#Why Calvinism is wrong

[thinkingonscripture]

Sovereignty and the Open Door of Grace

God is absolutely sovereign, but in His sovereignty, He chose to give mankind volition. That means people have the capacity to choose—to believe or reject, to obey or disobey. While all are born spiritually dead in Adam, that death is separation, not inability. A spiritually dead person is not a rock or a robot. Dead does not mean nonfunctional; it means cut off from God, not insensible. The…

[bcbdrums]

[horchatakoo]

IN HIS MERCY | JUNGKOOK FF

description: who would have thought that you, the queen bee of the school, would be a crying mess beneath the very boy you bullied?

It’s not your fault he fucks you too good… right?

genre/themes: yandere jk x queen bee y/n, manipulation, blackmailing, big dick jk, dom jk, mean jk, smut cause grahhh, cumming inside

part 2

The midday sun beats down relentlessly on the back of the school building, where Jungkook sits on one of the chairs randomly piled in the corner. It’s already lunchtime, and most students are flocking to the cafeteria, making this quiet spot a rare solace for his clouded mind. A few birds chirp in one of the tall trees, and as he looks up, the sunlight grazes his golden-tanned skin.

The scene was beautiful and calming... but that peace was shattered when a group of ‘jerks’ barged in, disrupting his solace.

"Hey! Look who's here... the weird kid from the back of the class. Thought you could escape us today, huh?" Jaehyun, a student from the legal department and one of the so-called "cool" kids, sneered, making his friends burst into laughter.

Honestly, he doesn’t really know why Jaehyun and his minions enjoy picking on him… or maybe he does. He’s pretty sure it’s because Jaehyun couldn’t stand coming second in the student rankings—right after Jungkook, the quiet kid in the back who always looks half-dead in his hoodie. Jaehyun, who thinks so highly of himself, just couldn’t accept that a so-called lowlife nerd had beaten him at something.

Jungkook only sighed, thinking this whole act was pathetic as fuck. He didn’t bother to respond and was just about to leave when Jaehyun suddenly grabbed the collar of his gray hoodie.

“What now, huh? Can’t even respond to me?! Did you study so hard you forgot how to talk?”

"Look, man… I don’t want any trou—" Before he could even finish his sentence, a punch landed on his face. The blow was so sudden that he lost his balance. Jaehyun’s minions wasted no time, rushing in to kick him in the stomach.

He could have fought back, could have turned this into a full-blown fistfight—but he chose not to. Not because he couldn’t, but because his parents had already warned him that this would be the last time they’d put up with his bullshit… especially after what happened at his previous school.

Instead, he only crouched in pain, waiting for them to stop. In his mind, he knew he could have his revenge someday—but for now, he had to play along, had to keep up the act.

After a couple of minutes, Jaehyun’s minions finally stopped kicking him, leaving him lying there. Jungkook thought they were done, that they had left—until he felt something spill on him. A cold liquid seeped into his hoodie, followed by the sound of giggling.

Min Y/N.

The fucking Min Y/N had just dumped a chocolate drink on him while giggling in Jaehyun’s arms.

"That’s what you get for messing with the wrong people," she sneered.

Jungkook hated the bitch so much. She was always clinging to Jaehyun’s arm, giggling like she was innocent—typical spoiled rich brat behavior. A queen bee who thought everything would always go her way.

Too bad… she was literally Jungkook’s type if not for her bitchy attitude.

"Hahaha… let’s get going, babe," Jaehyun said to Y/N, pride evident in his voice over what his girl had just done.

At last, their stupid group was finally gone, leaving Jungkook alone. With a groan, he pushed himself up from the pavement, sighing as he glanced down at his now stained hoodie.

A tsk left his mouth. "That fucking bitch… this is literally Calvin Klein."

───●◎●───

Have you gotten their information?”

"Uhh… Yes, sir. But won’t your parents be mad?" Mr. Lee, the butler of the Jeon estate, asked hesitantly as he handed over the file Jungkook had requested.

"It’s not like they’re gonna find out. Unless… you’re planning to tell them?" Jungkook replied, his voice carrying a subtle threat as his sharp gaze locked onto Mr. Lee.

The poor butler swallowed hard, nerves creeping up his spine. He knew his master wasn’t right in the head—there was definitely something wrong with him. But there was nothing he, nor even Jungkook’s parents, could do. After all, he was the only son and heir of the Jeon family.

"Of course not, master. My loyalty stays with you."

"Maybe a few beatings would do? Or perhaps turning Jaehyun’s face into a bloody mess would be the right move. What do you think, Mr. Lee?" he asked with a bright smile, as if this was nothing more than a casual conversation—like he was simply ordering food online.

As expected, Jaehyun came from a well-off family. His so-called minions? Just commoners desperate to stay in his good graces.

And you?

Heck, you’re even poorer than some of Jaehyun’s minions!

A burst of laughter escaped Jungkook’s lips, uncontrollable and almost manic, as he processed his new discovery. His desire to beat Jaehyun to a pulp was momentarily forgotten—because now, his attention was on you.

The so-called queen bee.

The prettiest yet meanest of them all. Always draped in designer brands, always acting untouchable.

And yet… a complete FRAUD.

"So this is the queen bee, huh”

───●◎●───

A day had passed since Jungkook’s discovery, and from that moment on, he wasted no time crafting the perfect plan. A plan for revenge. A plan to make them pay.

But first… maybe he could use you.

After all, you were his type.

The thought alone sent a thrill through him—your pretty lips wrapped around cock, the same lips that had probably kissed Jaehyun.

His jaw clenched, arousal and satisfaction intertwining at the idea. Not only would he have you, but it would also be the perfect way to get under Jaehyun’s nerve. And It’s much better than just ruining his face.

Like every other day, you walk your usual route home, completely unaware that the devil himself is following your every step. The streets are quiet, the dim glow of the streetlights barely illuminating your path. You arrive at the small, rundown house tucked away across the street, pushing open the rusty gate that screeches louder than you’d like.

It has been a long, exhausting day, and all you want is to go inside and rest.

But then—

"Oh… look who I found here."

A chill runs down your spine at the familiar voice.

You turn, heart pounding, and there he is…

Your lips part, but only a breathy, stunned whisper escapes. "Ju-Jungkook…"

How? Why is he here?

You wanted to ask those questions, yet your body refuses to move, frozen under his unwavering gaze. His smug grin never falters, dark amusement glinting in his eyes.

It’s as if the wolf has finally cornered its prey.

"What are you doing here, Y/N-ah? Is this your house?" Jungkook's voice dripped with fake innocence, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

Your breath hitched. "Wha—Of course not!" You forced a smile, hoping to sell the lie. "I’m just… visiting a f-friend."

But the way he looked at you told you everything—you were already caught.

Jungkook let out a mock sigh, shaking his head. "Really? Every day? That’s funny." His smile faded, replaced by something darker. "You know, I hate liars, Y/N-ah. Especially lying bitches."

Before you could react, he reached into his pocket and tossed something at your feet.

Photographs.

Your stomach dropped. Each one captured you, stepping in and out of the very house you just tried to deny.

He knew.

And from the way his smirk widened, he was enjoying every second of your panic.

Before you even realized it, a tear had slipped down your cheek, followed by another… and another. Your knees hit the ground before you could stop yourself.

"Please… please don’t tell anyone!" Your voice trembled, your fingers clutching onto his legs as if he was your last hope. "I swear—I won’t bully you anymore! I’ll even tell Jaehyun to leave you alone. Just… please."

Jungkook crouched down to your level, tilting his head as he cupped your tear-streaked face between his hands. His touch was deceptively gentle, wiping away your tears with his thumb—yet the sinister curve of his lips only made you sob harder.

"Shhh, don’t cry, Y/N-ah," he cooed, his voice laced with amusement. "I’m not as bad as you think I am."

For a second, hope flickered inside you.

Then, he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered—

"But you know… everything comes with a price."

You replied hurriedly, the words spilling out before you could even think—too desperate to escape this nightmare.

"What is it?! I promise I’ll do anything! Just please—"

Jungkook’s grin widened. He tilted his head, eyes gleaming with something dark and unreadable.

"Really, princess?" he mused, dragging the moment out as he traced his thumb across your trembling lips. "Then… be mine."

───●◎●───

Your thoughts were a tangled mess, looping around the same dilemma over and over again.

Be mine.

Be mine.

Be mine.

The words refused to leave your head, making it impossible to focus on anything else.

Jungkook’s ultimatum haunted you all weekend.

"I know this is hard for your small brain to process… so why don’t you give me your answer on Monday, yeah? If I don’t get an answer from you, then maybe I’ll just release these photos."

And now—it’s Monday.

Your head throbbed from the sleepless nights spent agonizing over what to do. The fear of your secret being exposed gnawed at you, but so did the thought of throwing away everything you had worked for.

"There’s no way I’d become a lowly student. I’ve worked too hard to build this image… this lie."

That alone was reason enough to say yes—to accept whatever Jungkook wanted if it meant keeping your perfect facade intact.

But another part of you resisted.

What does he even mean by "be mine"?

It was so vague, so unclear. Was he playing with you? Did he mean to humiliate you? Ruin you in a different way?

You swallowed hard, gripping the edges of your desk as the lecture droned on.

An hour later, your last subject was finally over. Jungkook had arranged everything for the two of you to meet again at the same spot—right in front of the rusty gate of your house. It was as if he wanted to remind you of who you truly were, and you hated it.

The walk home felt slow and agonizing, every step heavier than the last. You wished, even for a fleeting second, that a bus would just hit you—anything to give you a valid excuse not to face the devil waiting for you.

As you turned onto your street, your eyes immediately landed on him. He was standing there, patiently waiting, his gaze fixed on his sneakers. From a distance, he looked almost harmless—just another boy lost in thought.

But you knew better.

Because behind that unassuming façade was the devil himself.

Your steps felt heavier the closer you got, each one sealing your fate.

He must have heard your footsteps because his head snapped up, and that same smug grin curled on his lips.

"Ah, right on time," he mused, pushing himself off the gate as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, stopping just a few feet away from him.

"...What do you want?" you asked, trying to sound strong despite the way your voice slightly trembled.

Jungkook tilted his head, eyes twinkling in amusement. "I think you already know the answer to that, princess."

Silence stretched between you two.

You clenched your fists, knowing there was no way out of this.

With a shaky breath, you finally muttered the words that sealed your fate.

"...Fine. I’ll be yours."

Jungkook’s smirk deepened.

"Good girl."

───●◎●───

And from that moment, your life became a tangled dance—a twisted tango with him. By day, you maintained your queen bee status, the untouchable girl everyone admired or envied. But the moment the school day ended, you were nothing more than Jungkook’s plaything, bound to his every whim.

It started small—harmless, almost. A lingering touch here and there. Sneaking off during lunch breaks to empty classrooms in the old building, just because he wanted to. From fleeting pecks to deeper kisses, ones you didn’t even know how to respond to, but he taught you how.

You never got the chance to hangout with Jaehyun anymore because Jungkook is always there demanding your presence, so you have made creative excuses to deny Jaehyun, but you know to yourself those excuses won't last long. In one way, or another, he will get suspicious with your sudden avoidance.

"Strip."

"Wha—?" His command startled you.

You were in his house—if you could even call it that, given how massive it was. You never thought things would escalate like this. You assumed it would only be kissing, just like the past few days. But perhaps you should have known better.

"What? Why are you acting like it’s your first time?" Jungkook scoffed, tilting his head. "I know you’re Jaehyun’s bitch, so there’s no way you’ve never warmed his bed before." He leaned in slightly, his voice dripping with mockery. "Come on, show me just how good Jaehyun’s bitc—”

A hard slap landed on Jungkook’s cheek.

Perhaps it was the weight of your emotions—weeks of stress and frustration building up because of him. Your hands trembled, your chest heaving, and before you even realized it, a tear slipped down your cheek.

Yes, he was blackmailing you. But you never expected him to say something so cruel.

He was mean—viciously, unapologetically mean.

No one has ever been this mean to you

And you hated it.

Jungkook's head slightly turned from the impact, his cheek stinging from your slap. Slowly, he looked back at you, his usual smug expression faltering for the first time.

"I'm not—" your voice broke as more tears streamed down your face. You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palms. "I'm not Jaehyun's bitch, or anyone else's. I’ve never been with him like that… or with anyone!"

Jungkook's eyes flickered with something unreadable, but you didn’t wait to find out what it was. Your vision blurred as you turned on your heel and bolted for the door.

"Y/N," he called after you, but you didn’t stop.

You ran.

Perhaps you were too caught up in the moment, too overwhelmed by emotions, to realize you were barefoot—until you had already dashed out of his house, the rough pavement scraping against your soles, a stark contrast to the cold, polished tiles you had just been standing on.

You stumbled slightly, the sting of the uneven ground jolting through your body. But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t.

Tears blurred your vision as you ran, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. As if the night couldn’t get any worse, the sky opened up, and heavy rain began to pour.

"Y/N!" Jungkook's voice cut through the downpour. "Let's talk!"

Your legs ached from all the running, leaving you with no choice but to stand there in the pouring rain, chest rising and falling as you struggled to catch your breath. You were exhausted—physically, emotionally, everything in between.

Jungkook finally caught up to you, an umbrella in his hand, though it barely mattered now. Your clothes were already drenched, clinging to your shivering frame.

“Let’s get you inside, yeah?” he said, his voice softer this time.

You didn’t protest. Maybe it was the cold, maybe it was the sheer fatigue weighing you down, but you let him guide you back into his house.

The atmosphere had shifted. The tension from earlier still lingered, but now, it was laced with something else—guilt? Regret? You weren’t sure.

Once inside his bedroom, Jungkook handed you a towel and gently wiped away the rain from your face and arms, his touch surprisingly careful. Without a word, he grabbed one of his hoodies from the closet and held it out to you.

“Here,” he murmured, avoiding your gaze. “You’re gonna get sick.”

You slipped the hoodie over your head, the warmth of the fabric instantly comforting against your chilled skin. It smelled like him—clean, with a hint of something you couldn’t quite place. Not that it mattered. It was the best option you had.

Jungkook continued drying you off, his hands moving carefully, almost hesitant. You let him. Not because you forgave him, but because you were too drained to protest.

Neither of you spoke.

The silence between you was thick, heavy with unspoken words. He knew you were upset—he didn’t need to ask. And for once, he didn’t try to justify himself.

And just like that, the day ended.

───●◎●───

The next few days felt normal again. He no longer bothered you, and you were able to hang out with Jaehyun like before.

Yes, he was close to you.

Yes, he called you "babe."

But you had never done anything intimate with him.

You hadn't seen Jungkook at the university either. A slight curiosity lingered in your mind about where he might be—perhaps because, in some twisted way, you had grown accustomed to his presence.

Still, you were thankful he was gone.

Or so you thought…

───●◎●───

I was seething with rage as I watched her smiling and giggling with Jaehyun again—just like the first time.

But this time, the hatred wasn’t for her. It was for him. I know I was wrong for what I said to her that night.

At first, Y/N was just another piece in my game—a means to get my revenge.

But that night… something shifted. I saw her in a different light. She was raw and unmasked—nothing like the persona she wore at school.

I exhaled sharply, trying to push down the anger rising in my throat.

I told myself I’d leave her alone, that After that night I’d back off.

But now, watching her with him, I realized…

I didn’t want to back off.

Because she wasn’t his.

She’s mine all along to claim.

And I’ll make her realize just that.

───●◎●───

I was laughing with Jaehyun when my phone suddenly rang. An unknown number flashed on the screen.

I ignored it at first, assuming it was just a wrong number. But when it kept calling again and again, I finally answered.

"Hello?"

"Meet me at the old building. Same classroom as before. We still have a deal, you know? I hope you haven’t forgotten."

Just when I thought my nightmares were over, I was proven wrong.

I didn’t need to ask who it was. I knew that voice all too well. He sounded serious—angry, even.

The way he spoke, the sharpness in his tone—it wasn’t the same as before. There was no teasing lilt, no smug arrogance. He sounded different. Felt different.

I swallowed hard before forcing out a response.

"O-okay..."

"That’s my girl."

“Everything okay?” Jaehyun’s voice pulled me back to the present, his brows furrowing in concern.

I forced a smile, nodding quickly. “Yeah. Just some school stuff. I need to go for a bit.”

“Want me to come with you?”

“No” I blurted out a bit too fast

“I’ll see you later” is all I said before leaving.

Upon arriving at the empty classroom, I saw Jungkook already there, waiting for me—just like before.

His back was leaned against the teacher’s desk, arms crossed, eyes dark and unreadable as they settled on me.

I hesitated at the door, gripping my phone tightly. “What do you want?” My voice came out smaller than I intended.

Jungkook’s lips curled into a smirk as he pushed off the desk and took slow, deliberate steps toward me. “Missed you,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth.

I frowned, my stomach twisting in unease. “Jungkook—”

Before I could finish, he was already standing in front of me, too close, his fingers brushing against my wrist. “Don’t act like you don’t miss me too,” he whispered, tilting his head as if studying me.

I shook my head, trying to step back, but he caught my chin between his fingers, forcing me to look at him. “I-I don’t—”

He chuckled, leaning in closer. “Liar.”

My breath hitched when he pressed his lips against mine—slow at first, as if testing the waters. My body tensed, my mind screaming at me to push him away.

But then he deepened the kiss, his hands sliding to my waist, pulling me flush against him. His warmth, his scent—it was all too familiar, too intoxicating.

“You’re mine,” he murmured against my lips. “No matter how much you try to run, you always end up here, don’t you?”

It’s like there’s magic to his words that intoxicates me. His hands were just so skilled that it sent shivers in my skin. Perhaps because I’ve never been touched this way by a man.

The kiss was intense, our tongues intertwined. I was close to being out of breath, but he deepened the kiss before letting go. A string of saliva connected us. I looked dazed, almost drunk, as I gazed at him, and the next thing I knew, I was already lying on the teacher’s desk—skirt rolled up, panties gone, blouse unbuttoned. I tried to cover myself out of shyness, which only made Jungkook chuckle.

“I-I’m…”

“Relax doll… I know you’re a virgin, now let me take care of that, yeah?”

Before I could even know it, one of his fingers started slowly entering me, as he laps his tongue on my clit. The intrusion was a bit painful, yet very pleasurable.

“Shit you taste so amazing doll”

My legs were trembling from the unfamiliar feeling, one finger followed by another, as he scissors my insides. It was so good that I became a moaning mess, as I unconsciously buckled my hip out of desperation.

“Ahhhh… J-jungkook, please!”

Jungkook only smirks at the sight of you, he loves the control he has. He loves the way you begged.

He continues to ram his fingers in you before deciding that you’re already ready to take his cock.

His lips brush against her ear as he whispers:

“I’m going to put it in now”

And just like that, he slides his big cock into your tight hole. It hurts, especially with how thick it is, that you started gripping hard on the collar of his uniform as a means to relieve the pain.

After being fully in, he set a slow pace for a while, before brutally ramming in your core.

“You’re so tight, doll. Only for me. Don’t worry, I’ll shape you so you’d only crave me. I’ll ruin you for anyone else.”

You’re already intoxicated with the pleasure you don’t even know how to proper respond

“Fuck… you’re taking me so well, princess. Just like that. I knew you’d be good for me.

Everything he says is just too much for you, it’s so perverted and degrading that you don’t want to meet his eyes, but he forces you anyway, refusing to let you look away, making sure you see everything that he’s doing to you. Making sure that you’d remember how we claims you

“You thought I didn’t see you, huh? Laughing and giggling with that Jaehyun, while I was away. Now Look at you—whimpering, begging, fucking crying on my cock. You’re mine, princess. Say it.”

You couldn’t respond properly fast enough, so Jungkook grips your jaw, making you open your mouth as he forces to hear those words from you.

“Say it”

Y/N gasps out the words. “I’m yours, jungkook! I’m yours.”

“That’s my good girl.”

Jungkook smirks, satisfied, before thrusting even deeper, if possible, before shooting all of his load inside her pussy.

“I’m gonna fill you up, princess. Gonna make you round and full so everyone knows who you belong to.”

Y/N also reached her high together with Jungkook, but he didn't pull out immediately. He waited till his hard length would soften, and by the time he pulled out, he watched as his cum mixed with yours, dripped down your pussy.

The scene was amusing for him.. you being all fucked out and full of his cum. It’s better than any porn he had watched. So of course, it is only rightful for him to save this moment by taking a picture of it.

Jungkook smiles at you, as he proceeds to fix your crumpled clothes, and puts back on your panties, making it immediately drenched with cum as it acts as a barrier to not let his cum flow out of you.

And you’re just there… too tired to move that you just let him do things for you.

“You're coming home with me now, princess. In our house" Jungkook said with a genuine smile plastered on his face, as if he did not just ruin you.

And in that moment, she realizes—she’s lost.

Completely.

Utterly.

In his mercy.

[cheralith]

you receive a text from roommate!otoya randomly one day while at work, one with attachment indicated from your lockscreen. you think nothing of it and idly open it, only for you to be horrified at what you see that makes you dim your screen's darkness all the way in case anyone in passing sees.

it's a semi-blurry mirror picture of him—shirtless, showing off his lean abs in all their glory and in his sweatpants. his upper half of his face cut off, showing off just the slightest smidge of a cocky smirk on his lips. his thumb hooks down the waistband of his sweatpants to show off the a bit of the calvin klein boxers he wears, peeking out coyly.

— otoya (17:34) : u like?

your eye twitches at his text and you try to focus out the image from above as you frustratingly text him back, thinking he was better than this.

you (17:34) : no. fuck off

you get a text back that makes your brows pinch.

— otoya (17:36) : ?? why

disappointingly sigh, you begin to reply back but otoya replies back suddenly, and you have to stifle back a laugh at his flurry of texts that he sends in a cluster.

— otoya (17:37) : oh fuck — otoya (17:37) : OH FUCK — otoya (17:37) : SHITSHITB SORRY — otoya (17:37) : SORRY SROORY wrong person — otoya (17:37) : i swear on my mama i didnt mean to — otoya (17:37) : plz dont tell tabito he'll rip my dick off — otoya (17:38) : and i kinda need that sry

a giggle bites at you, your shoulders shaking a little at the desperation of his texts.

you (17:38) : fine, i believe you but buy me ice cream later — otoya (17:39) : swear u wont tell tabi you (17:39) : if you keep being annoying i might — otoya (17:34) : nooooo — otoya (17:34) : ill buy u ur pint after work you (17:39) : and we agree to never talk about this again? — otoya (17:40) : deal

relieved, you relax back into your chair, preparing to delete otoya's picture from your chat's history until you receive one last text from him that makes you nearly crush your phone in your hand, his redemption at himself lost.

— otoya (17:42) : but did u like it tho be honest

a/n: apartment 345 masterlist

[cranberrydietcoke]

based on this request !!

u and nic are close for stepsiblings...

content warnings: stepcest, p in v, squirting (had to switch it up on yall), he’s kinda like soft dom vibes, kinda icky yeah :p, accidental creampie, hes kinda a gaslighter oops

wc: 1.2k

sock-softened footsteps padded against the floor, gliding over the polished wood of the darkened upstairs hallway, lined with family portraits. this was second nature by now; you knew every creaky floorboard, dancing around them delicately as to not wake your sleeping parents. of course, a family this idyllic couldn’t be without its fair share of depravity.

you knew it was wrong, what you and nick had. but like, what did they expect? your parents were completely clueless—too wrapped up in their own worlds to catch on. they never noticed how often you slipped out of his room at dawn, how his t-shirt collection had become yours, or how he always seemed to sit just a little too close to you at family dinner. anyone with a shred of sense would have felt the discomfort, the immorality of it all. but its not weird, y’all are just close, duh !

the sound of muffled gunshots seeped from under his bedroom door, his shadow moving around in the light. silently twisting the knob, you push the door open and slip inside, unbeknownst to your stepbrother, who was immersed in his game. his voice carries as he talks with friends through his headset, fingers moving with precision over the controller. a white wife-beater clung to his muscular frame, grey sweats hanging casually on his hips.

“n-nick?” your tiny voice rang out, making him jump in his seat. his gaze snapped from the tv and onto you. the t-shirt you wore fit more like a dress, brushing the tops of your soft thighs.

“shit! hey!” he breathed out, obviously startled. “you can’t sneak up on people like that. scared the fuck out of me,” you stood, hands clasped behind your back, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet.

“couldn’t sleep,” you murmur, innocent eyes drifting down to the floor.

“hold up bro, i’ll see you,” he huffed into the mic, switching off his console and standing up from his chair. he strolled over to you, running a hand through his messy brown hair.

“what do you need?” he cooed slowly, almost condescendingly. “why are you in my room?” his eyes were dark, almost black, searing holes into you.

 “jus’ wanted to see you.” you pout, “i can’t see you?” doe eyes looking up at him, tugging right at his heart. he hated how much he loved you. and not in a way that a stepbrother should love you.

“fuck,” he sighed, wiping a hand down his face and motioning at the bed. “go lay down.” he knew how this would go, how nasty he would feel after, like always. but you asked for it. how could he not?  he watched with hooded lids as you tippy-toe to the bed, enveloping yourself in the blue silk. before crawling in beside you, he stepped out of his sweatpants, left only in the tanktop and calvin klein briefs. his big, veiny hands ran over the curve of your hip, up your abdomen to cup your tit, squeezing and massaging it like a fucking creep. you roll your hips back against him subconsciously, whining into the pillow, accidentally brushing the throbbing length in his underwear.

“is this why you wanted to see me?” he spoke, hot and heavy into your ear, pressing his clothed tip to your drooling hole, snaking a hand up to grab your throat. with a tiny squeak, you nod.

“ju-jus’ couldn’t sleep n’ i-” your words are cut off with two thick fingers pressing down on your tongue.

his digits ran over your tastebuds. “shhhh, it’s okay, imma take care of you, put you right to sleep,” he whispered down your neck, finally freeing his cock and working his way on top of you. he slides your panties down, placing an ankle on each shoulder, aiming his spit to your puffy pussy.

he was your first everything. first kiss, first handjob, first fuck. he decided he had to teach you. ever since then, it was your guilty pleasure, your fucked up little secret. it was your initial response to any minor inconvenience now; go down the hall to get split in half by your stepbrother's cock. a perverse conditioned response. you could’ve chosen anyone, really. but you just had to go and confuse everything. with your little dresses, your instagram posts, the way you pressed against him under the blanket at movie nights. it’s only natural, what he felt.

his hands held the back of your knees, watching with parted lips and tiny grunts as he polished the slick over your petals with his swollen red tip, flitting his eyes to meet yours when you let a whine slip from your lips. “so pretty like this,” he let out in a breathy moan, pushing into you. breaking through the ring of muscle, each vein on his shaft massaging your velvety walls, working himself deeper with each buck of his hips. “so tight, so fuckin’ wet for me. such a good girl.”

your moans got louder as he rammed into your cervix, leaving you to scramble for a handful of his duvet, shoving it into your mouth and clenching your eyes shut. “shhh baby, i knowwww, i know,” he soothed, bringing up a strong hand to smooth the mess of hair on your head, still fucking into you with deep, slow strokes. “takin’ it so good, always do,” his words trailed off, mixing with the sound of your squelching cunt wrapped around him and muffled moans. his hand brushed down, circling your clit with his thumb. hips stuttering and rolling, babbling incoherent ‘ohfuckohfuckohfuck’ s as tears of pleasure clustered in your lashes. frilly socks bouncing by the side of his head.

“gonna cum for me? gonna make a mess?” his thrusts sped up, digging into that spongy spot that made your legs go limp, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you bit down onto the comforter you’d been drooling on. the knot in your stomach came loose, legs shaking and sending gushes of wetness down his cock that puddled on the sheets under you. desperate and dampened whines straining through the dense ball of fabric. “theree we go baby,” he smirked, guiding you through your high and swiping his finger against your spasming bundle of nerves, clenching and unclenching around him. “just stay still for me.”

grabbing onto your hips with both hands, he held you down into the bed, pressing into each bone with his thumb as he sunk down into you, pounding at a relentless pace. he knew he couldn’t hold it for much longer, just mindlessly slamming into you, drunk off the sound of your little mmmph’s and ah’s! before he could even think twice, he was spilling into you, jaw hanging open as he pumped it in, forming a creamy ring around the base of his thick length. he was too blissed out to notice your face screwed in disgust, scared eyes helplessly darting around the room. your wriggle to plant your feet on his chest, trying to struggle him off of you.

“ew, nick!” you let out in a quiet shriek, holding your knees to your chest to not get nut all over his bed - as if it wasn’t already drenched in yours. “why would you cum in me?”

his hands shot up defensively, trying to choke out excuses as he got up, throwing you a navy towel. “i just-you wouldn’t get it, alright? you’re a girl.” his eyes met yours, which were wide and confused, a bit angry.

“couldn’t help it, calm the fuck down.”

[starkeyisthelastname]

stepbro!rafe jealous of reader and her bf at the christmas party.. then following her upstairs and fucking her while everyone else is out there

I went a little overboard. 🥴 this is very dirty. You’ve been warned

Rafe had no idea what you saw in that bozo, Chad. He was a kook who was perfect in the eyes of Ward and your mother. Attending Chapel Hill, excellent grades, a gentleman, gave back to the community. All things he was not or had given up due to his addiction to coke or constant disappointment from his father. The problem was that Chad didn’t know you like he did. He watched with squinted blue eyes as you giggled at something the douche had said. You two stood by the glittering Christmas tree as Sarah took a picture of the two of you.

The mini Burberry skirt you wore that barely covered your ass, had his cock straining against the khaki pants he wore. The fact that, that asshole got to be by your side all a night during this party had his blood boiling. He downed the amber liquid in his glass as he watched you tell Sarah that you had forgotten something upstairs. With the party busy, he easily followed you up the immaculate staircase towards your room.

Humming a Christmas song, you skipped over to the decorated pink Christmas tree in the corner of your room. Bending down, you picked up the gift you had forgotten only to hear the door shut and lock behind you. You turned around to see Rafe, eyes almost black as his jaw tensed while he looked at you. “You are quite the good little actress aren’t you.” He cracked out, voice low. “Your perfect little boyfriend has no idea that the same lips that kissed him tonight were wrapped around my cock this morning does he?”

You felt your cheeks heat up at the memory of sucking your step-brother’s cock in the shower that morning. It was more than wrong. Not only because you had a boyfriend but hello because he was your step-brother. Your step-brother who had a dick that was made for you. You began to stutter out something when his tall frame stalked towards you, hand gripping your throat. “You are gonna lay here and take my dick while your dumbass boyfriend looks for you downstairs.”

He shoved you onto your perfectly made bed, ring adored hand ripping the $340.00 designer tights. The red jeweled thong you wore was torn off, while his hand that was on your neck came down to release his monster from the confinement of his Calvin Klein’s. He pulled you closer, one leg resting on his broad shoulder while the other was bent back towards your chest. “Gimme your phone.” He demanded.

You didn’t even have time to ask why when he grabbed it from where it sat on one of your furry pillows. He unlocked it, the familiar ding of taking a video making your head perk up. “Rafe- what are you do-..” You were cut off by him slamming in all nine inches into your slick cunt, making you let out a gasp instead. Your phone getting a closeup view of your step-brother’s cock sliding in and out of your leaking pussy.

“Shit- look at that my man Chad. Look at the mess your girlfriend is making on my dick.” Rafe chuckled as the camera captured the sounds of your squelching pussy. His thrusts sped up at a pace you knew only Rafe could make happen. Whimpers and whines being the only sounds you could make out, as he bruised your cervix. You knew exactly what he was doing. Taking a video to send to the same boyfriend you were just taking pictures with.

“Tell him that you are taking your step-brother’s dick like a good slut.” The older boy spit out, his free hand gripping your hair to make you look directly at the camera. You couldn’t find words, looking completely cock drunk, despite your makeup still being flawless. Your breath began to shallow as you could already feel your orgasm coming strong.

“Tell him or I’ll fucking spot right now.”

You shuttered, your hands gripping the fluffy duvet while you looked at the camera. “No- please don’t daddy.” You cry out, Rafe’s favorite nickname making him want to blow right there. “I’m taking my step-brother’s dick like a good slut.” Your climax hitting hard as you squirted all over Rafe’s NorthFace fleece.

Your thighs shook as you came down from your high, collapsing onto the bed and listening to the sounds above you.

“Open your fucking mouth.” Rafe grunted, pulling out quickly as he aimed his seed on your tongue, your pretty face accidentally getting covered in it as more unexpectedly shoots out.

The video was sent to Chad with the caption underneath reading.

Merry Christmas.

[ravcnism]

CHLORINATED KISSES. — BOB REYNOLDS x GN!READER

Summary: Swimming is an essential survival skill—one Bob didn’t have. Which, you should have known, as you had been dating him for a total of five months now. But it had taken one startling kayaking incident for you to figure it out for yourself. You, of course, had to ensure it wouldn't happen again.

# # TAGS: Fluff with Some Plot, Established relationship, Soft Boyfriend Bob Reynolds, Soft confessions, Bob Deserves Nice Things

# # WARNINGS: I can't think of any. This is the softest thing I've written in ages. I guess some caution for the drowning bit in the middle, but it's nothing too bad.

Notes: If you'd noticed, yes, this is based on a scene from Lessons in Chemistry; and speaking of which, I might start writing for Calvin Evans too. But anyway, here's some fluff for now. (Reader's gender and pronouns are not mentioned, no use of Y/N, suitable for all identities.)

Being with Bob was a gentle sort of thing. He had told you once that you were dating a newer version of himself; a man that he didn't recognize sometimes. It was a good change, of course. But it was change nonetheless, and it took some adjusting to. Like a mistreated grocery store goldfish acclimating to the warm water of a much bigger tank. The ‘New Bob’ was a free bird, still hesitant to leave the open gate of his rusty cage. You weren't exactly certain what he meant. You didn't know him as anyone else. Only as the Bob you had met and loved.

You had met under—as you liked to call it—uncommon circumstances. But you supposed that depended on how uncommon it was to walk away with wrong prescriptions; each other's prescriptions.

You knew who he was. Barely, but just enough to know that he lived at the New Avengers compound. You were a backstage act, someone who worked the lights. An ex-SHIELD technician that Valentina plucked from the server racks and tossed into the circus. Now, you were in charge of the things that people often overlooked. You kept the servers running, maintained the logs, renamed files so the less tech-savvy Avengers didn't feel embarrassed. ("Walker_USAGENT_ShieldV2_FINALREALFINALACTUAL.png" became "USAGENT_Shield2.stk") And of course you reset the Wi-Fi every once in a while, or when Alexei came knocking on your office door like he was about to reign Hell upon you.

You didn't know much about Bob. You didn't know much about anyone period, but Bob was even more faded than the rest. You barely saw him. You hardly cared. You were desensitised to the world of aliens and heroes. New York getting blown apart? Must be Monday. If anything, this new ragtag team felt all the more ordinary as they only seemed to punch and shoot. A good change of pace, you decided.

But then there was that fateful afternoon. A bad cold, and a rushed trip to the company pharmacy. It was a private sort of thing—an exclusive outlet for anyone associated with either the CIA, or (recently) Valentina's shiny new Avengers. It sourced free medication as a healthcare benefit for lower-ranked employees. And, because why not, medication for unstable experimental heroes.

You were swaddled in the warmest clothes you owned, a scratchy scarf lifted all the way up your nose. Your sinuses were somehow clogged and runny at the same time and you had a lovely ear-ringing headache to pair it with. Your throat itched with the dryness of a thousand deserts and you were certain that your left eye was pink enough to pass for a tulip. You were sick—horridly so. If you had that kind of sickness around 200 years ago, it would have killed you on the spot. Today, however, it was nothing a few bottles of pills wouldn't solve.

You were dazed and distracted, simultaneously hot and cold. The pharmacist dropped two bags on the counter and didn't bother announcing whose was whose. You hardly noticed that you grabbed the wrong bag when you walked away. Bob would later on admit that he had his assumptions, but had been too anxious to follow you out the door.

You were back in your office, annoyed at the world. The barrier between your death and salvation was a wrinkled paper bag. You dug your fist in and felt for the bottle. Without much thought, you popped the cap open and tossed two pills into your mouth. It was only after you paused to breathe that you realized—the label.

REYNOLDS, ROBERT.

30 MG — V-17 (INHIBITOR)

DO NOT exceed prescribed dosage.

In event of skipped dose, evacuate vicinity and alert emergency contacts listed under Class-7.

May cause: dissociation, blackouts, tremors, visual distortions, or memory loss.

DO NOT COMBINE with stimulants, depressants, or enhanced physiology.

You hummed, inquisitively, like you had done something as small as grabbing the wrong brand of salt from the grocery store. Then you blinked. Hard. That definitely wasn't right, and it definitely wasn't good. The pill bottle felt heavier, somehow, like reading about it solidified its existence. Your hand closed around the bottle, slowly, as though one wrong move might cause it to explode—like you might explode. You looked up, stared at your wall, and whispered a sharp, irritated, “Fuck.”

Bob would hear you knocking on the compound's living room door about 10 minutes later. He'd open it to find you leaning against the doorframe, pale, sweating, and on the verge of throwing up. “Hey, buddy,” you said. “Question. On a scale from ibuprofen to 'unleash the apocalyptic void creature within', how bad would it be if I accidentally took your meds?”

There was a beat. Then two.

Then you collapsed, face-first on the cold, tiled floor. Bob screamed.

You woke up in the infirmary, next to a basket of fruits with a balloon tied to its handle, decorated with the words ‘I'm Sorry’. And when you regained the rest of your senses, he entered the room, with eyes sadder than a guilty dog's. “I think they fired the pharmacist.”

The nurses told you he kept coming back—anxiously pacing the hallways as he waited for you to wake up.

You had loved him ever since.

It was a charmingly odd, and unconventional beginning to something you—eventually—wouldn't be able to live without. Falling in love with Bob had been easy. And staying in love was even more so. It was watching him stammer and blush at every gift you'd given him, carefully reaching for his pinky to hold the rest of his hand, feeling his breath against your neck when he hid his face from scary movies. You bought him flowers every weekend, and he kept them alive for as long as he could. You'd take him on dates after therapy, show him places he'd never seen, make him feel things he'd never felt.

It was heaven, being with him. Even if he didn't seem to think so. Because Bob, for all the light he brought into your life, carried a quiet kind of guilt behind his eyes. Like he was borrowing time he didn’t believe belonged to him. Like every kiss might be his last, and every morning he woke up in your bed was a fluke the universe would eventually correct.

And perhaps that was what kept the both of you from telling each other ‘I love you’; which, shouldn't be that big of a deal. Five months was a lot of time to be dating, but it was different for every couple. And the last thing you wanted to do was make Bob do something he wasn't ready for. There was no pressure nor need for him to say the words. You needed nothing else than what he already gave. He made your life brighter, happier. And for that, you'd give him the world.

You'd catch him sometimes, staring at you when he thought you weren’t looking, fingers twitching as if resisting the urge to reach out. As if touching you too long might leave a mark. As if he might leave a mark. And you knew he didn’t mean it in the way you did. Not in the forever way, but in a fearful way. Like he was afraid he'd stain you with whatever he thought lived underneath his skin. Some days, he'd wake up trembling and you’d hold him until the sun rose. No questions. No pressure. Just arms and warmth and a steady heartbeat against his ear, grounding him in something real.

Other days, he’d smile—really smile—and ramble about a new book he found, or ask if you could go grocery shopping together, like that was the most intimate thing two people could do. And you always said yes, because it was. To him, it was.

And thus, we are taken to one of your dates: an unconventional trip for an unconventional couple.

In your defense, it looked really fun on the catalogue. You had memories of kayaking with your family as a kid.

Bob was looking up at you from his bed, shirtless with the sheets (and his hair) still messy from a night well-spent. “I'm not sure,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “I've never really… done that.”

“Hence the reason we're doing it.” You pressed a kiss on his forehead, a small and useless act to satiate the perpetual aggression that you had for his softness.

You looked so excited. There was no way he would have ever said no. Bob hardly denied you to begin with. He blinked up at you with that dazed, love-dumb look he wore so often in your presence—half stunned, half terrified, like he still couldn’t believe you were real and he was allowed to touch you. His hands, which had been resting on his bare stomach, slowly moved to grip the sheets, the way he always did when he was nervous.

“Like, in a lake?” he asked, voice still husky from sleep.

You grinned. “Yes, Bob. Not on a Disneyland ride. With actual water and actual paddles.” There was a small, excited tremor in your fingers. “Then we get to spend the night at a cabin there. Super relaxing stuff.”

It took little to no convincing at all. His answer would have been “Okay” regardless of what you said. He nodded at you, his smile reaching his eyes. You punched the air in victory. Playfully, Bob groaned, flopping onto his back like a man who'd been shot. “Why do I let you talk me into things?”

You leaned down and whispered, “Because you’re wildly in love with me and a little bit obsessed.”

“Hmm,” he mumbled. “That checks out.”

You had almost killed yourself by grabbing the wrong prescription once, and still that kayaking trip was one of the worst decisions you'd ever made in your life. It outranked your prescription swap by a whole tier.

It began plainly enough. The warm, subtly salty breeze in your hair, Bob’s hand in yours. There was an instructor and everything but yours and Bob’s kayak was separate from everyone else. You had your own little spot, a pocket of water surrounded by pine trees. The view was stunningly scenic, mountain ranges as far as the eye could see. Bob made a joke that it would be a good place to die in. You wouldn't be laughing about it later.

He was fidgety from the start, paddle gripped like a weapon, eyes darting from tree to tree like they might leap at him. You made him sit in front of you. “This is nice,” he said. “Really nice. Love the—air. And the sky. Is it supposed to wobble this much?”

“It’s floating. That’s kind of its whole thing.” He had told you that he had never done this before, so you made sure not to do anything extreme. No river currents, no sudden falls. All you had to do was float in a bright-orange kayak.

“Right,” he muttered, nodding so vigorously the boat tilted slightly. “Right. Floating. Not drowning.”

That had been the first warning.

The second one didn't announce itself so loudly. It made itself known only by the boat's increasing wobbling. Ignorable at first, but then noticeably dangerous. “Babe,” you said. And when you looked up you had caught him panicking. “Baby, wait–”

The kayak lurched hard to the side. His weight tipped you both in one fell swoop, but in your head, it was slow—a theatrical sort of disaster, like fate was giving you time to make peace with it.

Then came the splash, cold and icy. Unforgiving.

You swam up with a gasp, sputtering, grinning at first, half-expecting that to have happened. But then you realized you came up alone. The water was still around you, save for the ripples from your treading and the floating of the kayak. “Bob?”

Nothing.

Just water, and the worst silence you had ever heard in your life.

“Jesus- Bob!” you shouted, panicking.

You dove under—fueled by sheer horror and adrenaline—and somehow managed to pull him back up with only one arm. Next thing Bob knew, he was dragged back to the surface and clinging onto the side of your capsized boat.

The trip back to the dock was immediate. You were bombarding him with questions and asking him if he was alright, but Bob could only focus on his breathing at that moment.

The afternoon stretched on. The sun sank itself behind the trees and painted the sky in a warm pink-yellow gradient; as if it was sorry to have seen an even sorrier sight. Bob was wrapped in a towel now, sitting on the edge of the dock with a second towel (meant to be yours) draped over his head like a sad, soggy saint. His wet shirt clung to him, and his sneakers squelched with every movement. You were sitting beside him, looking like you had your tail tucked between your legs—shirtless, drenched, and visibly fighting the urge to spiral into the lake and never return.

“I’m an idiot,” you muttered for the third time in as many minutes. “I’m a frickin’ idiot. I should’ve known. I shouldn't have booked this stupid trip.”

Bob, still mildly shivering, turned his head towards you. “You also forgot sunscreen,” he offered, voice a little raw.

You looked up and stared at him. Sunscreen, he said. “You almost drowned, Bob.”

“I didn’t, though.”

“But you could have.” You dropped your forehead against his shoulder, towelless and dripping. “Jesus, you could’ve died and it would’ve been my fault. I dragged you out there like a fricken’—golden retriever.”

“Your golden retriever impression is weirdly accurate,” Bob mumbled, hugging himself tighter. “It’s kind of cute, honestly. In a panicked, flailing sort of way.” The towel on his head fell back, revealing a cluster of wet, messy curls. Bob looked at you, or, tried to look at you, but he could only see the top of your carefully drying hair. “Baby,” he muttered.

You didn't face him. You felt like you couldn't.

Bob tried again, coaxing you to meet his eyes by pressing his lips upon your head. “Hey.”

You looked up, finally, brows furrowed, lips pouted ever so slightly. “I suck,” you whispered.

Bob laughed—quiet and hoarse, but genuine. Then there was a pause, and he said, softly, “I should have told you I couldn't swim.”

“You're damn right you should have!” Your eyes widened, but he was smiling even more. “Why didn't you?”

“You said we'd be on a boat. Boat means you're not in the water. I thought we'd paddle around, look at ducks. I didn't think we'd tip over.”

You groaned, burying your face into your hands. Bob, despite his shaken state, was watching you with amusement.

He kissed you again, missing your lips. “I'm sorry,” he said, looking up at you with those eyes of his. “You looked so excited. I didn't want to say no. I want to do everything with you—everything you love. I was worried I’d disappoint you.”

Your expression softened, shoulders slumping. “Bob,” you said quietly, “You wouldn't have disappointed me. I just—” You sighed, finding your words. “I wanted to put you out there. I want you to have fun and experience things, especially the ones you've never done before. I just want you to enjoy yourself, you know? I don't want you holding yourself back from that just because you think you're not worth it.”

He nodded his head, curling into you so that he was leaning against your shoulder this time.

“That doesn't mean you can't say no to me,” you continued. “I only want to do the things we both want to do.”

He reached out, pinky hooking into yours. The towel smelled like lake water and soap, and underneath all that, like him. “I did have fun,” he murmured. “Until I was dying.”

You laughed, finally, and Bob felt as though he had broken through you. “Yeah. Me too.”

That night, the cabin was quiet—except for the gentle hum of crickets and the faint creak of wood as it settled around you both. The lake was still outside the window, moonlight painting silver lines across its surface, soft and harmless now, like it was apologizing. From the bed, Bob stirred. His arm reached blindly toward your chair, half-asleep. “C’mere,” he mumbled. “S’cold.”

You stood, closed your laptop, and slipped under the covers beside him. He pressed his nose into your shoulder with a contented sigh.

You kissed his hair. “Next date’s on me again,” you whispered.

He giggled, soft and slurred. “As long as it’s not a lake.”

You smiled. “It's not a lake.”

Bob was staring at the edge of the public pool like it had personally wronged him.

The sun was high, the pool mostly empty—just a couple of old ladies doing synchronized aerobics on the far end, and a lifeguard who looked half-asleep behind her sunglasses. The water would barely reach Bob’s waist if he stood, but you’d think it was a gaping void into the unknown with how frozen his legs were. You were already in, casually leaning your arms on the tiled edge. Almost like you’d been born there. “Babe,” you said, squinting up at him. “You look like you’re about to fight God.”

“I just—” Bob’s voice cracked. He looked down at the pool. “It’s deeper than I thought.”

“It’s literally not. I'm standing.”

“People drown in tepid water,” he muttered.

A sound between a scoff and a laugh left your lips. You grinned at him. “Baby, you're okay. I'm right here. Would I let you drown a second time?”

He shook his head, curls bouncing.

“Exactly.” You floated back a little, as if to give him space to jump in. “What's wrong?”

“I guess it's just so much scarier now that I know what it's like to drown.”

You grimaced at the memory and bit back another apology. “You won't drown in this water,” you tried. “Not when I'm here.”

He didn’t look convinced.

“You've been in a kayak.”

“That capsized,” he added.

“And lived!” You raised a victorious fist for him. “There's nothing to worry about, Bobby.”

He gave you a suspicious look. “That’s what people always say in survival movies. Right before they die.”

You held out your hand, the gesture of a promise. “This isn't a survival movie. Just you, me, and that weird little Band-Aid over there.”

Bob glanced at the stray Band-Aid drifting near a filter and made a strangled sound.

“Oh come on—you live with 3 Super Soldiers plus Yelena and Ava. You can handle anything.”

“What's that got to do with swimming?”

It took a good long while. For a second there you thought you might give up with him, but eventually—after some aggressive coaxing, dramatic sighs, and one accidental toe dip that made him recoil like the water was lava—Bob sat on the edge, dipped both legs in, and slid in slowly, holding onto your arms like the world depended on it.

You whistled. “Atta boy. Not so bad, see?”

He nodded his head, curls already sticking to his forehead. Bob was clinging to you like you were a life raft and he was Jack from Titanic—except there was no iceberg, no orchestra, and no tragic ending in sight. Just the two of you in waist-deep water under the lazy glow of late afternoon sun, your fingertips brushing his hips, gently guiding him forward.

“You’re doing great,” you said, voice warm with encouragement.

“I haven’t moved.”

“And yet, look at you—still alive. That's progress.”

Bob gave you a flat, soggy look, but the corner of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile. “You tricked me. You said this date wasn’t gonna involve a lake.”

You gasped, eyes wide with furrowed brows, looking like you'd been accused of murder. “And where is the lake?” You raised a hand and gestured around, the dramatic flailing movement splashing water upon Bob’s cheek. He wrinkled his nose with a small giggle. “Is this a lake, Reynolds? Is there a lake in sight? Where. I don't see it.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Okay, okay. I get it.”

You were gradually leading him away from the edge, his hands still clinging to your arms. He seemed to be too distracted to have noticed that the water was rising as the pool dipped. But only a little. Just above his chest. “This is important,” you said. “You can punch a helicopter out of the sky but if someone threw you into a puddle, you're toast?”

He frowned. “That's dramatic.”

“Let's do a backflip.”

“What!”

“Kidding! I'm kidding.” You hardly kept yourself from chuckling. “No, let's blow some bubbles. That's how you get rid of that fear. We need you under the water, nice and comfortable.”

Bob sighed. He gave you a long, deeply skeptical look—the kind reserved for used car salesmen and suspiciously enthusiastic swim instructors. “You just want to drown me.”

“You caught me,” you deadpanned, hands gently sliding to rest on his waist under the water. “I’ve spent all this time falling in love with you just to orchestrate your murder. Via public pool.”

That got him to crack a smile, small and grudging. “You're lucky I think you're cute.”

You grinned. “I am lucky. Now sink to your knees, handsome.”

He obeyed, only partially. He made a small gasp and mumbled, “Gee, scandalous.”

You scoffed. “You joke but once you get this shit down, there's a few things I might wanna try.”

He sputtered out a few unintelligible words, maybe some flustered statement of protest. You wouldn't be able to know, as your hand was already on his shoulder, gently pushing him downward. His back stiffened like he thought you were going to dunk him the second he wasn’t looking. “Wait, wait.” He clung onto your wrist. “What if I breathe in the water?”

“You won't. You just have to blow air out of your mouth, get your face in, your hair wet.” You shrugged, showing him that you weren't scared; that you were confident nothing bad would happen. “I'm right here. I won't even let you go, see? Just dunk yourself in.”

Bob hesitated, lips pressed tight, brows drawn together. You didn’t rush him. You just kept your hands steady and your voice low. “You’re safe. It’s just water. You’ve survived worse.”

He stared at you for a moment, then nodded, more to himself than to you. “Okay. Okay.” He took a breath and dipped his mouth below the surface. Then, a moment later: bloop bloop bloop—a string of nervous bubbles rose, followed by a triumphant gasp when he came up.

You grinned so hard it hurt. “There you go! That’s my guy.”

Bob wiped his face with both hands. “That was so dumb.”

“That was incredible,” you countered. “Also adorable, I don't make the rules.”

He turned pink at that. If it were due to the sun or you, he wouldn't admit. “How did- how did you learn to swim, anyway?” His brows knitted together. “Why are you so good at it?”

“Ah, psh.” You shrugged again, feigning a bragging expression. “M’grandad used to toss me into the deep end and hope for the best.”

His eyes widened, horrified. “Really?”

“...Actually, yeah.”

“Baby..”

“I know. Tragic.” You lifted his arms and hooked them over your shoulders. “He was a crazy man. Ran around naked in his house every Sunday. He made a mean pot of sirloin though. And thanks to him I managed to save my boyfriend from drowning–” you cut yourself off with a gasp. “You sly dog, you got me monologuing. You think you can talk your way outta’ lessons?”

He shook his head, innocently.

“Alright,” you said. “Come on, more bubbles. I'll go in with you this time.”

Bob mumbled something about wanting to go home, but he didn’t let go of you. Not even when you gently pulled him down again, both of you crouching low with your heads above the water. The surface curled around your chests and shoulders, warm and sun-dappled.

“Good,” you said softly. “On three. We go under, blow bubbles, come back up. That’s it.”

He gave you a slow nod. “Together.”

You counted down, voice low. “One, two, three.”

The two of you sank just beneath the surface, and for the briefest moment, the world hushed. No noise but the gentle gurgle of your breath, the rippling of water folding around your faces. You opened your eyes, chlorine be damned. You knew he was making a cute face, and you were right. Bob’s eyes were squeezed shut, cheeks puffed slightly as he blew an enthusiastic stream of bubbles—one hand still clinging to yours under the water like he was sure you’d disappear otherwise.

When you came back up, he gasped, erasing the distance between the two of you even more. “Okay, that's—” he heaved. “Not so bad.”

Water dripped down your forehead. “Yeah, see?”

The afternoon drifted forward. The sun moved gently across the sky, golden light bending through the clear water, making patterns that danced over your arms and Bob’s shoulders. The chatter of distant children echoed across the pool deck, faint and unobtrusive, like background music to your private, oddly romantic lesson. Bob stayed close, never letting go of you for long—no longer out of fear, but out of something softer, less urgent. His fingers toyed absently with yours between drills, and you let him, offering him the quiet assurance of your touch each time he looked uncertain.

You practiced blowing bubbles again, and again, until he no longer hesitated. Once or twice he even dunked his whole self in by himself, hair flopping forward in a mop when he surfaced, eyes wide and triumphant. You watched each little victory bloom across his face: like the lift of his brows when he realized he hadn’t swallowed any water this time.

When he got the hang of that, you moved onto floating. You had no intention of teaching him anything complicated, just enough to make sure he stayed afloat for an unforseen next time.

He didn't like the idea of leaning backwards. He was worried he'd get water up his nose. But your hands never left him, and you had promised not to let go as many times as it took to make him believe it. And when he finally beat his fear, he gave you a determined nod and leaned. He was stiffened at first, shoulders high, legs tense. You rubbed slow circles onto his back and counted quietly under your breath. “See? That’s it. You’re not going anywhere.”

Bob blinked up at the open sky, his whole body held afloat by your arms and the strange, miraculous science of surface tension. “Huh,” he said, voice small. “This is… kind of nice.”

You smiled. “You’re doing it, Bob.”

“I’m doing it,” he whispered, as if afraid he might jinx it.

For a moment, there was nothing but the gentle lapping of water and the quiet awe on his face. You watched him fall in love with the feeling of floating the way you'd already fallen for him—utterly, helplessly, completely.

He glanced at you sideways. “You're staring.”

“Sue me, Reynolds.”

At one point, you caught him staring at you, too. He watched you as you floated on your back in a lazy sprawl, arms stretched, chest rising and falling with the rhythm of your breath. His gaze was soft in silent admiration, a look that told you he was imagining a thousand more activities for a thousand more dates. You dipped beneath the water with a grin and popped up beside him, flicking a little splash at his face before he could pretend otherwise.

Eventually, the sun slanted low, turning everything amber. The pool had begun to empty, lifeguards wandering around with towels and clipboards, parents gathering children who’d turned raisin-wrinkled and sleepy. You and Bob lingered. Neither of you said it out loud, but there was something special in these last moments—something worth stretching out.

He rested his arms on the pool’s edge, head tilted back to soak up the final warmth of the day. You stayed beside him, water up to your neck, your shoulder just brushing his. For a while, there was no need to speak. You both simply floated, half-drowsy, your legs occasionally nudging beneath the surface.

When he finally turned his head, his expression was soft, lips pink and a little chapped from the chlorine. He didn’t say anything. Just nudged his nose against yours and closed his eyes. You kissed him, slow and unhurried, the taste of pool water still faint between you.

“I'm proud of you,” you muttered.

Bob looked at you like he might melt. He blinked at you, eyelashes wet and clumped together, eyes glossy in the fading light. That look—half undone, half stunned—made your chest ache in the best way. For a moment, you thought he might cry, or maybe laugh. He didn’t do either. Instead, he leaned in and kissed you again, his breath warm and a little shaky.

You didn’t break the quiet. You let it wrap around you both like the water still rippling at your shoulders. The pool had nearly emptied. A lifeguard far down the lane blew a sharp, distant whistle that bounced off the tiled walls and then faded. But here, in this shallow corner, time had slowed to a crawl.

“I love you,” he whispered.

You froze. It wasn’t dramatic. No sweeping music, no fireworks. Just a breath against your skin. A truth, offered tenderly, like something fragile he’d been holding in his hands for too long. It landed like he hadn’t meant to say it aloud yet, like it had snuck out of his chest before he could stop it. His fingers twitched in yours. He didn’t move otherwise, but you felt him stiffen slightly, like he wasn’t sure what might come next.

Your heart rose to your throat in one quiet rush.

You didn’t say anything at first. You pulled him back a little, hands cradling his face, making him look at you. His cheeks were warm despite the water, and his eyes—nervous, wide, a little red-rimmed—held yours like they were trying to memorize every flicker of your expression.

And then you smiled. “Sorry, water in my ears.”

Bob blinked. “What?”

“Didn't hear you. Say it again?”

He chuckled. His voice cracked, just barely. “I love you.”

And before he could flinch or apologize or make a joke, you kissed him. Deeply, fully, like you were answering before your words. “I love you, too.”

Bob's hand found yours under the surface again. He played with your fingers absentmindedly, like he wasn’t quite ready to let go of today yet. Like part of him needed to anchor himself to something real—your hand, your warmth, your voice reminding him he could do hard things. Even if those hard things involved pool noodles and blowing bubbles.

“Do I get a reward for learning how to swim?” His voice was shy but hopeful.

You clicked your tongue. “Tsk. You know how to float, not to swim.”

He pouted slightly.

You kissed him again, quick and chaste. “But we'll get there, Michael Phelps. And, yes—” Under the water, you playfully pinched his thigh, forcing him to flinch with a small undignified sound. “You do get a reward.”

His arms wrapped around you tighter, and his laugh—wet and disbelieving—bubbled up against your cheek as he held you like he never meant to let go.

Bob had been drowning long before the lake ever touched him. And even then, you were the one to haul him out into something that finally felt like air. With you, he surfaced. And for the first time, he was finally breathing.

[thinkingonscripture]

Challenging Calvinism: A Biblical Perspective on Salvation

The content discusses strict Calvinism, critiquing its doctrines and presenting a contrasting biblical view. It emphasizes disagreement with Calvinist teachings on total depravity and unconditional election and promotes the view of unlimited atonement. It

I have a great appreciation for several Calvinists teachers. Men like Sproul, Frame, Grudem, and Packer have been helpful sources of theological learning and I value their writings. However, though there is much that I agree with them about, there are points of disagreement as well. For example, I don’t agree with them on matters of ecclesiology, as most of them hold to replacement theology. Nor…

[worstcasescenario-if]

DEMO (NA) ⚘ LOVE INTERESTS ⚘ FAQ

Writing has been your passion ever since you were a child. You wrote whenever you could, wherever you can. It's been a part of your life for so many years now.

Now, you're twenty-five years old, with a decent job with decent pay, a loving partner, and you're also planning to write a novel of your own now. Isn't that so exciting?

What's even more exciting is finding out your OCs (that you've forgotten) you made during your teenage years came to life! Oh, but there's a catch:

They all want you dead.

WORST CASE SCENARIO is a psychological horror with lots, and I mean lots, of murdering. Please check out FAQ before proceeding.

FEATURES

-Customize your MC. What are they called? What do they look like? How do they act? What genre do they like to write about? And more!

-Face four of your original characters you put through immense suffering. And maybe romance them.

-Try to remember how you wrote them.

-Find out why your partner is acting weird.

-Choose how you want to deal with their hostility towards you. Apologize? Surrender? Or kill them yourself?

-In the meantime… run.

LOVE INTERESTS

CALVIN/CALLIE ZHU (m/f) — THE DOG

-Your partner of five years. They've been with you through thick and thin, and has supported you through everything. They're a little broken inside, but you're the one piecing them back together every single time. Will you still be able to do that?

PERSONALITY: Loyal, hotheaded and sarcastic.

SAINT CONNELLY (m) — THE SAINT

-The one that went insane. He was once an angelic boy, obedient and kind, until he inadvertently “sinned”. What his family and church did to him after left a huge, ugly scar on him; now God doesn't exist to him anymore.

PERSONALITY: Charming, enthusiastic and easily irritable.

AILEEN TWITTY (f) — THE ROTTEN

-The dumb blonde. She's a conventionally attractive rich girl who spends her money on everything and anything she wants, who posts the best pictures on her Instagram with over 100k followers, and she's happy everyday. That's on the surface, anyways. She still has unresolved issues regarding her mother she… injured.

PERSONALITY: Bubbly, energetic and sweet.

AGARI TAKAHIRO (m) — THE JESTER

-Comedic relief. He can say the most out of pocket things, make everyone in the room relax and laugh with his weirdly dark jokes. At least, that's how you wrote him, right?

There's something wrong with him.

PERSONALITY: Laid-back, nonchalant and weird.

NEKTARIA SOTIROPOULOU (f) — THE BELLADONNA

-”Dream girl”. She's an independent woman, CEO, only warm around the ones she love. A very desirable woman, no? Just tread carefully; one wrong move, and you may see a whole new side of her.

PERSONALITY: Calm, manipulative and narcissistic.

SPECIAL CHARACTER(S):

??? — It's their fault you're in this situation. They messed up. They messed up. THEY MESSED UP THEY MESSED UP

[hehe-69]

Jordan Weaver X Reader

(I couldn’t find a pic of Jordan anywhere so Calvin Evens it is)

Summary: Jordan has always wanted to be the good guy, the hero, he wanted to get out of his shitty apartment in LA and live a good life. He wanted to help people.

He’s not exactly sure when he lost sight of all of that, not sure when he lost himself in drugs and alcohol and bad habits. It became this hole that he just kept falling deeper and deeper into, but he told himself he was fine. He was in control, life coaching himself as much as he did others. But now he’s found you, now he’s got an honest job and a new life.

You have seen every side of Jordan, and you’ve loved him through it all. Now that Jordan trusts himself enough to be inmate with you, it’s time to take the next step in your relationship.(idk why but I love a good redemption arch)

Warnings: Smut, first time in a relationship, lil angst, sad boi Jordan, mentions of drug abuse, recovering Jordan, non descriptive smut so it’s gender neutral but still very very spicy, established relationship, FLUFF (may or may not have a reference to ‘Lessons in Chemistry’ in this fic)

Not proof read…sorry, also there is no use of Y/N in this story

——————

To say Jordan was nervous would be an understatement, the man was horrified of doing something wrong. He’s done a so many bad things in his life, some of them could be blamed on his past addictions but a lot of them couldn’t be. Jordan never claimed to be a good man, sometimes he wouldn’t even try to pretend to be one. But now, now he can at least say he’s trying, and now that is exactly what he’s doing. He’s gone to rehab, he’s worked on himself for years and it shows. He still flawed, as all humans are…but now, now he can be something more, something he can take pride in being.

Jordan has a lot of guilt for the things he’s done. You and him have worked so hard to get to this point in your relationship. From a small friendship to a deep bond and a romantic relationship. He really doesn’t want to fuck this up.

———

“Jordan, honey relax.” You can’t stop the small giggle that escapes from you as you speak. The poor man has been stiff as a board for the last 2 minutes. He glares at you in a playful manner as you laugh softly at him from your place straddling his hips. Jordan is usually so carefree, it’s not like he hasn’t had sex before it’s just never really meant anything, and the two of you haven’t exactly been family friendly in the past.

The experience Jordan has had before you was only ever casual and this is serious, he wants to be good for you. Jordan has expressed in the past that he has this fear that at any given moment this spell he’s somehow managed to cast upon you will break, and you’ll finally realize that he’s actually not good enough for you. “Jordan…look at me.” Your voice is soft and tender as you speak, as you hold his face in both of your hands. Hesitantly, he looks you in the eyes, and for a man who is so tall and 80% muscle…he looks so small in this moment. “I’m not going anywhere.” Your voice is whisper out softly and tuck a stray curl behind his ear, he usual smoothed back look now all messed up from you running your fingers through it.

“At this point, you’re going to have to chase me away with a stick.” You smile as a small chuckle escapes his lips. “And even then…I’d keep coming back. I love you, and that’s not something you have to earn.” Shakes his head before pecking your lips and looking up at you in awe.

“I love you…more than anything.” You smile at his whispered out confession, Jordan has always been theatrical in his life. In the time you have known him his dramatic ways have seeped into how he shows affection. You wouldn’t be surprised if he stopped you and gave you this long winded but beautiful speech about his undying love and affection for you.

You can see him gearing up for one of those speeches right now, you can’t help the grin that comes across your face as you lean down to kiss Jordan. Pouring in every ounce of anticipation, excitement, and the deep rooted, white hot desire that’s been flowing through you these past couple of weeks. Finally, he melts into you. His shoulders relax and he kisses you back as he breaths a wistful sigh through his nose.

His hands move up the small of your back to hold you closer, slipping underneath your shirt to rub against your bare skin. He chases you as you attempt to break the kiss for a breath of air, causing you to become breathless with burning lungs as Jordan begins to kiss along your jaw. Warm hands rub up and down your skin, blunt nails scraping against it just enough to make you gasp out, before moving to tug your shirt up and off of your body. A heavy breathing Jordan inches away from your body within a split second, barely enough time for him to remove the garment passes before he’s back upon you in a frenzy.

Moving with renewed vigor and purpose, Jordan takes his time with you. And it’s intense, breath taking, how bright this man can burn when he’s passionate about something. When he really, and I mean really wants something…needs something…when he craves it like a starved man. You’re on your back breathing heavily before you even fully processed the shift in gravity as Jordan moves with practiced precision, it’s memorizing. Your heart pounds against your ribs and you can feel it pulsing in your neck as your stomach flips with excitement for the night to come.

He knows how to get you going, knows what makes your pulse jump and your heart race. He drags it out, makes you so wound up you feel like you’re about to burst at the slightest touch of his skin against yours. Eventually, you get to the point where you cannot stand much more of his teasing, so you put him on his back. Licking and kissing down his body at a snails pace, and Jordan seems to be so into it. Never one for keeping his mouth shut, he lets moans and whine slip from his lips, he says the dirties things sometimes but it’s mostly terms of endearment and admiration that he voices…when he’s not crying out.

On your trail down to the bulge in hus boxers, you stop to tease his nipples. There was a time where he had a piercing through one of them, but he’s long since had it removed. When he had gotten it done, it was very poorly pierced and over time the pain and discomfort over ruled the aesthetic of having one. You both mourned the loss of it day it was removed. But, thanks to its removal and a split second of curiosity from you, you and Jordan had the pleasure of discovering just how sensitive his nipples really were.

The two of you have discovered much about each other in your time together. Things about each other both inside the bedroom and outside of it. Each discovery making you fall in love with each other even more. It’s taken awhile for the two of you to reach this point in your relationship, to trust one another completely, neither of you have known such a deep and profound connection as the one you share.

Maybe that’s why you’re heart is pounding and every bush of his skin against yours sends an electric shock of adrenaline through your veins. You and him have done this dance many times, but going all the way was something you expect to go awkward when the time arrived.

But it comes to you like second nature, the way you anticipate each others moves, the way you fall into a rhythm. In the end, you end up on your back with him on top of you, moving at a snails pace. But the way his hips snap steals the breath for your lungs as he keeps brushing against that spot within you that makes you sees stars.

It’s intentional, how his movements have your brain short-circuiting and every single one of your nerves are light up like a live wire. And from the sounds leaving his mouth…Jordan is feeling the intensity of the moment just as much, and if not, more then you are. All you know is that you’re climbing higher and higher more then you ever thought possible, you’re wound up tight, and all the sudden, like a rubber band, the tension snaps. And it’s a swan dive off the edge, you can faintly make out the sounds Jordan makes as he falls seconds behind you.

You both lay there in the aftermath, soaking up the feeling of your sweat silken skin against one another as you catch your breath. Jordan lays on top of you, boneless and sedated. The second you catch the sound of him softly crying, and feel his tears dampen your shoulder. You move to your side, facing Jordan and cradling his head in youre hands. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I can’t stop crying.” His voice is soft as he chuckles breathlessly, attempting to calm himself and wipe his tears.

“Never thought I’d be one to cry after sex…fuck-” He puts his hands over his eyes and rolls onto his back as a broken sob rips through him. You’re so quick to comfort him.

“Hey hey, it’s okay.” You tone is light and sweet as you attempt to pry his hands away from his face. “Common Pretty Boy let me look at you.” You whisper out softly and Jordan finally lets you move hus hands away. His deep blue eyes are full of so many emotions, it’s both beautiful and heartbreaking.

“What’s wrong?” You say as softly as you can, running your fingers through his damp curls. “I just…I was just thinking.” You wait patiently as Jordan pauses to compose himself. “I wouldn’t have ever imagined a life like this for myself. I never thought life could be this good.” You watch as Jordan presses his lips together after his voice begins to crack. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You see me, all of me and somehow you still manage to love my mess.” Jordan starts to tear up again as he leans up to put his forehead against yours, his hand braces the back of your neck as he breath shaky breaths.

“You make me want to be a better person, constantly I try to keep bettering myself…because not matter what I do I will never deserve you-“That’s not true.” You rush out as Jordan’s voice buckles under the pressure of all the emotions he held back just to get those words out. You pull him close into your embrace and kiss his head. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you Jordan. Sure you have made mistakes in the past.” You run your hand through his hair once more as he burrows himself into your chest. “But so has every single human being on this planet. I know I’ve made plenty mistakes in my life. Jordan, we are not the sum of our worst moments. We are the sum of all that we do to grow, to change and you have done so much good.”

You move his head so you can look him in the eyes. “I’m so proud of who you are Jordan. You’re my favorite person, you’re goofy, and loud, and so so very compassionate and loving…I love you, and you will never have to worry about messing that up.” It’s now that Jordan smiles at you. “And here I thought I was the one with the fancy speeches.” You grin at him, shoving him playfully as you shake your head. He always has a way of de-escalating an intense moment with his relentless teasing, but it’s just one of the many things you’ve grown to love about him.

“Don’t make me eat my words pretty boy.” You glare as seriously as you can mange, and you almost sell it. Till your face softens at the look in his eyes. The one that makes you feel like you’re the only thing that matters to him in this moment. “Now…if we can move past all the…emotional and vulnerable bits and get right back to the hot steamy stuff I would really appreciate it.” Jordan whispers out as he gets all shy, you just laugh at him and kiss him as deeply as you can.

It’s gonna be a long night, but your more then ready for it. More than ready to have him like this for the rest of your life. Jordan could ask you to steal the moon from the night sky for him and you’d spend the rest of your life trying to do just that. But you best believe that if you ever asked him the same, he’d devote himself to the task just as deeply as he is devoted to you.

————

I’m so sorry this took me so long, night shift has been kicking my ass. Sometimes I don’t even know what day it is anymore because my sleep schedule is all sorts of jacked up.

But I sincerely hope you enjoyed this story.

Thanks for reading.

Love ya🫶

[randomfandomworks]

Now, I know what a fool I’ve been. But if you kissed me now, I know you’d fool me again.

Bernard x GN!Head Elf!Reader

Synopsis: It’s believed that you and your fellow Head Elf couldn’t hate one another more. Isn’t it strange how wrong beliefs can be?

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: Potential OOC & Probable Grammar Mistakes

Pronouns Used: (You/Your)

A/N: Merry Christmas to those who celebrate! This is my Christmas special, so I hope you enjoy a short rivals/enemies to lovers one shot with our favorite seasonal boyfriend, Bernard.

Post Dividers used within this post are made by @saradika-graphics

You and Bernard had never seen eye to eye that much was for certain. At every bit of confusion or conflict presented by the elves you both would only argue. It was a wonder that Santa, Scott Calvin, had continued to let you both hold the title of Head Elf. Seeing as how whenever you both were meant to handle a situation it ended in more disputes amongst the workers then any kind of resolution.

Yes, despite your shared circumstances, despite growing up through hundreds of years together, you just could never seem to understand the other. The only thing you seemed to agree on was ensuring the happiness of children around the world, and making sure your jobs were done well and properly.

Though even that wasn’t enough to stop your fighting. One year, you two had been quarreling about wrapping and what exactly was the proper way for the elves to wrap the presents. This argument came to be so out of hand that you fell behind schedule.

Half of the wrapping department was listening to you and the other half to him, and quite frankly it was slowing you all the way down. Cutting your production time by at least half if not more than. You had only made it to Christmas on schedule that year by the slimmest of margins and it was most certainly not easy. Which made you all the more uncertain of what your current situation would present for you.

It was an almost silent night amongst the North Pole as you walked with your Co-Head Elf, Bernard, the small bells on the two of your outfits ringing softly with every step. You were both doing your hardest to discuss and agree upon the best plan to amplify production. As to avoid any big arguments that may lead to another production and schedule delay.

As you walked you both came out onto a terrace of the pole, it was snowing in light flurries as you both stood. The fresh falling snow slowly catching onto your clothes and forming very light halos of delicate snowflakes in your hair.

Each of you were rapidly speaking, and slightly disagreeing, with the other. Which was the case for quite a while until Bernard had taken a step back and paused suddenly, his eyes fixated above you both.

“Bernard?” You called, only growing more and more confused as he continued to ignore you. Until finally you yourself looked up, following his line of sight until it came into view. A small bundle of mistletoe hung between the two of you. A quick realization washed over you as you quickly attempted to fix the situation at hand.

“I promise I told the Decoration Department that this was in the wrong place.” You assured, continuing to look up at the mistletoe that was hung between you and Bernard.

And you had, earlier that day when you had been passing by this exact terrace you stopped to watch them work. Usually your decoration department did a wonderful job, going above and beyond for the look of the pole.

However as you watched them you noticed them hanging the traditional plant up above the terrace, and you had asked them to take it down, bringing up a few reasons as to why it had been decided not to be placed in this area before. Eventually they agreed with you and told you they would remove the mistletoe, pleased with that answer you found it okay to walk away and get started on another job you had to complete.

The mistletoe’s leaves glittered with a slight bit of Christmas magic, magic that the decorators always dusted across the mistletoe within the pole before they were put up. You looked back to your Co-Head Elf with slight worried glances, getting ready to combat anything he had to say about it.

Though when his gaze finally met yours it seemed as though he wasn’t upset or bothered by the classic decoration, in fact he didn’t show any sign of distaste. It was strange at first before it dawned on you, perhaps as opposites you were, whilst you were upset with the placement he was not. Perhaps instead he would decide he liked it, even if only to start an argument with you.

As these thoughts danced in your head you watched a bit of the shimmering magic flutter down and land on you. It occurred to you now what this meant. How the plant dangled so perfectly between you two symbolized more than a mistake of your decorators.

You turned to meet Bernard’s gaze once again, he’d been oddly quiet, usually the two of you would result in much more commotion. His eyes were expectant though patient, observing you and your every move as he waited for you to finally realize what you both had quite literally walked right into.

You looked at him for a moment more before speaking up, “We don’t have to.” You gave, no one was around to hold you to this, and surely neither of you felt you were necessarily in a position where you must.

You watched as he stared at you for a moment more, his face scrunching slightly, he did that when he was thinking. Which was something you had learned about him but never admitted to, much like many of his other traits.

You heard him chuckle softly as he met your stare again, those eyes, you thought, they were always so full of life. Always shining with this sparkle that you couldn’t help but feel matched the spark of joy that the Christmas season brought. They certainly made you feel lighter, more joyful even, despite who they may belong to.

“Why would I not want to kiss you?” He finally spoke. He asked it as though it was more than obvious that’s what he’d been willing, no, wanting to do, as if it’s what he had been waiting so long for. It made you feel almost idiotic, foolish even.

You watched him take a small step towards you. Your bodies and faces mere inches from each other, you could smell him from here. He always smelt first like the fresh fire in his office, a light Smokey scent followed by those classical Christmas ones. Gingerbread specifically with a slight hint of sweet peppermint.

You held his gaze, his eyes roaming across your face, finding their way back to your lips time and time again. As his hands slowly found their way to your waist, he was warm, a comforting warm. The kind you feel when you come inside after a walk in the winter or bundled in a sweater as you decorated for Christmas.

And from your place before him you could see every silver freckle dusted on his cheeks. He looked almost angelic, you found yourself thinking with the snow sticking to him and the familiar light in his eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispered softly, a question to be shared with you and you alone. His voice was almost desperate, though he wouldn’t make any move until he had absolute certainty from you.

Your breath became stuck in your throat, you paused, unsure of what move you should make before you unconsciously replied, “Yes.” You found yourself whispering, nodding softly as your own voice subconsciously matched his desperation.

In almost an instant your lips were against his, one of his hands coming to cradle the back of your neck, the soft ends of his sweater brushing against your cheek as he did so, with his other hand pulling you closer from his hold on your waist.

He tasted almost as sweet as he smelled, just like the new sugar cookies the bakery had been working on, and cinnamon, from his hot chocolate you found yourself remembering. He always had his cocoa with cinnamon.

He pulled away from you with a shaky sigh, a sweet smile spreading to his face as the sparkle in his eye shone brighter than you thought it had perhaps ever had before. His hold on you was still gentle but enough to keep you close, almost as though he never wished to let you go.

Looking at him now, taking notice of every detail about him, and the way he smiled at you, a sweet, loving smile that warmed you even more than his hold. It all made you feel more of a fool than before.

Has he always looked at you this way?

Has the sight of his smile always swooned you?

And have you just been so oblivious as to ignore it?

It had been foolish for sure, your attitudes towards one another, the arguments, and specifically waiting so long for this.

Thinking it all over you couldn’t help but breathe him in and pull him in once again, putting a silence to your thoughts as you kissed him once more.

[wlwsoccerfics]

TheMatildas:Group Chat Chaos (StephCatleyXGorryReader)

A/N: my First Text Fic. It's short but i hope you still enjoy the Chaos!

Summary: you announce your pregnancy in the Matildas group Chat.

You send this Pic of Steph into the Matildas group chat:

You: Please Look how gorgeous my wife is and how adorable our fur Baby is. He is gonna be the best big Brother .🧡

CaptianKerr: not you simping. did you forget an anniversary or ? 😁

KyraThePest: These two have been acting Strange all week. Something is up.🤔

Cait: agreed. Something is totally going on.

EllieNotSabrinaCarpenter: making Up after a fight?

Wifey ❤️: why would we want to bring an Argument into the group chat? We are adults. Not 15 year olds.

Sis: so what is this about?🥺

Lani: i am as confused as everyone else.

Charli: wait...are you getting another Dog?🐶

Wifey ❤️: No we are not getting another dog.

GoalieTeagan: bummer.

Macca: is this a riddle?🤔

TamTam: so just tell us, y/n and Steph....

Em: yeah what's going on?

You: what do you mean? Can't i just post a Pic of the Love of my wife and Show her Off to you guys?

Mary: well yes. But you are acting weird.

Macca: y/n and Steph probably did some crime. I am joking.🤣

Wifey ❤️: No one is acting weird. And no crime here.

Cait: you two are up to something. Leah and Beth think so as well!

You: Babe before it Slips my mind. You left two buns in the oven.

Wifey ❤️: i did. Didn't i?

KyraThePest: why is that News for the group Chat. Did you hit your head and have a concussion now? You did throw up alot in the Mornings the last couple of weeks. 🤮

Cait: OMG! Kyra why didn't you say that before!😲

Sis: congrats! Oh my god i am excited. Harper and Koby gonna be over the Moon about this!🥹🤍

KyraThePest: there is nothing in the oven. I was just in the Kitchen. Why would Harper & Koby be excited about it?

Cait: let's give her a Minute...

KyraThePest: oh my god! Steffy knocked up your sister Mini!

You: took you long enough. 🥳Altough that is not how that works...but yes. We are basically using my oven for her buns.

Wifey ❤️ : so prepare for two new roommates, Kyra!

CaptainKerr: damn that's right! You said buns! 🤭

Charli: it's twins!💚💚

TamTam: a new Playmate for Harley and baby Number 2.

Sis: wow! Double Trouble and Double the Joy!🧡🧡

Wifey❤️ : we really are filled with Joy!

You: Calvin is gonna be the best big Brother!

Macca: i call dips on godmother.😊

KyraThePest: No that's my Spot!🥹

Em: i make you godmothers of my bundle of joy If i get to be the godmother of the Matilda twins.

Wifey ❤️: you are all for sure gonna be the crazy aunts! That much is a given! And for the godmother Part. That's a Secret for now as well.😁

You: who knows maybe we make a riddle for you Guys so you can figure that out. We should do that soon cause you guys are really slow with picking up on clues.

Cait: okay rude! 😞

Macca: but she is not wrong.

You: i am never wrong.😊

TamTam: that's a lie.

Lani: it is.😵

You: it's not.

Sis: well...

You: who is the rude one now?🤭

Cait: can i Tell Katie?

You: she already knows. i mean she is my best friend. 🫣

Cait: the betrayal...

Em: i am sure you will get over it. 🤣

The Chaos continued for a bit but then you and Steph turned off your phones and went for a little Walk with Calvin.

[ppleasexanny]

pictures of us.

matt x reader

you’ve never been in a relationship, not that you don’t want to be in one, but no one has ever found you attractive. your friends always came to you for advice, talking to you about their problems, their crushes, their love lives. 

“what should i say to him?” 

“he’s mad at me, what should i do?” 

“he’s been avoiding me for weeks! should i break up with him?” 

of course, you were happy for them, always offering advice with a genuine smile, but sometimes, deep down, you wished you were in their shoes. so many boys were enamored by their beauty, constantly chasing after them, leaving you to wonder, what about me? what was wrong with you? why didn’t anyone ever look at you the way they looked at them? 

it didn’t take long for you to stop caring. you convinced yourself that you didn’t need anyone to be happy. your life could be complete without someone else filling that space. 

“...but i also was- are you even listening to me?” matt’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, his words breaking through your trance. you blinked, realizing that you were sitting in his room on his bed, watching him talk while your mind had drifted away to places you didn't want to acknowledge. 

“hm?” you looked up, surprised by how much you had zoned out. matt was standing in front of you, dressed in his usual grey sweatpants, the waistband of his red calvin klein boxers peeking out from under them. he was just a few feet away, but your mind had wandered so far. 

“oh, sorry. i think i just... zoned out. what were you saying?” 

matt sighed, sitting beside you, his presence a little more serious than before. something about his tone didn’t sit right with you. 

“you’ve been acting... strange for the past few days. what’s up with you?” his voice was soft, but there was a frown on his face, concern in his eyes. 

“what do you mean by strange? i’m perfectly fine!” you didn’t realize how defensive you sounded until the words left your mouth. your voice rose sharply, startling both you and matt. 

he looked at you, his brows furrowing in confusion. why had you raised your voice? he hadn’t said anything wrong. he was just worried. but why did it bother you so much? 

matt’s voice softened, his gaze shifting from confusion to something else—something unreadable. “i’m just worried, okay? you’ve been... different. more distant.” 

you felt a tightness in your chest, but you didn’t know how to express what was really going on. maybe it was just easier to pretend like everything was fine. 

“maybe i’m just tired,” you said quickly, trying to brush it off. “nothing to worry about, matt.” 

but matt didn’t let it go. “i don’t think it’s just that. we’ve known each other forever, and i can tell when something’s off with you. if you’re going through something, you know you can talk to me.” 

your heart skipped a beat. was he just being a good friend? or was there something more? the way he was looking at you—so earnest, so concerned—it made your stomach flutter, but you quickly shut the thought down. no, you couldn’t be thinking like that. 

you didn’t respond immediately, your mind racing. instead, you changed the subject, almost too quickly. “hey, are you still watching gravity falls with your brothers?” you asked, hearing the familiar voices coming from the living room. “i love that show.” 

matt’s frown deepened, but he didn’t press any further. “yeah. they’re probably still watching. you wanna join them?” 

you smiled, but the thought of spending time with matt felt... different now. what is wrong with me? you thought, shaking your head. stop overthinking. 

𝜗𝜚

you loved music. you loved drawing. and those two passions, together, created something perfect for you. when you drew, it wasn’t just about the lines and colors. it was about the rhythm of the music guiding you, inspiring every stroke. you were like a painter with a soundtrack, each note blending seamlessly with the colors swirling on your canvas. music pulsed through your veins, setting the tempo, and guiding your hand. without it, drawing felt like trying to drive a car without fuel—motionless, incomplete. you couldn’t imagine creating anything without the melodies that calmed your mind and stirred your soul. 

matt was in the living room, watching gravity falls with his brothers. you loved this show. it was fun, clever, and full of strange adventures. but today, your thoughts felt distracted. you knew you shouldn’t, but something about the quiet of the house and matt being so engrossed in his show made you do it. you stood up from the chair that was next to matt’s desk and grabbed the diary he’d left behind, curiosity gnawing at you. 

inside, you found something unexpected 

pictures of you and him. 

at first, you giggled, feeling a warm sensation spread through you as you flipped through the pages. it was filled with things you two had talked about, little moments that seemed so simple but meant so much. but then you turned to the last page. 

it was a recent entry, dated for today. 

"might tell her how i feel tomorrow." 

your heart skipped a beat as you stared at the words, your mind trying to process what it meant. could it be? was matt talking about you? 

you ran your fingers over the page, over the ink. your thoughts raced. he’s been acting different, you realized. but i thought it was just me... 

you remembered the way matt had looked at you earlier, his eyes soft and full of concern. his subtle touches, the way he’d always been there when you needed him. you never thought much of it, not really. but now, the idea that he might feel something more made your chest tighten, and a strange warmth flooded your cheeks. 

you weren’t sure what to do with this new information. should you confront him? did you want him to tell you how he felt? what if it changed everything between you two? what if it ruined your friendship? 

you closed the diary, setting it down carefully on the bed. for the first time in a long while, you weren’t sure what to think, and the uncertainty was overwhelming. 

𝜗𝜚

later that evening, you were sitting in the living room, drawing absentmindedly. matt was still watching gravity falls, but his brothers weren’t there. you could feel his presence next to you, a palpable tension hanging in the air. you kept stealing glances at him, trying to figure out how to bring it up, or whether you should at all. 

just tell him, you thought. but fear of rejection, fear of ruining everything held you back. 

when matt finally turned to you, his voice was soft. “hey... i was wondering if we could talk about something.” 

you froze. oh no. here it comes. 

“sure,” you said, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. 

he hesitated for a moment, then exhaled slowly, as if gathering courage. “you’ve been distant lately. and i know you’ve been... busy, but i just want you to know i’m here if you need anything. i... i care about you, okay?” 

your heart skipped another beat, and for a moment, everything else faded away. i care about you. 

suddenly, everything seemed clearer. but as you looked at him, you realized something—this wasn’t the same as what you had imagined. it was more. the butterflies in your stomach weren’t just from curiosity anymore. 

you swallowed hard, your throat dry. “i care about you too, matt.” 

he smiled softly, but there was something more in his eyes. something he wasn’t saying yet, but you knew it was there. and in that moment, 

everything changed. 

a/n... first fic hellooooo what are we thinkingg? send some requests please! i was literally so excited before even posting this lmfao 😭 @strnilolover <3

© PPLEASEXANNY

[pixiesfz]

cough syrup s.c x child reader!

apart of sunshine series!

plot: you get sick right before a big game

warning: sickness, appendicitis, vomiting, this is literally my experience when I got my appendix removed (I was 6)

You hadn't been feeling good since you got home from Kindergarten, your stomach hurt and your head was pounding, you hadn't even felt the need to eat your lunch Steph made you. You had never felt like this before.

You hadn't talked a lot to your friends or on the way home which was weird since you usually told Steph about your whole day and complained about the boys in your class.

You didn't like them.

"Did Jack annoy you today?"

"Hm" you grunted and Steph just nodded and furrowed her brows, you must be tired she thought.

You ran straight to your room when you got home, Calvin following you as you both sat on a bean bag.

Calvin seemed to know you didn't feel good as he licked your arm, sitting on your lap "Hi Calvy" you sniffled as the dog looked up at you.

Usually when you felt sick you told your mum but all she and all your aunties had been talking about for the last week were the 'conti' cup which you didn't know what it meant but you knew it had to do with her soccer career.

Lara used to talk about it sometimes, but she used a different word for it.

So you stayed quiet, a tear running down your eye every so often as you played with toys in your play house.

Steph noticed your quietness at home and got worried "Sunshine?" she called out to you and you quickly rubbed your eye and turned around with a soft smile "mummy?"

"Did someone say something to you at Kindergarten?" you shook your head "nope" you hummed and turned back to your doll house.

Steph sighed before walking over to you and bending down "you okay Sunshine?" she asked and you faltered, nodding your head quickly after.

Steph knew better.

"Sunshine what did I say about lying" she looked at you sternly before you looked down to your feet "to not do it" you mumbled and she nodded "exactly".

She placed her hand on your forehead before her eyes popped open "Sunshine your head is burning, are you sick?"

You nodded "head and tummy hurts"

"Why didn't you tell me? has it been hurting since Kindergarten?" Steph asked, panic setting in

"You have cunti cup tomorrow!"

Stephs eyes grew wider "Con-ti not..." she sighed "that."

Tears started to roll down your face, not bothering to act anymore "hurts" you whined "everything hurts!"

Steph nodded quickly picking you up "What hurts the most Sunshine?" Steph asked and you pointed to the right end of your stomach

Steph nodded, blowing out air.

She never liked seeing you in pain, and you were really in pain.

"Can I touch it?" Steph asked and you wiped away your tears and nodded.

You let Steph lay you down on the couch, Calvin sitting nearby as she lightly laid her hands on your stomach

"wrong side mummy!"

Steph winced "right, sorry Sunshine" she apologized before moving to your right side, a scream leaving your lips when she applied pressure.

"Hurts" you yell and Steph wiped her forehead "I know honey, I know"

Steph stood up, panic thriving within her body, this wasn't just any stomach bug, should she call the hospital?, local doctors?, Mini?

"Your whines grew as you started to struggle to lay still "Mummy!" you cried as she left to grab her phone "Sunshine did you eat today?"

"Wasn't hungry" you grumbled, laying your hand out for Calvin, hoping he could distract you from the pain in your stomach.

Steph was quick, typing your symptoms into an app she had downloaded since she got you and winced when she saw the answer she begged it wouldn't be.

appendicitis.

Quickly she ran to your room, grabbing more comfortable clothes and a water bottle, running inside the house, lastly grabbing Calvin and putting him outside before grabbing you which you screamed at.

"Where we going?" You asked as tears rolled down your cheeks "We're seeing the doctor" (hospital, but she didn't want to freak you out) she replied and you clung onto her before she reached the car and sat you down in your seat.

She looked up to your tear covered face as she did the buckle "You will be okay Sunshine" she told you, wiping your cheeks before closing the door and running to the drivers seat.

Your whines didn't stop on the way and Steph almost started crying herself, her blood pressure dropping whenever your cries grew louder.

"I called the doctor and we get to go straight in Sunshine" she told you, her voice croaky.

You had become silent now and Steph didn't know if that was better or worse as she parked the car, running out to grab you and go to the front desk.

You had taken yourself out of reality, almost getting used to the pain as you looked around.

Must be a new doctors, you thought as Steph discussed with the lady on the chair before you were placed on an uncomfortable bed and taken to a white and blue room, some painted fishes on the side as well.

Tonight had been a long night.

A man came in with a metal circle thingy as he discussed with Steph, trying to talk to you but you were too scared.

You hadn't made a sound at all until he placed his circle on your stomach, a scream leaving your mouth as he pursed his lips and nodded.

"It's good you came now, before it burst" he informed your mum but you widened your eyes "what?" you ask

burst.

What did that mean.

Steph held your hand, squeezing it tight as the man left again, telling you he would be back quickly

"Sunshine?" Steph called for you as you turned your head, tears falling down "mummy?" you questioned, your voice breaking Steph's heart

"You're going to have a little surgery-" "Lara used to have surgeries!" You tried to get up as you yelled but Steph stopped you, you turned to her again seeing that she also had tears running down her face.

"It's not scary, trust me I've done his before, hey even Calvin's done this before" she said and you relaxed

If Calvin can do it so could you, if Lara did them, so could you.

The doctor came back in, some nurses behind him as they grabbed your bed again, wheeling to another room where the man held a plastic mask.

"Do you like chocolate y/n"?"

You nodded and Steph smiled "chocolates your favourite isn't it Sunshine" You smiled "I like chocolate Ice-cream" you said and the doctor and nurses smiled "this is just like chocolate the man said before passing Steph the mask.

"You trust me Sunshine?" she ask and you nodded, the woman putting the mask around your head as you tasted chocolate, a warm smile coming across your cheeks.

"What about your game?" You mumbled, starting to feel tired

"I'll be with you Sunshine."

When you woke up in your room you were surrounded by a lot of happy aunties with gifts in their hands.

"Did you win cunty cup?"

Steph didn't even bother correcting you this time, just happy you were feeling fine.

[xvxblahhhxvx]

I think Dazai's backstory is really cool in how, despite having more information about it than most other characters, majority of his life is just one giant noodle incident.

Yep, that's the line I'm going with as an introduction to this analysis. Just bear with me.

To start off, for those who don't know, the term "noodle incident" originates from the (amazing) comic Calvin and Hobbes. In it, the whole idea is that Calvin did this unspecified thing in school that involved noodles, but it's never confirmed what exactly happened. It's only referenced in passing, and it is clear that it was not good. Applied to general fiction, the term Noodle Incident refers to an event that is often referenced, but never clearly explained, and what is important is the characters' reactions and feelings towards it. The principle idea behind it is that imagining what said incident could be is way more significant and impactful than anything it would actually be if it was said. It's not the event that's important, but the effects and responses to it are. *for more info, I recommend Overly Sarcastic Productions trope talk video about it*

Now, how this plays into Dazai's life is that, while it is extremely evident that he likely has a horrible, tragic backstory, we never really get to see much of it. The earliest we are introduced to him, he is already suicidal, and he has lost most in hope in existence. These feelings are tempered a bit when he first joins the Port Mafia, but they come back all too quickly. And while you could argue that him being in the Mafia is a large contributor to his depression,the main reasons why he seeks escape clearly transpired before he ever met Mori.

Dazai was already trying to commit suicide at fourteen, which is how he met Mori. Something happened earlier in his life, but we don't know what. Asagiri himself says that he left Dazai's core, the reason he wants to die, vague on purpose. We aren't given many details, and honestly, we aren't given much backstory to it either. The two biggest hints that we get is when he is speaking to Odasaku. First in The Day I Picked Up Dazai, and the second from Dazai and the Dark Era.

We have no idea who or what Dazai is referring to. From all that we have seen, all the backstories and light novels we are given, the only people that we know of whom Dazai actually lost were Ango and Odasaku-for Ango, it was that special friendship, and Odasaku, it was his life. And even so, it isn't much of an explanation, because he was obviously suicidal before he met them, as evident from how he speaks to Odasaku, and losing them wasn't a catalyst for Dazai's depression. (As a matter of fact, it was actually the first step towards improvement, but that's a different analysis).

Yet for how much we don't know about Dazai's life, I think it's done in such a way that it doesn't really matter. It's a noodle incident, in that sense. Because it's not about the events that actually transpired, it's about how that affects Dazai and the way we see him. Don't get me wrong, I would love a full, confirmed backstory, but Asagiri doesn't seem to intend to write it, and that makes Dazai's character so beautiful. It's also one of the reasons why the dark era, especially the light novel, is so tragic. Because yes, you can argue that as far as tragic backstories go, losing two friends isn't near the most awful, especially not in this universe (I'm not trying to play the "which character has more trauma" game, but compared to, for example, growing up in an abusive orphanage, it's relatively not as inherently tragic. That doesn't make it any less horrible though). But the point of the backstory isn't just to explain the reasoning why things ended up the way they did, why Dazai left the Mafia, boo hoo his friend died, but Odasaku and Ango represent everything in Dazai's life, everyone from his past we never got to meet and I'm not sure if we're ever going to. They symbolize all the things in his life that mattered to him, everything he never wanted to lose but did. The last scene in the bar, where the three of them meet up for the last time, Ango leaves, the picture with the three of them laughing and smiling, the whole thing is meant to serve as a microcosm for Dazai's life as a whole. That he feels he's always going to lose everything, and that's why he wants to die. We don't get details, we don't know the specific events, but we're left with the emotions that gives us an important glimpse into this character's mind, more than his life, and that's what makes him such an interesting character that's left open to interpretation and analysis. We aren't privy to the tragedy, but the aftereffects of it. And, almost as if to prove the point, Odasaku dies the next day. Right after Dazai says he always loses everyone, further cementing the idea that there's almost a curse surrounding him, a void of loneliness that may never be fulfilled, which is as much as Odasaku tells him when he dies.

Whatever happened in Dazai's life before fourteen was probably something horrible and tragic. Maybe he had a family. Maybe he had other good friends. Perhaps he even believed in the goodness of life and humanity. But what's really cool about the way he's written is that the exact events are not important nor necessary to understanding his character. His life is one big noodle incident, yet because of that, we're able to glean an almost deeper understanding about him, by leaving the details in the dark and exposing only the raw, humane emotions left behind. The most important part about any backstory in fiction isn't about what actually happened, it's about how does this affect the character now? What lasting impact did it leave on them, and how is it evident in the way they interact with the story in the present? This is something that Asagiri nails on the head when it comes to his backstories. And I think the lack of clear information about Dazai's backstory, yet all the information we do end up getting about him, is one of the reasons why Dazai is such an interesting and intriguing character in the series.

Thank you all for you time. You may now return to your procrastination.

[spaceycat]

idea for calvin

super sad and fluffy (not like i just told you this on call or anything)

but after his death the reader can feel his touch, the sound of his voice, and the smell of him in the sheets. so the reader imagines calvin cuddling them to sleep, and soothing them to sleep only to wake up alone

dude, why did you do this to me. okay.. juni.. i'll give it to you

════ ⋆★⋆ ════ 

˚𖦹 ⋆。ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ ...  ╰┈➤ 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚒 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚒 𝚌𝚊𝚗 ➶-͙˚

⋆★⋆ and i'll wake in the morning, hoping to see you next to me. ⋆★⋆

♫ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: spring into summer by lizzy mcalpine (4:23)

✰ pairing: calvin evans x reader

✰ word count: 1k+

✰ cw: spoilers for lessons in chemistry!! you have been warned!! like hardcore angst, some fluff/comfort, mentions of death + grief + depressive thoughts, literally no catharsis sorry yall, nicknames love and sweet heart (used to refer to reader)

not beta read and no use of y/n !!

✰ summary: you and calvin were dating for nearly a year when he passed away, a tragic accident. you're plagued by his death and imagine him still here with you at night as a way to cope.

✰ a/n: i cried

════ ⋆★⋆ ════ 

༺colour chart༻ reader ❀ calvin ⚛︎

When Calvin died, your entire world shattered. It was out of the blue, a sharp reminder that death can come at any moment. What's worse is that you were sound asleep that morning, he placed a kiss to your forehead muttering that he would be back soon. You always imagined what you would do if you could go back in time, the things that you wish you could've done for him to not walk out that door. For him to come back home and for you to yell at him not to leave you here all on your lonesome.

It's been months, people expected you to be over him by now. But you just couldn't move on, stuck in the house you were expecting to live your lives in. You sit alone at the dinner table, most nights you don't even eat.

You've worn out his jumpers and his shirts, the smell of him soon disappearing like he never even existed at all, but you were desperately grappling onto the idea of him. The sheets don't smell like him either, his side of the bed cold, his lab coat the only thing remaining, you couldn't touch it, too afraid of it losing his scent - the only thing that was left of him.

You swear you can hear his voice most nights, calling out your name from the other room, or talking on the phone in his office. Or feel his touch, wrapping his arms around you from behind, his soft kisses, the way he tucked your hair behind your ear.

One night, you were in the kitchen one night, cleaning up a plate from the food that you barely touched. "Sweetheart?" Your movements stilled immediately, head snapping over. Seeing Calvin standing in the archway, he's here. He's here, but you know he isn't real - but you'll pretend, just for tonight. "Calvin." You set down your plate, walking over to him. You looked over him, trying to commit him to memory. Just one more look. "What's wrong?" "You left me." "...I'm sorry." "You're saying that because that's what I want to hear." "I'm here now, I'm sorry I'm late." "How long are you staying?" "As long as you need me." You knew it was a lie, but you went with it. "I love you, you know that right?" He simply responded with a nod, not daring to mutter the words back to you. He was just a part of your mind, sharing the same thoughts and information that you knew. You and Calvin never professed your love for each other, so you aren't sure if he reciprocated such feelings - so you'll live in blissful ignorance and pretend that he did, even if he didn't say it.

You were getting ready for bed later that night, pinning up your hair into curls. "You look pretty like this." "Hi Calvin." "Hey, sweetheart." He'd wrap his arms around you, the feeling not warm - but cold. Calvin placed a kiss to the side of your face. "Come to bed soon, okay?" "Mhm." You stood in the bathroom for a while, looking at your reflection before walking out into the bedroom. The lamp lighting the sight of Calvin sitting up in bed, on his side. You never thought you'd see it again, the domestic feeling of it all. You simply settled in bed next to him, falling back into rhythm - like nothing happened, like he didn't leave you here to fend for yourself.

You pulled back the covers, getting underneath them - feeling the cold sheets against your skin as you settled. Turning on your side, away from Calvin. He placed a hand over your waist, moving closer to you. You felt your eyes flutter, for the first time you felt tired and felt the need to sleep in your empty bed. Calvin's faux touch comforting you, soothing you to sleep and his fingers drew patterns on your stomach. "Look in the lab coat." "Hm?--" "In the morning, look in the lab coat." You barely recognised what he said nuzzling back into him a bit. "Goodnight Calvin." "Goodnight, love."

The next morning, you woke up. Sunlight moving through the curtains, painting warmth across the bed. You moved to your other side, expecting Calvin to be there. But no. The sheets smoothed over, the pillows positioned perfectly, a painful reminder of your hallucination.

His words from the night before flashed in your mind. "Look in the lab coat." You pushed the sheets off you, your legs swinging over the side of the bed. Calvin's lab coat hung on the outside of your closed closet. You stood up, walking over to it. Holding the fabric in your hands as you placed it to your nose, smelling of him, his cologne.

You fished around in the pockets, finding wrappers for the peanuts he loves, loved. Loose crinkled papers and a few broken pens, until you noticed a bulge in the fabric, a cube. You pulled it out, the box soft, velvet. You were expecting a watch, or a pair of earrings he bought and forgot about.

But the wind was knocked out of you, when you saw a ring in the middle of it - the central gem reflecting off the early morning sun. You just stared at it, for a while. You don't know how long. Was he going to propose, or was this a promise ring? Multiple thoughts swam through your mind, and you looked over to the bed. Wishing he was there, wishing you could yell these questions at him and actually get an answer. But, no. You stood there, staring at this ring which was a symbol of what your future would.. could've been. "I don't know what to do, Calvin.." You muttered to yourself, hoping he'd walk through the front door and it would all be some sick twisted dream.

You closed the box, setting it down on the bedside table - as you sat down on the edge of the bed - practically shaking now, the tears inescapable. "I would've said yes." And you hoped, That he knew that too.