guy with a pin to burst your bubble. That’s what you get for all your trouble. I’ll never fall in love again. I’ll never fall in love again. What do you get when you kiss a guy? You get enough germs to catch pneumonia, after you do, he’ll never phone ya. I’ll never fall in love again. Don’t you know that I’ll never fall in love again? Don’t tell me what it’s all about cause I’ve been there and I’m glad I’m out. Out of those chains, those chains that bind you. That is why I’m here to remind you. What do you get when you fall in love? You only get lies and pain and sorrow.”

You’re a deeply romantic person but due to how genuine you are, how much you offer and all the deception that you’ve faced. You are more focused on your daily routines, money, career, work and study. You might also have a wound regarding skills. You want to develop skills and you know you have it in you but you just haven’t been able to, you just aren’t being able to, you’re being told to keep going consistently. You’re probably rolling your eyes externally or internally at what I just wrote because it’s not like you haven’t tried to develop these skills consistently because you have but that no matter how much you have tried, you just haven’t been able to but you’re still being encouraged to keep going. Having experienced all that you’ve experienced, you’ve become very self and character focused. You care a lot about other people’s character as well as your own. You have high standards now and until you meet someone who matches them close to perfectly, you are not interested in any sort of romance. You really do want to find this person though because you have so much love to give and genuinely want to experience the soft mushy gushy romantic, and passionate kind of romance. You want to experience a soft romcom movie and ‘fifty shades of grey’ kind of romance at the same time with just one person for the rest of your life but it is very important for you to be able to respect, admire and rely on that person. Passion is very important to you in romance and life in general. Due to how you’ve had to take on really responsible roles throughout your life and always hold this sense of responsibility, and duty within you, and how sacrificing and resolution seeking you can be despite a very hot, and strong fire within you. You need a partner who’s more of a man than you are. Someone who is a good leader, passionate, charismatic, go getter, action oriented, loyal, grounded, ethical, responsible, reliable and romantic. Someone who lets you be bratty and express anger, and also doesn’t take advantage of your problem solving, peaceful and resolution seeking nature.

You tend to be fairly submissive on the outside despite the inner strength you possess so you need someone who is happy with themself and doesn’t feel the need to dominate, and belittle you in order to feel better about themself. I’m not going to lie, due to how passionate you are, you have a very competitive and resentful side to you but also you’re very peaceful, and forgiving. You truly are such a well rounded person. You might attract a lot of hostility and aggression due to this. People can pick up on your inner drive but you seem to harmless on the surface that they try to crush your spirit because they just feel a sense of competitiveness, hostility and aggression towards you without any real reason and you have a strong character on the inside so you don’t break externally but instead usually maintain peace so they don’t understand why and how you’re so unaffected 💀😭. You want a partner who can handle your angry and difficult sides, the ones that are deeply passionate. You cannot settle for just anyone because now that you’ve grown as a person, you’ve grown into your character and strength, you get really bad vibes from most people, and notice their faults and flaws quite easily. ‘CO2’ by Prateek Kuhad is the song that I’m getting here. “Maybe it’s the way that you can see what I’m missing what I can never be.” “Maybe it’s the man that you see in me.” Most people won’t be able to live up to your standards due to how high they are but they’re just normal to you because you can live up to them so you don’t need to lower them. You need to look at things differently now, you’re not unworthy, things are better now, life is brighter now. You are likely to intimidate people once they start seeing your character more clearly. The closer that they’ll get to you, the more that they might feel inferior or like they don’t live up to what you need them to be. You can be critical to some extent because of how high your standards are even for yourself but it’s coming as a strength of yours. Only accept those who are actively trying and being able to live up to what your standards are. If someone gives up or doesn’t try, trust me, you’re better off. Those who think that they’re not enough, they know themselves more than you know them because they experience consciousness from within themself, because they can hear their own thoughts and know about their own actions, and tendencies so believe them when they talk or act like they’re not enough. Right now, I’m getting that while you’re capable of romance, you’re focused on consistently bettering yourself, improving your lifestyle, your career, money, routines, work and studies. You are on the right path. It’s okay to want romance but don’t ever lower your standards by even just an inch or a millimetre because you can live up to your own and you deserve an equal. Thank you so much for reading. I hope that the reading resonated and that it provided you with the answers, and guidance that you wanted and needed. Much love and take care 💋.

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 3 ꒱

(TW: Mentions of abuse, sexual assault, etc.)

Some of you have daddy issues or some kind of issue caused by aggressive people but there’s a strong theme of boys and men here. There are so many scenarios coming through, you’re obviously not going to relate to all of them. For some of you, you’ve just dealt with aggression, threatening your sense of belonging while some of you have dealt with abandonment from either or both parents or just an absence of them, there are even mentions of abuse here for some of you if your parents were present. An angry father or parental figure? If not, you have had terrible experiences with the male gender. It could be something as simple as having boys make fun of you in middle school. These incidents have wounded you really deeply. I’m having a really hard time putting all the scenarios down. There’s definitely some sort of a deep wound when it comes to belonging - be it family, home, community, school or work. Also little incidents grew into real big ones that I’m hearing traumatised you. For example, you got with some guy, that changed the entire trajectory of your life. The thing is, you received a lot of intolerance from everyone for a major part of your life. It escalated close to abuse, violence and bullying at some point, and for many of you, it could have had something to do with a guy. Don’t get me wrong, it would have been a part of your life either way. People just have been so aggressive, unruly and intolerant towards you for no reason, you didn’t deserve that but I will explain how it could have had something to do with a guy for many of you. For example, you got into a relationship with some guy, you could have been heavily criticised by other people who also liked and wanted him considered you to be ‘not good enough’ for him just for this guy to break up with you in a disrespectful manner with no regard for you whatsoever, and after that, I’m getting that either the aggression and bullying from other people intensified or the effects of the previous unruly treatment started affecting you intensely.

Many of you have dealt with an abusive situation even if it’s just emotionally though it could have been physically for some of you (by parents, romantic partners, etc.) Do not invalidate your experiences ever because even if others might think that it was not abuse, it definitely was. It affected you so deeply, I’m not even being able to express it properly. I’m just crying right now. If you didn’t deal with any of the above situations. Though, I believe that many of you have dealt with all or at least majority of what I’m mentioning. Then, you dealt with guy friends who were using you for an ego boost and acted as though you wanted them so bad if you simply tried to keep the friendship going or tried to fix things instead of ending them. Guys have made you feel really preyed on. People in general have but guys especially. Some of you could have even dealt with men trying to assault you sexually. It could have been something as simple as someone forcefully kissing you as a child or making you watch porn. Something like this could have happened when you were a teen or an adult too but I just got that since kids are the most vulnerable, it likely happened to many of you as kids. Oh my god, no way. I just heard “he doesn’t like cougars, he likes little kids. He stopped liking me when I turned eighteen.” I feel like your life has always been this way. Having people walk all over you and treat you like shit but it got especially worst in your teen years. I’m not sure what happened at fourteen and seventeen specifically but seventeen was your last straw, and your experiences all the way from when you were fourteen contributed to finally realising the truth. In fact, your experiences before that contributed too but I’m picking up that mistreatment and aggression were/felt the most extremely during your teenage years. Any childhood abuse or mistreatment, or instability, you realised the truth of all of that through what you experienced during your teenage years. People genuinely just lacked compassion towards you and you had to deal with a lot of loneliness.

It is like anytime that you were not keeping to yourself and connecting with others, they were abusing, using and mistreating you. People used to treat you aggressively, make fun of you and mistreat you for their own sick sense of enjoyment, in order to boost their ego, and have fun. I’m so sorry, you didn’t deserve all that. Even when you were with people, you were very lonely and felt insecure, and lacking due to the way they used to treat you and once you finally got away, you felt incredibly insecure, unstable, and lacking but you chose that over mistreatment from others and that’s how you grew. “Don’t be afraid to stand alone. Don’t be afraid to stand outside your comfort zone. I know it’s hard away from home and it ain’t easy all alone.” You had a strong thirst for knowledge from since you were a kid but during this time of loneliness, it transformed into a need. You were seeking truth and clarity because you genuinely needed it to move forward but you have always possessed some sort of a divine knowledge. Which is why you were able to be so compassionate, still and passive at the face of such mistreatment, aggressiveness and lack of compassion. Divinity exists within all of us and you were aware of that. So you naturally acted like the bigger person until you couldn’t anymore but this breakdown caused you to get closer to your own truth. You started realising that while it’s good to learn through external sources, true knowledge and wisdom is something that we are just born with, and that anything else that comes through, it should come from within. For example, we are not born racists, as kids, all we want is to receive and give love, and we are active, and full of life, that’s the only knowledge that truly matters - the ability to be yourself in your highest, most divine and purest form. You also realised just how shitty the treatment that you received in the past was and how lonely, and insecure you were.

You may have felt at home with these people or shared a community with them but even so, you decided to act with integrity and do right by you even if it required loneliness or/and isolation. For some of you, after all of this had passed, you met someone who you felt really at home with but for some reason, you still had to logically act out of fairness and had to reward them with the consequences of their actions rather than with negotiation. The trajectory of your growth has been amazing. One of your strengths is your sense of hope and faith. You felt like you’d never get anything good in life and that your life was doomed, and that you’d be lonely and empty forever but you still kept going, and you managed to get better so now you have hope and faith regarding life. Back then, you just wanted to feel better, get better and now, you have so now you have a sense of direction, you’re focused on nourishing yourself. You are connected to your core essence and are comfortable with your vulnerability, and sense of nakedness i.e. your authenticity. You’re nourishing and loving yourself wholeheartedly in any, and every way possible though. Yes, there’s always room for improvement. Like, for example, you may do your skincare, workout and do your work diligently but you may not eat all three meals so you could work on that, etc. But definitely, you try to make sure to eat even if you’re busy because your nourishment means a lot to you. You might be unable to have all three meals but you try. You’re very intense in terms of romance and also really romantic. but you don’t try to put in time, energy, and effort into romance anymore unless the other person comes to you first and is consistently present, and shows promise of a solid future but you’re very content being alone. You in fact, really enjoy it. You are on a journey of self discovery and improvement, and understand yourself and love very deeply due to how much time you’ve spent alone, by yourself, in contemplation, and soul searching.

You’ve drawn out a lot of wisdom from within yourself. You’re spiritually enlightened and don’t mind being alone or different. Even if it is difficult, even if you’re considered to be difficult, you want to be yourself. “Share my life, take me for what I am cause I’ll never change all my colours for you. Take my love, I’ll never ask for too much, just all that you are and everything that you do.” You’re aware by now that it is nothing except self betrayal to try to earn love by changing yourself because even if you manage to receive love, they won’t be living ‘you’ and if you don’t win them over, you’d have lost yourself in the process, and would feel terrible about yourself so you’d rather be alone but yourself. That one bible story is coming through here. “Jacob agreed to work for seven years to marry Rachel, the woman he loved but was deceived by her father Laban and ended up marrying her older sister, Leah. Though he fulfilled his time and eventually married Rachel too, Jacob loved Rachel more than Leah. Seeing that Leah was unloved, god allowed her to bear children while Rachel remained barren. With each son she bore, Leah hoped that Jacob would finally love her - naming her first Reuben, saying, “now my husband will love me”, her second Simeon because “the lord has heard that I am hated”, and her third Levi, thinking, “now my husband will become attached to me.” However, Jacob’s heart did not change. When she bore her fourth son, Judah, Leah no longer pleaded for her husband’s affection but simply said, “this time I will praise the lord.” You seem to be aware of the fact that love that is not freely given can never be earned so you don’t even try. If you found the kind of love that you desire, if you found someone who loved and cherished you, you would be intensely passionate and romantic, honestly to an extreme but that’s because, that’s just who you are. You’d indulge in it very deeply. You’d experience the feeling of being ‘drunk in love’.

“With you, there’s silence in a crowd. There’s a little unconsciousness, with you, because of you.” You’d make an intense lover who loves incredibly deeply but you’re not interested in trying to earn anyone’s love in order to channel your romantic energy. You might in fact, have these sides of you pretty hidden. All of you have different kinds of personality but all of you have a very meek one. Some of you are more of the silent kind, some of you may be talkative when with others and might seem really social, and some of you might manage to do both but if you do have a talkative and social side, there’s this thing about you in which once you are out of that social situation, you struggle to stay in touch with others, isolate yourself and randomly disappear. Also, the more time that you spend in a social situation and with certain people, the more silent and internal that you tend to get. I’m loving all the messages that are coming through for your strengths. We don’t see through our eyes, we see through our minds. Our eyes are just a medium for us to perceive the external world and interact with it. There’s so much in the world about ‘finding god’ or ‘figuring out the meaning of life’, people just want to know where and how it all started, and where and how we will all end up after death so they seek god but do they really manage to find divinity? Most people don’t because god made it so simple yet so tricky to find them by choosing to reside where they’re currently residing i.e. within each person. Most people aren’t able to comprehend that divinity can reside within them because they think that figuring out the mysteries of life and receiving answers is much more complicated than that, and that’s okay but they’d easily find divinity, god, whatever they want to call it if they only turned their vision inside and looked within themselves. Most of you are aware of this truth so you try to keep yourself as clean, good and pure spirited as possible because divinity should not reside in a dirty place. It does not have to be conscious awareness or conscious trying but you’re just incredibly internal and have learned so much from going within yourself that you’ve found your guide there, your divinity itself and you’re well aligned with your life purpose. If you’re not quite there yet, you soon will be. Thank you so much for reading. I hope that the reading resonated and that it provided you with the answers, and guidance that you wanted and needed. Much love and take care 💋.

[scoobywrites690]

Simons favourite Cam Girl pt2

As I’m writing this we are 100 followers away from 1k followers and I’m so excited! I’ve gotta think of what to do for a 1k special. If anyone has any ideas feel free to let me know. Also what do we think of the account revamp? This piece is so fucking long it’s like 2k words but I love it so much. Part one here

cw: blow job, toys, penetration, cream pie, pussy eating

Even though you earnt a living by exposing yourself to a live audience every night, doesn’t mean you actually know what you’re doing when it comes to having any form of sexual relations with a man. Yes, you’ve slept with a handful of men. But that’s it, so when you offered your favorite and most loyal viewer an offer, you weren’t actually expecting him to agree. 

Yet here you stand face to face with the man who’s supported you right from the beginning of your career. He’s not entirely what you expected, and in all honesty you were expecting some low life loser who lives in their parents basement, which you can now confirm is the complete opposite of the man that you now know as Simon. 

He’s absolutely massive compared to you, in every possible way. He towers over you, dwarfing your entire frame just by standing next to you. His arms are thick and fat with muscle to the point that he doesn’t even need to flex for you to be able to see them, his chest so broad and wide that you’d completely disappear if he stood in front of you.

You had never seen a man so big, which had you questioning if you were ready to take on a man of his size. But it’s too late to back out now. 

“Listen, there's something I need to make clear before we start.” You state, twiddling your thumbs as you find yourself intimidated at the man that stands before you. 

“Anything, doll.” He says, his voice thick and rough.

“I’ve only ever been with a couple of guys. So, I'm not actually a hundred percent sure on what to do.” You admit, looking up to meet his lingering gaze. Scanning his features for any shock or disappointment. As most people would expect a cam girl to have plenty of experience. 

“Don’t you worry, luv. I’ll guide ya.” He says, cupping your face with his giant hands. His hands are rough and hard against your cheeks.

“You sure you still wanna do this?” You ask.

“Of course, I’ve been dreaming of this day since I first discovered you.” He remarks, his voice filled with such joy and happiness that you could have sworn there was a twinkle in his eyes. 

“Okay then, I wasn’t sure if you’d want your face being shown. So I went and grabbed this.” You say as you fish out the mask you brought this morning. It’s not much just a skull mask that comes down over his nose, but it’ll hide any recognizable features if he wants them hidden.

“I didn’t think about that, thank you.” He says, taking the mask from your hand before securing it over his head making sure it’s nice and snug to avoid it slipping down. 

“Okay you ready?” You ask once the mask is secure. 

“Go ahead.” He says, taking a seat on the bed behind you as you start up the live. Your webcam flickers on as the view of yourself soon fills up your screen, it doesn’t take long before the live chat starts filling up with people all greeting you as they enter. 

“Hello everyone!” You exclaim, waving at the camera whilst flashing them a smile.

“I’ve got a little treat in store for you all tonight.” You remark as you watch the chat load comment after comment of people expressing their curiosity. Rolling your chair to the side a bit you reveal the hulking form of Simon sitting on the bed, looking every bit intimidating with his mask on. 

“I invited a very special viewer to join me today! He’s a long time subscriber and a trusted one at that, so I thought he deserved a reward for being so loyal.” You explain.

“I won't make you guys wait any longer though.” You state with a chuckle before making your way over to Simon, his hands reaching out to wrap around your waist the minute you are close enough. Dragging you towards him and hoisting you up into his lap your thighs on either side as you straddle the mammoth of a man. 

His lips meet yours, soft and warm as they press together before his tongue darts out to meet yours, in a sloppy tangled mess. Locking your arms around his neck, your fingers tugging on the short blonde hair at the nape of his neck as you slowly roll your hips grinding yourself against him. A growl like moan rubbles from inside Simon as his hands on your hips help to move you against him. 

“I feel like I’m gonna fuckin’ burst, doll.” He states pulling away from you, his eyes blown with lust as he rakes his eyes over your body. 

“Where’s that toy from last time?” He asks.

“In that box over there.” You state pointing towards the plastic box that sits in the corner. 

Lifting you up and placing you on the bed Simon heads towards the box, removing the lid in search of the fake cock from your previous live stream. It looks nowhere near as big in Simon’s hands compared to when it was in yours, making the struggle that you had using it seem ridiculous and maybe even fake. 

“Open wide for me, dollface. We gotta get you prepped.” He asks, standing in front of you.

“I-I um..I’m not actually very good at doing that.” You admit, your cheeks flushing as embarrassment washes through your body.

“What? Sucking a dick.” He asks, earning him a nod in response as you meet his gaze. 

“I’ve not had a lot of practice.” You say as you twiddle your fingers in your lap.

“S’alright don't worry yourself. I’ll help ya.” He says before dazzling you with a comforting smile. 

“Now open wide. Tongue out. Nice and flat. Like you’re begging for it.” He gruffs gripping ahold of your jaw. Opening your mouth nice and wide sticking your tongue like he asked has Simon groaning at the sight of you sitting so pretty in front of him, as he slides the silicone cock against your extended tongue.

Pushing it back Simon watches as the fake cock fills your mouth, lips thinning as you wrap them around the girth. Dragging it back out watching as your saliva coats the surface just to slide it back in again.

“Can I go deeper?” He asks as he works it in and out. Nodding in response has Simon pumping the fake cock just that little bit deeper.

“Suck for me, but no teeth. Nice and wide just like that.” He demands as he watches you hollow your cheeks.

“Fuck me, I could blown in my jeans just at the sight of you. So fuckin’ beautiful.” He groans as he works the fake cock deeper down your throat, but taking enough care so you don't choke around it. Saliva coats your lips as he pulls the cock out a string of it stretching between you and the toy before he’s pushing it back in.

“You’re doing so well.” He coos running his fingers through your hair making sure to keep it out of the way. 

You can’t help but whimper out at the praise, as you stare up into his piercing gaze. Reaching for his hips you bracing yourself against him, letting your wandering hands roam the expanse of his body. Before palming over his rock-hard cock.

Using both hands you begin tugging at his waistband fumbling with his belt before yanking his jeans down just enough to allow access to his aching cock. Reaching in and pulling it free from the confinements of his boxers. Staring at him as you work your hand up and down his length, with his hips bucking forward in response.

“Fuck!” He exclaims. Pulling the fake cock free from your mouth and throwing it aside before reaching down to lift you. Throwing you further onto the bed. 

“Spread those legs. Lemme see that pretty pussy, baby.” He says from where he stands at the edge of the bed still, removing the jeans that sit at his ankles. Dropping your thighs apart, nice and wide you let him marvel in the sight of your soaked panties.

“Well isn’t that just the prettiest sight.” He remarks tugging his cock, before crawling towards you. Gripping a hold of the flimsy lace that covers you tearing it clean in half. 

Hooking his arms under your thighs spreading you nice and wide before burying his head between your thighs. His tongue is soft and silky as he licks up your slit flicking hard when he meets your clit, that you can’t help but arch up off the bed. 

“Mhm you like that.” He murmurs against you before draping your thighs over his shoulders. Going in for another taste he laps at your slick, sliding his tongue between your folds before sucking your clit into his mouth. 

“God, yes!” You moan as you squeeze your thighs around his head. 

Simon slipping a finger inside of you has you groaning out as you grind your hips against his face. 

“Do you want another one? Get you nice and ready for my cock, mhm?” He asks, dragging his eyes up to meet yours.

“Yes!” You nod, frantically as your claw at the sheets beneath you. 

And he does just that, slipping another finger inside your sopping core pumping them nice and fast in and out of you as he sucks at your clit.

“Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.” You curse.

“Cum for me, baby. All over my face, give it to me.” He demands. Your body jerks as your muscles spasm, clenching around his fingers before releasing all over him. Simon laps at your pussy, licking up every drop of cum he can get before sucking your release off his own fingers. 

“Fuck me.” You pant, chest heaving as you lay there in the middle of the bed.

“You like that?” He smirks, knowing damn well he just made you cum harder than any toy has been able to. 

“You okay?” He chuckles, grabbing ahold of your hands and pulling you up onto your knees.

“Yeah, j-just gimme a second.” You pant, as he positions you at the end of the bed again. 

“Here, wanna have a proper go?” He asks as he tugs at his cock, his tip throbbing as it drips pre cum. And you can't help but nod eagerly at the opportunity.

“Take it. With both hands. Get it nice and wet for me.” He says aligning his tip against your lips. The taste of the salty pre cum coats your lips like gloss.  Your tongue darts out lapping at the liquid. Slipping your lips down over his swollen tip, you let yourself feel every ridge and vein as you glide across them with your tongue.

“Fuck. That’s it, doll. A bit deeper f’me” He coaxes. 

Pulling more of him into your mouth the same way he did with the fake cock earlier, you let his length fill your mouth and the noises of pleasure that slip past his lips has your pussy getting wetter and wetter, dripping with arousal. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” He moans. His hands gripping at your hair before pulling you off of his cock. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask, worry flooding your system at the thought of doing something wrong.

“Nothing, luv. I’m gonna end up blowing down your throat if you keep it up. And that’s not where I want it.” He says as he cups your cheek, rubbing his thumb across the expanse of your cheek before planting a kiss to your forehead. 

“How do you feel about sitting on me cock, baby?” He asks.

“I think I can do that.” You answer.

“Just say if you don’t wanna, alright?” He says whilst propping himself up against the head board. 

“Okay.” You nod before straddling him, his massive hands coming down to grip your waist.

“Nice and slow, okay.” He says as he helps you position yourself above his cock. Splaying your hands across his chest you inch yourself backwards aligning yourself with his tip.

Your legs straining as you lower yourself down, his tip hitting against your entrance has you stifling a moan as you sink yourself down onto him. Slowly each inch disappears inside of you stretching your tight little pussy around his massive cock. He’s so fucking thick that you find yourself letting out a whimper as he rubs against your walls.

“I feel so full.” You groan, earning you a chuckle in response as you work the last few inches inside of you. 

“You look so beautiful right now, doll face.” He says, releasing his grip on your waist to pull your tits free of the lace bra that you’ve still got on. 

“Fuck me. Look at these beauties." He remarks, squeezing at the fat of your breasts before wrapping his mouth around your rock hard nipple. 

“Fuck!” You moan as you slide the last inch of his cock inside of you, your pussy flush with his pelvis.

“How do you feel?” He asks releasing your nipple from his mouth with a pop.

“So fucking good.” You groan “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this good.” You state. 

Simon chuckles at your statement before planting a firm grip to your waist.

“Come on then. Move these hips, baby.” He says, giving you a slight tap to the ass before beginning to lift you upwards. The feel of his cock dragging against your walls has your eyes rolling back as you bounce yourself up and down his length. Rocking yourself backwards and forward has your clit brushing up against him causing you to squirm and clench around him. 

You can't help but pant out curse after curse as you swivel your hips on top of him.

“Atta girl. Ride me.” He groans, folding his arms behind his head so he can marvel in your beauty. 

Sweat coats your skin as you grip and claw at the skin of his chest, every part of your body trembles as you force yourself to keep going. 

“You gonna cum for me?” He asks.

“Yes. God yes!” You moan, your hands coming up to play with your own nipples as you bounce back onto his cock. 

“That’s it. Give it to me, baby.” He coos. His hands coming back to your waist to help you rock yourself back against him. His cock fills you to the brim as you clench down around him, your body shaking with the intensity of your approaching orgasm. 

“Fuck, baby.” Simon groans as he slams you down onto his cock, holding you in place as he releases inside of you, rope after rope of thick pearly cum coats your walls as you milk him dry. 

“Fuck.” You pant, rolling yourself off of him and onto the bed. 

“You okay?” Simon asks, propping himself up on his elbows to look at you. 

“I’m so good right now.” You state, as a smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

“That’s good.” He says smirking, before placing a kiss against your lips. Soft and gentle before pulling away, to get up. 

Walking towards the webcam, Simon takes a quick glance at the live chat, that’s flooding in message after message. 

“I can see you all enjoyed that, very much.” He chuckles.

But I’ve gotta go take care of her now.” He says before switching the camera off, not even bothering to say goodbye before he's turning back towards where you lay, taking the mask off.

“Let's get you cleaned up, aye.” He says, scooping you up off the bed and walking you towards the bathroom. Where he perches you on the counter so he can start running the bath.

[the-almighty-pen]

Tbh if Arthur would’ve live, you best believe the first thing he would’ve asked would’ve been for Merlin. And Merlin’s dumbass would’ve left Camelot because he thought when Arthur woke up, he would hate him. Expect for the fact Arthur had spent hours on his back, coughing up his own blood, enough time to think about his life choices.

Which would lead to an injured Arthur sneaking out of the castle in the middle of the night to hunt Merlin down.

Merlin would think Arthur was there to kill him or argue or both. “I fucking did it for Camelot, I did it for you.”

Arthur would be so frustrated, using his horse to help him stand. “For fuck sakes Merlin, let me get this out!”

Que Arthur falling to his knees because he can’t stand on his own. Profusely begging for forgiveness in the middle of the forest. “Magic is no longer illegal, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for treating you like shit, I’m sorry for what I said, I’m sorry you couldn’t be honest with me. I’m sorry you didn’t feel comfortable enough to tell me your secrets, when you know every single one of mine.- I’m sorry you couldn’t trust me. Im a sorry king. A king who can’t even keep himself alive. Im a fucking dollop. Please come back home, I need you. I can’t be king without you. I will fail.”

“That’s another problem isn’t it.” Merlin at this point is very much over everything. Not fully convinced he could come back. Already fully detached, a hole in his heart. The wish of normalcy forgotten, along with the comforts of Camelot, all of it was left in that field. “You don’t need me to be a good king.”

“Thats not what I’m saying” Arthur falls trying to stand, trying to get closer. Merlin doesn’t move, he doesn’t help. He lets Arthur look sorry. He lets Arthur look like a sorry man in poor health and in poor spirits.

“It’s what it sounds like.”

“I’m sorry” Arthur’s winded at this point, in a lot of pain. Merlin bitterly would think, yeah you fucking look like it. Yet he’d be shocked with what Arthur follows up with. “Let me rephrase, I need you. What then if I just need you, would you come home. Not King. Me. Just Arthur. What if I say I don’t want to be King unless you’re there by my side. Should I be begging you to take me with instead? I’m sorry we don’t have to go home, we can go anywhere else. I’m sorry, please just don’t leave me.”

(Bonus: the chaos from Camelot (the knights in particular) that ensues when they get back, riding the same horse)

It’s the King!!!!!!! Oh my god he’s a live!!! Oh my god wait….. is that… is that fucking Merlin. Merlin came back after everything. Merlin saved the kings sorry ass once again.)

No more Merlin begging for Arthur’s forgiveness after the magic reveal I think Arthur should have to beg and plead and sob for Merlins forgiveness. I think he should have to fall to his knees and babble apologies for how awfully he’s treated him and how he’d do anything to make it up to Merlin for everything he’s ever done and said, not only against magic but also against Merlin. Idk

[heyitspapayaontop]

Second Sector

Request: anon !

Pairing: Dad!Lando Norris x Driver!Son!Reader

Themes: Angst

Warnings: car crash, injury description (nothing graphic), near death/mentions of it, medical mentions

Summary: after y/n suffered a terrifying crash at the Red Bull ring, Lando has to figure out what to do. Calming his son/ (More himself though.) And working on helping him heal.

A/N: no names of actual current f4 drivers were said bc its in the near-ish future and reader is apt 14, do some math if you'd like but don't think tm act it!! there will be a part two to this specific one, but I couldn't finish it atm, this is as far as my motivation can go sorry! enjoy!

Saturday at the Red Bull Ring.

The Red Bull Ring—man, it’s gorgeous in that “might kill you if you blink” kind of way. All those rolling green hills and sneaky dips, blind corners just waiting to ruin someone’s afternoon. It’s the sort of place that keeps everyone’s nerves jangling, mechanics and dads alike.

Lando Norris stood there on the pit wall, arms tight across his chest, McLaren hoodie on, but he wasn't looking at the scenery. Not even glancing at the track, really. His eyes were glued to Car #17. His kid.

Y/N had been on it all weekend. Quick as hell in practice. Didn’t flinch in the rain. Nailed qualifying. But something felt off this morning. Not just the car—him, too. Different edge.

“Still got the Red Bull kid rattling around in your head?” Lando threw it out there, eyes still locked on the timing screen.

Y/N’s voice came over the radio, dry as toast. “No.”

Yeah, right. Lando knew a fib from his kid a mile off.

Friday – The Day Before

FP2 was a mess.

Turn 3—classic. Y/N dived for the inside. Elias Voss, the Red Bull Academy’s newest wonderboy, tried to hang it round the outside. Neither of them lifted. So, naturally, Y/N’s front wing went bye-bye, and Voss got a face full of gravel.

Cue drama. Voss’s team was fuming. “Reckless!” “Entitled!” All the greatest hits.

Stewards called it just a racing thing, but the paddock loved to gossip.

“Bet Norris thinks he’s untouchable now.”

“Silver spoon, gets away with anything.”

Y/N heard every word. Pretended he didn’t.

Back to Saturday

Lap 14.

Everything goes sideways.

Happens in a blink, as usual.

Voss is right there again, lining him up into Turn 3. Déjà vu.

Lando leans in, practically chewing his nails. “Don’t fight it too hard,” he mutters. “Let him screw up.”

But Y/N? He’s not backing out.

Tires touch. That sound—metal, rubber, chaos. Smoke. Debris everywhere.

Car #17 launches, spins, smacks the barriers so hard you could feel it in your teeth. Even the engineers stagger back, pale.

The whole world just… stops.

“Red flag. Red flag. Medical team dispatched.”

Lando’s off like a shot. Doesn’t care about credentials or radios or anyone yelling at him. He’s running, pure dad mode.

The Wreck

Marshals’ve already swarmed the mess. Wheel over here. Halo’s got a nasty crack. The car’s twisted in ways it shouldn’t be.

Lando shoves through the crowd and finds him.

Y/N’s slumped over, helmet askew, not moving.

“Y/N!” Lando drops, knees on tarmac. “Hey, buddy, c’mon. Open your eyes, look at me.”

Medic grabs him, pulls him back. “We need space, possible spinal.”

Lando stumbles away, can’t breathe, just staring at the kid in the mangled car.

Time crawls.

Then—was that a twitch? A noise? Yeah. Y/N’s alive.

Hospital – Graz University Clinic

Broken arm, cracked ribs, concussion, bruises everywhere, a bit of a spinal scare—but he’s gonna make it.

He’s out cold, though.

Lando sits there, holding his son’s hand, mumbling stuff he should’ve said ages ago.

“You don’t have to prove a damn thing. Not to them. Not to me. Especially not to me.”

Wipes his eyes, trying to play it cool.

“You’re already everything I hoped you’d be.”

Sunday Night

Y/N wakes up just as the sun’s ducking out.

Eyes flutter, sharp breath, groan.

Lando’s right there.

“Hey, hey. I got you, I’m here.”

Y/N blinks up, groggy. “Did I crash?”

Lando nods, smiling through tears. “Oh yeah. Massive one. Gave your old man a few grey hairs.”

“Voss?”

“He’s fine. You will be too. Just not today.”

Y/N glances at his cast, then his chest, and his face kind of crumples.

“I thought I was better than that. I thought I could—”

“Stop.” Lando’s suddenly all business. “You don’t get to do that. Not when you’re the one in the hospital bed.”

Silence.

Finally: “I was scared.”

Lando squeezes his hand. “Me too. But you’re here. That’s what counts.”

Three Weeks Later – Home

Recovery sucks.

Y/N’s hating every minute. The quiet, the ache, the way every tiny thing feels like screwing up.

But Lando’s there. Every physio, every stretch, every crap night when the pain comes roaring back.

He never says it, but Y/N knows:

I’d take the crash for you if I could.

But this time, all he can do is stick around and help him through it.

One Month Later – Back at the Track

No racing yet. Just walking the paddock, getting his bearings.

People look. Whisper.

Voss walks by, eyes flickering, maybe a little sorry.

Y/N stares him down. Doesn’t even flinch.

Lando, hiding behind his shades, grins.

“You scared the hell outta me, you know.”

Y/N bumps him with his shoulder. “You already said that.”

“Still true.”

They stand there together in the shadow of the Red Bull Ring—the same place that broke him, and the same place he’s back again.

Not a ghost.

A survivor.

[darkparablesfan]

Hello again! I am here again with some headcanons. This for a fan event that me and a friend of mine @shuji123 made up!

The event basically is based on Cinderella.

People wears magical glass slippers that leads them to the dance floor where they would dance with their fated true love. However they also been enchanted by a face blind spell that will only disappear once the dance is over.

Here is the boys reactions when they see you as their fated true love.

🌹 Riddle Rosehearts

As the enchantment shatters like spun glass, Riddle turns with a calm breath—expecting decorum.

Then he sees you.

His expression freezes. For a split second, he doesn’t speak—he just stares, eyes wide and full of quiet disbelief. “You…?” The word is barely above a whisper.

Then the guilt sets in. How many times has he scolded you for things you did with good intentions? How many times did you show him kindness anyway? He takes a step forward, voice trembling. “I… I never imagined it could be you. But… I’m glad it is.”

---

♣️ Trey Clover

The moment the spell fades, Trey blinks slowly, turning toward the person who had just been laughing softly with him about his “two left feet.”

“Y/N?”

His smile comes easily—gentle, warm, a little shy around the edges. “Guess the stars were right—you are my perfect match.” He chuckles quietly, then takes off his glasses to clean them—nerves creeping up behind his calm demeanor. “Well, if you’ll have me… I’d be honored to keep dancing with you, glass slippers or not.”

---

♦️ Cater Diamond

He opens his eyes, expecting something MagiCam-worthy. But when he sees you, he just stops.

Like the music vanished.

His painted-on grin falters for a heartbeat, replaced with something real. His brows rise—he’s stunned. Then he lets out a small, breathless laugh. “Woah. You’re seriously my match?” And then softer, “I mean… wow. It feels right.”

Then he’s back to beaming. “Gonna need a selfie with you ASAP, babe~ This moment? Totally priceless.”

---

♥️ Ace Trappola

When the magic lifts, Ace looks around like “okay, let’s get this over with.”

And then—he sees You.

His entire face short-circuits.

“Wha—HUH?! You’re kidding, right?” He laughs, flustered, then rubs the back of his neck with a huff. “I mean—not that I’m complaining or anything, but seriously? You?”

Then, with a rare, genuine softness: “…Guess that explains why dancing with you didn’t suck.” He grins, cheeks red. “Don’t get used to the flattery, ‘kay?”

---

♠️ Deuce Spade

The spell breaks—and Deuce turns to look at his partner, expecting someone graceful, someone elegant...

Instead, he sees you. His eyes go huge. “Y-Y/N?!”

He stumbles over his own feet. “I—I didn’t… You’re my…? Oh man.” His hands hover awkwardly like he’s not sure whether to bow or apologize. Then, slowly, a sincere smile spreads across his face.

“I’m really happy. I can’t believe it’s you… but I’m so glad it is.” He gently offers his hand again—his ears pink. “If it’s okay… can we dance one more time? Just us.”

---

🦁 Leona Kingscholar

The spell lifts, and Leona exhales, impatient. He turns lazily—bored and ready to brush the whole thing off.

But then… he sees you.

His eyes narrow. Then open.

“…Tch.”

You. Of all people.

He looks away for a long moment, jaw clenched. “You?” he mutters under his breath. Not angry—afraid. Because someone like you is dangerous. You are the type that could slip under his guard and stay.

“…You’re really unlucky, you know,” he finally says, voice low. “Getting stuck with a guy like me.”

But he doesn’t walk away.

He stays.

Because deep down, maybe this cursed glass slipper finally fits.

---

🐶 Ruggie Bucchi

The magic fades—and Ruggie blinks fast. His face scrunches up as he sees who it is.

“Wait… huh?! Y/N?!”

He actually chokes on his own spit, then laughs out loud in disbelief.

“Nooo way. Seriously?! You got scammed by fate, huh?” But the laughter doesn’t reach his eyes. Because behind the joke is a flash of awe, a quiet flutter of something he doesn’t think he deserves.

“You… you sure this ain’t some fluke?” he asks quietly, voice softer than usual. And when you smile at him?

He grins, a little crooked.

“…Guess I better stop skipping out on breakfast. Got someone to impress now.”

---

🐺 Jack Howl

Jack feels the magic vanish—and his instincts kick in before his thoughts do. He turns and locks eyes with you.

“…!”

His mouth parts, stunned. “Y/N…?”

He’s completely still. Like someone punched him straight in the chest. His ears twitch, and he looks away almost immediately, the tips of them bright red.

“I—I don’t get it,” he says. “You… you’re always so kind. And strong. Why would someone like you be fated for someone like me?”

Then, more quietly:

“…But I’m not gonna reject it. I’ll work hard to be worthy of it. Of you.”

He gently, almost shyly, holds out his hand again.

---

🐙 Azul Ashengrotto

The enchantment fades. Azul brushes a hand through his hair, ready to paste on his usual pleasant smile—

—and freezes.

His glasses nearly slip off.

“Y/N?” he breathes, startled. His brain short-circuits—surely not. Surely fate wouldn't be so cruel.

Because you’re the one person who helped him, smiled at him, saw through him without demanding a single thing.

His heart sinks.

“This must be a mistake,” he says stiffly, guarding his voice behind a businesslike tone. “You deserve someone… far more noble. Someone better.”

But when you step toward him—soft eyes, genuine smile—his walls crack just a little.

“…I’ll protect this bond,” he murmurs, barely audible. “Even if it’s fragile. Even if it’s foolish.”

---

🍄‍🟫 Jade Leech

The magic lifts. Jade’s ever-present grin flickers into something still. Almost… unreadable.

“Well,” he says smoothly, tilting his head as he stares directly at her. “How utterly unexpected.”

And yet—his heart skips.

You are the one?

The gentle, intuitive person who treated even him with warmth? The one who brought him wildflowers once, just because?

He steps closer with deliberate calm, but there’s a rare glint in his eye—something almost reverent.

“…You do realize what this means, don’t you?” he murmurs. “You’ve wandered into very deep waters, dear Y/N.”

His smile returns—still sharp, but now laced with something tender.

“I hope you’ll let me keep you safe in them.”

---

🦈 Floyd Leech

The second the spell breaks, Floyd whips around in excitement.

“Oi~! Who’s my shrimpy fate—”

Then sees you.

Stares.

Eyes wide. Expression unreadable. For a long second, he’s just… silent.

“…Eh?”

Then it hits.

Like lightning.

A gigantic grin spreads across his face.

“EH?? SHRIMPY?? YOU’RE MINE?? AHAHAHA!! THIS IS SO FUNNY!!”

He grabs you, spins you around. “Now you can’t escape, y’know? Not from fate~!”

But even through the playful tone, there’s a weird softness in his eyes when he looks at you.

“…You really danced with me, huh?” he says, quieter now. “Guess you’re stuck with me forever, Y/N~ …That okay?”

---

☀️ Kalim Al-Asim

The moment the magic lifts, Kalim gasps—

“Y/N?!”

He beams, eyes shining like a child on Christmas morning. It’s not confusion—it’s pure, overflowing joy.

He clasps your hands instantly.

“I can’t believe it was you! That’s amazing! I knew you felt so warm—but you?!”

And then? He laughs. Bright and loud and full of delight.

He whirls you into another impromptu spin. The music may be over, but Kalim is still dancing.

“I’m the luckiest guy in the world! You’re my destined one?! I’m gonna tell Jamil! We’re gonna throw a whole party just for this!”

But when things quiet down, he leans in close and says more gently—

“…I really hope I can make you as happy as you make me everyday.”

---

🐍 Jamil Viper

The spell breaks.

Jamil stares. His entire posture stiffens.

He looks at you like someone just told him the moon is in love with the sea.

“You—”

He stops himself.

His heart is racing.

Not because you’re unsuitable. But because you are everything he never dared imagine he could have.

Someone too kind. Too selfless. Too good.

And you are his?

He steps back slightly, gaze guarded, walls going up by instinct.

“…This doesn’t make sense,” he says. “Fate must be mistaken.”

But then he sees your eyes—that look—and his breath hitches.

You're not afraid. You are not second-guessing. You’re just there. Standing there with open arms.

And something inside Jamil breaks—in the best way. His arms wrapped around you.

“…Don’t disappear,” he says quietly. “If this is real… then stay.”

---

💄 Vil Schoenheit

The moment the spell fades and your face becomes clear, Vil’s breath halts.

His eyes widen just a little—barely perceptible to others, but a storm of surprise in his heart.

“…You.”

He says it softly. Like a revelation.

Not in disdain.

Not in disappointment.

But with a kind of reverence he didn’t know he was capable of.

“You’re… my fated one?”

Vil steps closer. He studies you—truly sees you.

Not just your softness or your sweetness—but your strength too. The quiet kind. The kind that shines brightest under pressure.

He exhales, then offers you a hand once more.

“Then I am lucky. Because to be paired with someone like you—someone so sincere… I must be doing something right.”

And though he hides it well, there’s a faint pink dusting his cheeks.

---

🏹 Rook Hunt

“Mon dieu…”

The moment he sees you, Rook presses a hand to his heart like he’s been shot.

His entire face lights up—thrilled, amazed, deeply enchanted.

“Quelle beauté, quelle grâce—! My dear, to think it was you! My heart knew your soul long before my eyes saw your face!”

He circles around you with practiced grace, admiring every gesture, every shift of expression. Not to make you uncomfortable—but like a painter taking in their muse.

“It must be fate. There’s no other explanation for the perfection of this pairing!”

He kisses your hand dramatically.

“I shall devote myself to uncovering every layer of your mystery, ma colombe. This is but the beginning of our story~”

---

🍎 Epel Felmier

“...Wait. Y/N?”

He freezes.

Stares.

His ears go red instantly.

“Wha—You—you’re the person I was dancing with?!”

It short-circuits his brain.

Sure, it felt nice during the dance. Gentle. Comforting. But You?!

He splutters. He’s embarrassed. He doesn't know where to look. His image!! What would Vil say?!

“…W-Well, it’s not like I’m upset or nothin’! I mean, you’re great! I just—uh—wow, seriously? You?”

Then, sheepishly, he mutters under his breath:

“…I guess I’m kinda glad it was you.”

But he won’t say it again.

Unless you asks. (Then maybe.)

---

💻 Idia Shroud

"..."

The silence lasts too long.

The second your face comes into focus, Idia freezes like a computer crashing mid-update.

No words. Just big, horrified eyes and visible internal screaming.

“Y/N?! A-Are you sure the spell's not glitching? Maybe it didn’t update—Did anyone patch-check this thing—?!”

His hair flares pink and blue in chaotic, panicked pulses.

Because out of everyone, it had to be you.

The person who brings food to his dorm, talks gently to Ortho, and—worse of all—smiles at him like he’s someone worth smiling at.

He flails for an escape route, mumbles excuses, nearly trips over the hem of his coat—

But before he can run off, he glances back.

You’re still there. Looking at him. Softly. Not laughing. Not mocking. Just… warm.

And he short-circuits again.

“...N-No way someone like you got stuck with someone like me…”

Yet maybe—just maybe—a part of him is happy.

(Ortho will never let him live it down.)

Ortho beams like a kid on their birthday.

Then, more seriously, he floats up a little closer.

“...Please be patient with Nii-san. He gets scared easily. But I think you might be the one person brave enough to reach him.”

---

🐉 Malleus Draconia

The spell breaks—and he blinks.

You.

You were the one he’d danced with. The one who laughed so gently at his awkward steps. Who offered their hand without hesitation. Who didn’t shy away from the magic in the air—or in him.

A long silence. His expression unreadable at first.

Then, a slow, blooming smile—one that feels like dusk melting into moonlight.

“So… it was you.”

His voice is deep, low, fond.

He gently holds your hand—carefully, reverently. Not as a prince, but as someone who’s been alone for a very long time, and now finds himself seen.

“I have never dare to dream of having someone that the stars sent for me,” he murmurs, “and yet here you are. A light that chose to walk with a shadow.”

He bows over your hand—no grandeur, no theatrics. Just genuine warmth.

“If you will allow it… I would like to remain at your side for all the dances yet to come.”

---

🦇 Lilia Vanrouge

“Oh ho~?”

The moment the spell lifts and he sees you, Lilia’s eyes sparkle with mischief—and something softer underneath.

“Well, well, well. I must have done something good if the stars paired me with you~.”

He takes your hand with a little flourish, still playful—but there’s a rare sincerity in the way his gloved fingers curl around yours.

“You were quite the enchanting partner. Even with the mystery magic... I felt it was you.”

His tone dips briefly, more honest.

“You remind me of the world I used to dream of. Soft, but strong. Kind, but never naive. Someone who could weather even the harshest of times with their heart still intact.”

He winks. “Looks like I just found a reason to stay here a while longer.”

---

⚡ Sebek Zigvolt

“…!!!”

Sebek freezes. His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.

“Y-You—!? Y/N?!”

His face turns bright red.

He is absolutely malfunctioning.

“I- I mean— IT IS AN HONOR! A-AN UNEXPECTED ONE! TO BE DESTINED —TO YOU!”

He straightens up immediately, hand over his heart like he’s pledging to protect you in battle for the rest of his life.

(Which, let’s be honest, he might.)

“You danced… excellently! Yes! You upheld the decorum of the event beautifully! The grace, the dignity—! I was impressed! No—moved!”

He pauses. Lowers his voice, just barely.

“…You’re very gentle. Even to someone like me. That’s… I’ll treasure that.”

He bows stiffly, then softly says:

“I’ll guard you as if you were royalty.”

---

🌘 Silver

He blinks slowly.

“…It was you?”

He sounds… a little dazed. He hadn’t expected it. But as he looks at you, something quiet and peaceful settles behind his eyes.

“…That makes sense.”

There’s a slight flush on his cheeks, but his voice is calm—serene, like morning mist.

“You’ve always made me feel at peace. Even when I’m tired, I can hear your voice and feel safe.”

He gently takes your hand and holds it like it’s something fragile. Precious.

“I would like to keep walking beside you… if you’ll let me.”

And for a moment, just one moment, you swear the usually drowsy Silver smiles—a soft, open smile, like sunlight through clouds.

Hope you guys liked them! 🥰

[seitmai]

Many thoughts

Rhett tipped his hat back with one hand, looking down at you with a sleepy half-smile. “Could’ve let you sleep in the truck.” “You almost did,” you reminded him, voice soft. “Then you got all... chivalrous on me.” He smirked. “I ain’t chivalrous.”

Sounds chivalrous to me tho 🤷🏻‍♀️🤭

He looked at you for a beat. Shrugged. “Maybe I like the quiet. Maybe I like having somewhere to go when the house feels too damn loud.”

Fair

You reached up, brushed a strand of his hair back. “Maybe you like having somewhere to bring me.” Rhett didn’t answer.

Sometimes, no answer is as good as an answer 😌

Neither of you said it, but it hung there — soft and weightless and dangerous. You liked this too much.

There is no liking this too much!

“You always keep two mugs in your man cave?” you teased. “One’s mine,” he said, offering you the other. “Other one’s for when Amy hangs out here. Or, y’know, emergency cuddling.” You snorted into the cup. “Emergency cuddling? That a regular occurrence?” Rhett sat back down at the edge of the daybed, his thigh warm against yours. “Wouldn’t call it regular,” he muttered, “but I’m not complainin’." You smiled over your mug. “You’re getting soft, Abbott.”

🥰🥰🥰

You jabbed a finger at his side. “You were the one who pulled me in.” “You were shivering.” “You were touch-starved.” He opened his mouth. Closed it. Shrugged. “Still am.”

I love how he acknowledges that he is touch starved 🥹

“It ain’t much.” “It’s yours,” you said. “And you let me in.”

🥰🥰🥰

Her head tilted. “Are you… hiding something?” “Nope. Just—privacy. Adult privacy.”

To answer "no im not hiding anything" is not anything that will deter especially a kid from finding out exactly what one is hiding 😂

She turned and bolted like her life depended on it.“*GRAAAAAANDMAAAAAAAA—UNCLE RHETT IS HIDING A GIRL IN THE BARN—AND THEY’RE—THEY’RE DATING OR CUDDLING OR—*BOTH!!”

This just killed me 😂😂😂

Cecilia stood on the porch with a coffee mug in hand, robe cinched tight, and the kind of expression that could drop a grown man to his knees.

Oh bet 100% believe that

You could just make out Royal through the screen door, sitting at the kitchen table like it was any other morning — newspaper in hand, unbothered by the chaos brewing around him.

Haha he is so unbothered, just another morning 😅

“Amy!” Perry’s voice rang out. “What do you mean ‘with a girl in the barn’?! What the hell did you just say?!” You and Rhett exchanged a look. “Should we run?” you whispered. Rhett muttered, “You think we’d make it to the truck?” “Nope.”

Well there goes the escape plan 😅

You tugged Rhett’s flannel tighter around yourself, painfully aware of your bed hair, crinkled clothes, and complete lack of an escape plan. Cecilia didn’t miss it. “Why don’t you head inside and wash up a little, sweetheart?” she said, not unkindly. “There’s a mirror in the downstairs bathroom. I’ll be right here when you’re done.” You blinked. “Right. Yes. Thank you.”

Thank you Cecilia 🙏🏻

“They weren’t doing anything!” Amy insisted, indignant. “But she was totally in there, and Uncle Rhett was standing in front of her like a guard dog, and he had a blanket and everything!”

I love Amy and her continued arguing of the situation haha

Perry’s voice now: “Wait, what kind of blanket?” “Like a snuggle blanket! The one he keeps on the chair!”

This is so randomly specific in question and answer 😂

Amy piped up proudly. “Yeah, but you were standing in front of her all weird, like you didn’t want me to see!”

And she couldn't be more proud of her role in all of this 😅

Perry walked in, coffee halfway poured. “So, just to clarify... no pants came off, but you still got caught red-handed?” “Perry!” Rhett snapped. “What? It’s a valid question.”

Sibling behavior at its best 😂

Amy blinked. “She looked very awake when I saw her.” “You screamed.” Rhett rubbed his face. “Everyone would look awake after that.”

Fair

Cecilia looked amused. “And you’ve been seeing each other for how long?” “Awhile,” you said honestly. Royal finally turned a page. “Could’ve just told us.”

Not Royal randomly piping in lol

Cecilia ignored him. “I made pancakes,” she said instead, her tone flipping from cool matriarch to warm grandma in a heartbeat. “Sit. Eat. You can be embarrassed with food in your mouth like the rest of us.”

Pancakes are a great icebreaker

Behind you, Amy whispered to Perry: “Told you she was his girlfriend.” Perry leaned in, smirking. “Yeah. And last month you said the chicken coop was haunted.”

😂😂😂

You sat at the kitchen table, sandwiched between Cecilia’s warm judgment and Amy’s smug little grin.

Haha not awkward at all 😅

Cecilia calmly refilled your coffee. “I figured something was going on when you started washing your hair more often.” “I always wash my hair,” Rhett grumbled. “Not in a way that involved cologne,” she replied smoothly.

True love haha

Royal didn’t look up from his newspaper. “You told me she was ‘helping out with horses.’” “She was,” Rhett said defensively. “With her face two inches from yours?” Amy chirped.

Amy kills me with her comments 😂

“Don’t forget your dishes,” Cecilia called after him. He waved a hand without turning around. “She’s got ’em.” You blinked. “I do?” “Please?” he added, glancing back at you with something halfway between guilt and pleading. You sighed dramatically, grabbed two plates, and stood. “Only because you took the fall.”

Rhett is such a drama queen it's comical

Rhett opened the screen door. “I’m going to stand in the sun and pretend none of you exist.” “Love you too,” Cecilia called sweetly.

Ah family 😅

“I wasn’t tryin’ to hide you,” he went on. “I just… didn’t wanna share you yet. I liked it better when it was just us. Felt safer.” You reached out, brushing your fingers along the seam of his jeans. “I know what you meant. And I liked it too. But I don’t mind this, either.”

🥹🥹🥹

He let out a breath — not quite a laugh. “You don’t mind Amy screaming it from the rooftops?” “She screamed dating or cuddling or both, Rhett. I feel like we got off easy.”

Valid 😅

“Nope. I mean…” He glanced toward the house. “You can stay in my room this time. Save me the heart attack.” You looked up at him, eyes warm. “Only if you promise not to stand in front of me like a human shield again.” He laughed. “No promises. I panicked.” “I know. It was kinda hot.”

🤭🤭🤭

The table was actually set. Cecilia used the cloth one — the good one, the one she only pulled out for holidays and suspiciously formal guests. Royal had even changed his shirt. Perry was still Perry, but slightly less feral. Amy was writing in a notebook. You chose not to ask.

Not Amy taking notes 😂

Amy got through eleven questions. Perry made three jokes about eloping. Rhett kicked him under the table twice. Cecilia beamed the entire time like she was already planning a wedding in her head. And Royal, in the quietest moment of the night, looked at you and said: “You make him better.”

🥹🥹🥹

“So… next dinner, you gonna let me hold your hand?” He froze for half a beat. Then reached over — slow, quiet, sure — and laced his fingers through yours. “Next dinner,” he murmured, “you’re sittin’ in my lap.”

Don't threaten me with a good time 😌🤭

I have smth, someone walking in on reader and rhett but it's secret relationship and no hanky panky just like cuddling or reader is sleeping !!

Yours, Officially

A/N: THIS IS MAD CUTE AND I DEFINITELY WENT A LITTLE OVERBOARD 😭 but honestly, Outer Range doesn’t give us nearly enough sweet family moments — so I took matters into my own hands. Warnings: this one’s gonna pull you deeper into Rhett spiralling territory… you will fall for him. again. harder. Masterlist Feedback and reposts are appreciated  ☀️

The light coming through the cracks in the old barn wall was soft and golden, spilling faint stripes across the daybed. Dust floated in the air like something out of a dream, and the only sound in the room was the slow, even rhythm of Rhett’s breathing.

You didn’t remember falling asleep.

You remembered the late drive through the backroads, headlights bouncing along the dirt, Rhett drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the radio. You remembered his voice, low and lazy, saying, “Ain’t no sense sending you home this late. I’ve got a setup in the barn. S’quiet. No one’ll know.”

You remembered thinking: he makes it sound like hiding you’s something sacred.

And now here you were.

Wrapped in a blanket that smelled like hay and cedar and him. One arm thrown over the pillow. The other—

The other was tangled with Rhett’s.

He’d slid into the daybed sometime during the night. Big body curled into yours, one leg draped over your calves, hand resting at your waist. He was warm, shirt rumpled, hat tipped low over his face, the edge of his jaw brushing the crown of your head.

You should’ve moved. You really should’ve.

Instead, you stayed there. Let the moment settle. Let the silence stretch. Let yourself feel, just for a second, like you belonged to something that wasn’t allowed yet.

“Y’awake?” he murmured, voice still gravelled with sleep. You blinked, nose brushing his flannel. “I am now.” His fingers tightened just slightly at your side. “Wasn’t sure. You didn’t elbow me once all night.” “Miracle,” you yawned, shifting just enough to look at him. “This your idea of hospitality?” Rhett tipped his hat back with one hand, looking down at you with a sleepy half-smile. “Could’ve let you sleep in the truck.” “You almost did,” you reminded him, voice soft. “Then you got all... chivalrous on me.” He smirked. “I ain’t chivalrous.” “You dragged a whole daybed into your man cave.” “It was already here,” he mumbled. You raised a brow. “In your secret barn hideout?” He looked at you for a beat. Shrugged. “Maybe I like the quiet. Maybe I like having somewhere to go when the house feels too damn loud.” You reached up, brushed a strand of his hair back. “Maybe you like having somewhere to bring me.”

Rhett didn’t answer. Just leaned down a little, forehead nudging yours, and let out a slow breath.

Neither of you said it, but it hung there — soft and weightless and dangerous.

You liked this too much.

And it couldn’t stay secret forever.

---

You shifted slightly beneath the blanket, propping yourself up on one elbow as Rhett swung his legs off the daybed and stretched. The hem of his t-shirt lifted just enough to flash the waistband of his jeans, and yes — even half-asleep, the man still had the audacity to look good.

He ran a hand through his hair and reached for the dented thermos on the shelf behind him.

“Want some?”

You nodded, watching as he poured into one of two chipped mugs sitting on the tiny workbench-turned-nightstand.

“You always keep two mugs in your man cave?” you teased. “One’s mine,” he said, offering you the other. “Other one’s for when Amy hangs out here. Or, y’know, emergency cuddling.” You snorted into the cup. “Emergency cuddling? That a regular occurrence?” Rhett sat back down at the edge of the daybed, his thigh warm against yours. “Wouldn’t call it regular,” he muttered, “but I’m not complainin’.” You smiled over your mug. “You’re getting soft, Abbott.” He raised a brow. “Pretty sure you’re the one who fell asleep curled into me like a damn koala.” You jabbed a finger at his side. “You were the one who pulled me in.” “You were shivering.” “You were touch-starved.” He opened his mouth. Closed it. Shrugged. “Still am.”

The quiet settled again. Not awkward. Just full of everything unsaid.

“I like it here,” you said finally, sipping slow. “It’s peaceful.”

Rhett glanced around the room — the stacked boxes, the folded saddle blankets, the one window with a crack running through it and dust caught in the glass.

“It ain’t much.” “It’s yours,” you said. “And you let me in.”

His jaw clenched, just barely. That familiar flicker — protectiveness, pride, fear — moved behind his eyes.

Then, softer: “You make it too damn easy to fall, you know that?”

You blinked.

“Uncle—”

The door creaked.

Both of you froze.

He set his mug down like it was a ticking bomb. “Did you lock it?” “I thought you locked it!” “I told you to—”

A light patter of steps.

Then a tiny voice: “Uncle Rhett?”

Your eyes went wide.

“Oh no.” “Shit,” Rhett muttered, already scrambling to block your view with his back as the barn door creaked open.

Amy stood in the doorway, hugging a jacket to her chest. Her expression was suspicious at best.

“You weren’t in your room,” she announced. “Grandma said maybe you were feedin’ the chickens, but you don’t even like chickens—”

Rhett stood so fast he nearly knocked his mug over.

“Hey—Amy,” he barked. “Don’t come in.” Her eyes narrowed. “Why are you—what are you standing in front of—?”

She shifted on her toes, trying to peek around him.

In one smooth, near-desperate motion, Rhett yanked the blanket higher over your legs and backed up until he was fully blocking you like a damn brick wall.

“Amy,” he said, low and urgent. “Turn around. Right now.” Her head tilted. “Are you… hiding something?” “Nope. Just—privacy. Adult privacy.” “What does that even mean—?”

And then she caught a glimpse. The edge of your face behind his shoulder. Your very obvious bed hair. His flannel sleeve half-wrapped around your arm.

Amy’s jaw dropped.

“OH MY GOD,” she gasped, hoodie slipping to the ground. “UNCLE RHETT—IS THERE A GIRL IN YOUR BARN?!” “Amy,” he warned, already too late. “YOU HAVE A GIRL IN YOUR BARN!!!”

She turned and bolted like her life depended on it.

“*GRAAAAAANDMAAAAAAAA—UNCLE RHETT IS HIDING A GIRL IN THE BARN—AND THEY’RE—THEY’RE DATING OR CUDDLING OR—*BOTH!!”

Rhett groaned, hands on his hips, looking like he aged ten years in two seconds.

You flopped backward onto the daybed and dragged the blanket over your face. “I am never showing my face.”

He didn’t respond at first.

Just stared at the door Amy had burst through, then turned to look at the mess of blankets, the mugs, and his damn flannel wrapped around your arm.

Then he deadpanned:

“I should’ve let you sleep in the damn truck.”

---

You barely made it five steps out of the barn before you heard it — the slam of the back door.

Cecilia stood on the porch with a coffee mug in hand, robe cinched tight, and the kind of expression that could drop a grown man to his knees.

You could just make out Royal through the screen door, sitting at the kitchen table like it was any other morning — newspaper in hand, unbothered by the chaos brewing around him. And somewhere deeper inside the house—

“Amy!” Perry’s voice rang out. “What do you mean ‘with a girl in the barn’?! What the hell did you just say?!”

You and Rhett exchanged a look.

“Should we run?” you whispered. Rhett muttered, “You think we’d make it to the truck?” “Nope.” Cecilia took one long, slow sip of coffee. “Well,” she said calmly, looking you up and down, “I suppose this is the part where someone starts explaining.”

You tugged Rhett’s flannel tighter around yourself, painfully aware of your bed hair, crinkled clothes, and complete lack of an escape plan.

Cecilia didn’t miss it.

“Why don’t you head inside and wash up a little, sweetheart?” she said, not unkindly. “There’s a mirror in the downstairs bathroom. I’ll be right here when you’re done.” You blinked. “Right. Yes. Thank you.”

You bolted inside like your life depended on it.

---

You didn’t even get the tap fully running before you heard the next wave of yelling.

“They weren’t doing anything!” Amy insisted, indignant. “But she was totally in there, and Uncle Rhett was standing in front of her like a guard dog, and he had a blanket and everything!” Perry’s voice now: “Wait, what kind of blanket?” “Like a snuggle blanket! The one he keeps on the chair!”

Back in the kitchen, Rhett looked like someone had parked a tractor on his chest.

Cecilia leaned one hip against the counter. “Well,” she said, “this explains the two mugs I found in the sink.” “It’s not what it looked like,” Rhett said quickly. “Oh?” she replied. “So you weren’t in the barn with a girl, alone, in the early morning, and acting like you were guarding Fort Knox?” Rhett groaned. “I was—I—she was tired, okay? We’d been out late. I told her she could crash on the daybed. She fell asleep. That’s all.” Amy piped up proudly. “Yeah, but you were standing in front of her all weird, like you didn’t want me to see!” Perry walked in, coffee halfway poured. “So, just to clarify... no pants came off, but you still got caught red-handed?” “Perry!” Rhett snapped. “What? It’s a valid question.” “She was asleep, man.” Amy blinked. “She looked very awake when I saw her.” “You screamed.” Rhett rubbed his face. “Everyone would look awake after that.” Cecilia looked amused. “And you’ve been seeing each other for how long?”

You reappeared in the doorway, now slightly more presentable, hair brushed and face flushed.

“Awhile,” you said honestly. Royal finally turned a page. “Could’ve just told us.” “We weren’t ready for it to be a thing,” Rhett said. “Didn’t want the noise.” “Well,” Royal said, not looking up, “now you got it.” Perry took a loud sip of his coffee. “At least tell me it wasn’t my flannel she was wearing.” Cecilia ignored him. “I made pancakes,” she said instead, her tone flipping from cool matriarch to warm grandma in a heartbeat. “Sit. Eat. You can be embarrassed with food in your mouth like the rest of us.”

You glanced at Rhett.

He looked like he’d aged twenty years.

“I’ll set the plates,” you whispered, trying not to laugh. “God help me,” he muttered, trailing after you. Behind you, Amy whispered to Perry: “Told you she was his girlfriend.” Perry leaned in, smirking. “Yeah. And last month you said the chicken coop was haunted.” Amy crossed her arms. “It sounded haunted.” Perry chuckled. “Bet Rhett wishes the barn was haunted instead.”

---

You sat at the kitchen table, sandwiched between Cecilia’s warm judgment and Amy’s smug little grin.

Rhett was right beside you — back straight, jaw clenched, chewing his pancakes like each bite was a personal punishment.

“So,” Perry said around a mouthful of syrup, “how long we talkin’? Weeks? Months? Biblical ages?”

Rhett didn’t answer.

Amy did. “I bet they’ve been sneaking around forever.” Cecilia calmly refilled your coffee. “I figured something was going on when you started washing your hair more often.” “I always wash my hair,” Rhett grumbled. “Not in a way that involved cologne,” she replied smoothly. Royal didn’t look up from his newspaper. “You told me she was ‘helping out with horses.’” “She was,” Rhett said defensively. “With her face two inches from yours?” Amy chirped.

Rhett groaned and dropped his fork.

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing.

“Alright,” Rhett said, pushing his chair back. “I’m done being interrogated.” “Don’t forget your dishes,” Cecilia called after him. He waved a hand without turning around. “She’s got ’em.” You blinked. “I do?” “Please?” he added, glancing back at you with something halfway between guilt and pleading. You sighed dramatically, grabbed two plates, and stood. “Only because you took the fall.” Amy gasped. “So you were hiding!” Rhett opened the screen door. “I’m going to stand in the sun and pretend none of you exist.” “Love you too,” Cecilia called sweetly.

---

You found him leaning against the barn wall, half in the sun, half in the shade. His coffee was long gone, but he still held the mug like he needed something to do with his hands. Shirt sleeves rolled up, hair messier than usual, the kind of quiet that settled around Rhett when his thoughts got too loud.

You passed him the plate wordlessly. Two pancakes. No syrup.

“Figured you didn’t wanna sit through another Perry monologue.” He looked at you, that quiet warmth already softening the edge of his scowl. “You read my damn mind.”

You slid down beside him, shoulder brushing his.

“I didn’t mean for it to come out like that,” Rhett said after a long silence. “What I said earlier. About not wanting it to be a thing.”

You looked up at him.

“I wasn’t tryin’ to hide you,” he went on. “I just… didn’t wanna share you yet. I liked it better when it was just us. Felt safer.” You reached out, brushing your fingers along the seam of his jeans. “I know what you meant. And I liked it too. But I don’t mind this, either.” He let out a breath — not quite a laugh. “You don’t mind Amy screaming it from the rooftops?” “She screamed dating or cuddling or both, Rhett. I feel like we got off easy.”

He smiled at that. Not just with his mouth — with his eyes, too. That rare, quiet smile like something unguarded cracked open inside him.

“I mean, it’s not like we’re doin’ anything wrong,” you added. “We’re two grown adults sharing a daybed in a barn. Fully clothed. With coffee mugs.” “Romantic as hell,” he muttered, nudging your knee. “I’m serious.” “I know.” You paused. “Do you wish we could go back to hiding it?” Rhett shook his head, slow. “Nah. I just wish I’d kissed you before Amy walked in.”

Your heart did a little somersault.

You leaned into him, pressing your head to his shoulder. “We got time.”

He set the plate down beside him, turned slightly toward you. One hand came up to your cheek — warm, careful, thumb brushing just beneath your eye.

“You still got syrup on your lip,” he murmured. “I didn’t eat any syrup.” “Guess I imagined it,” he said, and kissed you anyway.

It was unhurried. Soft. Familiar in that new kind of way. Like it belonged in this moment. Like it always belonged here.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against yours.

“So,” he whispered, “you wanna come back tonight?” You smirked. “You mean sneak into the barn and frighten Amy again?” “Nope. I mean…” He glanced toward the house. “You can stay in my room this time. Save me the heart attack.” You looked up at him, eyes warm. “Only if you promise not to stand in front of me like a human shield again.” He laughed. “No promises. I panicked.” “I know. It was kinda hot.” “Shut up.”

You kissed him again just to prove the point — and this time, neither of you moved when the screen door creaked open.

Because now?

You weren’t hiding.

----

[EXTRA]

When Rhett knocked on your door, he wasn’t wearing his usual scowl. He looked… nervous.

Hat in one hand. Shoulders tense. Like he was about to ask you for something important.

Which, to be fair, he was.

“I know you already met everyone,” he said, voice low, eyes flicking down to his boots. “But I wanna do it right. Y’know. A proper dinner. Not… the barn thing.” You raised an eyebrow. “You mean not with Amy shrieking and your mum's sipping judgment through a coffee mug?” “Exactly,” he muttered. “I made Mom cook something she doesn’t hate. There’s pie.” You grinned. “You sure this isn’t just an excuse to get pie?” He looked up, finally. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “It’s a multitasking situation.”

---

Dinner was surprisingly… nice.

The table was actually set. Cecilia used the cloth one — the good one, the one she only pulled out for holidays and suspiciously formal guests. Royal had even changed his shirt. Perry was still Perry, but slightly less feral. Amy was writing in a notebook. You chose not to ask.

When everyone settled at the table, Rhett cleared his throat and stood up — stiff-backed, clearly uncomfortable but determined.

“Alright,” he muttered. “I know y’all met her already, but… that wasn’t exactly the way I wanted it to happen.”

He glanced down at his plate, then back up — eyes landing on you first, then his family.

“This is her. She means a hell of a lot to me. And I want you to know her the way I do — not just some girl caught in the barn, not a joke. She’s someone I care about. A lot.”

A beat of silence.

Then, awkwardly, “So… be decent.”

Cecilia smiled into her wine.

Perry muttered, “You rehearsed that, didn’t you.” Amy whispered, “He definitely rehearsed it.”

----

You survived the meal.

Barely.

Amy got through eleven questions. Perry made three jokes about eloping. Rhett kicked him under the table twice. Cecilia beamed the entire time like she was already planning a wedding in her head. And Royal, in the quietest moment of the night, looked at you and said:

“You make him better.”

That was it. No ceremony. No explanation.

Just four words.

But they landed.

Even Rhett went quiet for a second, like someone had knocked the wind out of him. And when he looked at you again, it was with that same damn softness you were starting to crave.

---

Afterward, you and Rhett ended up in the kitchen, elbow to elbow, rinsing dishes.

“So,” you said, bumping his hip gently. “Was this what you pictured? Your grand introduction?” “Nope.” “Better or worse?” He looked over. “Better. Way better.” You smiled. “Thanks for letting me be part of it.” “You were always part of it,” he said, setting down the last plate.

You reached for a towel, heart doing that stupid little ache-thing it did every time he said something like that.

Then, without looking up, you asked, casual as ever:

“So… next dinner, you gonna let me hold your hand?”

He froze for half a beat.

Then reached over — slow, quiet, sure — and laced his fingers through yours.

“Next dinner,” he murmured, “you’re sittin’ in my lap.”

[cup1drul3z]

★ — All That's Left Between Us

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 6 : ꜱʜɪᴛ ʜɪᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴀɴ

ꜰᴀʀᴍʜᴀɴᴅ!ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | 9.6ᴋ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ

TAGS : Southern sevika, childhood bestfriends, Ex's to lovers, homophobia mentioned, internal hatred, cowboy sevika, farm owners daughter reader, size difference, breeding kink, fingering, dry humping

A/N : back 2 back chapters baby

Summary : Camp life brings you and Sevika closer, the tension finally breaking in a heated moment behind closed doors. But out in the woods, something feels off—like you're being watched. Between stolen touches and lingering unease, summer is starting to feel a lot more dangerous than expected.

Knock knock knock.

The sound came like a hammer to your skull—way too early, way too loud, and definitely not welcome.

You groaned softly, rolling toward Sevika, who was still half-wrapped around you like a human furnace. Her hand lazily slid down your thigh and then flopped uselessly against the mattress.

Another knock. Then a pause.

“Y/N?” Jinx’s voice drifted through the door—low, hesitant, not her usual chipper chaos. “I, uh… I need your help—”

Sevika groaned, long and guttural, and dragged a pillow over her face. “If that little gremlin wakes me up one more time, I’m teaching her what ‘camp quiet hours’ actually mean.”

But your eyes blinked open fully now. Because that tone? That wasn’t teasing. It wasn’t mischievous.

It was… nervous.

You sat up, rubbing your eyes and stumbling to the door in just a tank top and your shorts. You cracked it open, squinting at the already-too-bright morning sun.

Jinx stood there, hair frazzled worse than usual, camp shirt on backward, and her hands black with something that looked suspiciously like charred marshmallow—or maybe soot.

You blinked. “What did you do?”

“I—” Jinx looked over her shoulder, then back at you, eyes wide. “I fucked up breakfast.”

You opened the door fully, stepping out. “Like… how bad?”

Jinx didn’t even try to explain. She just turned and started speed-walking toward the mess hall.

“I just—I wanted to help! The other counselors were still asleep and Carol’s doing inventory, so I figured I could just, y’know, toast some stuff and reheat the eggs and maybe try the pancake batter—”

“Try?” you echoed. “Jinx, what happened?”

She stopped halfway down the path and turned to you, wild-eyed.

“There was a small fire. It’s out. Kinda. Mostly. But I broke the coffee machine and the pancake mix exploded and there’s glass in the oatmeal, maybe? I don't know, man!”

Sevika emerged from the cabin behind you, one boot half on and shirtless, rubbing at her face. “Why are we awake?” she muttered, voice thick with sleep.

Jinx threw her hands up. “Because I may have caused a localized camp crisis before 7 a.m.!”

You glanced at Sevika, who blinked at you once—expression deadpan.

“Your problem,” she muttered, and turned around, heading straight back to bed.

You sighed, looked down at your bare legs and messy tank top, and followed Jinx toward the chaos, muttering, “This is why we don’t let you near appliances…”

The closer you got, the stronger the smell hit you—burnt sugar, rubber, and eggs. A deadly combo.

Smoke trailed faintly out of the mess hall windows. One of the stoves was hissing. Something brown bubbled on the counter in a mug labeled “Camp Queen” and you were pretty sure it used to be cocoa.

Jinx pointed like a war criminal surveying the battlefield. “See?! I tried.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Go open a window. And maybe… find Carol.”

“Oh, she knows,” Jinx called as she ran off. “She screamed something about OSHA violations and left to get her clipboard!”

You looked around the room—scorched, sticky, barely salvageable—and sighed again.

Then you picked up a towel and started cleaning.

You stared down at the mess like it had personally wronged you.

The oatmeal was a lost cause—soggy, grey, and glittering faintly with shards of shattered measuring cup. The eggs were salvageable, if you squinted and added enough cheese. But the pancakes? They were still batter in a cracked bowl on the edge of the counter, looking sad and slightly runny.

You rolled your shoulders back, tugged your hair into a quick bun with the elastic around your wrist, and muttered, “Alright. Let’s fix this.”

You grabbed a clean pan, wiped it out with a dry towel, and cranked the heat. The pancake mix was too watery, so you added more flour—then remembered your bio mom’s trick.

You opened the spice rack, smiling at the dusty old tin of cinnamon and a half-used bottle of vanilla tucked behind a jar of paprika.

“Okay, okay…” you murmured, dumping a bit of cinnamon in, a little more vanilla, and—on impulse—a dash of nutmeg. The scent hit fast: warm, familiar, like Sunday mornings before your mom got sick, back when everything still smelled like syrup and laughter.

You ladled the new batter onto the hot skillet and held your breath.

The sizzle was promising.

Two minutes later, the pancake flipped perfectly—golden, fluffy, and smelling way better than anything deserved to smell at 7:15 a.m. in a smoke-scented mess hall.

Jinx returned just in time to see you plating a stack. “Ohhh shit,” she said, eyes wide. “That looks good.”

You smirked. “Here.”

You handed her a fork and she stabbed into the stack like a feral animal. One bite in, she stopped chewing, mouth full, face slowly turning red.

“Okay, wow. That’s—” she coughed once. “That’s got kick.”

You blinked. “It’s just cinnamon—”

“And nutmeg,” she wheezed, “and maybe the entire spice rack?! The kids are gonna think it’s like a cinnamon challenge!”

You stared at her. “It’s good, though, right?”

Jinx took another bite, chewed, and gave you a very shaky thumbs-up. “It’s... fire. Like literally. Like I might combust.”

You were about to argue when the worst thing possible happened.

The cowbell.

It clanged out front—Carol’s signature wake-up-call-and-breakfast-summons. Seconds later, the sound of pounding sneakers filled the path. The doors flung open and a tide of half-dressed, bed-headed children swarmed in like a plague.

“Oh no,” you breathed, eyes wide. “It’s too late.”

Counselors were dragging in behind them—Vi looked like she hadn’t slept, her hoodie halfway on, Sevika had reappeared in a clean tank top and a suspiciously smug look, and Carol stormed through the kitchen doors like a drill sergeant ready for war.

“WHO SET OFF THE SMOKE DETECTOR?” she barked.

“Long story,” you and Jinx both said at the same time.

But then—salvation.

A kid took a bite of the pancake and cheered.

“IT TASTES LIKE CHRISTMAS.”

Another chimed in: “I LOVE IT! IT’S SPICY PANCAKES!”

Carol blinked, took one of the plates, tasted a bite herself, paused—and then narrowed her eyes at you.

“You cooked these?”

You nodded slowly.

“…Do it again tomorrow.”

You exhaled, tension draining from your shoulders. Jinx collapsed next to the counter like she’d just survived a natural disaster.

Across the room, Sevika leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching you with a slow, crooked grin.

You smirked back.

The sun had climbed high and hot, turning the archery field into a sweatbox of trampled grass and sunscreen fumes. You stood just past the caution line, squinting into the midday haze, your camp t-shirt clinging slightly to your back and your tan shorts already dusted with dry dirt. Your hair was frizzing out at the edges, heat turning every curl into its own rebellion.

You crossed your arms and glanced sideways. “Are we sure this is safe?”

Sevika stood a few feet away, arms folded, sunglasses low on her nose. She looked absurdly cool for someone standing in front of a weapons rack. “They’re shooting blunt arrows at foam targets from twenty feet away,” she muttered. “Pretty sure the biggest threat here is sunburn.”

“Or a rogue seven-year-old deciding they’re the target,” you replied, eyes trailing a camper who just released an arrow with their eyes closed.

The arrow flew comically wide, landing in the grass with a pitiful thump.

Sevika winced. “Okay, yeah. That one’s banned from Hunger Games night.”

You snorted and leaned against the post with a sigh. “Didn’t you say you used to be good at this?”

She raised an eyebrow. “I am good at this.”

You tilted your head, biting back a grin. “Wanna prove it?”

Sevika’s sunglasses slid down further on her nose. “Are you challenging me?”

“Unless you’re scared to lose in front of thirty children.”

A gasp rang out from behind you.

“OOOOHHHHHHH,” one of the kids screamed. “MISS Y/N’S STARTING BEEF.”

Another ran off to the other counselors yelling, “SEVIKA VS. Y/N! BOW SHOWDOWN!”

You groaned, already regretting your choices. But Sevika? She was thriving. She turned to grab one of the bows, flexing her arm just enough to make sure you noticed.

“Don’t embarrass yourself,” she said, passing you one.

You rolled your eyes. “I grew up around hunters, thank you very much.”

“Right,” she muttered, not hiding her smirk. “And I’m sure they trained you between riding ponies and picking peaches.”

“Oh, you’re done for.”

What followed was pure camp chaos.

A full crowd of kids had gathered behind the line, shouting over each other and waving half-melted candy bars as betting collateral. Jinx ran up with a notebook she’d stolen from someone’s cabin, shouting, “Odds are two-to-one in favor of Big Vika, but I’m giving bonus points for style!”

“That’s illegal!” Vi yelled from across the field.

“No rules, only vibes!” Jinx howled.

Carol walked by, paused, surveyed the situation, then muttered, “If nobody dies, I’m pretending I didn’t see this,” and kept walking.

You nocked your arrow, lips pressed together in concentration. Sevika watched you with that crooked grin, her stance relaxed, her fingers adjusting the grip like it was muscle memory. The air buzzed—not just with noise but energy.

“Loser cleans all the dinner dishes tonight,” you said, raising your bow.

“Loser sleeps on the floor,” Sevika countered, raising hers to match.

“Excuse me?!”

“Too late,” she smirked. “You already agreed.”

You both let your arrows fly.

Two dull thunks.

Yours landed just outside the red ring.

Hers? Dead center.

The kids exploded.

Screaming. Cheering. Someone threw a handful of Skittles into the air like confetti. Jinx was spinning in a circle like she’d just witnessed a historical sports moment. “OH MY GOD SHE ROBIN HOODED YOUR ASS.”

You turned to Sevika, jaw dropped. “Okay. Best of three.”

“Oh, now you wanna fight.”

“You’re going down.”

And for the rest of the hour, the kids were in heaven. You and Sevika alternated between competitive bickering and flirtatious sabotage—Sevika bumped your hip once during a shot and you nearly nailed the announcer tent. You flicked her ponytail while she was mid-draw and her arrow veered left.

Nobody remembered who actually won.

But by the time you walked back toward the cabins, hand brushing hers, sweaty and breathless and grinning so hard your cheeks hurt, it didn’t really matter.

The lake shimmered under the afternoon sun, water rippling soft and slow while the younger campers shrieked and splashed in the shallows. Their laughter echoed across the dock like music—chaotic and sweet. You sat at the edge, bare feet dangling over the water, your chin resting on your knees as the breeze played with your curls.

Behind you, Sevika dropped down with a grunt, knees spread wide, forearms resting lazily across them. Her camp shirt clung to her back from the heat, and she rolled a blade of grass between her fingers like she was trying not to stare at you for too long.

But she was staring.

You felt it—every time her eyes traced your profile, lingered a little too long on your lips. The air between you buzzed with a new kind of tension. Not the fiery, rough kind from last night. This was quieter. Slower. Like the calm just before a summer storm.

“I think you actually let me win that last round,” you murmured.

Sevika scoffed, but it was half-hearted. “You needed the confidence boost.”

You glanced at her sideways. “You’re just mad I called you ‘Robin Hood with a god complex’ in front of thirty children.”

“You should be scared of arrows now.”

You bumped her shoulder with yours. “You love me.”

It slipped out before you could stop it.

The silence after wasn’t awkward—it was thick. Full. You didn’t even breathe until you felt her hand shift behind you, fingers brushing your back gently as she leaned in closer.

Her voice was low. “Maybe I do.”

Your heart kicked in your chest.

You turned, facing her now, close enough to see the freckles just under her left eye. Her lips parted, her gaze dropped to your mouth, and your own breath caught.

This was it.

That slow, heavy gravity pulling you forward like the kiss would be inevitable.

And then—

“Counselors!” Carol’s voice came like a thunderclap from behind, full of clipped professionalism and absolutely zero regard for your moment.

You jumped. Sevika groaned, already leaning back with a hand over her face like she’d been hit with a brick.

Carol marched up the dock with a clipboard clutched to her chest like a holy relic. “Just a heads up,” she said briskly. “We’re getting a small wave of older campers this afternoon. They had their reservation at Camp Brookpine canceled due to mold in the cabins, and since we have space, they’re being transferred here. Middle school to early high school range.”

You blinked. “That’s… a big age gap.”

Carol didn’t even pause. “Yes, which is why we’re only assigning three counselors to supervise them. Since they’re older, they won’t require full handholding like the younger groups.”

You knew what was coming before she even said it.

“Sevika, Jinx, and Caitlyn—you’ll be heading up that group.”

“What?” Sevika sat up straighter. “Whos Caitlyn?”

Carol looked mildly annoyed. “She’s trained in self-defense, CPR, and conflict mediation. The teens are gonna adore her.”

“I think they’re more likely to plot a mutiny,” Jinx muttered from behind Carol, holding a dripping pool noodle like a club.

Carol sighed. “Just… show them around, make them feel included. They’ll be arriving within the hour.”

Then she turned and walked off with the efficiency of someone who didn’t care about the romantic tension she just destroyed.

You exhaled, shoulders slumping. “Well… so much for kissing you.”

Sevika stood and brushed her hands off on her shorts. “I’ll make it up to you.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

She leaned down, smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Middle schoolers don’t stay up late,” she murmured. “But I do.”

And then she walked away—boots heavy on the dock, already yelling at Jinx to stop hitting things with a foam noodle.

You were still smiling when the wind picked up, rustling through the trees like a warning.

Far off in the forest, something cracked.

But you didn’t hear it.

Not yet.

The bus hissed as it came to a full stop, its engine sputtering out like it, too, was dreading what came next.

The older campers filed out in clumps, dragging duffel bags, skateboards, and tangled earbuds behind them like a storm of hormones and dry shampoo. A few wore smug expressions like they already hated it here. Some rolled their eyes, some yawned dramatically, and at least one boy said, “This place smells like grass and sadness.”

“Lovely,” Sevika muttered under her breath.

You stood near the counselor’s cabin with Caitlyn beside you, clipboard in hand, her hair braided neatly down her back, expression unreadably calm. Sevika loomed to your left, sunglasses on and arms folded, looking every bit the “camp enforcer” the kids would absolutely make up rumors about before dinner.

One girl with long braids and glitter under her eyes smiled wide when she spotted you. “Oh my god, you’re so pretty. Are you like… a real counselor?”

You blinked. “Uh… yeah?”

Another girl with big sunglasses and a too-small tank top giggled. “You don’t look like the rest of these nature nerds.”

You smiled politely, cheeks warming as they swarmed closer, clearly deciding you were the safe adult to befriend. One offered you a jelly bracelet. Another asked what your skincare routine was. A third leaned over and whispered, “Does she—” she motioned toward Sevika, “—bite?”

Sevika, still wearing her sunglasses and a bored expression, didn’t even turn.

But the moment her head tilted just slightly in the girl’s direction—

She squeaked and scrambled away, muttering, “Yup, definitely bites.”

“She's not that scary,” you said with a laugh, glancing up at Sevika.

She didn’t smile—but the twitch at the corner of her mouth gave her away.

Meanwhile, Caitlyn was surrounded by three girls asking her how to get a body like hers and if she was “actually British or just faking it for the aesthetic.” Caitlyn answered all of them with deadpan charm, never once losing control of the clipboard.

Further down the path, Jinx had somehow already taught two boys how to start a water balloon war, and was currently using a rolled-up schedule sheet as a fake megaphone.

“Team Chaos, report to me if you don’t want to do any actual work!”

Carol caught wind of that in less than two seconds and dragged Jinx off for a “talk.”

You watched it all with your hands on your hips, shoulders already a little tense. The younger kids had been wild—but this? This was a new breed. Half of them looked like they’d grown up on TikTok and spite. And the way they looked at Sevika—like she was either going to murder them or teach them how to kill—was a little funny.

One of the boys passed you and muttered to his friend, “She looks like a final boss.”

Sevika heard that. She definitely heard that.

She leaned over to you and said, deadpan, “Should I start sharpening a stick just to mess with them?”

You snorted. “Please don’t traumatize the high schoolers on day one.”

“Fine,” she muttered. “Day two.”

You shook your head, laughing as the crowd began to thin, kids being directed toward their new bunks by Caitlyn and a few junior counselors.

But you couldn’t shake the feeling that the camp had just… shifted.

Older kids brought older problems.

And somewhere out in those woods, the story Jinx told—the one you’d tried to forget—still lingered like smoke you couldn’t quite clear from the air.

The crickets had finally replaced the children’s screaming, and the campfire was burned down to soft orange embers. You were sprawled across a log, your hair still damp from a quick rinse, cheeks flushed from s’mores and smoky heat. Around you, the other counselors lazed in varying degrees of exhaustion—Caitlyn flipping through her clipboard even now, Jinx playing with the last burnt marshmallow, and Sevika leaning against a tree trunk with one long leg stretched out, a soda can balanced on her knee.

“Alright,” Jinx suddenly declared, standing with a dramatic stretch, arms up and spine cracking. “Who’s down for a night swim?”

You blinked, glancing around. “Is that allowed?”

Jinx grinned. “Camp’s asleep. Carol’s asleep. The lake’s wide awake.”

And before anyone could argue, she peeled off her camp t-shirt, revealing a cotton-candy pink and blue striped swimsuit with one strap falling off her shoulder like it was made to be dramatic. She let out a loud, “WOOO!” and took off running barefoot toward the lake, sand kicking up behind her.

There was a beat of silence.

Then water splashed violently in the distance.

“…Well, shit,” Vi muttered, already tugging her own shirt off and calling back, “You better not drown before I get there!”

You laughed as Caitlyn shook her head, muttering, “Unbelievable,” but still stood and started walking toward her cabin with what you were pretty sure was a small smirk.

More followed—some counselors stripping down to their underwear, some ducking off to change, the quiet turning electric with the thrill of something forbidden.

You were already wearing your bikini beneath your shorts and shirt—had been all day. So you slipped your shirt off, dropped your shorts to the side, and brushed your hair back from your face, padding barefoot after the others toward the lake.

Behind you, Sevika stood slowly, her voice a low grumble: “Y’all are lucky I brought swim shit.”

You glanced over your shoulder just in time to see her heading for the cabin. A few minutes later, she emerged again—low-slung black swim shorts hugging her hips, and a tight black sports bra that clung to her chest in a way that made your throat go a little dry. Her tattooed arms were lit in silver-blue moonlight, hair tied back, jaw flexing as she caught your stare.

“Eyes up, sweetheart,” she teased, brushing past you.

You didn’t even pretend to be embarrassed.

By the time you reached the dock, the lake was alive with laughter—splashing, shouting, someone trying to push Jinx off a floatie and being promptly dragged under with her. The water glowed like ink and diamonds under the moon, warm and smooth like silk against your skin as you dove in.

You surfaced with a gasp, brushing water from your eyes—and Sevika was already next to you, floating lazily on her back, her voice rumbling through the quiet like a low drum.

“This counts as my shower, by the way.”

You snorted. “Noted.”

She cracked an eye open. “You still scared of the lake after that story?”

You paused, just slightly. “...A little.”

“Then stick close,” she said simply, and drifted a little closer, her fingers brushing yours beneath the water.

And for a few minutes, the world was perfect. Cool lake, warm hearts, distant laughter.

None of you noticed the figure standing just beyond the tree line.

Watching.

Waiting.

The water was warm around your waist, your hair slicked back as you laughed, wiping lake droplets from your lashes. The moon glimmered high above, casting silver across the rippling lake. Somewhere to your left, someone was humming an off-key version of a pop song while Vi and Caitlyn argued about if swimming at night counted as “reckless endangerment.”

Then Jinx’s voice cut through the chaos like a flare.

“CHICKEN FIGHT!”

Everyone froze.

You blinked. “Like… now?”

“NOW!” she yelled, already clambering up onto the broad shoulders of a guy with tight curls and an exasperated grin—clearly Ekko, her longtime partner in crime. “Get a team, coward!”

You turned, eyes landing on Sevika just as she raised an eyebrow at you.

“I know you’re not looking at me like I’m about to let you climb on my shoulders.”

You grinned wide. “Why not?”

“I could drown.”

“You’re literally the strongest person in this lake.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. But if I go down, I’m dragging you with me.”

You giggled and paddled over. She sank a little deeper, bracing her hands on your hips. “Up,” she muttered.

You braced one hand on her shoulder, one on her head, and hoisted yourself up. With a small splash and a breathy laugh, you settled onto her shoulders, thighs locked around her neck, her strong hands gripping your calves for balance.

“Comfortable?” she asked, dry as ever.

“Oh, so comfortable.” You leaned forward just slightly, brushing damp fingers through her hair. “How’s your view?”

Her grip tightened on your thighs. “Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.”

Jinx was already howling across the water. “C’mon, cupcake! You better bring the heat!”

“You’re going down!” you shouted back, breathless from laughter.

Jinx raised her fists dramatically. “Let the Battle of the Century BEGIN!”

Ekko waded closer, grumbling under his breath, “I’m too old for this shit—”

And chaos erupted.

The waves slapped against your stomach as you reached forward, fingers locked with Jinx’s, the both of you laughing, shrieking, trying to knock each other off your human mounts. Sevika was a rock under you—solid, unbothered, smirking with every wave you swayed through. Ekko, meanwhile, cursed every five seconds as Jinx flailed and tried to pull your hair.

“FOUL PLAY!” you yelled.

“NO RULES!” Jinx screamed, trying to yank your arm while giggling so hard she nearly fell off.

It lasted maybe two glorious, chaotic minutes before Jinx miscalculated a grab and overreached. You saw it in her eyes just before it happened—the slow-motion panic.

“NOPE—no—”

Splash.

She and Ekko went under in a dramatic heap, water spraying like a mini tsunami.

You sat victorious atop Sevika’s shoulders, chest heaving, arms raised. The crowd of counselors watching from the shore erupted in cheers, clapping and laughing and screaming things like “CHAMPION!” and “SHE DESTROYED YOU, JINX!”

Sevika shifted beneath you, reaching up to grab your waist and slowly pull you down. As you slid off her shoulders and into the water in front of her, your chest pressed against hers, her hands naturally resting at your hips.

“Good work, sniper,” she murmured, smirking down at you, your bodies half-submerged, water beading on her neck.

You bit your lip, grinning. “You liked that?”

She leaned in just enough for her breath to brush your lips. “I like you on my shoulders.”

Your cheeks flushed, heart hammering as her fingers tapped gently against your hip.

You were about to kiss her again—right there in the water—when Jinx popped up between you with a mouthful of lake water.

“Next round!” she choked out. “I’m getting revenge!”

Ekko coughed behind her. “We need a break.”

You and Sevika dissolved into laughter, forehead to her shoulder as the summer night stretched on—wet, wild, and full of heat.

But just beyond the dock, behind a curtain of trees, something moved in the dark.

And it was watching.

The two of you left the lake after most of the others had either wandered off toward their cabins or stayed behind to float under the stars. Your bikini clung damp to your skin, the camp shirt you tugged on over it sticking in places as you walked barefoot down the gravel path. The laughter had faded behind you. The night was quieter now.

Too quiet.

Sevika’s steps were solid beside yours, boots crunching softly as she carried both your towels slung over her shoulder. She hadn’t bothered changing out of her swim shorts or sports bra, water still glinting off her collarbones in the moonlight. She looked calm. Relaxed, even. But the way her eyes kept flicking toward the trees said something else.

You noticed it too.

The air felt... heavier than before. The breeze was gone. The crickets had quieted.

“Hey,” you murmured, bumping your elbow into hers. “You alright?”

She didn’t answer right away.

“Something’s off,” she said, low.

Your stomach tightened.

You turned your head, scanning the dark between the trees lining the path back to the cabins. The moonlight didn’t quite reach beyond the trunks. Just black between branches. Deeper than it should’ve been.

Like the forest was holding its breath.

“I think that story Jinx told is still messing with me,” you tried to joke, your voice barely above a whisper. “The one about the guy who killed his lover and lives in the woods, hunting down couples?”

Sevika’s jaw flexed.

You both paused at the edge of the clearing where the woods broke into a thin trail leading toward your cabin. The air here felt colder—cooler against your skin, like stepping into a shadow that wasn’t supposed to be there.

Then—

Crack.

You froze.

A branch. Somewhere behind you. Not the soft snap of something falling from a tree—no, this was footsteps. Deliberate.

You whipped around, eyes wide, scanning the dark.

Nothing.

Sevika’s arm was suddenly in front of you, pushing you gently behind her. She said nothing, but her posture shifted—tense, alert. One hand resting against your hip, the other slightly curled at her side like she was waiting for something to lunge.

“Probably a deer,” she muttered. “Or raccoon. Might’ve followed the food trail back from the mess hall.”

But even she didn’t sound convinced.

You swallowed, voice tight. “Do raccoons break branches like that?”

She didn’t answer.

Another beat of silence. Still nothing.

She exhaled through her nose. “Let’s go.”

You didn’t argue.

You stuck close to her as you walked the last stretch, her hand resting on the small of your back, eyes never leaving the treeline. Your heart thudded hard against your ribs the entire time, ears straining for another sound.

But nothing came.

By the time your cabin creaked into view, the breeze had picked up again. The crickets returned. The forest breathed again.

Like nothing had happened.

But as you climbed the porch steps and Sevika pushed open the cabin door, you couldn’t shake it.

The sound. The stillness. The feeling of something watching.

And the faintest impression… that it wasn’t done yet.

You stood at the edge of the grassy field, sunlight beating down on your tied-back camp shirt as a swarm of kids buzzed around like bees high on sugar. The boxes of Color War shirts were stacked and sorted—bright reds and blues folded in neat piles, ready for that evening’s chaos.

“Blue if your birthday’s in the first half of the year,” you called out, holding up a navy tee. “Red if you’re born in the second half. Don’t lie just to match your best friend—Carol will find out and cry.”

Groans, laughter, and a couple dramatic fake sobs echoed around you as the line snaked forward.

“Here you go, sweetheart,” you said, handing a red shirt to a sullen eighth-grader who only grunted in response.

You bent over the box again, digging for a smaller size when—

“Careful,” a low voice murmured near your ear. “You keep bending like that, I’m gonna start charging admission.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as you straightened. “Do you flirt with everyone during team prep?”

“Only the hot ones.”

Sevika stepped up behind you without warning, close enough that your back nearly brushed her chest. Her hands slid casually onto your hips—warm, strong, confident—just enough pressure to make your breath catch.

“Sevika,” you warned softly, glancing around to make sure none of the kids were watching.

“Relax,” she murmured, nose brushing just behind your ear. “They’re too busy eating dirt.”

You giggled despite yourself, your voice catching with the hint of a breathy squeak. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m the best,” she said, squeezing your waist once before stepping back. “Now hurry up and feed those gremlins or we’ll have a riot.”

You turned with a flushed smile and gave her a playful glare, swatting her thigh with a folded blue tee before tossing it to a camper. “Go terrorize your own team, Red.”

Sevika grinned and started to back away toward the red team’s section, but not before giving you a once-over that lingered just a second too long.

“You’re wearing that for me, huh?” she called over her shoulder, motioning to your tied-up shirt and jean shorts.

“Shut up and get your lunch,” you laughed, cheeks burning.

With the last few shirts handed out and the chaos momentarily settled, you brushed your hands on your shorts and made a beeline for the mess hall, ignoring the way your skin still tingled where her hands had been.

The mess hall smelled like grilled cheese and suspiciously runny mac and cheese, which was apparently enough to distract even the most feral campers. You slid into a seat at the end of one of the counselor tables, your tray clattering down with a sigh. Your shirt still clung to the sweat at your back, and your ponytail was doing more flopping than holding anything up.

Caitlyn sat across from you with her own tray, looking far too composed for someone wrangling children all morning. Her posture was perfect, her camp shirt somehow unwrinkled, and her expression—mild, curious—told you she was mid-observation.

“Color War shirts look good,” she said casually, poking at her steamed carrots with a fork.

“Thanks,” you replied, taking a sip from your water bottle. “Didn’t think I’d be organizing middle school battlefield aesthetics this summer, but here we are.”

“You seem… in high spirits,” she added, raising an eyebrow. “Despite the heat. And the drama. And the older kids who keep trying to vape in the bathroom.”

You squinted at her. “Is there a point coming, or are we circling?”

She gave a small smile, tilting her head. “Just noticing how close you and Sevika have gotten.”

Your fork paused halfway to your mouth.

“…We’ve been close.”

“Mm. Sure. But the kind of close where she stands behind you like she’s ready to rip out the throat of anyone who looks too long? That’s new.”

You blinked, then laughed nervously. “Wow. You always this subtle?”

Caitlyn shrugged. “Just curious. She doesn’t open up to many people. Especially not here.” She popped a grape in her mouth, then added, almost too casually, “You like her?”

The question hit harder than you expected.

You looked down at your tray, poking the corner of your grilled cheese.

“…Yeah,” you said softly. “I do.”

She didn’t press.

Caitlyn just nodded once, then nudged her tray forward. “Eat up. Color War starts in three hours, and you’re gonna need energy to fend off whatever chaos Jinx unleashes.”

You smiled—half-grateful, half-nervous.

Because even with all the teasing and flirtation, this thing with Sevika… it wasn’t just a summer thing.

Not for you.

And if Caitlyn had already noticed—others would too.

After lunch, most of the campers were off in clusters—some playing kickball, others hiking toward the lake, a few just lounging in the shade trying to survive the afternoon heat. You were refilling water bottles at the spigot behind the mess hall, the old hose sputtering and squeaking every time you twisted the nozzle too fast.

That’s when you noticed her.

One of the new girls from the older group, maybe thirteen or fourteen. Pale, with long brown hair braided down her back, and a sweatshirt tied around her waist even in this heat. She wasn’t with the others. Just standing at the treeline beyond the arts and crafts shed, half-shaded by pine boughs, arms hanging loose at her sides.

Staring.

Not at you—but past you.

You turned slowly, followed her line of sight.

There was nothing. Just the mess hall. A couple counselors. Jinx chasing someone with a pool noodle.

Still… something about the way she was looking made your skin prickle.

You capped the water bottle and made your way over, soft footsteps crunching on the dirt path.

“Hey there,” you said gently, keeping your tone light. “You alright? Not feeling sick or anything, are you?”

She blinked slowly, as if only just realizing you were talking to her. Her eyes flicked to yours—unreadable. Dark.

“I’m fine,” she said quietly.

You hesitated. “You sure? Everyone’s down by the lake, if you wanted to cool off. It’s hot as hell today.”

Another blink. A pause. Then—

“I wasn’t watching you.”

You frowned. “I didn’t say you were.”

The girl’s lips pressed into a thin line. She looked down at her sneakers, one toe digging into the dirt like she was waiting for something. Or someone.

“I saw someone in the woods last night,” she said suddenly.

Your breath caught.

“What?”

She looked back up. “When we got here. After lights out. I woke up and looked out the window. Someone was out there. Tall. Not moving. Just… standing.”

You swallowed.

“Did you tell anyone?”

She shook her head. “Didn’t want to sound crazy.”

Your chest tightened.

“Well,” you said softly, trying to keep your voice calm, “if you ever see anything weird again, come find me. Or Sevika. Or Carol, even. It’s our job to keep you safe.”

The girl didn’t smile. Just nodded once. Then turned and walked off toward the cabins like it was nothing.

But the weight in your chest lingered.

You stared into the treeline for a long second.

That strange silence from the other night echoed in your memory.

And behind your ribs, something cold flickered.

The late afternoon sun draped long shadows across the field, striping the grass in gold and green. You stood just outside the supply shed, clipboard in hand, checking off the last of the Color War stations as a slow breeze lifted your hair and cooled the sweat at your temple. But your fingers still fidgeted—thumb brushing nervously along the silver charm at your neck. That girl’s words echoed in your head no matter how many times you told yourself she was probably just overtired. Or making it up. Or—

“You’re overthinking again,” Sevika’s voice drawled from behind you.

You turned to see her approaching, red team bandana tied around her bicep like some war general fresh out of a camp magazine. Her wide-leg pants were tucked slightly into her boots, the assigned camp shirt cut at the sleeves. She was holding two baskets filled with colored face paint, little squirt bottles of water, red and blue flags, and glow sticks for when the sun went down.

“I’m not overthinking,” you said, even though your voice cracked slightly.

She raised a brow and handed you a basket. “Right. That’s why you’ve been checking the same clipboard box for the last two minutes.”

You blinked, looked down, and realized she was right. You hadn’t moved your pen at all.

With a sigh, you finally scratched a check mark next to “Capture the Flag Prep – South Field.”

Sevika stepped beside you, eyes scanning the list. “Everything’s ready?”

“Just about. We’ve got flag stations marked. Face paint for team identity. Water bottles. First-aid kits. Rope lines for the ‘prison’ zone.” You paused. “Still waiting on Jinx to finish the obstacle course… which, I’ve been told, involves tarps and vegetable oil.”

Sevika grimaced. “Why is she like this.”

“She thrives on chaos.”

You both started walking toward the clearing where the kids would be gathering soon. The camp was buzzing with movement now. You could hear the thud of basketballs on pavement, the distant splash of someone being shoved into the lake, and Carol yelling about sunscreen from somewhere near the staff cabins. Everything looked… normal. Almost perfect.

So why did it still feel wrong?

You glanced at the edge of the woods.

Sevika followed your gaze, then nudged you gently with her elbow. “You wanna tell me what’s going on, or keep pretending I can’t see it all over your face?”

You hesitated, lips parting—then closing again. You wanted to tell her. About the girl. The story. The sound in the woods. But something about speaking it out loud made it feel too real. Like if you said it, you’d summon it.

“I just didn’t sleep well,” you said softly.

She watched you for a second longer, then nodded—like she didn’t believe you but wouldn’t press.

“Alright. But if you fall asleep during war prep, I’m painting a dick on your cheek in red.”

You snorted. “If I fall asleep, you have permission to.”

By the time you reached the main field, the campers were assembling into their teams. Blue bandanas tied around foreheads, red ones waving like war banners. Counselors shouted team names, fake chants rang through the trees, and Jinx was holding a megaphone she definitely wasn’t supposed to have.

“WELCOME TO COLOR WARRRRRRRRRRR!” she shouted in a monster voice that made half the kids scream and the rest laugh.

Vi snatched the megaphone out of her hands mid-sentence and tossed it into the grass.

“Seriously, Jinx.”

You couldn’t help but smile. You raised your basket and started walking between teams, passing out face paint and glow sticks, showing the kids how to stripe their cheeks and wrap the glow sticks around their wrists like bracelets.

A blue team girl tugged your hand and asked, “Are we allowed to smear paint on our legs, too?”

“As long as you don’t ruin your shorts, go wild,” you said.

Across the field, Sevika was crouched in the grass helping a boy tie a red bandana around his ankle like a battle charm. When she stood, the kid saluted her and sprinted back toward his teammates like he’d just had a moment with a god.

You caught Sevika’s eye and smiled. She didn’t smile back—but she winked.

That made your stomach flip harder than you wanted to admit.

As you stepped closer to the red team to finish handing out their gear, one of the older girls from your cabin sidled up beside you. Her cheeks were already streaked in red paint, and her eyes sparkled with adrenaline.

“This is gonna be so fun,” she said, almost breathless. “Everyone’s freaking out about the woods. It’s perfect.”

You froze, glancing down at her. “What do you mean… freaking out?”

She grinned. “There’s rumors. That someone saw a shadow last night near the boys’ cabins. Tall, like—super tall. Didn’t move. Just stood there. Like one of those old ghost stories.”

Your heart dropped.

But before you could say anything, a whistle blew. Carol stood in the middle of the field with her clipboard, yelling over the buzz.

“Teams to the starting line! First event in fifteen!”

Sevika appeared at your side, hip brushing yours.

“You okay?” she murmured again.

This time, you didn’t lie.

“…Something’s not right.”

Her jaw flexed. She nodded slowly. “Then stay close tonight. Don’t go into the woods. Not even for a second.”

You looked up at her.

“I mean it,” she said.

And the weight of it settled over your chest like armor—heavy, necessary, and too late to shrug off.

Because tonight, the woods weren’t just background.

They were watching.

The sun dipped lower behind the treeline, smearing amber and bruised orange across the sky. The colors stretched wide over Camp Pinewillow, golden light slanting across the grass as the air turned thick with warmth and sweat and something else—something quieter. Sharper.

The games had begun with harmless chaos: tug-of-war on the south lawn, sponge relay races near the mess hall, dodgeball with soft foam balls that Vi kept launching too hard. Kids shrieked and cheered, flushed with excitement and sugar from the buckets of lemonade Jinx had swiped from the kitchen fridge. You'd gotten smacked in the back of the knee with a rogue dodgeball and nearly collapsed, but Sevika was too busy heckling from the sidelines to show mercy.

Still, it was fun. For a while.

Then the light started to shift.

You were on the edge of the field helping one of the younger kids re-tie her glow stick bracelet when it hit you: the crickets had gone quiet. No birds. No rustling leaves. Just the distant hum of voices and Carol’s whistle slicing through the air like it was working too hard to be heard.

You glanced toward the woods.

Nothing moved.

Sevika must’ve caught the tension in your shoulders, because she was suddenly behind you, a firm hand on the small of your back.

“You alright?”

You nodded quickly. “Just… thought I saw something.”

She looked too. Her brows furrowed, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she kept her hand there—steady, grounding, protective.

It helped. A little.

You regrouped with the rest of the counselors as the final challenge was being set up. Capture the Flag. The classic.

Red team’s flag would be hidden in the woods past the rope line. Blue team’s was behind the volleyball courts. Rules were simple. Stay in bounds. No tackling. Capture the other team’s flag and bring it back to your base to win.

Simple.

Except nothing about the forest looked simple anymore.

You swallowed as the campers lined up at their starting points. The older kids were buzzing with nerves, their jokes too loud, their movements jittery. One of the boys was holding a glow stick like it was a sword, spinning it between his fingers like he was trying to keep himself distracted.

You stood near the edge of the field, clipboard in hand, as Jinx gave the starting countdown through cupped hands.

“Three! Two! One!”

A shrill whistle pierced the air and the kids scattered in every direction like ants kicked out of their hill.

You watched them vanish between trees and over hills, their bandanas flapping behind them like flags of war. A few stayed close to the sidelines. Some shot off into the brush with flashlights bobbing like fireflies. You lost track of them quickly.

But it wasn’t the kids who unsettled you.

It was the way the woods swallowed them so easily.

Like they were expected.

Sevika was nearby, her arms crossed as she scanned the edge of the trees. Every so often, she tilted her head like she was listening for something. Her jaw was locked tight, and her entire body held that still, predator-like calm you were starting to recognize—like she was waiting.

You edged toward her. “They’re okay, right? I mean, we’ve done headcounts and paired the older kids with younger ones…”

Sevika nodded. “They’re fine. It’s just a game.”

But even she didn’t sound convinced.

A loud whoop cut through the air as a kid emerged from the trees holding a red flag high above his head, his teammates shrieking in triumph. A flurry of footsteps followed as the rest of the blue team charged back toward their side, and the game shifted toward celebration.

Your shoulders eased.

But then you saw her.

The girl from earlier.

The quiet one.

She wasn’t celebrating. She was standing just inside the tree line, a few feet deeper than anyone else, half-hidden by shadows.

And she wasn’t looking at the flag.

She was looking deeper into the woods.

Frozen.

Still.

Like she was listening.

You started toward her—but before you could get close, one of the counselors called your name. You turned, just for a second.

When you looked back, the girl was gone.

The wind shifted.

And for a moment, it smelled like something old.

Something wet.

Something buried.

It had gotten dark. Too dark.

Color War was still technically going—teams were scattered in the woods and the fields, still chasing flags, still yelling—but the thrill of the game had shifted into something restless. The air felt different now. Heavy, like it was pressing down on the trees. And the trees... the trees didn’t feel like trees anymore.

You stood on the path leading away from the rope line, squinting through the dark, your breath puffing out too fast.

“Logan? Maya? Zeke?” you called, turning in a slow circle. “Guys, you’re not supposed to go this far!”

Nothing.

No answer.

Just distant whooping from the field. Then silence.

Your fingers reached instinctively toward your hip—but the walkie-talkie wasn’t clipped to your belt.

Your stomach dropped.

“Shit,” you whispered, patting your sides in case you’d missed it. It was gone. You must’ve dropped it somewhere near the rope line—but now, even the direction you came from didn’t look right. The trail was gone. Swallowed.

You pulled out your flashlight, hands trembling slightly, and clicked it on.

A narrow cone of light flickered weakly onto the brush. It didn’t reach far. You could see dust floating in the beam. Little white motes that looked too much like ash.

The light sputtered.

You hit the side of it. “Come on. Come on—”

It blinked once.

Twice.

Then died.

Everything went black.

Your chest rose sharply. The breath caught in your throat like a knife point.

You turned quickly, trying to remember which way the main field was—but the dark looked the same in every direction. No campfires. No lanterns. Just trees. Just—

Crunch.

Your blood froze.

The sound came from behind you. Footsteps.

Slow.

Deliberate.

You spun around, heart thudding, squinting hard to see anything.

Then—

Something moved.

A shape. Tall. Just between the trees. Standing like it was waiting.

And in its hand—

An axe.

Your scream tore through the trees, raw and wild and full of panic. You didn’t wait. You didn’t think.

You ran.

Branches whipped at your arms and face, tearing at your shirt as your feet scrambled over dirt and rocks. You didn’t know where you were going, only that you had to get away.

Behind you, the forest shifted. A crack of twigs. A whisper of leaves moving. A shadow dragging behind your own.

Your lungs burned.

Your legs screamed.

And still, you kept running.

Because you knew—

Whatever it was—

It wasn’t part of the game.

The game had run long.

Too long.

The humid summer night had sunk fully into the camp now, casting everything in a deep indigo that swallowed the tree line. The faint glow of flashlights bobbed here and there across the field as the last few groups straggled back toward the mess hall, most of them muddy, breathless, and loud from the adrenaline of the game.

Vi stood near the fire pit with a whistle tucked in her fingers, shouting over the chaos. “Alright! Bring it in! Color War part two tomorrow night! If you’re not back in ten minutes, your team forfeits flag points!”

Groans and laughter followed her call.

Sevika was further out near the edge of the woods, ushering a few campers through the rope line. She glanced at her watch—almost 10 p.m. Too late. Carol would lose it if the game dragged any longer. She tapped her walkie-talkie. Static. Just a little. But she could still hear Vi through the general chatter.

She looked back toward the trail, expecting you to come out of it any second.

But it wasn’t you.

It was your group.

Logan, Zeke, Maya, and Dani jogged up with flushed cheeks and dirt-streaked shins, breathless and grinning.

Sevika’s brows pulled together, stomach tightening.

“Hey,” she called, stepping forward, eyes scanning behind them. “Where’s—”

She didn’t finish.

Because Maya was already stammering.

“She was—uh—there was this thing, it was just a prank, I swear. Some of the older boys from red team, they said they wanted to scare her—just, like, a joke! They said they’d hide the flag and spook her a little, we didn’t think—she said she was gonna go after them and then—then we couldn’t find her—”

Vi was suddenly beside them, eyes narrowed. “What do you mean you couldn’t find her?”

“I thought she was still with us!” Logan added quickly. “She had a flashlight and everything!”

“She’s got her walkie, right?” Vi asked, already reaching for hers.

Sevika’s jaw clenched. “She did.”

Before anyone could say another word, a sound shattered the night.

A scream.

Your scream.

Raw. Panicked. Blood-curdling. Ripping through the trees from somewhere deep in the woods.

The field went still.

Campers froze mid-step. Counselors stopped mid-word.

Sevika was already moving.

She didn’t wait for permission. Didn’t hesitate. Her boots hit the path with heavy, determined thuds, pushing past the stunned group as Vi called for a flashlight.

But Sevika didn’t need one.

She could hear it in her bones.

You were in trouble.

And nothing—nothing—was going to stop her from getting to you.

Your lungs burned.

Branches tore at your arms. Roots caught your ankles. You didn’t care—you kept running, breath ragged in your throat, the shadows clawing closer with every frantic step. You didn’t know where the path was anymore. You didn’t even know where you were. Just trees. Just dark. Just the impossible thud of footsteps behind you.

Then—open space.

The woods broke.

You nearly skidded off a low drop before catching yourself—your feet hit mud and the smell of algae and lakewater hit your nose like a wall. The lake.

You didn’t think.

You just ran straight in.

The cold hit your skin instantly, cutting through the heat of your panic as you dove under. You kicked hard, arms slapping water as you swam toward the opposite side—your flashlight lost, your breath choked. You didn’t even know if you were being followed anymore.

But you weren’t taking chances.

The far shore was close now—so close. You could see the slope where the counselors swam sometimes, the tree roots that dipped into the shallows like fingers.

You broke through the surface, gasping, clawing through the last few feet of water and scrambling onto the bank. Your fingers dug into moss and wet leaves, pulling your soaked body upward.

But then—

Pain.

Sharp. Piercing. Sudden.

You didn’t even scream right away. It was like your body forgot how.

Then you collapsed—hard—onto your side, your wet shirt clinging to your back as you looked down in disbelief.

Your leg.

Your knee.

There was an arrow in it.

An arrow.

You screamed.

This time it ripped out of you like it had claws.

Your hands trembled violently as you reached toward the shaft sticking out of your skin, the blood seeping around the wound mixing with lake water. You couldn’t even think—just pure panic, pure agony.

Then—

Footsteps.

Crunching leaves.

You dragged yourself back, palms scraping the dirt.

And the figure emerged from the trees.

Tall. Holding an axe.

But it wasn’t some faceless killer.

It was Ran.

She stepped forward, her face lit only by the pale moonlight. And behind her—three boys. Older campers. One of them holding a bow. Another laughing like it was a game. The third with wild eyes and shaking hands.

“Jesus Christ,” Ran barked, voice sharp and furious. “What the fuck did you do?!”

“She was running!” the boy with the bow shouted, defensive. “I didn’t mean to hit her like that! It was just supposed to scare her—”

“Scare her, not shoot her!” Ran snapped, rounding on him.

You stared up at them, the pain turning your breath into hiccupped sobs. Your leg was on fire. You were covered in mud, your hands shaking as you curled into yourself.

“Please,” you choked, voice barely a whisper. “Please, don’t���don’t hurt me—”

Ran turned back, and for a moment, her face looked almost horrified. “Shit,” she muttered, kneeling beside you, hands hovering near your shoulders. “Shit, shit, shit—I didn’t—fuck, I didn’t think you’d run like that—"

You flinched when she reached toward the arrow. She stopped, eyes widening.

“Hey, hey—no one’s gonna hurt you, okay?” she said too quickly. Her tone was frantic now. “We were just messing around. It was a prank. It wasn’t—it wasn’t supposed to go like this.”

You tried to speak. Tried to move. But the pain was too much, and your voice just cracked into another sob.

The boys stood behind her, awkward, scared now too. Like they hadn’t realized this was real until blood was involved. One of them stepped backward. Another muttered something about going to get help.

“Shut up,” Ran hissed. “Don’t move. No one leaves until we figure out what the fuck to do.”

“We should take her back—” one of the boys started.

“No,” Ran snapped, eyes wild. “You think we can explain this? An arrow? We’ll get kicked out—fuck, we’ll get arrested! Just give me a second—”

“Please,” you gasped again, voice wet with tears. “Please—just let me go. Please.”

Ran looked down at you.

And for a split second—just one—something flashed in her eyes that wasn’t panic.

It was guilt.

And fear.

But not for you.

For herself.

“Okay,” Ran muttered, more to herself than to you, her palms hovering just above your knee. “It’s barbed, so if I just—if I turn it a little, I can maybe—”

“No!” you cried out, writhing as her fingers grazed the arrow shaft. Pain rocketed through your entire leg, blinding and sharp, worse than anything you'd ever felt. “Stop—stop please, I can’t—!”

Tears streamed down your face, hot and helpless. Your entire body shook like it was trying to run even though you were pinned to the earth by pain.

“Jesus, just hold still—”

She reached again.

You screamed.

And that's when Sevika arrived.

You didn’t see her first—but the boys did.

Their laughter cut off like a wire had snapped. One of them’s grin fell clean off his face. The bow clattered to the ground with a dull thud.

Sevika stood on the edge of the treeline like a storm breaking open. Her boots crushed through the underbrush, jaw tight, eyes locked dead ahead—on you. On the blood down your leg. On the arrow. On Ran’s hand.

Everything about her face changed.

“Get your hands off her.”

Her voice was low. Deadly. Rage threaded through every word like heat through iron.

Ran froze. Her hand jerked back from the arrow like it burned. “Sevika—listen, I swear—I didn’t mean for this to—”

But Sevika wasn’t listening.

She dropped to her knees beside you like the world had narrowed to just you and the arrow and the blood between you both. Her large hand cupped your cheek so gently it hurt. Her other hovered over your thigh, as if afraid even looking at it would make it worse.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” she whispered, voice cracking at the edges. “I’ve got you.”

“Hurts—” you sobbed, clutching the grass, your body half-curled. “It hurts so bad—”

“I know,” she breathed. “I know, baby. Don’t move, okay? We’re gonna get help.”

Behind her, the other counselors were arriving. Vi first, breathless and wild-eyed, followed by Caitlyn, Jinx, and Carol with a first-aid kit half-clutched in one hand and her radio pressed to her mouth.

“What the fuck is going on?” Vi barked, taking one look at the scene before her voice dropped. “Oh—oh no…”

Caitlyn stepped in quickly, kneeling beside Sevika and you. “Is that—an arrow? Is it barbed?”

Sevika didn’t answer.

She was still looking at the boys.

At Ran.

And then she stood.

Her whole body radiated fury.

“You shot her?”

Ran stood slowly, hands up, voice panicking now. “No—it was a prank, okay? I told them not to shoot, it wasn’t supposed to—she ran, and—"

“She’s bleeding!” Sevika snarled, stepping toward her. “You hunted her down like it was a goddamn game—”

Vi caught her arm before it could escalate. “Vik. Not here. Not in front of her.”

Ran paled visibly, shrinking back. The boys said nothing. One was crying now—actual tears. The other two looked like they wanted to melt into the forest.

Carol, still on her walkie, was muttering for emergency services. “...yes, arrow injury, female camper—counselor, yes—barbed, she’s conscious, bleeding, we need EMTs out to Pinewillow now—”

“Sweetheart,” Sevika said, kneeling again beside you, her fury momentarily caged by the shaking in your hands. “Hey. Look at me.”

You blinked up at her, vision blurred.

“I’m here.”

You nodded weakly.

“Good girl,” she murmured, her thumb stroking along your cheek. “Stay awake. Don’t close your eyes. You’re okay. I swear, you’re okay.”

But her eyes—her eyes never left Ran after that.

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[roc-haze]

From the Pushing It Down and Praying series

Something, Somehow, Someday | WillNE

This fic is a bit of backstory/continuation from the previously uploaded part ‘Where We Start’. You can find all of the links and bits here on the link below. For the most part, these chapters are in chronological order. But the context is necessary!!

A week post drunk yap in George’s bath

It was moving day. Y/N found herself sitting on the floor of her empty flat. She’d spent the last week having tough conversations with Alex - chats about dividing their finances, finding their new apartments, letting go of the future they’d once dreamed of. It wasn’t easy, farewelling the familiar. Alex had taken it well. The “I love you but I don’t think I’m your forever person” had landed better than Y/N had expected. Turns out he had known it had gone stale too. He didn’t raise his voice or beg her to stay. He had simply just said, “I think you’re right. We’ve outgrown each other.” All that said, the emotional part was heavy.

Y/N had plans to run with Theo, but found herself packing her belongings. Alex was still hanging around, packing up the last of his vinyls. They’d ultimately decided to both move out of their shared place, feeling like a new place would help them to start fresh. A quick call to Theo with a rushed explanation of “sorry mate I can’t come today, Alex and I have split so I’m moving my things out” hadn’t put him at ease like she’d hope it would. Instead, he’d panicked and immediately put a call into a few of the boys for help.

30 minutes later, Theo was walking through her front door, coffee tray in one hand and an almond croissant in the other. “You didn’t sound too good on the phone. I thought you could use some help”, handing her a coffee and croissant before wrapping his arms around her and embracing her in a hug.

“A hug would’ve been enough but the coffee and pastry is the cherry on top.” She smiled softly, letting out a breath.

“I thought it might be” Theo laughed, squeezing her tighter.

Catching a glimpse of Alex in his peripheral, Theo pulled away. “Hey mate!” He approached, hugging him. Alex had once been a part of the fold. He was happy to host dinners at home, attended the group parties and participated in the fun runs. The group loved him as much as they loved Y/N. But at some point, he stopped joining in. He got busy at work, found his own group of friends, wrapped himself up in his own interests.

“Okay so, professional cleaner is coming on Tuesday,” Alex spoke to Y/N. “Is there anything you need my help with before I take off?”.

“Okay. Well. This probably won’t be the last time I see you, but I just want to say,” Alex looked toward Theo, who took the hint and attempted to look busy. “Thank you. I’m really sorry things didn’t work out between us.”

“I dunno, I’d say they did. We’ve got nearly a decade of success.” She grinned, holding her arms out for a hug. She spoke quietly in his ear, “how lucky am I that you are the first man I’ve ever truly loved.”

Alex, not knowing how to respond, just held on a little tighter. A few moments later, they pulled apart, his hands softly grabbing her cheeks. He kissed her gently. “Love you.”

And with that, he put his key on the counter and walked out of the apartment.

“That nearly put a tear in my fucking eye.” Theo spoke from across the flat. He caught her eye, the two of them immediately breaking into laughter.

A thump at the door silenced them. “The fuck are you two cackling at?” Freezy spoke, sending them into giggles again.

—-

Theo had organised for the rest of the boys to meet them at Y/N’s new flat. Lux had been sent to IKEA to pick up the remainder of her flat pack furniture, Reev had stopped in at the garden nursery to pick up a few pieces for her and Harry was expected to be late (but would arrive with alcohol).

Freezy, Y/N and Theo lay spread across the floor of the new apartment. They’d taken turns dragging box after box into the service elevator, eventually deciding to call it a day and pass off the work to the others.

Not long after, Lux arrived with the boot of his car stacked to the brim. He walked through the door, carrying several IKEA boxes. “Right, where do you want this?”.

Y/N chuckled, biting back the lump in her throat. “Bedroom. Those look like bookshelves.”

Putting the box down in the bedroom, he walked back out. “And where do you want me?”.

She sat up and held her arms out for a hug. Lux grabbed her hands, pulling her up and into a tight embrace. He spoke softly. “You and I have been friends for a long time, so I don’t always feel like I have to tell you I love you. Because you already know. But I do.”

“I know. I love you too. Thanks for being here.” She spoke, voice muffled by his shoulder.

The rest of the crew - Reev and Harry - showed up not long after, but it was Theo, Freezy and Lux who held her together. They were like the big brothers she had always wanted.

Hours later, they were sat on the living room floor assembling a flat pack shelf when Harry approached her, handing her a glass of wine. “I brought something a bit stronger too but thought I’d test the waters.” He laughed, leaning down to kiss her temple. Theo took over the assembly, taking her screwdriver. “Go sit down.”

Y/N took a seat on the couch, Lux sitting beside her and offering a quiet presence. “You know I’d totally understand if you wanted to have a quiet minute in the bathroom.” He spoke, searching her eyes. They had all felt the way she had been on edge, as if she were terrified to close the chapter.

“I’m okay,” she had replied with a tearful smile. He just wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into him, as they watched Theo fight with the flat pack.

“You’re not okay,” Lux spoke softly. “And we love you all the same.”

By the time sunset had come along, Y/N was mostly unpacked. Theo had put together and organised her bookshelves, Freezy had hung her artwork, Lux had colour coded her wardrobe, Reev had placed her favourite plants around the apartment and set up her vinyl collection, while Harry cleaned as they went and refilled their drinks. Sat on her couch and beanbags, the six of them shared Chinese food and watched an episode of a shitty show.

Will had messaged her: “Hey, call me later.”

She hadn’t yet, but she would.

———-

In the days following the move, Y/N found herself adjusting to the quiet.

It was all new - only cooking meals for one, not having to worry about someone else’s socks ending up in her laundry. She’d gotten to a new normal. Freya had kept her busy, taking her out on long walks, while Talia invited her over for pasta nights at her and Simon’s place.

Unsurprisingly, the boys rallied around her.

Theo would stop in at her office to have lunch with her, bringing her pieces of PR he’d received so they could unbox it together. She came home to find her favourite bottle of wine on the doormat with a tag on it reading “saw this and thought you’d like it - Harry xoxo”. Lux had shown up on a Thursday evening armed with takeaway, having rented one of her favourite movies to his Amazon Prime account. They showed up.

She also called Will. He listened.

——

Post dinner antics and his first tour of the apartment, Y/N decided to invite Will over .

I got a bottle of red with our names on it, she’d texted. And a cosy looking bathtub to yap in.

Be right there.

He opened the door to her flat, finding her on the couch with a cup of tea in hand. She was in flannel pyjamas, hair in a bun, pimple cream in its all glory. It was the most her she’d looked in a while.

He kicked off his shoes like he’d done it a hundred times before and grinned. “It smells like you’ve been baking.”

“Oh, I have. There’s some brownies for you.”

They sat on opposite ends of her couch this time, knees touching.

Their plans to sit in the bath and yap had been abandoned, choosing to instead sit on the couch, drink tea and share warm brownies.

“I’ve got a thought,” Will spoke, mouth full of baked goods.

“Oh fuck, that’s a scary thought.” Y/N laughed.

“Oi!” He laughed, jabbing her knee. “Why don’t we save the bath chats for the scary stuff?”. He paused. “Wait, poor choice of words. Bath chats are for when you wanna tell the truth but it’s a little frightening.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. Also reserved as an excuse to abandon loud parties.” She quirked an eyebrow.

“Done deal.”

A few hours later, she sat on the couch as Will dug through her vinyl collection.

Putting on one of her favourite Joni Mitchell records, he sat back down.

“I like this version of you,” Will said quietly, as she leaned her head on the armrest.

“What version’s that?” she murmured.

“The one who finally chose herself.”

——

By now, everyone knew. Will was in love with Y/N. Y/N was in love with Will. She was just going through it. Hadn’t finished grieving the end of the better part of a decade.

There was no secret between friends like theirs. Lux had caught Will staring at her once during dinner, and didn’t even need to say anything. He just patted his back and passed him another drink.

Theo had pulled Y/N aside at the dinner where she’d spilled her guts and told her, “When you’re ready, he’s ready. But until then, we’ve got you.”

Even George, who had pushed a little too hard at the Clarke-Hill-Dixon tour celebration had shown up at the reception desk of her work with flowers and coffee from her favourite cafe. “I feel like we have this sibling relationship sometimes and I took it too far,” he’d apologised. “These probably aren’t as good as any sort of bouquet Will would get you.”

“What’s Will got to do with you bringing me flowers?” She had asked.

“I figured you’d realised you were in love with him by now.” He’d replied, grin cheeky as ever.

——

About 4 weeks later, it happened.

They hadn’t kissed yet.

They hadn’t needed to.

She wasn’t ready.

He wasn’t going to push her. Instead, he kept a respectful distance. He’d known her for over a decade. He’d been in love with her for years. Waiting 6 weeks for her to deprogram from her relationship was the least he could do.

On a Saturday evening, they walked out of the cinema after sharing a few glasses of wine and a bucket of popcorn.

Stopping under a street lamp, Y/N stopped in her tracks. Will stopped too. “You okay?”.

“I think I’m there. I’ve arrived somewhere, I think,” she said softly.

He didn’t ask what she meant. He just nodded, gently resting a hand on her cheek. “Okay.”

And as they arrived at her door, she hesitated to close the door behind her.

“Will. Can you do me a favour?” She spoke softly.

“Yeah, what’s that?”.

“Kiss me.”

He stood closer, searching her eyes for any hint of cold feet. His hands found her waist, gently pulling her in. He leant down, their lips gently brushing before they eventually met.

Her hands traced along his arms, finding a place to rest in his hair.

Will broke the kiss to speak, murmuring “I can’t believe this is happening”. Y/N spoke, “you are so hot but shut up”. He didn’t need to be told a second time, stepping into her apartment and backing her into the wall by the door, devouring her in a searing kiss.

Goosebumps spread across her skin, his hands leaving a trail of fire wherever they touched. A decade of watching her love someone else. A decade of longing, loving, yearning for her when he didn’t have a name for it yet. A decade of her loving the wrong person, when he’d been in front of her the whole time. The kiss said it all.

She was his. He was hers.

No more pushing it down.

—

A/N: Annnnnd we’ve unlocked a new part! Let me know your thoughts pls xx

I do have a part related to this that just explores the platonic relationships within the group. Is this something you guys would be interested in? I know that some of you tend to enjoy the character building chapters 💌

TAGLIST: @mosviqu @octaneink @clarkeysbedchem @mrswillne @meglouise00 @jonnybernthalslover @clarkey4life @asmoothoperator @clarkeyscvntymullet (opt in or out any time - drop me a DM or comment) 🩵

[ang3lmoans]

Angel’s grip on the steering wheel eased the moment Garam’s hand left his thigh to cradle his face. The touch was light, almost reverent, like Garam was afraid Angel might break if he pressed too hard. And maybe he would—if it had been anyone else. But it was Garam. Always Garam. And instead of cracking open, Angel leaned into the warmth of his palm like it was the only safe place left in the world. His lips twitched—not quite a smile, but close. There was still so much weight in his chest, coiled tight around his lungs, refusing to let go. But hearing Garam say “I love you” with such gentle certainty, hearing the quiet determination behind “we are absolutely not sleeping in your car”—it loosened something in him. Just a little. He didn’t deserve it. Not really. He had been the one to let Axel get too close, knowing the red flags were so obvious in hindsight they practically screamed. Angel had convinced himself it was fine. Just a bit messy. Just complicated. But the truth was uglier, and the damage had spread far beyond himself. Garam had been caught in the crossfire. And yet here he was. Loving him anyway. “I’m not being nice,” Angel murmured after a beat, his voice rough around the edges. “I’m just… telling the truth.” He could feel the heat of Garam’s hand on his cheek even after it pulled away, the echo of that touch grounding him more than any seatbelt could. The city lights were starting to blink to life outside the windows, casting soft gold over the dashboard. Angel blinked slowly, his focus narrowing on the road ahead but his thoughts wrapped entirely around the man in the passenger seat. The hotel idea wasn’t just smart—it was safe. Practical. It put space between them and whatever version of Axel might be waiting at the apartment. It gave them room to breathe. And even if it meant living out of a suitcase for a couple of days, it was worth it to see Garam’s face relax even the tiniest bit. Worth it to see some of the fear fade behind that coaxing tone of his. “A bubble bath, huh?” Angel said, eyes flicking to Garam for a heartbeat before returning to the road. His voice was low, but it held a spark of something playful—buried beneath exhaustion, but still alive. “I guess that does sound better than sleeping in the front seat with my spine folding in half.” He caught Garam’s soft laugh, and something inside him ached with how much he wanted to hear that sound more often. “Alright,” Angel added, flicking the turn signal on as he veered toward a different exit, one that didn’t lead home. “Hotel it is. But I get to pick the snacks.” Angel didn’t have to look to know he was smiling. They didn’t speak much more as they drove. But silence wasn’t heavy this time. It was companionable. Safe. The kind of quiet that wrapped around them like a soft blanket, letting them be still without fear, without expectation. Angel still didn’t know what tomorrow would look like. He didn’t know what Axel would do next, or how long the shadow of that man’s damage would follow them. But in this moment, with Garam beside him and a plan that didn’t end in confrontation or retreat, Angel felt something rare and deeply needed: Hope.He let it settle into his chest like a heartbeat. Quiet, steady, alive.They’d find a place to rest. They’d lock the door behind them. And for at least one night, they’d let themselves be whole again. Angel headed toward the perfect hotel. One he knew they would be safe when if Axel did somehow find them. They would never tell after all, his family name was on the front. “I haven't seen them in some time. But my cousin will make sure we are taken care of. Just…uh They insist on calling me by my first name” Angel blushed slightly. He didn't really talk about his family or thay he went by his middle name.

his expression softened, his body losing all tension as he let his hand lay flat against angel's thigh now. the reassurance did help him feel better but no amount of reassurance would stop him from blaming himself for what happened. because if he hadn't have gotten involved with axel, if he chose somebody else to hook up with or just left it at that one night, neither of them would be in the situation they were in. angel wouldn't have gotten assaulted, garam wouldn't have had to endure the pain, developing jealousy, and emotional turmoil that was forced upon him. he understood that he couldn't control the choices axel made, of course, but there wouldn't have ever been the possibility of that outcome happening if he'd listened to those who warned him before getting himself in too deep with the man. "you're too nice to me," his words were hushed, garam was thankful that angel didn't put any blame on him. he wasn't sure what he would have done if angel had pushed garam away because of what happened. he was thankful that angel was honest about it, too, so he was able to step away from his relationship with axel. garam wanted to laugh when angel said they'd sleep in his car but he managed to keep his composure, only letting a tender smile show. he lifted his hand from angel's thigh, gently placing it on the man's cheek, allowing his thumb to caress over skin. "oh, honey, i love you but we are absolutely not sleeping in your car." there were plenty of other options if they weren't actually able to go back to his apartment. they could stay with garam's parents, they'd turned his old room into a guest room so there was definitely space for them. plus, the gated community provided them a lot more safety. even though his parents knew what happened — the gist, not every detail, he knew they would press for more information and garam just didn't want to talk about it with people that weren't directly involved. nor did he want angel to feel pressured to talk about what happened with him, either. they could go back to his own apartment, though he was sure angel wouldn't feel comfortable there and axel did have a key — he made a mental note to talk to his landlord to get the locks replaced. hotels were still an option, too. sure, axel could easily follow them there but they could just as easily warn staff about him, too. besides, with the right hotel choice, there'd be far too many floors and even more rooms for axel to be able to find which was theirs. "we could just skip going back and stay at a hotel for a couple nights, instead. i mean, if he's waiting for us, there's no way he'd know where we went after the mall." he still hadn't noticed any cars following them, surely axel's brother wouldn't go as far as following them back home, so he figured they were pretty safe. "we can order room service, watch some movies... take a nice, hot bubble bath." he tried to make it sound more enticing, as if he were trying to convince angel to say yes. "it'll be super laid back, super chill. nobody will know where we are so we won't have to worry about anybody bothering us."

[grayandthyme]

Pleaseeee, i'm begging, give this man a child (in response to the reader and Tommy's Christmas dinner fic)

i think we have much more love to give ;

Synopsis: Being the busiest couple in Jackson isn't always for the weak. Especially when your own problems arise. Warnings: Pregnancy. Slight Angst. Super fluff. Domestic Tommy & Reader. Lots of dialogue.

♫ meet me in the woods - lord huron

authors note: hehe thank u for the request.. this was so fun..

The end of summer in Jackson wasn’t just hot.

It was relentless—a thick, suffocating heat that settled deep in your bones, like the kind of warmth that didn’t let go.

The kind of heat that clings to your skin, sticky and stubborn, crawling under your clothes and into your lungs, making every breath heavy and slow.

August had a way of stretching itself long and loud in this town, and with it came the parties—endless, unyielding, and noisy.

They were fun, sure, in that wild, untamed way that made you forget the weight of the world for a little while.

But damn, there were so many.

Every evening, like clockwork, neighbors would wander by with beers in hand or a bag of venison fresh from the hunt, waving you over with that easy, worn-down grin.

It was their way of saying, 'Thank you for this safe place.'

You and Tommy—you’d stand on the porch, the warm light spilling over the wooden railings, watching the flicker of bonfires and hearing laughter ripple through the night.

Sometimes you’d sip your drink, sometimes you’d just hold Tommy’s hand and let the noise fade into something quieter—a reminder that here, in this wild little town, you had something steady. Something worth holding onto.

It wasn’t like you hated all the food. Or the invites.

You weren’t exactly an introvert—never had been. You liked people, liked the easy comfort of familiar faces, and the quiet hum of a small town gathering.

But sometimes, you just wanted to shut the door behind you, curl up close with Tommy, and disappear from the world until Monday rolled around again.

You imagined it often: staying in bed late, feigning innocence as you made him late for morning patrol, maybe even begging him not to go at all—to just stay tangled up in the sheets, right there beside you.

The food at these parties was… well, it was interesting.

Nothing ever looked outright bad, but the generosity of these families often came with a side of weird.

Lamb, for example. How in the hell did they even find a lamb out here? You tried to smile, tried to pretend you weren’t eyeing the strange cuts on your plate with suspicion.

That night, after one of those dinners, you couldn’t shake it. Your body felt stiff and heavy, like your skin was too tight around your bones. Nausea churned low in your stomach, but you didn’t want to make a fuss.

You told Tommy it was fine, that you just needed to sleep it off.

But when three in the morning crept in, the quiet was shattered. You were bent over the toilet, bile burning your throat, the sound barely loud enough to stir him from his sleep.

Tommy was there in an instant, steady hands on your back, voice low and rough with worry.

“Hey—hey. It’s alright. I’m here.”

He held your hair back with steady hands, careful but firm enough to keep it from falling into your face.

His fingers found little spots on your scalp and scratched gently, like he was trying to soothe something deeper than just the sickness—the kind of quiet comfort only he could give.

His brow was knitted tight, that rough, protective look he wore when he didn’t know how to fix what was wrong. You hated seeing him like that—worried, helpless—but he was never the type to just stand by.

“You think you ate somethin’ bad?” His voice was low, rough around the edges but soft when it was just for you.

You gave a weak shake of your head, tasting bile again, but managing a faint, half-smile through the nausea. “Maybe the food. Or maybe I’m just weak-willed.”

He snorted, the sound mixing with his quiet chuckle. “You? Weak? Nah. You’re tougher than half the people I know.”

You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to. But right now, your body felt like it was turning against you, and no amount of bravado could stop that.

Tommy’s eyes never left yours. He pulled a damp cloth from the bathroom sink and wiped your forehead gently, his touch careful like he was handling something fragile—even if you didn’t feel that way to yourself.

“You don’t get sick like this,” he said, voice thick with concern. “Not you.”

You bit your lip, swallowing the lump that was rising in your throat.

He knew you better than anyone. He knew when you were holding back, and this wasn’t just a little stomach bug.

“Maybe it’s somethin’ else,” you whispered, voice shaky, "… Anxiety.. who knows."

Tommy’s jaw tightened. “You gonna let me figure it out, or you just gonna sit here and pretend it’s not serious? Cause' if it was me over that toilet, you'd be shittin' fuckin' bricks figurin' it out."

The banter was still there—a shield you both wrapped around yourselves when things got too real. But beneath it, the worry was raw, honest.

He stayed by your side through it all, silent except for the occasional soft word, the small reassurances that made the room feel less cold and less scary.

When you finally settled back against the pillows, exhausted, Tommy pulled a blanket up around you and sat on the edge of the bed, his hand finding yours in the dark.

It had been mostly fine. You’d eaten breakfast that morning—not much, but enough to count. And for a few days, things had settled.

You had your usual energy back, that glow in your eyes Tommy knew better than the back of his hand. You even teased him over dinner like nothing had happened.

He let himself believe you were better. Let him breathe.

But it didn’t last.

That morning at the Tipsy Bison, the air was thick with the smell of sausage, eggs, wood smoke.

Familiar. Ordinary.

And then you flinched—a sudden sharp recoil, your hand shooting up to warn Tommy off like he was a threat, like he could make it worse by being near you.

Before he could say a word, you were gone. Darted toward the bathroom, hand clamped over your mouth, the sound of the door swinging shut behind you loud enough to crack the mood wide open.

Tommy stood there, stunned, like the air had been sucked out of the room.

From the bar, Joel was already rising to his feet.

He hadn’t come in for breakfast—just coffee, just to talk about Ellie’s birthday plans. But his eyes had tracked you the second you walked in. Joel had a quiet way of watching, like he saw more than he let on.

He walked over, slow but steady, nodding toward the swinging bathroom door before turning to Tommy.

“She been sick long?”

Tommy rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly aware of how tight the muscles there had gotten. “Couple nights last week. Threw up bad. Thought it was just bad meat or somethin’. Then she was fine. Least, I thought she was.”

Joel didn’t say anything for a moment. Just stared, jaw working, brow drawn the way it always did when he was circling something in his mind—something he already knew, but didn’t want to name just yet.

“She ever get sick like that before?” he finally asked.

Tommy shook his head, “Nah. She’s usually the one takin’ care of me. You think it’s a bug goin’ around?”

Joel’s gaze slid toward the bathroom, and when he looked back at his brother, it was softer somehow.

Not pity—Joel didn’t do pity—but something older.

Something heavy.

“Smell hit her hard?”

Tommy blinked. “Yeah.”

“She tired?”

“All the time, now.”

Joel nodded, slow, like the pieces were all falling into place in his head, even if Tommy hadn’t caught up yet, “She ain’t sick, Tommy.”

Tommy narrowed his eyes, “Then what the hell—?”

Joel didn’t answer right away.

He just looked at him.

That look that said you know where I’m goin’ with this.

And that’s when it hit him.

Joel didn’t have to say it. He didn’t have to say anything at all. Not when that familiar ache passed behind his eyes—the kind of ache that didn’t belong to the years after the outbreak, but the ones before it.

Joel sighed. “Just… keep an eye on her. That’s all I’m sayin’. Maybe take her to that doc we got… You don’t gotta panic yet.”

The bathroom door creaked open then, and the two men fell silent. Joel patted his baby-brother on the back, once—solid, grounding—and moved away, giving you space.

You looked pale, but steady on your feet. Your eyes met Tommy’s across the room, questioning. He gave you a smile—soft, worried, but full of something else too.

“Sorry, boys…” you hummed, brushing the hair back from your face as casually as you could manage. Your voice had a lightness to it — practiced, bright. “Guess no more cookouts for me, huh?”

You nodded toward the barstools like you were trying to steer the moment somewhere safer, somewhere easier.

The kind of place where everything could stay simple—just Joel, Tommy, and talk of summer cookouts and birthdays instead of the bathroom door you’d just stumbled out of, and the questions that were clearly building behind Tommy’s eyes.

Joel gave a small, understanding smile, the kind that didn’t press too hard. “Yeah, well. Can’t blame you. They were servin’ somethin’ today that looked like it crawled outta the woods and cooked itself.”

You laughed—a little too hard, a little too quick.

“Right? I swear I saw it blink at me on the tray.”

The conversation picked up from there, just like you wanted it to.

Joel launched into a low rumble about Ellie’s birthday—how she’d been dropping hints that weren’t even hints anymore.

"She said, 'i'd kill for a comic book I haven't read yet,' That was yesterday,"

"Day before it was, 'a flamethrower would be sick'."

You leaned in, the corners of your mouth twitching upward. “So… books or explosives. Got it.”

Tommy chuckled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Because the truth was, he wasn’t listening.

Not really.

His eyes were on you—tracing the edges of your face, the new paleness in your skin, the way you kept adjusting your posture like your body didn’t know how to sit right anymore. Your hand rested on the counter, fingers tapping a rhythm that felt restless, distracted.

And beneath the humor, there was a flicker of something… distant in your gaze.

You were talking, smiling, keeping the energy up like it was second nature. But he knew you better than that. Knew the difference between your real laugh and your performance.

And this one? It wasn't a performance. More like a lingering fear. An inkling of something.

Tommy leaned back slightly on his stool, arms crossed, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

She’s deflecting. She knows something’s off. She’s scared to say it out loud.

Joel glanced over at him, catching the look on his face. Said nothing. Just gave the faintest shake of his head. Not yet. Let her lead.

Tommy didn’t answer out loud, but he sighed through his nose and nodded once, subtly.

You were still talking, “Maybe we get her a slingshot. Y’know, low-tech flamethrower. More sustainable,"

"She can take someone's eye out or somethin...'"

And you laughed again, tipping your head back, doing your damned best to keep everything light.

Even if fear clung to your insides. The inkling had planted itself, and you were sure as hell going to run to Maria's house after this.

"Environmentally conscious murder. I like it,” Joel drawled.

But Tommy was still staring. Quietly, carefully, like if he looked hard enough, he’d see through the mask you were wearing—see what you weren’t saying. And underneath the warmth in his chest—the love that never went away—was something else now.

A slow-growing, aching kind of hope.

He was excited.

The sun had already started to climb higher by the time you left the Tipsy Bison.

The light was sharp and golden, dust glinting in the air like tiny flecks of glass. The walk back to your house wasn’t long, maybe ten minutes if you strolled, but Tommy felt every second stretch long and thin between your footsteps.

You were quiet. Too quiet.

Not the relaxed kind of quiet either—not the peaceful, post-laugh, full-bellied kind.

This was tight. Withdrawn. Like the inside of you was folding in on itself.

Tommy walked half a step behind, watching how you carried your weight. Your shoulders hunched slightly forward. Your hand pressed to your side like you were trying to hold yourself steady without making it obvious.

Your skin had that sheen to it—not from the heat, not entirely. Something clammy. Cold-sweat kind of sick.

“You alright, sweetheart?” he asked, voice low, casual, but the tension in it betrayed him.

You nodded without looking at him, brushing a hand across your forehead.

“Yeah. Just—god, I think the heat’s gettin’ to me.”

But it wasn’t that warm. Not really. Not compared to the kind of summer heat that Jackson was known for. And you’d survived hotter days in thicker clothes, with more weight on your back and a full patrol route ahead of you.

This? This wasn’t the sun. It was something inside you.

Tommy didn’t press. Just nodded like he believed you and offered his hand. You took it, fingers slotting into his, even though yours were trembling slightly. By the time the house came into view—that small, familiar cabin with the porch he’d patched up in spring, and the garden you insisted on starting even though nothing ever grew right—your steps had slowed.

You paused at the bottom of the stairs, pressing your other hand to your chest like you were trying to quiet something that had started spinning out of control.

Tommy moved in front of you, still holding your hand.

“Hey. Look at me.”

You hesitated—eyes not quite meeting his.

He tilted his head, voice softer now, something deeper threading through it.

“You’re pale, sugar. You’ve been sick off and on for over a week. And now you can’t even walk ten minutes without lookin’ like you might pass out on me.” He gave you a little smile, trying to lighten the weight of his words.

“I know you’re tougher than that. So, what’s goin’ on?”

You shook your head, blinking hard. “I don’t know. I don’t—” You paused. Swallowed. “I just… I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure.”

Tommy’s chest tightened. “Sure about what?”

You looked at him then. Really looked at him.

And for the first time in days, your eyes stopped performing.

“I think I might be pregnant.”

The words hit him like a soft blow—not painful, but deep. Bone-deep. His breath caught somewhere between his lungs and his ribs.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just stepped closer, hands rising to cup your face, thumbs brushing across your cheeks where the flush had settled in streaks.

“You sure?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

“No,"

"Not yet.” Your voice cracked, not from fear, but something more tender.

Fragile.

He nodded slowly, pressing his hand to your jaw, fingers large enough to thread through to the back of your scalp, grounding himself in the warmth of your skin despite the sweat. Despite the nerves. Despite the fact that the world still wasn’t a place where things like this ever came easy.

“How late,” he murmurs.

It isn’t a question. Not really. He’s not asking because he doesn’t know—he’s asking because you do. Because you’ve already counted the days. Because he’s seen it in the way you’ve been moving around the truth, ducking your head and brushing off the nausea, the way your hand finds your stomach when you think he’s not looking.

You don’t answer right away.

Your hands are resting on his chest now, not pushing him away, just resting—like if you let go, you might float off into something too big to hold alone. Your fingers twitch slightly.

“Almost six weeks,” you whisper.

Tommy’s breath leaves him slow.

Like he expected it, and still it knocks something loose in him.

You finally glance up, searching his face.

“I didn’t wanna say it. Not until I was sure. I thought maybe it was just stress—or my body acting weird. But then the smell of food started turning—and I couldn’t keep anything down. And I just knew.”

He lets the silence linger for a beat.

Then two. His thumb strokes absentmindedly along your jaw— gentle, grounding.

“Jesus,” he breathes, more to himself than you. “We… we might actually be—”

“Don’t say it,” you cut in, not harsh, but urgent. Your voice trembles just enough to betray the weight you’ve been carrying. “Not yet. I can’t—if it’s not, I don’t wanna hear it out loud. Not until I know for sure.”

Tommy nods, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Okay,” he says. Simple. Solid. Like a promise.

“Okay?”

“Yeah—” His voice thickens a little, something tight behind it that he doesn’t bother hiding. “Alright, Sugar,"

"... We’ll wait. No pressure. No rush—just you ‘n me, alright?”

You nod and exhale shakily, leaning your forehead against his chest again. He wraps his arms around you, holding you like he already knows. Like he’s already made space in his chest for something else—someone else.

He presses a kiss to the crown of your head, and then says quietly, “We’ll go to the doc' in town, Yeah?—tomorrow—just to be sure.”

You nod again, barely.

“Okay.”

Tommy holds you tighter, eyes scanning the horizon over your shoulder like it might give him answers. But the only thing he feels is your heart beating against his—fast, uneven, but real.

Anxious.

Morning came gray and quiet. Overcast skies rolled low above Jackson, pressing the light into something dull and slow, like the day itself was reluctant to begin.

You stood at the top of the stairs, one hand clamped so tightly around the banister your knuckles had gone white.

The wood creaked under your grip, and your other hand hovered near your stomach again, fingers twitching uselessly—like you didn’t know where to place them.

Tommy was downstairs already, boots on, jacket slung over one shoulder. You could hear him moving through the kitchen, pouring coffee neither of you really wanted.

Trying to pretend this was just any other morning.

But you couldn’t pretend.

Your stomach was churning again, not from nausea, not entirely— but from dread. From the impossible weight of what if.

You hadn’t even made it down the first step.

You didn’t want to go.

You didn’t want to hear someone else say it—say it out loud and make it real. Because what if it wasn’t real?

What if the doctor looked at you with that soft, apologetic face people used when they didn’t want to say the truth out loud? Or worse—what if it was real?

And what if you weren’t ready?

A part of you didn’t know if you wanted this.

Not in a world like this.

Not when everything still felt like it could be ripped out from under you at any second.

It wasn’t that you didn’t love Tommy—you did.

So much that it hurt to even look at him some days.

But the idea of bringing someone else into this world—into this life—made something sharp settle in your throat.

Are you strong enough? Strong enough to protect them both?

Footsteps. You didn’t even hear him come to the base of the stairs. Tommy looked up at you, eyes soft, unreadable. “You alright up there?”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Instead, your grip on the banister tightened.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you said, voice raw. “I don’t even know if I want this.”

Tommy didn’t flinch. Didn’t move. He just looked at you like he always did—with that impossible patience, like he’d wait all day if he had to. His tongue jutting against the inner of his cheek.

“You don’t have to decide any of that right now,” he said quietly. “We’re just gettin’ answers. That’s all.”

You shook your head, blinking back the sting behind your eyes. “But what if I can’t handle the answer?”

He took a step up. Then another. Slow, careful, until he was just one step below you. He reached out, gently brushing his fingers over yours where they were still wrapped around the wood.

“Then we face it together,” he said. “Whatever it is. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

You looked at him then. Really looked at him.

And God, he looked so tired—like he’d been up all night thinking too, running the same circles in his mind.

He probably had.

You knew bits and pieces of his childhood.

Nothing there really spelled out; I can't wait to be a dad!

But still, he was there. Steady as ever. Just like always.

“I’m scared,” you whispered.

“I know,” he said. And then, quieter, “Me too.”

You exhaled slowly, chest shaking. The silence stretched again, but this time, it wasn’t as heavy.

Just lived-in.

You nodded once. Not fully ready—not even close—but willing.

The infirmary was small. Sparse.

A couple of old plastic chairs, a cot pushed against one wall with sheets too white to look trustworthy, and a narrow counter that probably used to be a breakroom table in another life.

It smelled like antiseptic and stale air.

The test sat on the counter like a live grenade.

Not touched. Not looked at.

Just there.

Tommy sat in the chair beside you, legs bouncing. You could feel the motion through the floor. He’d been quiet on the walk here, but now, now that the test was done and the clock was ticking—he couldn’t sit still if he tried.

You were perched stiffly at the edge of your chair, arms wrapped around your stomach.

“Jesus,” you mumbled, “I think I’m gonna throw up again.”

Tommy glanced at you quickly, “Again? We ain't even eat.”

“Doesn’t matter.” You groaned, rubbing your eyes. “My stomach knows something’s wrong.”

He leaned back, lips twitching. “I mean, yeah. We’re sittin’ in a glorified janitor’s closet waitin’ on a test that could change every damn thing we know. I’d be worried if your stomach wasn’t pissed about it.”

You laughed once, sharp and breathy, “You think ten minutes could go any slower?”

Tommy checked his watch like it had betrayed him. “I swear time’s been stuck at seven minutes for the last goddamn fifteen.”

You tilted your head back and stared at the ceiling, trying to breathe, “God, this is worse than patrol. At least when someone’s shootin’ at you, you don’t have to wonder.”

“Speak for yourself,” he muttered. “I’ve seen the way you look at clickers—like you’re already figurin’ out if you can shove me into ‘em and make a run for it.”

"Oh—Ha—Ha." You mock laugh, weakly. “Don’t tempt me.”

The silence returned, but not cold.

Just nervous.

Your eyes drifted back to the test sitting there on the plastic counter. Face down. Innocent.

But somehow, it carried the weight of the entire world in it.

“Feels stupid to be this scared,” you whispered.

Tommy didn’t answer for a second. Then, softly: “It ain’t stupid.”

You turned your head, met his eyes.

“It’s not stupid to wonder if we’re ready,” he continued, “Not in a world like this. Not after everythin’ we’ve seen. Hell, part of me still feels like I’m barely holdin’ it together some days.”

You leaned into him, just enough that your shoulder pressed against his.

“I keep thinkin’ about all the ways this could go wrong,” you admitted.

“Yeah,” he said,

“Me too.”

Silence again. The clock ticked—loud in the still room.

And then:

“I mean,” Tommy said slowly, “... at least if it’s positive, we’ve got a solid excuse to get out of the next five cookouts.”

You laughed, soft.

“And,” he added, nodding seriously, “Ellie’ll probably cry. You know she’ll lose her mind over bein’ some kinda badass apocalypse aunt.”

You gave a low, shaky laugh. “We’d never hear the end of it.”

“Nope.”

More silence. The minutes had almost passed.

You exhaled and stared at the test again. “You look first.”

“Hell no,” he said immediately. “Last time I looked at somethin’ first I ended up on patrol alone for two weeks ‘cause you got mad about a possum.”

“That possum was in our bathroom, Tommy.”

“And I told you—it was probably more scared of you than you were of it—”

“Tommy—”

He turned to you, eyes wide, “What?”

“I think it’s been ten minutes.” It came out more fractured than you had meant it too.

The quiet stretched until it felt unbearable. The test hadn’t moved, hadn’t shifted an inch—just lying there, face-down on the counter like it didn’t hold a future inside it.

You both stared.

Tommy finally let out a long sigh, stood, and rubbed a hand down his face.

“Alright,” he muttered. “If we just sit here, it’s gonna sprout legs and tell us itself.”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. He glanced at you, then reached for the test with a kind of cautious reverence—like it was holy. Or cursed.

His fingers hovered above it for a second.

“Ready?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

You shook your head.

“No.”

He nodded. “Cool—me neither.”

Then he turned it over.

And looked. His breath hitched. You could only stare at his face—the way it stilled.

All the air in the room seemed to press in, watching, waiting.

Tommy looked up, slow. Eyes wide and soft, like he was trying to process everything all at once.

“Well?” you breathed, voice already shaking.

A long beat. He held the test out toward you with one hand like he didn’t trust himself to speak.

You took it, fingers trembling. One look.

Two lines.

Clear. Definite. No guessing needed.

Your mouth opened. Closed. No sound came.

And then Tommy—ever the idiot—cleared his throat and muttered, “Guess I should’ve started workin’ on the nursery.”

You let out a choked sound, something between a laugh and a sob.

“Tommy—”

“I mean, I don’t even know what babies need. A crib? A rattle? A very tiny gun—”

“Tommy, please—” you were laughing now, but it cracked, the edges fraying fast.

“We could call it Clicker if it’s ugly—”

And just like that, your knees buckled.

You sank into the nearest chair, hands covering your mouth as the first sob tore out of you—raw and loud and helpless. You didn’t even know where it came from, only that it had been waiting.

Waiting for this moment. For confirmation. For truth.

Tommy was by your side instantly. Dropping to his knees, both hands on you—arms, shoulders, whatever he could touch.

“Hey. Hey, Sweetheart, look at me—”

"Look at me.”

You couldn’t. Your face was wet, hands shaking. The fear was everywhere, full-bodied. Your whole world had tipped on its axis and you couldn’t get a grip on anything.

“I’m scared,” you gasped, “I’m so scared. What if I mess this up? What if something happens? What if I’m not enough?”

"Jesus fuck—Two people to worry about.. I can't—I can't—"

Tommy cupped your face, firm and steady. “Hey, look at me. Please.” You did. Barely. Your vision blurred and eyes red.

“You won’t mess this up,” he said, voice low and fierce. “You hear me? You’re the bravest person I’ve ever known. You’ve kept us alive. You’ve held me together more times than I can count. And you won’t be alone in this.”

You let out another sob, softer now, body sagging forward until he caught you. Held you.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you whispered.

“Neither do I,” he murmured into your hair.

“We’ll figure it out... Together. That’s all we’ve ever done.”

You buried your face in his shoulder, still crying, but holding him tighter now. He didn’t let go.

And for a while, you just stayed there. In that too-bright little room. With the test forgotten on the counter and the whole future quietly rearranging itself in your arms.

The walk back was slow, the kind of slow that lets the world catch up with you—but this time, it wasn’t heavy.

It was softer, almost like the tension had slipped out through cracks you hadn’t noticed before.

You fell into step beside Tommy, shoulders brushing, breath mingling in the cool morning air.

Tommy chuckled, shaking his head. “Hell, I’ll ask Joel to give me a crash course. He’s seen more kids than I have—well, in his own way.” His grin softened when he looked over at you. “Don’t worry. I’ll figure it out.”

You felt something warm twist in your chest, the edge of your nerves dulling just a bit. “You askin' Joel for lessons?” you said, a smile tugging at your lips. “That’s kinda exciting, actually.”

He glanced at you, eyes softening, “Yeah? Maybe it is.”

You squeezed his hand lightly. “Maybe this whole thing’s not as terrifying as it feels.”

Tommy nodded slowly. “Yeah. We’ll learn."

The walk back felt lighter now, and for the first time in quite awhile, the future didn’t seem quite so scary.

Sunday night came with the soft clatter of dishes and the low hum of familiar voices filling Tommy and your small kitchen.

The smell of stew simmered on the stove, and Ellie was already teasing Tommy about how he “overcooked the potatoes again,” just like every week.

Joel leaned back in his chair, eyes soft but watchful—always tuned to the undercurrents in the room.

You sat beside Tommy, hands intertwined under the table, your fingers laced tight like a secret you both held close.

Dinner moved along with laughter and easy banter, the kind that made the walls feel less like shelter and more like home.

And then, as Ellie reached for the last piece of bread, Tommy cleared his throat—a rare thing that pulled everyone’s attention.

“If we told you guys something… a secret, almost,” you exhaled, fingers writhing in Tommy’s palm, “… would you keep it with us?”

Joel’s eyes narrowed just slightly, the kind of look that said I’m listening, but don’t test me.

Ellie’s smile flickered into something quieter, more curious.

Tommy nodded, his voice low but sure. “It’s big. Good big.”

Ellie leaned forward, elbows on the table, her grin replaced by a look that was almost reverent. “Try me.”

You swallowed hard, heart pounding against your ribs like it was trying to get out. Then, steadying yourself, you spoke.

“We’re gonna have a baby.”

The words hung in the air, soft but undeniable.

Joel blinked, his usual tough-guy mask cracking just a little. “You’re serious?”

Tommy’s grin broke free. “Yeah. Ain’t no joke.”

Ellie’s eyes lit up like the sun had just come out after years. “Holy shit!” she bursted out, the words tumbling free before she could stop them.

Joel’s eyes snapped to her, sharp and unyielding for just a moment. “Language,” he muttered low, but then the edges of his mouth twitched into that rough, almost-grin he reserved for moments that mattered.

You let out a breath, nodding toward Tommy.

“So… you guys gotta help us tell the entire town.”

Tommy’s grin deepened, a spark lighting in his eyes. “Yeah. We ain’t exactly keepin’ this quiet, not with you two around.”

Ellie laughed, her usual fire flickering back. “Guess everyone’s gonna know sooner or later.”

Joel leaned forward, voice softer now, steady, a nod, “Well, you got us. We’ll make sure Jackson hears it from the right folks.”

You felt the tight coil of fear inside you loosen just a bit, replaced by something warmer—the kind of steady, fierce love that had carried you this far.

Ellie’s grin turned mischievous. “Hell, I’m already planning the biggest damn welcome party this town’s ever seen.”

Joel shook his head, chuckling quietly. “You’re impossible.”

"n' they're called.. baby showers.. not 'welcome parties.."

. . .

It was only two months in that you had finally realized just how much of a monster this pregnancy was turning him into.

“Tommy,” you exhaled, leaning heavy against the stair railing, one hand pressed to the swell of your lower belly—still decently flat, but betraying you in all the quiet ways. “I’m havin’ a kid, not dying. I can go on patrol for a bit longer…”

He turned from the front door, boots half-laced, eyes narrowing like you’d just told him you were joining a damn raider crew.

“Oh yeah?” he drawled, setting his foot back down and folding his arms over his chest. “And when was the last time you made it two blocks without needing to sit down or puke your guts out?”

You glared. “I made it three yesterday.”

He arched a brow, unimpressed.

“Only ‘cause I carried you the last one.”

You let your head thunk lightly against the railing, groaning. “You’re suffocatin’ me, Miller.”

“I’m keepin’ you alive,” he corrected, taking a few steps closer, “There’s a difference.”

You squinted at him.

“Barely.”

Tommy gave you that grin, the one that meant he knew damn well he was being an ass—and that he couldn't care less.

“I swore to protect you. That didn’t come with a clause about unless you’re real stubborn and feelin’ fine for five minutes.”

You shoved lightly at his chest when he got close, but he just cupped your cheek, warm hand steadying your half-sagging posture.

“I love you,” he murmured, serious now. “But you’re not goin’ back out there with our baby in your gut and a pack on your back.”

You blinked up at him. “You’re really pullin’ the baby in your belly card?”

“Damn right I am.”

"Gross. Makes me sound like a shell." You exhaled. He kissed your forehead, gentle and firm. You melted into it despite yourself.

Low resolve. Blame the hormones.

“Fine,” you began, “But I’m still gonna yell at you for bossin’ me around.”

He smiled, tongue swiping against the front of his teeth, “Please, sweetheart, it keeps me goin'.”

. . .

Tommy’s hum was low and steady, a quiet thread weaving through the soft morning light spilling into the room.

His fingers brushed your hair back, careful, like you were the most fragile thing in the world.

The scent of breakfast floated in—smoky, warm. A promise of normalcy after the storm.

“You gonna sleep all day?” His voice was gentle, almost teasing.

You exhaled, sinking your face deeper into the pillow, hiding the tired ache in your eyes. “Well… I was up all night.”

He raised a hand in mock surrender. “I slept through it. I know—I’m a monster—sorry.”

You cracked a tired smile. “Yeah, you are.”

Your eyes drifted to the crib near the window, soft light casting gentle shadows over the small, sleeping form.

A quiet breath escaped your lips—a mix of exhaustion and something like peace.

“Go on, Daddy,” you said, voice light but sure. “Get a move on.”

The words slipped out easy, like a promise wrapped in encouragement, as you pushed yourself up from the bed, steadying against the weight of your body and the weight of sleep.

Tommy caught your gaze, a slow grin spreading across his face.

“Alright, alright... I’m on it.”

He rose, the faint creak of the floor beneath him filling the quiet room, and with a glance back at you—soft, full of unspoken love.

masterlist

click to sign up for my taglist here!

[sebmindbreak]

Hi hi! Can we are be blessed with guest1337 smut 🙏🙏

I love that buff hairy man with trauma so much it’s actually insane…

To be more specific, I’m really into dads…

I feel like 1337 would be both a really soft and respectful partner in bed but would definitely go rough if you asked, I love him so much

HIHIIII SOZ FOR BEING SO LONG BUT LETS GOOOO

one soft ONESHOT coming right up >:3

YAYSSSS

Title : soft touches

Your heart fluttered with anticipation as you lay on the bed, draped in a transparent sheet that clung to your curves like a second skin.

The thin fabric left little to the imagination, the light through the windows outlining every dip and swell of your body.

You had been waiting for what felt like an eternity for Guest 1337 to return, you almost fell asleep but then...

The sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs sent a thrill through you, and you sat up slightly,

Guest 1337 appeared in the doorway, his tall, muscular frame filling the space.

He looked weary, the lines of his face more pronounced, his shoulders carrying the weight of the récent rounds

As he approached the bed, Guest 1337's eyes widened, his gaze raking over your form appreciatively.

A slow, satisfied smile spread across his face, his eyes softening with a warmth that made your heart skip a beat.

"God... you look so pretty," Guest 1337 murmured, his deep, gravelly voice sending a shiver down your spine.

He reached out, his calloused fingers brushing against your cheek, tracing the delicate line of your jaw. "I'm so lucky... to have you waiting for me like this."

You leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed for a moment as you savored the feel of his skin against yours.

Guest 1337 leaned down, his lips finding yours in a tender, loving kiss. You kissed him back, pouring all of your longing and desire into the embrace.

Guest 1337's arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush against his strong chest.

He lowered you both down onto the bed, his larger frame blanketing yours as he deepened the kiss.

His tongue delved into your mouth, tasting you whole.

You could feel the weight of his exhaustion in the way he held you, the way his kisses turned softer.

He worshipped your mouth with his own, his hands roaming over your body.

Eventually, he broke the kiss, his breathing ragged as he gazed down at you.

With a gentle pushWith a gentle push, Guest 1337 settled back against the pillows, his broad shoulders sinking into the mattress.

You took the opportunity to sit up, the sheer sheet slipping off your body to pool around your waist.

Leaning over him, you pressed a trail of soft kisses along his jaw, down the column of his throat, feeling the rasp of his stubble against your lips.

Your fingers found the waistband of his pants, and with a mischievous glint in your eye, you slowly undid them.

Guest 1337 lifted his hips, allowing you to tug his pants down his long, muscular legs, you tossed them carelessly to the floor, leaving him bare before you.

Awestruck, you took in the sight of his manhood, already hard and straining, the thick length of him throbbing with need.

Unable to resist, you leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to the tip, your tongue darting out to taste the bead of moisture gathering there

Guest 1337 groaned, his hand coming up to tangle in your hair as you lavished attention on his cock.

But you had other ideas, other desires you wanted to fulfill. Straightening up, you swung a leg over his hips, straddling him on the bed.

His eyes darkened with lust as you settled yourself in his lap, his thick length nestling between your thighs.

Slowly, teasingly, you began to roll your hips, your soft flesh gliding along his hard, hot cock.

Guest 1337's breath hitched, his grip on your hips tightening as the pleasure built.

"fuck..babe.. , I'm close.."

You set a steady rhythm, your thighs squeezing and massaging his aching length as you moved.

Guest 1337's head fell back against the pillows, his mouth falling open in a silent cry of ecstasy.

His hips bucked up to meet yours, seeking more of that delicious friction.

You could feel his climax building, his cock throbbing and pulsing between your thighs.

His body tensed, muscles coiled tight as a bowstring as he teetered on the brink of release.

With a hoarse cry of your name, Guest 1337's orgasm crashed over him, his cock pulsing and jerking as he spilled his seed.

You felt the hot, sticky evidence of his climax soaking on your naked thighs, marking you, claiming you as his.

In the aftermath, Guest 1337 pulled you down into a tender embrace, his strong arms wrapping around you like a safe haven.

You melted against his chest, your body molding perfectly to his as you both caught your breath.

His heartbeat gradually slowed beneath your cheek, a steady, soothing rhythm that lulled you into a sense of deep contentment.

"Mmm... that was incredible," Guest 1337 murmured, his voice a low, satisfied rumble.

He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, his fingers stroking through your hair with a gentleness that made your heart flutter.

"You're amazing, you know that? The way you take care of me, the way you make me feel... I don't deserve it, but I'm so grateful for you."

HEHE I HOPE U ENJOYED!!

[kotton-kandy953]

❏ 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 !

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🔪 love interests ꒱ . . . yandere ! albedo, heizou, k. kazuha, kunikizushi x fem ! reader

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🔪 format ꒱ . . . drabbles? really short one shots?

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🔪 warnings ꒱ . . . I call wanderer “kuni” or “kunikizushi,” implied murder (in kaz and kuni’s), kidnapped reader, lowkey mad scientist albedo, mentioned breaking of limbs (in kuni’s), mentioned drugging (in albedo’s), obsessive themes, punishment, yandere themes

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🔪 synopsis ꒱ . . . yandere genshin men after you try to escape them + if and how they punish you.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🔪 authors note ꒱ . . . I might make a part two with Kinich and maybe Tighnari. This took me too long to write because I couldn’t decide what characters to choose or what would be the scenario (I desperately need someone to send a request or I’ll run out of ideas)

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🔪 word count ꒱ . . . 1.6k

word count . . . 0.3k

The further you ran from his lab, the thinner the cold air grew and the weaker your legs became. Just how far was ALBEDO’s lab from civilization!?

He had left you in his lab in Dragonspine to go collect some materials for an experiment he was running.

Little did you know, you were the guinea pig for his little experiment.

And your running away was exactly what he wanted you to do.

Today was the first time he had ever left you alone since he had kidnapped you, so you found today as your only opportunity to leave him.

The only con was how it was getting harder and harder to put one foot in front of the other. At first you assumed it was the snow… but now you believe it’s something completely different.

But you have to ignore it. You have to run.

Was what you were thinking right before you collapsed onto the snow, half unconscious. You could barely breathe, let alone move.

What has Albedo been slipping into your food?

When you heard footsteps approaching you, that’s when your body tensed in fear. But a fragment of hope swelled deep inside that it was an innocent Dragonspine explorer or something willing to help you.

But how wrong you were.

He kneeled down in front of you, his gloved hands delicately rolling you over on your back to give you a good view of the wicked man responsible.

Your eyes followed the movements of the mad alchemist as he felt your pulse. His expression was cold, void of emotion, yet he was still so beautiful.

How could someone so evil look so divine. It was inhuman; you hate how captivated you are by his looks.

“I knew you would do that, run away, I mean,” he sighs. “That’s exactly why slipped that potion into your food. Now you won’t be able to run away from me.”

Albedo stood up, standing above your limp body, “The only downside is that you’ll be paralyzed for a few days. Hopefully that’ll help you learn your lesson.”

word count . . . 0.4k

“Leaving so soon, now are we, Y/n?”

You had just made your way to the bedroom window you had opened when you heard his teasing voice. You could’ve sworn he had just left for work!

shaking his head, HEIZOU hummed in disapproval as he approached you, “And to think I would reward you for being such a good girl for me these past few weeks…” he sighed, “Way to throw it all out the window, Y/n.”

The closer he got to you, the further you backed away from him. It was when your back it the windowsill you found yourself trapped.

“I- I’m sorry Heizou.” You stammered, trembling in fear, “I’ll never do this again I swe—“

“You swear, huh?” He echoes, making his way towards you at an agonizingly slow pace. “And how will I know you’ll keep your word, pretty girl? How will I know that you’ll never try to leave me again, hm?”

He’s smiling, but you can tell he’s furious. Heizou moved his face impossibly close to yours, his hands caging with them resting on windowsill behind you.

He leans close to your ear and whispers, “Before I even think of your punishment, I would like to know what’s so horrible about being here with me that you’d rather run out into that dangerous world than to stay with me. Safe and Sound.”

The detective stared at you with those lovesick, olive green eyes for a good minute or two while he lifted his right hand up to wipe the tears forming in your eyes.

“Archons, do you hate me that much?”

You shook your head almost immediately. If you did hate Heizou, you wouldn’t want him to know. Who knows what he’d do. “N- no, I don’t hate you. I just…—“

“-Perfect!” He cut you off.

He started to move in for a kiss, but stopped himself. A smirk teasing at his lips, “Actually… I think I found a perfect punishment for you, pretty.”

“What…?”

“Already asking questions? Let me tell you first…” he led you to the bed and let you sit on it. “Well, it’s not entirely a punishment…”

He held your hand in his, caressing your knuckles delicately as if you were a fragile doll. His doll to be kept away from everyone else for all eternity.

He reached in his pocket to grab something, and before you knew it, he was handcuffing your right and his left wrist together.

“Now I won’t ever have to worry about you leaving me,” he grinned, leaning in and pressings soft kiss against your lips.

word count . . . 0.3k

KAZUHA’s soft, delicate, bandaged fingers wrapped around your wrist the second your hand gripped the doorknob. You froze in place, your whole body freezing in fear as you felt his chest against your upper back.

“And where do you think you’re going, Y/n?”

Whipping your head around, your eyes are met with piercing red irises. A small smile grazes his lips as he leans in closer, his breath ghosting against your ear, “Well? I await your answer, darling.”

You tried turning your body around to face him, but Kazuha instead held you in place with a hand on your waist. “Because I made sure that you’ll have nobody to run back to, did I not?”

Swallowing hard, you muttered a quiet, “Yes…”

“Then why are you trying to leave me? Don’t tell me there’s another who’s got their eye on you.”

“N- no! I swear there isn’t I… uh, I just wanted to get some fresh air…” you lied and removed your hand from the doorknob.

“You’re lying to me, Y/n.” Placing his hands on your shoulders, platinum blond male spun you around to face him. “You were trying to leave me weren’t you?”

“I-“

“Please, don’t try to deny it.”

Slowly, you nodded yes. With a slightly disappointed glint in his eyes, Kazuha sighs.

“Maybe I’ll just have to teach you to never try anything like this again,” he slowly shakes his head, caressing your cheek.

“I dont find anything pleasant in punishing you, love, but if there’s a lesson to be learned from it,” Kazuha grabbed your wrist, “then so be it.”

He pulled you along into your shared bedroom as if you were a rag doll.

“Will keeping you bound to the bed stop you from trying you leave me, darling?”

word count . . . 0.5k

“Just come back home, Y/n!” KUNIKIZUSHI shouts, his voice etched with anger and a bit of desperation echoing in the woods. “Don’t make me hurt you — or better yet, don’t make me hurt another one of your pathetic little friends, huh?”

Your heart sunk at his words. You knew he was being honest. It was so true that it pained you… but you can’t go back to him. You just can’t.

To say that Kunikizushi was pissed would be an understatement, but I don’t think there’s a strong enough word to describe how utterly furious and betrayed he felt when he came back home and found you missing.

He couldn’t believe that he was stupid enough to trust you to stay home alone. And now here he is, desperately searching for you in the middle of the night like a madman.

He couldn’t lose you. Not after he had lost everything else…

You’re all he has left, after all.

After running for who knows how long, you hid yourself behind a bush as you caught your breath. When you heard the sound of footsteps, you cupped your hand over your mouth to silence yourself.

“Y/n, where the fuck are you!?” He shouts again, as he approaches the bush you’ve hidden yourself behind.

When you heard him growing closer, you lost all hope of escape from there. All you could do was pray to the Archons that he’d go away forever.

After a few moments of silence, you were foolish enough to think that your prayer was actually answered. But sadly, that’s just not how life is.

You felt cold fingers wrap around your ankles before being pulled out into the open. His grip was so tight it almost left bruises. I guess this is what you get for trying to leave him.

“What the fuck are you doing!?” He shouts, on his knees still holding onto your ankles to keep you from running away… again.

You fought back the tears threatening to roll down your face, “I- I’m sorry! I just can’t take it anymore!! I want to go home!”

A look of pure anger formed on his face at your words, “Home? You want to go back home, Y/n?” He scoffed. “I… I thought you loved me… but it seem’s like you don’t if you still want to leave me”

Behind the anger in his voice, you could hear a tinge of desperation and sadness. How could you ever leave him like that? You know you’re all he has. The only person he holds dearly.

His grip grew so tight that you began to squirm, “Let me go!”

“No,” he replied shortly, “You better be lucky I don’t break your fucking legs since you just love running away from me.”

After a bit, Kuni brought you back to your “home.” But instead of taking you to your shared bedroom, he takes you down to the basement. And that’s when your blood ran cold in fear.

Before locking you in there, he says, “You’re staying down here until I know I can trust you.”

“N- no! Kuni… I can’t—“ You were cut off by the slam of the door. The tears you were fighting back earlier finally began to fall.

No matter how loudly you begged and screamed, you were met with complete silence.

“Let’s all be anemo and not tell Albedo” ass post

[fresitasmoribund]

i’m utterly OBSESSED with your model wolfstar x reader posts

could we potentially get a part 3 (maybe where we are shooting another intimate one bc the last one did so well and sirius convinces remus to do the modelling and let him work the camera - which he does, except this shoot has a far more provocative rougher vibe that the other one and at one point we’re on our knees and stuff and then bam.. smut) 🤭🤗❤️

this took forever im so sorry!

-`♡´- part: 1, 2

-`♡´- pairing: Poly!Wolfstar x Fem!Reader

-`♡´- contains: model!sirius, model!reader, photographer!remus, established wolfstar, modern au, praise, smut, oral (male receiving), fingering

-`♡´- warning: hair pulling (reader has pullable hair? LOL idk hair texture isn’t specified), fingers in mouth

-`♡´- masterlist

-`♡´- word count: 6k

The loft is quiet, save for the creaking of floorboards beneath your heels. You cross your arms, unsure if it is the chill in the air or the thought of seeing them again that raise the goose pimples along your skin.

It had been weeks since that shoot – weeks of confusion and unasked questions. You didn’t know what the three of you were. Nevertheless, the first shoot had been a wild success. Your agent hasn’t stopped singing its praises. “You’re in high demand,” she’d chirped over the phone while confirming this follow-up shoot. “Black and Lupin? Absolute magic with you.”

But the aftermath of the first shoot had still left you feeling… you weren’t quite sure. They’d sent gifts, messages congratulating you, and even a bottle of wine with Sirius’ sprawling handwriting across a tag that read To our muse. Sweet, sure, but what did it mean for the three of you?

And then there was the box. It showed up on your doorstep a week after the shoot. You’d stared at the box for a long moment before opening it – heart pounding – wondering if this was some final gesture to put the shoot behind you… or if it meant something else entirely.

It was the exact set you’d worn during that intimate whirlwind, folded neatly inside. A card in Remus’ script read: Just in case you ever fancy wearing it again.

That was all. No calls. No new texts. No mention of the way Remus’ words seared your skin, or the way Sirius’ mouth had you crying out in pleasure. You concluded that the near-magnetic tension that had pulled the three of you together was only temporary fun. Now, you were booked to face them again.

Your stomach fluttered. What happens this time?

Shadows play along the exposed brick walls, lending the place a rugged feeling. It was a far cry from the chic air of your last photoshoot. And – despite the awkwardness that pulses beneath the surface – they greet you warmly. Remus smiles as Sirius opens his arms for an embrace you can’t stop yourself from being wrapped in. He smells just as you remembered – like a sweet smoky leather.

“Everything okay?” Remus asks as you take a step back from Sirius.

You nod, grateful for the assurance. You’re trying so hard not to smile like an idiot, the corners of your lips twitching. The last shot was so intense, so unpredictable, that this anticipation was getting to you.

“You look perfect,” Sirius chimes in, walking behind you to better appreciate the backless dress you’re wearing.

You look over your shoulder before you can stop yourself. “Planning on buying me this one too?”

You immediately regret what you’d just blurted out. You had only meant it as a joke, not to call out either of them for their leaving you in the dark. A deeper part of you rejoiced in the way Sirius’ eyes widened just a tad, and the intake of breath from the man in front of you.

“Tempting,” was all Sirius mumbles as he walks past you, and he briefly steals another glance at you. You don’t have it in you to apologize, but you do go silent and stare at the floor. But apologize for what, exactly?

As he settles into the chair provided for the pictures, he breaks your sudden trance. “Shall we get straight into it?”

Looking up, Remus gives you a reassuring smile and nod, which you return. You move toward Sirius, and upon your approach, he spreads his legs and looks up at you with that wicked grin of his.

“Up you go, gorgeous,” he murmurs, his hand reaching out to help you onto his lap. You hesitate for a moment, but the pull is too strong. You slide into position, sitting on one of his thighs feeling the warmth of his body beneath you. One of his hands immediately find their place on your hip, the other on your thigh – it’s light, but purposeful.

It’s an intimate start, but it’s nothing you haven’t done together before. Still, as you settle in and Remus’ camera flashes, you try not to think too much on the weight of his hands. You’re all warm and flushed, and you feel as though your blood is boiling beneath your skin. He’s testing the waters with every inch of fabric his fingers roam over. But when you meet his gaze, the playful glint in his eyes deepens, and everything stills. His hand drifts to your back and your muscles tense, causing you to twitch. You can tell he’s trying not to laugh, and you forgive him for his cruelty as he “adjusts” one of the straps of your dress. You swallow, trying to focus on the task at hand. But the tension between you and Sirius is thick – so thick that you can almost taste it.

As you adjust your position, you turn your head toward the camera. Sirius leans in closer, his breath brushing against your ear, and you freeze. He murmurs, his voice low and rougher than before.

“I miss having you like this.” The words wrap around you as you look back to him.

Is my heart giving out? You swear it is.

You were too distracted by the confession you’ve been craving that you weren’t paying attention to his wandering hands. He pulls a gasp from you when he squeezes your breast, your eyes widening.

“Sirius.” Remus’ tone is a clear warning. For a second, you’d almost forgotten what you were here for.

“I’m being good,” Sirius replies casually, but he throws you a wink. Just as it had never happened, his hands slide down to your waist.

His lips hover just shy of yours, your breaths mingling. You fight every fiber of your being not to close the gap, but the moment is gone too quickly. He leans back, his hands still on your body. The room feels significantly smaller, and you shift in his lap. As you adjust your posture to have your body fully facing the camera, his hands follow every moment. He guides you with a casual expertise that betrays how much he’s paying attention. His fingers slide along your thighs, and you try to mask your confusion as he lifts one of your thighs to spread your legs.

 You snap your head to look at him, as if to call his bluff. But you should know better, considering who you’re modeling with. Just what are you planning, Sirius Black?

His gaze is locked on yours, giving no clear indication of what he’s really planning. You gasp involuntarily again when you feel the coolness of his rings against your warm flesh, his thumb brushing along the crease of your thigh. The heat rushes to your cheeks as the sound of the camera shutter stops. His fingers slip under your underwear, but he stops before making any contact with your sex – much to your dismay. He glances up at Remus, his grin widening.

“Does this pose work for you, Moony?” It’s way too casual.

Finally detaching your eyes from Sirius’ face, you take note of how stiff Remus is, his camera lowered. His fingers twitch where they rest on the camera, and he exhales slowly. Sirius’ fingers flex against your skin, but Remus schools his features into something neutral. Dragging his gaze from where Sirius’ hand is, he finally looks him in the eyes.

There’s a long pause, and you try your best to keep your breathing in check. Sirius’ fingers trace small, lazy circles against your skin. It tingles and spreads into a shiver curling up your spine. You’re waiting for some big reaction from Remus – for him to cancel the shoot and leave, or set his camera down and join you two. Instead, he clears his throat and shifts his weight.

“Pretty sure that’s not part of the poses we planned for,” he murmurs, though there’s a rough edge to his voice that exposes how tightly wound he is. His gaze flickers to you, assessing, searching for any sign that you want this to stop. But you don’t move away. Should I be moving away? Despite what transpired the previous time you’d seen them; did you have the right to want more from them?

Sirius only hums in response, a deep, satisfied sound.

“Mm, thought it was,” he muses, his fingers twitching against you before – mercifully – he withdrawals his touch, pulling back with a slow drag of his hand.

Sirius guides you effortlessly, and you follow the silent direction to straddle his lap. You press your chest against his, your hands resting lightly on his shoulders. Sirius exhales, tilting his head so that his lips brush against your jaw. Your eyes flutter shut when you feel just the slightest pressure of his lips. The camera clicks, but the sound barely registers over the rapid pulse of your heartbeat.

Sirius’ hands slide down your back, past the curve of your waist, resting firmly beneath the swell of your backside. He shifts beneath you, pressing you against his bulge, and the fleeting friction has you biting your lip to hold back the sound that threatens to escape.

Remus makes a strangled noise – something caught between exasperation and disbelief. “Sirius.”

I should be pleading for forgiveness, not aching for him to fill me while I’m in his boyfriend’s lap.

Sirius only chuckles and makes quick work of pulling your dress over your hips, exposing more of your skin to the cool air of the loft. Your breath hitches as he continues to press you down against him. The slow, deliberate roll of his hips pulls a startled yelp from your lips. It doesn’t take long for you to meet his movements, mewling and rocking against him.

“I haven’t even touched you properly,” he whispers to you. “Missed us that much?”

You can only nod. He drags out an “aww”, mocking pout deepening just to make your face heat more.

You wonder if Remus was able to take enough shots before things spiraled past the realm of professionalism, but the thought barely lingers. A loud chorus of yes, yes, yes drowns out any rational thought as Sirius’ mouth finds the curve of your jaw. The warmth of his slow, open-mouthed kisses combining with the consistent pressure against your core have you crying out pathetically. Your hidden anticipation was revealed by the smallest attention to the space between your legs.

Your fingers twitch against his shoulders, gripping instinctively as another roll of his hips shoots through you. He’s relentless, guiding you into the motion with a firm grip. His lips move down the column of your throat, and just as his teeth scrape against your pulse point—

Remus makes a noise – caught between a sharp inhale and an incredulous scoff. He drags a hand down his face, his patience past the point of wearing thin.

“For fuck’s sake,” he mutters under his breath, though the way he adjusts his stance betrays that he’s not entirely unaffected either. “We’re done with this shoot.”

That’s when Sirius seemed to remember that this was, in fact, a photoshoot – not an excuse to have you grinding against each other. With a sigh that was more performative than genuine, he tilts his head back and shifts his attention back to the camera. While you nervously straighten yourself up, there was a glint in his eye that caught your attention.

“You know what?” Sirius drawls, stretching lazily before flashing Remus a wicked grin. “I’ve always wanted to be behind the camera.”

Remus stills. His brows lift, the only outward sign of his hesitation, but it’s enough for Sirius to pounce. His hands finally relinquish their hold on your ass as he guides you off his lap, standing in one smooth motion. You blink up at him and awkwardly pull your dress down, still feeling the lingering heat of his touch. He doesn’t let go of you just yet, smoothing his hands down your arms before guiding you toward Remus.

Remus eyes Sirius warily, suspicion flickering across his features. “I don’t think—”

Sirius tuts, reaching for the camera hanging from Remus’ neck. “Think less, my love.”

He slides the strap over Remus’ head and lifts the camera into his own hands, testing the weight of it like a prize. His smile is wolfish as he steps back, making a shooing motion. “Go on, Moony. Get close to our girl.”

Our girl.

Fighting back the biggest grin, you glance at Remus as he exhales. He shakes his head in reluctant amusement before his eyes flicker to yours. There’s something so him about it – the careful consideration, the quiet war between curiosity and restraint. You tilt your head, offering a small smile, and that’s all it took for him to fold. He sighs in defeat, moving toward you despite mumbling something under his breath. His first instinct is to fix your hair, sending a pool of heat to your stomach. You mumble a soft thank you.

Sirius raises the camera, adjusting the focus before snapping a quick picture of Remus just standing there, looking unsure. The shutter click echoes through the loft.

Remus tenses. “Oi, don’t waste film.”

Sirius hums, glances at the digital preview before pressing the Playback button.

“Wouldn’t call that a waste,” he mumbles appreciatively, his eyes roaming hungrily over the picture. He turns the camera toward you. “Back me up here, love. Tell our Remus how gorgeous he is.”

Our, our, our… I could die from this.

You nod, your smile widening. “He is.”

Remus lets out a scoffing laugh, ducking his head for a moment and running a hand through his hair. “I’m not photogenic.”

You can’t help shooting him a sharp look, Sirius doing the same.

“That’s enough of that—"

“You’re ridiculous is what you are,” Sirius chides.

Remus raises a brow. “What’s ridiculous is us not having enough pictures for this campaign,”

Sirius ignored him entirely, looking at you instead. “Put your head on his chest.”

“Yes, sir.” You giggle and stepping closer to rest your cheek against the firm plane of Remus’ chest. You hear the steady thump of his heartbeat; feel the way his breath catches ever so slightly at the contact. Sirius clicks his tongue.

“Not close enough.”

You barely have time to react before Sirius reaches out, pressing two fingers against the side of your face to guide you until you’re flush against Remus. It’s not just an adjustment – it’s a silent push to something else. You don’t resist.

The camera clicks.

You slip into action, your fingers grazing over the fabric of Remus’ shirt, tracing the curve of his bicep. You don’t have to think about it anymore – about how to move, how to look. It comes naturally now, your body responding to the weight of Sirius’ gaze behind the lens, to the way Remus’ breathing has begun to stutter. He’s tense, his hands hovering awkwardly at his sides.

“Touching her won’t kill you, Moony.”

Remus swallows, his jaw tightening. There’s a pause. He finally lifts a hand, placing it against your head. His touch is warm, grounding. You relax into it, sighing softly as your fingers trail further up his arm – relishing the heat of his skin beneath the soft fabric.

The camera clicks, but you’re barely registering the sound. The warmth of Remus’ fingers still lingers against your head. Sirius hums in satisfaction behind the lens, but you can sense his restlessness – he wants more.

Remus exhales through his nose when you meet his gaze again, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he flexes his fingers against your side. He tests the weight of his touch with a gentle squeeze, and you respond by standing closer to him. He adjusts his stance, rolling his shoulders back slightly. He’s starting to play along, you notice.

The moment breaks when you can’t help letting out a nervous giggle.

He chuckles too, his brows pinching together. “What?”

“Nothing,” you say, pressing your lips into a line. “You’re just—” You pause, searching for the words.

“Hopeless?” Sirius suggests, and you roll your eyes.

“I was going to say ’sweet’,” you correct.

Remus scoffs, shaking his head, but the corner of his mouth twitches. “That’s worse.”

“Be possessive about it.” Sirius sighs, shaking his head playfully.

Remus clears his throat, and, before he can overthink it, he cups your jaw. The pad of his thumb sweeps along your cheekbone, testing. Your lips part at the touch, and for a second – his eyes flicker down.

Sirus’ grin is sharp behind the lens. Click.

“Better.”

The more shots Sirius takes, the more Remus falls into it. He strokes his thumb over your jaw, then along the curve of your bottom lip. The touch is featherlight, and yet it has your breath stuttering. With every touch, all you can think about is the Sirius was touching you earlier. You’re not stupid, you know that wasn’t all you were getting today (at least, you hope it isn’t). You appreciate how cautious he’s being, but you honestly wish Remus would just bend you over that desk nearby and fuck you hard.

The camera clicks – again. And again. Each sound punctuating the heat settling thick between you. You can still feel your arousal every time your thighs rub together.

Sirius is in his element – framing the shots, shifting angles, adjusting the focus – but not without an ulterior motive. You can hear it in the way he hums, feel it in the way his eyes are practically devouring every interaction through the viewfinder.

“Mm,” he muses, lower the camera just a tad. “Something’s missing.”

Remus exhales, pressing your back closer against his chest involuntarily. Your head feels like it’s spinning.

Sirius tilts his head, considering.

“Pull her hair, Moony.”

Despite how coolly he said it, your skin prickles.

Remus freezes. His brows lift, his entire body locking up. “Sorry?”

“You heard me,” Sirius replies smoothly, raising the camera again. “Give it a little pull.”

You feel Remus stiffen as you turn around to face him. He blinks once, twice – then lets out an incredulous scoff. “I’m not—”

“Oh, come on,” Sirius interrupts. “You love doing it to me.”

There’s that implication that makes you dizzy once again. The casual implication that you were truly a part of their lives. You had tried to stop yourself from fantasizing before, to save yourself from the discontent that looms over you.

Remus’ jaw clenches, and he glances down at your wide eyes. He makes no move to obey.

You meet his gaze, offering a reassuring nod.

“It’s okay.” You place a hand on his chest.

His throat bobs with a swallow. His reluctance lasts only a second longer before his hand slides up, placing it carefully on your hair. He tugs – not too hard, testing the motion and your reaction.

The pull makes your scalp tingle, a shiver running down your spine. Your eyes flutter shut briefly as a shaky sigh escapes your lips. It’s good – but not enough. You blink up at him, your lips parted, and that’s when you see it. A shift.

Remus sees you. He sees the way your breath quickens, the slight tilt of your chin, the way you’re barely restraining yourself from pushing into it.

So, he tightens his grip.

He roughly pulls your head back, exposing the curve of your throat. Your mouth falls open with a soft, breathy moan. The sound had just left you when the shutter goes off - click, click, click rapid and so eager. Sirius exhales a satisfied laugh.

“There we go,” he murmurs. “Fucking gorgeous.”

Remus doesn’t respond. His breathing is heavier now, his grip unwavering as his free hand comes up to hover near your jaw again.

“Chin,” Sirius directs. “Grip it.”

Remus hesitates for only a moment before his fingers press beneath your chin, tilting your fave toward. His thumb skins along your jawline, rough and calloused. Sirius lets out a hum of approval.

“Now…” Sirius drags out the word, considering. “Put your thumb in her mouth.”

Remus’ eyes barely glances up at Sirius, his thumb dragging over your bottom lip slowly. You part your lips for him without thinking, causing him to inhale sharply through his nose. His thumb ghosts over your teeth before resting on your tongue, the pad pressing down ever so slightly.

Sirius groans softly behind the camera. ”That’s it.”

The moment is charged beyond words, Remus’ breathing goes shallow. His fingers flex subtly against your jaw as your lips close around his thumb. A quiet moan vibrating from the back of your throat. He lets his thumb linger, just barely moving it in and out of your mouth, watching your lips cling to him each time. You respond eagerly, swirling your tongue around the pad of his thumb, tasting the salt of his skin and silently begging him to push just a little further.

When he finally drags his thumb free, your lips chase him slightly before you catch yourself. Remus’ thumb glistens, and you can see the faint tremble in his fingers. Meeting his gaze, you can almost feel the way his entire body thrums with the effort not to devour you.

“Alright, Moony,” Sirius says in a voice that’s almost thoughtful. “Take a seat.”

He jerks his chin toward the worn chair he’d been using earlier, its placement perfect beneath the soft, diffused light from the window.

Remus doesn’t argue, and maybe he can’t. His legs mechanically carry him across the room, and he drops heavily into the chair. His eyes don’t leave yours as his hands rest uselessly on his thighs like he doesn’t know what to do with them. And maybe it’s the heat burning beneath your skin that’s making you feel so daring. Or the look on his face – wanting and trying so hard to behave.

But, whatever it is, it pulls you down to your knees in front of him without a second thought. You hear Sirius’ quick chuckle to your right as he moves to stand behind Remus. There’s a click as he adjusts the settings, framing the scene quickly.

“Well, aren’t you just a dream.” The praise is thick with something heavier than amusement.

Your palms find purchase on Remus’ knees, and you feel the way his thighs tense beneath your touch. He leans forward slightly, like he’s physically incapable of resisting you. You tilt your chin up at him, waiting.

His hand darts out, curling around your jaw – not rough, but firm enough that your breath catches. You just barely register the way his thumb presses into your cheek before his lips smash into yours, your surprised gasp swallowed into the heat of his mouth. The chair creaks beneath him as he leans forward. It doesn’t take long for you to melt into it, meeting his near-desperate pace with as much fervor. Your hands brace against his thighs for balance, mind spinning. Teeth clash, and you whine when he takes your lips between his teeth. Even Sirius, who would have spat out some teasing comment, stills. You don’t hear the camera going off, just the intermingling of your breaths with Remus’.

When Remus finally pulls back, both of you are flushed and panting. He subtly returns the smile you didn’t even realize was lighting up your face.

Sirius exhales a laugh, shaky and sharp. “Don’t stop on my account.”

The camera resumes its steady rhythm again, clicking steadily. Remus blinks, swallowing hard, but doesn’t move away. He stays leaning forward, his hands still cradling your jaw. You press your cheek into one his palms. You’re breathing hard too, chest rising and falling in shallow bursts. There’s a bloom of warmth in your gut that you can’t tame, not with him looking at you like that.

You slide your hands up his thighs, grounding yourself in the feel of his jeans beneath your fingertips. The muscles seem to jump under your touch.

Remus leans back into the chair with a shaky exhale, dragging a hand through his hair. His eyes gleam, the flush in his cheeks high and hot.

You shift closer instinctively, your hands sliding further up his thighs to chase the warmth radiating off him. His knees fall open slightly, and the silent invitation as your breath catching. Sirius approaches him from behind, camera hanging forgotten around his neck now. He leans down, pressing a kiss to Remus’ flushed cheek. You see Remus turn his head almost reflexively, and Sirius rewards him with a soft peck on the lips.

“Look at her,” Sirius instructs, mouth still ghosting close. “On her knees for you.”

And the weight of his gaze makes you clench around nothing – your pulse fluttering. It’s a hungry gaze that makes your hands slide higher. They stroke up the insides, seeking more of his stuttering breaths as you stroke your thumbs over the seams of his jeans. You glance up through your lashes, your fingers digging lightly into the denim at the top of Remus’ thighs.

Sirius circles back around the chair and lifts the camera over Remus’ shoulder. He whispers soft praises, but the only sound you can focus on is the breathing of the man before you. But you want more, so your hands roam higher – pawing at the bulge straining against his jeans.

“Fuck,” Remus breaths, looking down at you with dilated pupils.

You don’t know what possessed you, but something compels you to lean forward and press your cheek gently against his thigh. He freezes as your finger begins to trace the outline of his belt buckle.

“Can I?” you ask – softly and sweetly – dragging your cheek up and back down just a tad.

His gaze flicks between your face and the way your finger lingers on his belt.

“You don’t need to ask,” Remus answers, a little more strained than he probably intended.

You can’t help but smile at his response. Slowly – deliberately – you undo the buckle with a soft clink of metal. The sound feels obscenely loud in the quiet. Remus exhales through his nose as the fabric parts with a soft scrape of teeth. He lifts his hips, ever so controlled, and you ease his jeans and boxers down his hips. When the fabric clears the tops of his thighs, you watch as he frees his cock. Your lips part instinctively, the thought of having him in your mouth nearly makes your mouth water. Remus pants lightly above you, his jeans loose around his thighs and your hands resting just shy of indecency.

“Fuck, look at you,” Sirius whispers mostly to himself, camera now abandoned.

“Go on,” Remus says huskily, curling his left hand into a fist and letting it rest on his thigh. “Use those pretty hands of yours.”

And you didn’t need to be told twice.

The heat of him settles into your palm the moment you wrap your hand around his cock. Heavy and flushed; it twitches slightly against your touch. You trace your thumb along a thick vein running to the tip, smearing the precum already gathering there. He pulses in your grasp, and your brows pinch as you drink in the sight.

A low grunt rumbles from Remus; the subtle rolling of his hips pulls you back to the moment. You lean forward, letting a thick string of spit fall slowly onto him, catching the light as it lands. You smooth it down with your palm and begin with exploratory strokes. Slowly, deliberately – to coax the expletives and breathy catches from his lips. You’re cautious, not adhering to a steady rhythm just for learning him. Just to watch the way his chest rises, the way his mouth parts with every pass of your hand.

“Twist a little at the end,” Sirius murmurs, his voice warm against the shell of Remus’ ear. “He likes that.”

And so, you do. You glance up, eyes meeting his, whispering a soft “Like this?” without thinking.

You earn from him the most delicious sound you’ve ever heard a man make. His head tilts back, jaw going slack.

“Yeah.” Remus’ hips twitch up into your hand. “Like that.”

You try again, slower, pressing a kiss to his inner thigh while your wrist rolls. His hands, tense on his thighs, inch toward you until one finds its way to your hair.

“Fucking hell,” Sirius breathes, and you can hear the smile in it. “She’s so good for you, isn’t she?”

Your lips part, breath warm against Remus’ skin. The praise flutters low in your stomach, encouraging you to increase your pace just enough to keep him right at the edge. You glance up just in time to see Sirius shrug off his jacket with an elegance no man should have. The leather slides from shoulders, revealing the ink along his forearms as he rolls his sleeves to the elbow.

He stays behind Remus, hands skimming briefly over Remus’ shoulders before he leans in. He mouths at Remus’ jaw – slow drag of lips and barely-there teeth. Remus slants his head instinctively, offering more, but Sirius only lingers for a moment. His eyes are on you.

Your palm glides over Remus’ length, grip firmer at the base, thumb teasing the head each time you crest. He swears again, the syllable caught somewhere between pleasure and disbelief. His thighs tense beneath your hands – one flexes, the other shifts wider.

You lean closer, lips brushing the sensitive underside of his shaft, just to watch him jerk. His hips buck and he mutters something that breaks halfway in his throat.

You sense Sirius before you see him – the shift in the air. His footsteps brush against the floor as he lowers himself. When he kneels beside you, a pleased hum in his throat, your body tilts toward his heat.

Remus’ hand stays in your hair, thumb grazing your temple. You can feel him twitch again in your hand.

Sirius brushes a finger over your face reverently, trailing the edge of your cheekbone before dropping lower. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, planting it there as he settles just behind you.

“You always smell too damn good.” His voice is low with amusement, his fingers finding your hip like it belongs there. “It’s criminal, really.”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help the breath catching in your throat when his mouth ghosts closer to your neck.

You blink up at Remus through your lashes, and he stares back with glassy eyes. One breath – then another – until he finally speaks.

“Go slow, yeah?” It’s barely a whisper.

Your lips part as you lower your head, your eyes never leaving his. You watch his stomach tense as you drag your mouth over the head of his cock. He guides you with that same hand in your hair, your hand continuing its steady rhythm while your lips seal around him. His fingers tighten in your hair as you smooth your tongue against the underside.

Sirius purrs something into your ear that you don’t register, his hands were lifting your dress again. The cool air is replaced by the warmth of his hands on your hips, fingers trailing over your thigh and to your underwear.

Remus breathes out your name as you take him deeper, your mouth hot and slow around. You hollow out your cheeks, sucking as you do. The faint, wet sound it makes feels impossibly loud in the space between you. The weight of his cock on your tongue is heavy, but you savor it. Every twitch, every shudder from him sustains that ache in you to give him – give them – all you can.

You gasp when you feel Sirius dragging a finger along your clothed cunt, hips jolting back toward him, and you accidently still around Remus. Your eyes squeeze shut, and Sirius’ hand strokes up again to circle your clit through the fabric.

“You’re soaked,” he murmurs against your neck.

You respond with a muffled moan around Remus. You reach blindly, grabbing Sirius’ wrist – not to stop him, just to anchor yourself.

“Keep looking at me,” Remus rasps.

You lift your gaze, lashes fluttering as you blink through the haze of pleasure. He’s looking down at you, his skin flushed all the way to his collarbone and dragging your attention to his unsteady breathing.

Slowly, you begin to move again – more confident now – and Sirius’ hand matches your rhythm. He teases your clit in time with the bobbing of your head, spurring you on more. He kisses your cheek, just behind where Remus is filling your mouth, and then your jaw.

Your hips chase his touch mindlessly, pleasure sparking through you. You feel dizzy and overwhelmed in the best of ways. You feel him breathing behind you, feel Remus struggling not to buck into your throat.

You whine at the sudden loss of stimulation, but Sirius shushes you, and you feel his hand disappear under the hem of your underwear. He teases your clit once more, and you arch into the contact as one of his fingers sinks into you. The stretch isn’t overwhelming, and you moan when the heel of his palm presses against your clit in just the right way. Your hips roll against the pressure, encouraging him to pump his finger in and out.

You can feel Sirius smirk against your skin as he sets a steady pace with his hand. It’s all too much, and not enough. Your mind blanks and spins, caught in the heady drag of your mouth, the way Remus starts to pant your name, and the lewd slick of Sirius’ fingers inside you.

Your head lolls to the side, tears brimming in your eyes as you nearly choke when Sirius curls his finger inside you. He chuckles, firmly pressing dragging his palm to your sex. With his free hand, he strokes your cheek – right where Remus’ cock bulges from the inside of your mouth.

“There’s a pretty picture,” he coos.

It’s disgusting. It’s filthy.

You need more.

You suck Remus down harder in response, humming just to hear him moan a little more. The hand in your hair tightens, his hips stutter up once – just once – before he reins it in.

Behind you, Sirius crooks his finger. You whimper, clenching around the intrusion, your walls fluttering and on the edge.

“Another?” he asks, sounding almost sweet.

I could strangle him, you think.

“Mhm, you whine loudly, nodding faintly.

He presses a second finger into you, and you feel the slow slide. You falter for a moment, jaw slack around Remus, but you recover with another whimper as Sirius curls his fingers inside you. You swallow around Remus, and his thumb brushes the corner of your mouth before it slips back to your hair. His eyes are fixed on you, half-lidded and swimming with something tender and wrecked all at once.

You’re breathing hard through your nose now, your jaw aching, but you don’t stop. Remus’ thigh twitches beneath the palm of your hand – one you hadn’t even realized you’d placed there. Sirius murmurs something into the shell of your – something indecent, you’re sure – but it’s downed out by the pounding in your chest.

“F-fuck—darling—just—” Remus chokes on the words as you quicken your movements.

His whole body tenses.

You can feel it in the way he swells on your tongue. His hand cups your jaw again – just for a second – as if to cradle you, and then pulls back to tangle both hands in your hair. His breath stutters, and his body shudders with every flick of your tongue.

“Don’t stop,” he gasps. “Don’t—oh—fuck—”

You couldn’t if you tried. You let your tongue drag languidly beneath the head before sliding down again, hollowing your cheeks on the way up. His hips buck, and you feel him pulse. You taste the warmth as he comes in sharp waves. Your name sounds sweet on his tongue, head tipped back, and your fingers squeeze around his thighs as you swallow what he gives you.

Sirius’ fingers are still stroking deep inside you, slower now. He coaxes and milks every ounce of pleasure as you cling to Remus. He presses a kiss to the space behind your ear, voice velvet-soft.

“I’ve got you.”

[tomkaulitzssgirl]

helirrr! can you make a tom x fem!reader where her, tom and a couple of mutual friends all go camping together and they go into the lake, the river etc etc and then at night when it’s like raining and it’s cold (tom and the reader have a separate tent from their friends but are still close to their tent) and the reader is like literally on the VERGE of getting frost bite (I’m being dramatic lol) and tom like holds her and stuff but then he’s like “I know a better way we can get HEATEDD” Idk how to word it but then they legit do IT in the tent???

HORROR MOVIE RULES | TOM KAULITZ

i loved writing this <3

tom drove, one hand on the wheel and the other holding yours loosely in his lap. his rings were cold against your fingers, but it felt comforting. familiar. the windows were cracked enough to let in the warm breeze, and the sky was already dimming when you pulled up to pick up bill.

“you ready to be one with nature, hippie boy?” tom called as bill tossed his duffel in the trunk.

“only if the forest has weed and beer,” bill smirked, climbing in the back. gustav, georg and clara (his girlfriend) followed a few minutes later, both carrying way too much gear. then your best friend melissa joined. the car got loud fast — music, jokes, someone passing snacks around — but tom’s hand never left your thigh.

by the time you reached the campsite, the sun had dipped low, setting the trees on fire with orange light. it looked peaceful… but almost too quiet. like something was watching.

“spooky already.” georg muttered as a crow flew overhead.

tom’s old suv rumbled over the last gravel stretch of the forest road, tires crunching over fallen pine needles and twigs. the air smelled like smoke and moss.

“this is the spot,” gustav said from the backseat, pointing to a clearing just ahead, “flat, close to the water. not too close to the woods.”

“too bad,” bill muttered, “i wanted a haunted campsite.”

tom rolled his eyes and cut the engine. “you’ll cry the second a squirrel looks at you weird.”

everyone climbed out, stretching, groaning, the sound of car doors slamming and zippers being yanked on backpacks echoing through the trees. tom rounded the back and opened the trunk, already pulling out the gear.

“yo, where’s the other tent bag?” georg asked, digging through the pile.

“it’s under the cooler,” tom said, and then he looked over at you with a little smirk, “you’re not lifting anything. you’re on chill duty, baby.”

you raised an eyebrow, letting him know you were already planning on chilling anyway.

“i’ll chill so hard you won’t even know i’m here.” you said, walking over to where one of the other girls had already flopped down on a picnic blanket.

the guys immediately got into it. tom and georg argued over tent pole sizes while gustav actually read the instructions. bill was mostly pointing at things, claiming “he knew how to do this in theory.” the sound of metal clinking, canvas flapping, and low cursing filled the clearing.

you and the girls sat cross-legged nearby, passing around a bottle of soda and giggling about how dramatic the whole process was.

“it’s like cavemen discovering fire.” clara whispered.

you watched tom from a distance, his arms flexing under his loose white tee as he hammered a stake into the ground. his brows were furrowed in concentration, lip caught between his teeth. he looked good like this—focused, competent, in his element. the kind of man who could build a shelter and break your back in it later.

he caught you staring and smirked.

“you good over there, princess?” he called out, holding up a half-finished tent pole like a sword.

“better than you,” you said, “yours looks like it’s about to fall over.”

“give me five minutes and it’ll be the sexiest tent you’ve ever seen.”

“yeah, because it’ll have me in it.”

that shut him up. gustav actually dropped a pole laughing.

by the time both tents were up—one for the guys, one for you and tom—the sky had gone from gold to dark blue, the forest thick with shadows and the buzz of insects. someone got a fire going in the pit, and the flames turned everything flickering and warm.

tom laid out your sleeping bags side by side, stuffing an old hoodie under one as a pillow. he looked over at you, soft-eyed for a second.

“cozy enough?”

you nodded, standing beside him, listening to the fire crackle a few yards away. “it’s perfect.”

but deep in the woods, something rustled.

you turned slowly.

“did you hear that?”

tom looked up too, sharp now. “yeah.”

“it’s scary here.” you whined, hugging him by his waist as he chuckled and wrapped his arms around you.

“don’t worry, i’ll fight anything that tries to snatch you off.

——

by the time the tents were up, the sun had sunk fully behind the trees and left the clearing soaked in soft darkness. gustav had gotten the fire going with some dried pinecones and old newspaper, and it was already spitting sparks into the air like tiny fireflies.

you were curled into tom’s side on one of the foldout camp chairs, his hoodie swallowing your frame and your legs tucked up under you. the fire made his features glow — sharp cheekbones, gleaming lip ring, the way his dreadlocks fell into his face every time he leaned forward to grab something.

someone popped open a cooler. beer cans hissed. bill held up a joint like it was the holy grail.

“now it’s a party.” he said.

everyone passed the bottle and the joint around in lazy rotation. you skipped both, deciding that at least one of you guys should be sober, leaning into tom’s chest while he exhaled a cloud of smoke into the firelight. his fingers traced light patterns on your thigh, slow and possessive.

“okay,” georg said, cracking a second beer, “campfire tradition: ghost stories.”

“yes,” bill said immediately, “finally. i’ve been waiting for this moment.”

“you’re always waiting to traumatize people.” you muttered.

he grinned. “and i always deliver.”

gustav rolled his eyes, but everyone shifted closer to the fire. tom tossed another log on, and the flames jumped higher, throwing long shadows out into the woods.

bill started first. his voice got all low and theatrical.

“this actually happened to someone i knew,” he said, of course, “like not far from here. they were camping up by the river and started hearing footsteps at night. not animals — like, heavy footsteps. bipedal. and they saw these… lights. not flashlights. not fireflies. just these weird floating lights, out in the trees. always the same distance away, no matter how far they walked.”

you pulled the hoodie tighter around yourself.

“so what happened?” clara asked.

bill took a long drag from the joint and exhaled slowly. “they stopped hearing the footsteps. stopped seeing the lights. and then one night… they woke up and their tent door was open. and there were muddy footprints all around it. just circling.”

everyone got quiet. the fire cracked loudly and a branch snapped somewhere in the forest.

you flinched.

tom held you closer, his other hand finding yours and threading his fingers through yours, steady and warm.

“bill, you’re a dick,” your best friend melissa said, “i’m literally not gonna sleep tonight.”

“that’s the goal.” he grinned.

“i got a better one,” tom cut in, voice low, “true story. happened to a sound tech on one of our tours in the mountains.”

you blinked, surprised.

he glanced at you, smirking. “you’ve heard me tell it.”

you shook your head. “not this one.”

he shifted in his seat, the firelight catching on his rings.

“dude was driving home through a forest road at like two in the morning. no other cars. he’s listening to music, right? and suddenly it stops. just cuts out. and there’s this voice through the speakers. real soft. just whispering, like… ‘turn around.’”

“nope,” gustav said immediately, “fuck that.”

“he slams on the brakes, right?” tom continued, “and he swears to god he sees someone in the rearview mirror. but when he looks over his shoulder—nothing. empty road.”

a gust of wind tore through the trees then, whistling.

you all froze.

“…was that part of the story?” georg asked.

“uh, no.” tom said, brow furrowing.

you turned and looked behind you — just trees, rustling. but you could feel it again. that prickle on your skin. like something was watching.

“okay,” gustav said, “new plan: we swim before the demons eat us.”

⸻

everyone laughed, tension breaking, and started grabbing towels and slipping off shoes. you stood and stretched, and tom helped you pull his hoodie off, folding it gently before grabbing your hand.

“lake’s warmer than the air,” he said, “trust me.”

“you sure?” you asked.

“you’ll feel it,” he said, eyes glittering, “plus i’ll keep you warm.”

you followed him down the dirt path, past the trees and the damp moss, until the lake opened up in front of you — black glass under the stars. the surface rippled, reflecting moonlight. your breath fogged slightly, but the water itself looked strangely inviting.

everyone dove in one after the other, shouting and laughing. the splash echoed across the trees.

you stepped in carefully and immediately gasped — it was warmer than you expected. like bathwater left out in the sun.

tom was already waist-deep, dreadlocks slicked back, water dripping off his shoulders. he looked like something wild and beautiful.

he held out a hand to you. “come here.”

you waded in and slipped into his arms. his hands gripped your thighs under the surface, and you wrapped around him instinctively.

“mmm,” he hummed, brushing his lips against your ear, “not scared of lake monsters?”

“not the sexy kind.” you said with a smirk, making him chuckle. the world going silent around you as he began to kiss you slowly.

then thunder cracked in the distance.

rain hit the surface of the lake in sudden, heavy drops.

“shit!” bill yelled, “go go go!”

you all scrambled out of the water, slipping and shrieking as the cold air hit. the rain came fast, ice-cold needles from the sky.

tom grabbed your hand and ran while laughing.

——

you and tom ran through the trees, feet slapping against the damp earth as rain hammered down like a warning. the fire was already drowned, steam rising from the ashes. behind you, the others were yelling and laughing, stumbling into their tents.

your tent glowed faintly in the dark, lit by the battery lantern you’d set up earlier. tom yanked open the zipper and pulled you inside, both of you soaked to the bone, gasping for breath.

tom’s hair was soaked, beads of water rolling down his jaw and onto his collarbone as he dropped to his knees on the sleeping bag, breathless from running.

“oh god, it’s cold.” you whispered, teeth chattering.

he tugged his drenched shirt over his head and flinging it into the corner. it landed with a wet slap.

his chest gleamed in the lantern light — defined, inked, glistening. you watched a drop of water trail from his neck down the center of his sternum and disappear into the waistband of his boxers.

he noticed.

“eyes up, baby.” he teased, smirking as he reached for the drawstring of his pants.

he pulled them down, slow, watching your face the whole time. the fabric clung to his hips before sliding down his thighs. he was already half-hard, the outline of it heavy in his briefs, and your breath hitched in your throat.

“you’re staring.” he said.

“you undressed like a stripper.” you shot back.

“i undressed like a man who’s about to warm up his freezing girlfriend.”

he stepped out of his clothes and knelt in front of you, gently tugging at the waistband of your soaked leggings. “let me.”

and of course you let him.

he peeled them down carefully, eyes dragging over every inch of your skin like he was seeing you for the first time. his hands were warm even in the cold, calloused palms brushing your thighs, your knees, your calves.

once you were in just your underwear and bra, he kissed your stomach softly, then looked up.

“lay down.”

you did, easing onto the sleeping bag. tom grabbed a blanket from the corner and threw it over the top, zipping the sleeping bag halfway to trap the heat in. the tent glowed dimly, flickering shadows from the lantern. you were already warmer with just his body near yours.

but not warm enough.

he crawled over you, hovering on his elbows.

“you still cold?” he asked softly, kissing your cheek, your jaw, your neck.

you nodded. “a little.”

“wanna know something?” tom murmured, his voice lower now, darker.

“what?”

he shifted, pressing his lips to your ear. “i know a better way to get warm.”

you swallowed hard. “yeah?”

his hands slid to your hips. “mhmm.”

and then he kissed you.

deep. slow. warm. the kind of kiss that made the cold disappear. his lips moved like he had all night.

“relax,” he murmured, “gonna make you feel real good, baby.”

he dipped down and kissed the valley between your breasts, hands sliding behind you to unclip your bra. it slid off easily, and he tossed it aside, eyes locked on yours the whole time.

“you’re so fucking beautiful.” he murmured.

his lips wrapped around your nipple, tongue flicking, sucking gently. your body arched into him automatically, heat blooming under your skin.

he took his time — slow kisses, wet trails down your ribs, down your stomach. his hands pushed your panties down and off, and his fingers ghosted over your thighs, spreading them.

“look at you,” he whispered, running two fingers through your slick heat, “already wet.”

you whimpered. he leaned down and licked a slow stripe over your clit, tongue flat and deliberate.

“fuck—tom—”

“shhh,” he said, glancing up, “don’t wanna give them a show, do we?”

but then he licked you again, tongue flicking faster, and your hand flew to your mouth.

you were squirming under him within seconds. his grip on your thighs tightened, holding you open and not letting you close your legs when you squirmed from the pleasure as he sucked and circled your clit, humming low in his throat like he liked the way you tasted.

your thighs were shaking when he pulled his mouth away from your soaked center — right as your thighs had started to lock, your stomach tightening with the rush of an orgasm he’d been building forever.

but he stopped. he stopped.

“tom—what the fuck—” you gasped, voice cracking.

he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smirking like he hadn’t just ruined your whole life in one motion. your legs twitched, still spread wide, slick and aching for him.

“you were close, huh?” he said, voice low and cocky.

“i was about to come.” you snapped.

he raised an eyebrow, eyes dragging down your body. “yeah, i know. you think i didn’t feel you start to clench?”

you reached for him — frustrated, dazed — but he caught your wrist midair and pinned it gently above your head.

“nah,” he said, hovering over you, his breath warm on your lips, “not yet.”

“tom…”

he kissed your jaw, your neck, the soft part of your shoulder. then leaned close, lips brushing your ear “beg.”

your heart stuttered. “w-what?”

“beg for it,” he said, biting your earlobe, “like you need it. like you’re fucking starving for it. or i’ll just sit here and enjoy how wet you are for me.”

you squirmed under him, breathless, your hips rolling up instinctively. but he didn’t move — just let you struggle, one hand holding yours down, the other stroking so slowly between your legs it was torture.

“fuck you.” you whispered, panting.

he chuckled. “that’s the idea.”

then his fingers dipped just a little lower — barely ghosting over your clit — and your whole body jolted.

“please—” you gasped.

he tilted his head. “please what?”

you swallowed. pride dying. “please let me come.”

“nah,” he said, smug, “you can do better than that.”

his fingers circled you again, featherlight. never enough. your thighs were trembling now, heat coiling so tight in your belly it almost hurt.

“tom, please,” you whimpered, “i’ll do anything. please, i need it—i need you—”

“yeah?” he murmured, voice dropping as his cock pressed hard and heavy against your thigh, “you want this dick so bad you’ll cry for it?”

you nodded frantically.

“say it.”

your face burned. but your body was on fire, undone under him, and if he didn’t give it to you soon you were going to break in half.

“i want your cock,” you whispered, “please, tom. i need you to fuck me.”

he growled. “that’s more like it.”

he let go of your wrist, grabbed your hips, and slid inside in one hard, deep thrust — all the way in. your back arched off the sleeping bag, a shocked moan tearing from your throat.

he didn’t stop.

just kept pounding into you with slow, brutal control — hips slamming into yours, hands gripping your thighs wide open, chest heaving over you.

you were soaked. throbbing. ruined.

“that what you wanted?” he panted, fucking you harder now, “that what you were begging for?”

you couldn’t even speak.

you nodded wildly, clawing at his back, tears in your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure.

he was already deep inside you — hips flush to yours, the sleeping bag creaking under every hard thrust, his mouth hot against your neck as he fucked you with slow, rough power. your legs were wrapped around his waist, your hands tangled in his hair, and you were so close it hurt.

“you gonna come?” he breathed against your ear.

you nodded frantically. “yes—yes, tom, please—”

but then he pulled out.

completely.

you choked on a gasp. “wha—tom? not again!”

he flipped you onto your side with one strong arm and grabbed your top leg, bending it up and over his hip while staying behind you — a twisted, tight, deeper angle you’d never even thought to try.

“shut up and trust me.” he whispered.

and then he slid back in — slow, thick, perfect — but deeper. way, way deeper.

“oh my god—” your whole body spasmed. it was insane. like he was hitting something he wasn’t supposed to reach.

you buried your face in the blanket, screaming.

“yeah?” tom grunted behind you, fucking into you now with short, precise thrusts. his hand slid around your front and started rubbing your clit again — rough and fast.

your moans turned to straight-up whimpers. your body was twitching. your leg was shaking in his grip.

“open your mouth.” he commanded, voice low and rough.

you didn’t hesitate. you parted your lips, heart pounding.

he grabbed your jaw, holding it tight as he spit into your mouth — warm and slick.

you swallowed instinctively, the taste rough and raw.

“good girl.” he growled, his hand tangled in your hair, holding your head steady.

he didn’t stop. didn’t let up for a second. just kept railing into you from behind, hand working you harder, your pussy clenching so tight it felt like your soul was leaving your body.

“holy—fuck, tom, oh my god—” you couldn’t form a complete sentence.

“fuck, you’re losing it, huh?” he panted, voice smug and wrecked, you’re such a slut.”

you couldn’t speak. your mouth was open but nothing came out — you were just stuck in a loop of shaking and gasping and trying to survive it.

he knew what he was doing to you. that angle? criminal. his dick dragging against your front wall, his hand never letting your clit breathe, his breath hot on your neck as he ruined you in that twisted, intimate lock.

and then you broke.

your whole body seized up, the orgasm crashing through you so hard your vision blacked out for a second. legs shaking. sobbing. ruined.

tom kept going, gritting his teeth, holding your leg tight as he chased his own release. “fuck, baby, you’re gonna make me—”

and then he came with a broken groan, pressing his forehead to your shoulder, his body shaking as he spilled deep inside you.

the tent was silent except for rain.

and the sound of your breath coming in wrecked, high-pitched gasps.

you flopped back onto your back, staring at the ceiling like you just died and came back.

“…what just happened?” you said, dazed, voice barely a whisper.

he grinned, still breathless, brushing hair off your face.

“new favorite position?”

you blinked. “top five of my life.”

he kissed you, soft and slow.

“good,” he whispered, “because i’m doing it again next time.”

you blushed, shifting a little. he didn’t let you move far — just pulled you tighter, one big hand trailing over your thigh like he didn’t want to let go yet.

“m’sorry if i was too much,” he added quietly, brushing a strand of hair off your cheek, “you okay?”

you nodded, heart clenching at how gentle he sounded now. “yeah. more than okay.”

he kissed you — slower this time, softer. lips warm and lazy and safe. like he was saying thank you without using the words.

after a few minutes, he helped you clean up as best as you could — a pack of baby wipes, a hoodie thrown under your hips, little touches that made you feel taken care of. he made sure you were dry, warm, curled up on top of him like a blanket.

then it hit you.

you blinked. “…tom?”

“hm?”

“we weren’t exactly quiet.”

there was a long pause. then—he snorted. laughed. like, shook with it.

“oh, baby. we were so fucking loud.”

you covered your face with both hands. “no. no no no.”

“you were screaming.”

“YOU made me scream!”

“yeah, and they heard every second of it.”

you groaned, burying your face in his chest. “i’m gonna die. i’m literally going to dissolve into the forest floor.”

he grinned into your hair. “i hope they heard the part where you begged me.”

“tom!”

“what?” he laughed. “you sounded so hot. i was proud.”

you hit him half-heartedly, and he caught your wrist, kissed your knuckles, and said against your skin, “i love you.”

your breath caught. “i love you too.”

then you curled into him tighter, your legs tangled, your heart full and slow and stupid.

outside, the rain kept falling.

and the next day, you were definitely gonna get roasted at breakfast.

but for now, it was just you and him. wrapped up in heat and sweat and secrets, like nothing else existed.

[itsnotcasual]

you guys that keep assigning the marauders to one direction members have got it all wrong because you don’t know their hearts and their souls like i do!!! nobody asked me so im telling you my in-depth analysis anyways.

credentials:

i ran a larry account and still have zayn as my pfp. suck it.

i’m tired of you all leaving out louis so he’s going first as a very obvious sirius black. you keep assigning zayn because he’s gorgeous and wears a leather jacket but louis is literally right there pulling pranks, playing sports on the side, and having gay allegations thrown his way and you’re all just ignoring it and i’m SICK OF IT!!!!! NOT TO MENTION!!! HE IS ALSO GORGEOUS!!! AND ALSO CAN WEAR A LEATHER JACKET!!!!

liam is peter. you’re all blinded by the teddy bear nature of his face pre-surgery but if you even slightly kept up with them you’d know that he tried and failed to be as big as the other members on his own so he had to settle for talking shit about them on podcasts instead. and ykw!! liam was right when he said that he was supposed to be the front man, it was OBVIOUS (#whoremembers let niall sing) but it was even more obvious that a majority of people tuning into 1d were tuning in for harry, not liam. just like how peter was technically there first, best friend to james, but wasn’t the one people cared as much about. also yes, he’s dead but i also was keeping up with his allegations and went through hell online defending them as a teen so i’ll say what i want!!! liam died and i mourned for my childhood but he also objectively sucked at being a friend to the boys after the band!! he is my peter!!! he betrayed them and we would have never gotten a reunion anyways PURELY because of him (zouis would have made up eventually i just know it)

zayn is remus. boo me all you want but it’s true. zayn plays yu-gi-oh, he’s artistic, he owns a farm and can’t name the chickens because he’s afraid of getting attached. people who bought into the Bradford Bad Boy marketing tactic OPEN YOUR EYES!!! HE IS A NERD!!!!! HE IS A SOFTY!!!! HE HAS SOCIAL ANXIETY THAT HE OVERCOMES FOR HIS KID!!! he’s remus. i’ll accept no other answers.

niall is james! “but issitcasual-“ i don’t wanna hear it! niall gets away with fucking EVERYTHING!!! he caused a feud between ed sheeran and ellie goulding and came out of it completely unscathed. his biggest controversy is the japan incident and not seasoning his chicken. niall fans practically grew up in a stable household with 2 loving parents and its all because niall is a beloved creature of this earth. he can’t do wrong he’s a golden boy and so is james.

harry is the only one i could accept multiple answers for but they’re all still wrong answers because honestly??? i don’t think harry really knows himself yet or isn’t showing us that actual version of himself and is just relying on really good marketing (valid honestly the north remembers how you all treated underaged harry styles) some days he’s remus some days he’s sirius some days he’s james but most days to me he’s marlene. i think he struggles with his identity in a lot of ways that ive seen marlene portrayed, i think that he’s changed and grown a lot which is usually something i see done with marlene’s character (like after her trip in tcoptp). I think no matter if its sexuality or just fashion or personality that he has a lot of discovering to do still.

until then i’d also slightly accept harry as remus for wolfstar/larry purposes.

thanks for coming to my ted talk i have thought way too much about this