#but he is starting to second guess everything...

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

sentinel cant be a bad person

[cosmopretty]

꣑୧ What happens when class 1A finds out about you— Katsuki Bakugo’s secret girlfriend that no one knew about

Today was the one day class 1A had the whole day off, not a single class all day since most of them passed the Hero License Exam. The class well mostly Mina and Uraraka planned a whole day trip to go to the mall and the park, mostly everyone was going besides the one and only Katsuki Bakugo.

Not only was he disappointed after he failed the test, but he hadn’t seen his girlfriend in weeks because of training. So today was his day off to spend with you and only you.

———

“Come on Bakubro the whole class is going it’s gonna be so manly” Kirishima exclaims his arm slinging around Bakugo’s shoulder, trying to convince the angry blonde to come with them today. Bakugo shoves him off growling something no one could understand under his breath.

The whole class watches as the explosive boy walks out the door to leave, slamming it on his way out. Kirishima scratches the back of his neck “Well guess we should leave soon guys” he says after a few seconds of awkward silence.

———

You stand waiting at the gates of UA for your boyfriend until a pair of arms circle around your waist “Hey” Bakugo grumbles his head falling to your neck.

A smile adorns your lips “Hi baby” you whisper moving your head to the right and kissing his cheek. He gets up slightly and starts leading you down the street his arm around your waist. You tilt you head looking up at him for a moment the fall breeze flowing around you both “Soooo where we going baby?” you ask him while admiring his features.

His eyes turn to look at you “I was thinking we could go to my house, the hag wants us over or something” he scoffs before continuing “We could watch some movies in my room, then go to the park I don’t know” he mumbles his eyes refusing to make eye contact with you.

The Katsuki Bakugo being romantic was not something you see everyday but it was sweet so you choose not to tease him about it. You smile turning away from him to watch some birds fly with one another “That sweet Suki, I’m excited I miss your mom” you tell him your eyes not looking at him but you feel how he squeezes you closer to him.

The walk to his house went by quickly and soon enough the two of you were eating lunch with his parents. Bakugo was being well Bakugo and arguing over everything with his mom, even going as far to argue over how spicy the food was. You couldn’t help yourself but laugh at the two of them it was like a copy paste of one another.

After lunch both you and Bakugo went up to his room to watch some new scary move that came out. That didn’t last long because your attention span was not strong enough to just focus on the movie in-front of you both.

Climbing on top of the blonde boy you straddle his waist blocking his view of the movie. Your hands come up to hold his shoulders “M bored Suki, entertain me” you whine your head falling into his neck leaving small light kisses all over. He groans his head falling back into the pillows to give you more access.

“Needy little thing aren’t you” he says his hands grabbing to hold your hips pulling you impossibly closer to him. You bite down on his neck lightly causing him to groan once more. The heat between your bodies grows as you kiss down his neck pulling down his shirt to reach more places in his neck.

His hand slides into your hair and pulls you back hard, but not enough to hurt you for real “Not the time baby, my parents are in the next room” he tells you slightly out of breathe.

You pout “Fine but that doesn’t mean I can’t kiss you” he scoffs at your words shaking his head. Before he can speak your lips are on his hungrily. He kisses back almost immediately his hands squeezing your hips, one gliding up your body to hold your neck. His lips fit yours perfectly like they were made just specifically for you.

The two of you made out for almost a hour just kissing each other, everywhere you could before getting tired. The two of you ended up falling asleep tired from the food, the movie and the neediness between you two..

Hours pass before Bakugo wakes up rubbing his eyes before looking down at you on his chest. He smiles, a real smile he doesn’t show people his hand coming to rub your back slowly waking you up from your slumber. He waited a few minutes patiently before getting tired of waiting and got up with you in his arms. Looking down at you for a moment he laughs throwing you down on the bed watching as you gasp landing down on your stomach.

“WHAT THE HELL?” You squeal staring wide eyed at the boy who was holding himself up by the wall laughing at you. Groaning you throw a pillow at him before getting up and fixing your clothes that you fell asleep in. Still laughing Bakugo throws your shoes towards you, catching them with a glare on your face you growl “Your mean ya know that Bakugo” his laughter stops immediately at the use of his last name coming out of your mouth.

Katsuki walks towards you slowly “The hell did you just call ya damn lazy nerd” he growls out at you. He stops right in front of you his arms crossed across his chest “Huh you gonna speak on you gone mute?” he snaps.

You look up at him “Sorry I ment bitch” you blurt out before your eyes widen. Before he can even comprehend what you just said you’re running out the door shoes in hand yelling a quirk bye to his parents before rushing out the door. He chases you, hot on your heel as you run towards the park near his house.

Bakugo jumps on you, taking you both to ground him on top of you “Think you can run away? I’m gonna be the number one hero you can’t out run me even in your dreams” he growls his faces inches away from you. Air catches in your throat as you breathe heavily looking up at your boyfriend with a smile on your face.

Grabbing his face with your hands you laugh “I love getting you all angry” you admit to him as he gets off you, holding out a hand to pull you up.

“Tch I could never be mad at you-“ his words stop as he sees his class sitting on benched staring at you two wide eyed, mouths agape.

You follow his eyes to see the class and you happily walk away from him to go rush up to Mins. She squeaks hugging your tightly “I MISSED YOU BOO” she yells spinning you around as Bakugo walks over confused to see you hugging some extra in his class.

Kirishima looks at the blonde smirking “So this is why you didn’t wanna hangout with us” he laughs as Denkis eyes nearly bulge out of his head “HOW THE HELL DID YOU PULL A GIRL THIS BEAUTIFUL” he shrieks. You pull away from Mina and walk towards your boyfriend to go hug his arm.

He looks at you then at Mina then back at you “Why the hell you hugging Pinky?” he asks jealousy bubbling in his chest. He didn’t want anyone but him to be touching you.

“Oh me and Mina met when I was waiting for you outside of school a while ago, she said I had pretty eyes and I liked her hair and we started to hangout and texting sometimes we became friends” You tell him happily as Mina nods her head “Don’t worry I didn’t tell anyone you guys were together- well the class all knows now anyways” she says giggling.

Bakugo groans and walks away going back home as you let go of his arm. You smile sheepishly at his classmates “Nice meeting you all hopefully I can again soon— bye Mina” you say smiling before turning spring and running to catch up with Katsuki.

The class all looks at the two of you leaving in shock, especially when Bakugo wraps his arm around your shoulders pulling you closer to him.

“That’s- how- are you kidding me! No far Bakugo gets a girl that nice and pretty and that body oh god that-“ Before Mineta can finish his sentence Mina slaps the back of his head “Shut up” she tells him.

The next day the entire class couldn’t stop talking about you.

Authors Note:

SO I POSTED THIS WAS A REQUEST AND I LOVED IT SO PLEASE SEND IN SOME MORE

[unabashegirl]

Love Island — part 4

AU. Based on the TV show.

Author's note: Please, please don’t hesitate to send in your requests — whether it’s blurbs, one-shots, or even just a fun idea you want to see come to life. If you're feeling a little shy, no worries at all — you can always send them in anonymously through Tumblr! I’d love to hear from you and create more content you’ll enjoy 🌞💌

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The sun glinted off the pool as Y/N sat on one of the loungers, her legs dipped lazily in the water. Lucas plopped down beside her, his usual laid-back grin in place as he swirled his feet in the pool.

“Alright, missus,” he began, leaning back on his hands. “Two days since the big shake-up. Spill. How’s it going with Harry? You two the villa’s next power couple or what?”

Y/N let out a small laugh, shaking her head as she glanced at the water. “Hardly,” she admitted, a touch of frustration in her tone. “Honestly, Lucas, I don’t know what’s going on. He hasn’t… made a move. Nothing.”

Lucas frowned, leaning forward slightly. “Nothing at all? Not even a cheeky cuddle at night? The man’s sleeping next to you, for crying out loud.”

“Exactly!” Y/N exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “We talk, we laugh, but that’s it. He’s sweet, and I do feel something when we’re together, but I can’t tell if he’s just being cautious or if he’s… not as into it as I thought.”

Lucas gave her a thoughtful look, running a hand through his hair. “That doesn’t sound like Harry. Bloke’s confident. If he likes you, he’d usually be all in.”

“Exactly,” Y/N said again, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “It’s making me second-guess everything. I thought we had this connection, you know? But now, I’m starting to think maybe I got it wrong.”

Lucas gave her a nudge with his shoulder. “Hey, don’t go down that rabbit hole. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Bloke’s interested. Maybe he’s just trying to take it slow—prove he’s not here for some quick fling.”

She sighed, her eyes fixed on the pool. “I guess. But I didn’t sign up for Love Island to sit around wondering what someone’s thinking. If he’s into me, I wish he’d just… show it.”

Lucas grinned, his tone teasing. “Why don’t you make the first move, then? Shock his system a bit.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow at him. “You think I should?”

“Why not?” Lucas replied with a shrug. “Worst-case scenario, he’s not into it, and you move on. Best-case scenario, you get the spark you’re waiting for.”

She considered it, biting her lip. “Maybe. But it’s just… disappointing, you know? I didn’t expect to feel this unsure with someone I like.”

Lucas gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Trust me, Y/N. If Harry’s playing it cool, it’s probably because he’s worried about messing things up. You’ve got him thinking. Just give it time—or better yet, don’t. Light a fire under him and see what happens.”

Y/N laughed, the tension easing slightly. “You’re full of advice today, aren’t you?”

“Hey, what can I say? I’m the villa’s agony uncle,” Lucas said with a wink. “But seriously, you’ve got this. Just do what feels right.”

As Y/N smiled, feeling a bit lighter, the narrator’s voice cut in, “Looks like Y/N’s got a choice to make—play it safe or take the plunge. And with Lucas as her wingman, what could possibly go wrong? Stay tuned, because things are about to get interesting!”

Harry was mid-set of bicep curls. Beads of sweat glistened on his brow as he focused on his reps. Beside him, Ethan, the newest addition to the villa, was hammering out some push-ups, grunting with every move.

Lucas sauntered up, a water bottle in hand and a half-hearted determination on his face. He plopped onto a bench, picked up the lightest dumbbell available, and started lifting with exaggerated effort.

“Ah, here we go. Gym lad Lucas in the house,” Ethan quipped, smirking as he moved into a plank.

Harry chuckled. “Didn’t peg you for a weights guy, mate.”

“Oh, I’m all about it,” Lucas said, flexing his arm dramatically before dropping the dumbbell after one rep. “Alright, that’s enough for me. Can’t overdo it, you know?”

Harry laughed, shaking his head.

Lucas leaned back, his casual demeanor dropping slightly as he watched Harry move to the pull-up bar. “Right, Haz. Gotta chat with you about something.”

Harry glanced at him between reps, a curious eyebrow raised. “Oh yeah? What’s up?”

Lucas glanced at Ethan, who was still engrossed in his workout, then leaned forward conspiratorially. “It’s about Y/N.”

That caught Harry’s attention. He paused mid-rep, his hands gripping the bar tightly. “What about her?”

“Well,” Lucas began, keeping his tone light, “she’s feeling a bit... unsure about things. Reckons you’ve been keeping her in limbo.”

Harry let go of the bar, landing lightly on his feet. “In limbo? What do you mean?”

Lucas shrugged, swirling the water in his bottle. “She likes you, mate. But she’s thinking maybe you’re not as into it as she thought. Says you haven’t really made a move.”

Harry’s jaw tightened, his hands resting on his hips. “That’s not it. I just didn’t want to come on too strong, you know? Didn’t want her to think I was just playing the game.”

“Right,” Lucas said, nodding. “But she’s not a mind reader. All she sees is you holding back. If you’re interested, Haz, you’ve got to show her. Otherwise, she’ll start thinking she got it wrong.”

Ethan sat up from his plank, catching the last bit of the conversation. “Sounds like you’re in trouble, mate,” he teased, smirking.

Harry ignored him, his attention fixed on Lucas. “So, she really said that?”

Lucas gave him a pointed look. “She said she feels disappointed. That’s not a good sign, mate. You don’t want her head turning because she thinks you’re not interested.”

Harry’s expression shifted, a flicker of frustration crossing his face. “I didn’t realize she felt that way. I thought… I thought we were good.”

“Then let her know,” Lucas said simply. “You’re into her, right?”

Harry’s lips curled into a small smile. “Yeah, I am. She’s… different. In a good way.”

“Then stop messing about,” Lucas said, standing up and patting him on the shoulder. “Before someone else swoops in.”

The narrator’s voice chimed in as Lucas walked off, “Wise words from Lucas there. Harry’s been playing it cool, but if he waits too long, he might find himself cooling off in the single beds. Will this wake-up call get him moving? Or will Y/N’s head turn before he has the chance? Stay tuned!”

Lucas was sprawled on a sun lounger with his sunglasses on, taking a well-earned break from his brief stint in the gym. He was sipping a bottle of water when Georgia sauntered up, her strides purposeful and her eyes narrowed with curiosity.

“Alright, Lucas,” she began, plopping herself down on the lounger next to him. “Got a minute?”

Lucas tilted his sunglasses down, one eyebrow raised. “For you, Georgia? Always. What’s on your mind?”

Georgia leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. “Saw you having a little chinwag with Harry earlier. What were you two chatting about, then?”

Lucas smirked, leaning back with deliberate nonchalance. “Oh, just lad stuff. You know, protein shakes, reps, how to get biceps like mine.”

Georgia rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. I’m not buying it. I saw the way you were talking—looked serious. Come on, Lucas, spill.”

He sighed, dragging out the moment just to wind her up. “Fine. If you must know, we were talking about Y/N.”

That caught her attention. Georgia straightened, her expression sharpening. “Oh? And what about her?”

Lucas took another sip of water, playing coy. “Just... how things are going between them. That’s all.”

Georgia’s lips pursed, her annoyance barely concealed. “And what did you tell him?”

Lucas chuckled, pushing his sunglasses back up. “What’s with the third degree, Georgia? You got a sudden interest in Harry’s love life?”

She crossed her arms, glaring. “I just think it’s funny, that’s all. Y/N swoops in and suddenly everyone’s falling over themselves to make sure she’s alright. Meanwhile, the rest of us are just sitting here like extras in her little love story.”

“Extras?” Lucas repeated, laughing. “Bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

Georgia leaned closer, her voice dropping. “I’m serious, Lucas. It’s not fair. She’s already got Harry wrapped around her finger, and now you’re playing her cheerleader? What about the rest of us, huh?”

Lucas sighed, sitting up and turning to face her. “Georgia, you’re making this way bigger than it is. Harry’s into Y/N—simple as that. If you fancy him, then crack on and let him know. But don’t make it about her. That’s not fair.”

Georgia’s eyes flashed. “I’m not making it about her. I just think everyone’s acting like she’s this innocent little thing when she’s clearly playing the game. And you’re helping her.”

Lucas shook his head, his tone firm but calm. “Georgia, no one’s playing the game more than you right now, and we both know it. If you’ve got a problem, take it up with Harry, not me. And maybe, just maybe, ask yourself if this is about the connection you want or the attention you’re not getting.”

Georgia sat back, her lips pressing into a thin line. For a moment, she seemed lost for words—a rare sight in the villa.

The narrator’s voice chimed in with impeccable timing, “And there you have it, folks—Lucas, the voice of reason, leaving Georgia with more questions than answers. Will she take his advice, or will she turn this into another episode of Georgia vs. the World? Grab your popcorn—it’s only getting juicier!”

The beauty room buzzed with chatter as the girls got ready for the night, brushes, curling irons, and bottles of setting spray scattered across every available surface. Y/N sat cross-legged on the floor by the mirror, towel-drying her damp hair after a refreshing dip in the pool. Chloe was next to her, applying highlighter with precision, while Amber and Lila debated lipstick shades near the vanity.

A light knock on the door brought everyone’s attention to the doorway. Harry stood there, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, his cheeks slightly pink. He gave an awkward little wave, his eyes scanning the room before landing on Y/N.

“Uh, sorry to interrupt,” he said, his voice warm but tentative. “Y/N, can I borrow you for a sec?”

The room fell silent, every girl suddenly finding a reason to stop what they were doing and focus on this unexpected development. Y/N blinked in surprise, clutching her towel for a moment before standing up.

“Sure,” she said, glancing at the girls, who were all pretending not to listen. “Be right back.”

Harry stepped aside as she walked through the door, his hand briefly brushing her arm. They walked down the hallway, the hum of conversation in the beauty room resuming the second the door closed behind them. Y/N felt her heart pick up pace, the air between them charged with a nervous kind of energy.

They stopped near the staircase, just out of sight but still within earshot of the curious girls inside. Harry leaned against the wall, his hands back in his pockets, rocking on his heels as he gathered his words.

“So,” he started, his signature smile creeping onto his face, “I, uh… wanted to ask you something.”

“Okay…” Y/N prompted, her voice soft but teasing, trying to make him a bit more comfortable.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, his confidence momentarily slipping. “I’ve been thinking. We haven’t really had proper time together, just the two of us, you know?”

Y/N’s brows rose, her lips curving into a small smile. “Yeah, I guess we haven’t.”

“Right.” Harry exhaled, his eyes meeting hers. “So, I thought, maybe tonight… would you have dinner with me? Downstairs. Just us. I’ve got something planned.”

Her stomach flipped at his words. “You planned something?”

Harry’s lips quirked in a shy grin. “I tried. So… what do you think?”

Y/N didn’t hesitate. “I’d love to.”

The grin on Harry’s face spread wide, his dimples deepening. “Brilliant. Right, I’ll see you down there later, then.”

“See you later,” Y/N echoed, her voice light and filled with unspoken excitement. Harry turned and walked away, glancing back at her with a cheeky smile before disappearing down the stairs.

As soon as he was gone, Y/N stood frozen for a second, the moment sinking in. Then she squeaked, barely containing her excitement as she practically skipped back to the beauty room.

Inside, all eyes were on her. Chloe was the first to speak, her brows shooting up. “What was that about, then?”

Y/N sat down, her smile impossible to hide. “He’s planned something… dinner for just us tonight.”

Amber let out a low whistle, while Lila smirked. “Look at you, getting the royal treatment.”

“Alright, spill!” Chloe demanded. “What did he say? What’s the plan?”

Y/N shook her head, laughing. “I don’t know! He didn’t give much away. Just said he’d see me later.”

The girls erupted in chatter, each offering their thoughts, theories, and teasing remarks about what Harry might have in store.

The narrator chimed in, “Harry Styles—villa romantic, dinner planner, and now the cause of one very giddy beauty room. Let’s hope his cooking skills are better than his pickup lines, or this romantic gesture might end in more flames than sparks!”

The beauty room was alive with excitement as the girls gathered around Y/N, all pitching in to help her prepare for her date with Harry. Chloe was meticulously curling her hair, Amber was swatching lipsticks on the back of her hand to find the perfect shade, and Lila was busy laying out jewelry options. Even the background chatter had a sense of celebration, the girls buzzing with curiosity about Harry’s surprise dinner plan.

“Alright, babe, you’re going to absolutely knock him out with this dress,” Amber said, holding up a sleek black number. “It’s a power move.”

“Oh, definitely,” Lila added. “Harry won’t know what hit him.”

But in the corner of the room, Georgia sat with her arms crossed, her expression darkening with every passing minute. Finally, she let out a scoff loud enough to grab everyone’s attention.

“This is a bit much, isn’t it?” she said, her tone sharp. “I mean, it’s just dinner. You’d think he was proposing or something.”

The room fell silent for a beat, the atmosphere turning awkward. Y/N glanced at Chloe, who rolled her eyes before continuing to style her hair.

“Honestly, Georgia,” Amber said, her tone clipped, “can you just let her enjoy this? You’ve been on one all day.”

“I’m just saying,” Georgia continued, undeterred. “It’s not fair that everything is always about Y/N. What about the rest of us? Some of us haven’t had a proper chance with Harry because she’s hogging all his attention.”

Y/N straightened, her lips pressing into a firm line. She turned to Georgia, her voice calm but pointed. “The world doesn’t revolve around you, Georgia. Maybe that’s the real issue here.”

The room collectively inhaled, the tension palpable. Georgia’s face flushed, her eyes narrowing as she stood abruptly. “You know what? Forget it. Have your perfect little date. I’m done.”

She stormed out of the beauty room, slamming the door behind her. The girls exchanged glances, a mix of frustration and relief.

“Well, that went well,” Chloe muttered, finishing the last curl in Y/N’s hair.

“She’s so exhausting,” Amber said, shaking her head. “She’s not a girls’ girl, not even a little bit.”

The narrator’s voice cut in, “Georgia, leaving the beauty room like it’s a scene from a soap opera. Who knew glitter eyeshadow could cause so much drama?!”

Outside, Georgia wiped at her eyes as she wandered through the villa. She spotted Tom near the fire pit, tossing small pebbles into the grass. He looked up as she approached, his expression softening when he saw her teary face.

“Oi, Georgia,” he said, standing. “You alright?”

She sniffed, brushing a hand under her nose. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just had enough of this place, that’s all.”

Tom frowned, stepping closer. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly, though her voice cracked. “It’s just… everyone’s so fake. And Y/N—ugh, I can’t stand how everyone fawns over her.”

Tom’s jaw tightened at the mention of Y/N, his own frustrations clearly bubbling under the surface. “Yeah, well… she’s not as perfect as everyone thinks.”

Georgia glanced at him, a flicker of understanding passing between them. “You see it too, don’t you? She’s not what she seems.”

Tom nodded, his gaze hardening. “You could say that.”

The two stood there in silence for a moment, the crackling fire pit casting flickering shadows around them. Whatever unspoken alliance had just formed, it was clear: both were nursing their own wounds, and Y/N was the common denominator.

Y/N took a deep breath as she stepped out of the beauty room, the cool evening air brushing against her skin. She smoothed down the sleek black dress Amber had insisted on, her heels clicking softly against the tiled floor as she walked through the villa. Her nerves buzzed in her chest, but she couldn’t stop the smile creeping onto her face.

Lucas was waiting by the entrance to the pool, grinning like a proud older brother. He gave her a little thumbs-up as she approached.

“Alright, superstar,” he said, gesturing toward the softly lit path. “Follow me. Your prince awaits.”

Y/N laughed lightly, shaking her head. “Thanks, Lucas.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank Harry. He’s been pacing for the last hour,” Lucas teased as he led her down the path, away from the villa’s usual bustle. The pool glimmered under the lights, and in the farthest corner, a small table was set up, complete with candles and a bottle of wine.

Harry stood by the table, hands clasped in front of him. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt, the top two buttons undone, paired with tailored black trousers. His curls were perfectly tousled, and he looked like he’d just stepped out of a glossy magazine spread. The sight of him stole Y/N’s breath for a moment.

As soon as he spotted her, Harry’s face lit up with a boyish grin, though his hand immediately went to rub the back of his neck—a telltale sign of his nerves. Lucas gave Y/N an encouraging pat on the shoulder before disappearing back into the villa.

“Wow,” Harry said as Y/N approached, his voice soft but filled with awe. “You look… stunning.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, and she laughed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “This setup is beautiful.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, his voice dropping as he fiddled with the cuff of his shirt. “I, uh, hope it’s alright. I wasn’t sure what you’d like.”

“It’s perfect,” she assured him, her smile widening.

They both sat down at the table, the soft glow of the candles illuminating their faces. Y/N’s eyes widened as she took in the spread before her—grilled salmon, a colorful salad, and a decadent chocolate dessert waiting on the side.

“You did all this?” she asked, her tone incredulous but impressed.

“Well,” Harry admitted, his dimples deepening with a sheepish smile, “I had a bit of help from the boys. But I did pick everything out.”

Y/N laughed, her nerves melting slightly. “I’m impressed.”

As they started eating, Harry stole a glance at her, the flickering candlelight catching the sparkle in her eyes. “I’ve been looking forward to this,” he said softly, his usual cheeky demeanor replaced with something more genuine.

Y/N set down her fork, her gaze meeting his. “So have I. I was starting to think you’d never make a move.”

Harry chuckled, his hand running through his curls. “Yeah, well… I’m not exactly smooth when it comes to this sort of thing. Honestly, I’ve been a nervous wreck.”

“Nervous?” Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You? The guy who walked into the villa like he owned the place?”

“That was all an act,” Harry confessed, his grin widening. “You, though… you’ve had me completely thrown from day one.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered at his words, her smile softening. “You’re not so bad yourself, you know.”

For a moment, they sat in comfortable silence, the villa’s noise a distant hum in the background. It felt like their own little world, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel grateful for the effort Harry had put into making the evening special.

“So,” Harry said, his voice breaking the quiet as he leaned forward slightly, his green eyes locked on hers. “Am I living up to your expectations?”

Y/N smirked, tilting her head. “Let’s just say… you’ve set the bar very high.”

Harry laughed, his shoulders relaxing as the tension between them shifted into something lighter, more natural. “Good. I’ll take that.”

After a few more moments of laughter, the air between them shifted from lighthearted banter to something more intimate. Harry, still smiling, reached across the table, his fingers brushing lightly against Y/N’s hand. She looked down at their hands for a moment, her heart picking up its pace, before she slowly met his gaze.

His voice was quieter now, tinged with something deeper, more serious. “Let me kiss you”

Y/N’s breath caught, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. She didn’t say anything at first, just a small smile playing at the corners of her lips as she looked up at him. Her heart raced in her chest, but her eyes were full of warmth as she held his gaze.

Harry took that as all the encouragement he needed.

With a soft exhale, he leaned across the small table, his eyes still locked onto hers. The moment felt like it lasted forever, the world narrowing down to just the two of them. He closed the space between them, tilting his head slightly, and gently pressed his lips to hers.

The kiss was slow at first, tentative—like he was savoring every second. But as the connection deepened, it became something more. It was warm and soft, full of the unspoken chemistry that had been building between them for days. The flickering candlelight illuminated their faces as they pulled away slightly, both a little breathless, eyes still locked in that quiet, shared understanding.

Y/N smiled softly, her heart hammering in her chest as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, still feeling the warmth of his touch on her skin.

“Well, that escalated quickly! A kiss, a soft chuckle, and suddenly, we’ve got a proper Love Island romance on our hands. Who knew dinner and a kiss could be the most suspenseful part of the evening? Stay tuned, folks”

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TAGLIST: @st-ev-ie, @harrystyleshotwife, @valuunit, @familyshow-orisit, @ellaorchard, @loverrryxo, @dashingday, @harrystyles1d52, @stylessbean, @gem1712, @girlontheblock

[sweetstrawberryys]

“Double the Love”

— Task Force 141 x Pregnant!Reader

Reader shows the ultrasound but plot twist it's TWINS!!

Captain John Price

You’d barely made it back from the ultrasound before John noticed something was different.

“You alright, love?” he asked, sliding off his coat and placing his hand instinctively over your belly.

“I’m fine,” you said, lips trembling into a smile. “But I do have some news.”

You handed him the sonogram — this time, with two tiny figures on the screen.

He stared.

Then looked again.

“…There’s two.”

“Twins,” you whispered.

For a long moment, he said nothing. Just stood there, in quiet awe. Then he walked over, gently cradling your face in his calloused hands.

“Two heartbeats.” He swallowed. “Two little pieces of us.”

He kissed you — slow, reverent — like you were a miracle.

“I didn’t think I could feel luckier than I did the day you said you loved me,” he whispered. “But you just proved me wrong.”

---

Simon “Ghost” Riley

He’d always been quiet with his affection, but this was different.

You showed him the updated scan and waited in silence as he stared.

He didn’t speak.

You started to panic. “Simon, I—”

He reached out slowly, as if the paper was too fragile for his hands. His thumb brushed over the image of two tiny shapes.

“…Twins?” His voice cracked.

You nodded, eyes welling up. “Yeah.”

He sat down heavily on the couch, jaw tense, mask pushed halfway up.

“I never thought I’d have one family… let alone three.”

You moved to sit beside him, and he pulled you gently into his arms, pressing his forehead to yours.

“I’ll protect all of you. With everything I have. Always.”

And when he placed a hand on your belly, there was a warmth in his touch you’d never felt from him before.

---

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

You thought the man couldn’t be more dramatic.

Then he found out you were having twins.

He stared at the ultrasound photo, mouth agape. “Two? Are you sure that’s not just one doing a somersault?”

“Positive,” you laughed.

He let out a breathless laugh, running both hands through his hair. “Well, hell. Guess we’re skipping right past chaos and going full mayhem.”

But then he looked at you — really looked — and all the wild, playful energy melted into something quieter.

He knelt in front of you, resting his head gently against your stomach. “You’ve given me more than I ever deserved. And now, double.”

You tangled your fingers in his hair, heart full.

“Guess I’ll have to learn how to swaddle two babies while holding a gun, huh?”

You snorted.

“And I wouldn’t trade a single second of it.”

---

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

He was already the softest of the bunch, but this? This floored him.

You handed him a wrapped frame, and he unboxed it carefully — revealing the sonogram labeled: “Baby A & Baby B.”

He froze, eyes wide, lips parted. “Is this real?”

You nodded, heart pounding.

Gaz sank onto the couch, stunned, then started laughing — soft, overwhelmed laughter. “Two of them. Two.”

He pulled you into his arms, peppering kisses along your forehead.

“This means double the diapers,” he whispered between kisses. “Double the crying. But also… double the snuggles. Double the bedtime stories. Double the love.”

You melted into him, feeling safer than ever.

“I can’t wait to be the dad they deserve,” he said against your hair. “I’ll give them everything.”

---

Alejandro Vargas

He cried.

Not loudly — just the kind that sneaks up and steals your breath.

You handed him the sonogram with trembling fingers, watching as he studied it. When he realized what it meant, his eyes slowly filled.

“Dos?” he asked softly. “Two little hearts?”

“Yes.”

He sat down beside you, pulling you into his arms with infinite care. “You are a goddess, mi vida. You carry two souls inside you. How can I ever thank you for this gift?”

“You don’t have to,” you whispered.

“But I will,” he replied. “Every day, for the rest of my life.”

He placed a reverent kiss to your stomach, tears glistening in his lashes. “They are already so loved.”

[lightsoutmatthews]

please an auston matthews with the “because i know you” prompt!

"Because I know you." - Auston Matthews

summary: a collection of things he does just shows how well Auston knows you.

pairing: Auston Matthews x female!reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: none, just fluff

authors note:

since the request didn’t specify if you wanted angst or fluff I decided to make it sugary sweet :)

-----------------------------

It started with a cup of coffee being delivered to your office on a random Tuesday afternoon right at the second you were thinking about getting one for yourself from the coffee station down the hall.

You didn’t particularly like the coffee from there, it was cheap and the machine somehow managed to make it worse by brewing it, but it would have held you over for the rest of the day while you continued to read through emails and write responses like your life depended on it.

The cup from your favorite café in downtown Toronto was handed to you by one of your co-workers who raised her eyebrows at you. “I didn’t order that,” you told her outright, but she handed you the cup regardless. “The delivery guy said it´s for you,” she replied with a shrug of her shoulders.

There was no message on the cup, but you could guess from who it was. There was only one person who could know exactly when you could use a little pick me up at work.

He was smart by not putting a message on it. Your relationship not something really known to the public even though you had been together for over a year at this point.

You weren’t making a big deal about dating one of Torontos biggest athletes, especially around the office where his team was a topic of conversation on the daily. Not even your closest work friends knew who exactly you were dating. And it was good that way.

I Thanks for the coffee, exactly what I needed x

----------------------

The week after that lunch from your favorite restaurant was delivered in the same manner as the coffee was. No name on the order but yours, making your co-workers once again wonder if you were lying to them about not ordering it for yourself or if you actually didn’t.

You were knee deep into the finishing touches for one of the biggest projects of the quarter and barely had time to go and grab lunch from the cafeteria, much less to make the trip to any restaurant more than five minutes away from the building.

The delivery was godsend and like he knew, he sent enough so you had something to keep for the evening, since it was almost sure that you had to stay longer than usual and would only arrive home late, way after dinner time.

You hummed contently when you took the first bite, almost letting out a moan at how good the food felt after hours of working without taking a break.

He once again knew exactly what you needed at the right time, like he was a psychic that could read your mind all the way from his road trip across the country.

I thanks for lunch and dinner, exactly what I needed. Can´t wait to see you tomorrow. x

----------------------

The third time it happened was a week later when you finished the big presentation, and everyone gathered for a small party to celebrate the success, and that the client was happy with everything you had come up with in the weeks of hard work.

You were a little bummed because most people invited their significant others to the bar you were gathered at, unfortunately you couldn’t. Firstly, because your boyfriend wasn’t even in the country and secondly because still, no one knew who he even was.

A few of your co-workers asked about him but you kept telling them that he was away for work. Sometimes you wondered if they even believed you that he existed because you never mentioned him by name or brought him to any work functions that warranted bringing a plus one.

When a delivery person entered the bar, shouting your name for everyone to hear, you froze. “Sign here,” the guy rushed out, putting the tablet in front of your face quicker than you could react to anything.

You scribbled your signature before he handed you a box, a beautiful bouquet of flowers peeking through a hole at the top.

When you opened it, a bouquet waited for you, alongside a card.

One of your co-workers snatched it directly from the box before you could react. “Hey,” you laughed. “Congratulations on finishing your big project, sorry I can´t be there to celebrate. A.” she read.

You blushed at the message, he once again knew exactly what you needed from him in order to feel better about him not being there with you.

“Woah, we know mystery man is in fact real, and his first name starts with an A? We´ve been waiting for this confirmation for months!” you shook your head laughing. “That´s some expensive flowers, he´s got money.” Someone else chimed in.

“Give me that,” you laughed, snatching the card back before they could ask about it even more.

“One day you will introduce us to him,” someone chuckled. “Who knows, maybe you already know him,” you teased which only raised more eyebrows.

I The flowers are beautiful, thank you so much. x

--------------------------------

When you arrived at Auston´s place that night you were exhausted. The months leading up to this day catching up with you, swallowing all the energy you had left in your body, almost making you too tired to get out of the car and walk up to his door.

When you finally mustered up enough strength to make your way, he was already waiting in the frame. An easy smile on his lips, Felix next to him, excitedly wiggling his tail at your arrival.

“Hey snuff,” you greeted the dog, quickly patting his head before standing up straight again to greet your boyfriend, the flowers firm in one hand.

“Hey,” you greeted the tall man, a shy smile on your lips. “Hey,” he chuckled, opening his arms so you could slip right into his comfortable embrace.

Tension left your body as soon as he wrapped his arms around you. The familiarity of his arms taking every ounce of stress away for the moment.

“Long day?” Auston whispered in your hair. “Long month,” you replied chuckling. “Come on, I ordered some food and when were done I can set you up a bath before we go to bed.” You let out a loud sigh. Exactly what you needed.

---------------------

After eating on the couch, chatting about your days in hushed voices between laughter and shared bites, he made his way to the upstairs bathroom to set up a bath while you cleaned up the plates and made sure Felix got another snack before heading upstairs to join him.

The bathroom was lit up with a few candles he pulled from God knows where and it was smelling like your favorite bath salt. The one that you usually kept for special occasions because it was expensive.

“Since when do you have my favorite bathing salt in your bathroom?” He just laughed and shrugged his shoulders.

Raising you eyebrows at him you decided to let it go without questioning it any further and to just enjoy that he was paying enough attention to actually know what to buy.

While you were enjoying the warmth of the water relaxing your muscles and taking your mind off things Auston rumbled around downstairs doing something you didn’t care enough about to question. Every now and then you heard clinking, but it wasn’t worrying enough to go and check out.

A few minutes later he came back and handed you a glass of wine. “How did you know?” you questioned with another raised eyebrow, but he once again just shrugged and smiled before leaving you alone to soak and relax for as long as you wanted.

When the water started to get cold you got out. On the toilet laid a navy-colored hoodie. The exact one he was wearing earlier when you were sitting on the couch.

He knew one of you favorite things to do after a long day was to wear his hoodies, especially when there were worn and smelled like him.

You slipped the soft fabric over your head and inhaled deeply before putting your stuff away and making your way back to the living room after a quick detour to the bedroom to grab your phone and drop off your bag that you discharged in the hallway on your way.

Auston was snuggled up with Felix on the couch, your favorite movie already cued up, a warm blanket draped over him, the other half waiting for you to cuddle under and relax for the rest of the evening.

“You´re spoiling me today,” you mumbled after cozying up under the blanket, one arm placed on his chest, while your head rested on his shoulder.

“You deserve some relaxation after the month you had. I know how hard you worked.” A soft kiss to the crown of your head followed before the room was filled by only the sound of the movie and your soft breathing.

When you opened your eyes the next time the credits were rolling and Auston was playing on his phone. “Good morning,” he chuckled lightly before putting the device away.

“Hey,” you mumbled quietly. “Slept well?” he asked, an amused smile spreading on his face. “Yeah, but I need to go to bed, otherwise I won´t make it up,”

A soft laugh left his mouth. “Come on,” he said, getting up and holding out a hand for you to grab. When you stood at your full height he bent down and swept you off your feed, carrying your bridal style up the stairs.

“I can walk on my own, you know?”

Careful to not drop you he laughed. “I know, but sometimes you deserve to be carried.”

You shook your head but laughed at his remark.

When you were nestled in bed together, his arm lazily slung around your waist, your hand softly drawing the patterns of his tattooed arm you sighed. “What´s up?” he whispered.

“This evening was all I needed, from getting the flowers all the way to now,” you sensed that he felt a but coming. “no but, I promise, just a question,”

He nodded his head in a motion for you to go on. “How do you always know exactly what I need? Not that I´m complaining but it is a little scary that you sent me coffee the exact moment I was craving some, or sent me lunch on a day where I did not have time to get some myself?”

A quiet laugh left his mouth. “Easy question. It’s because I know you.”

“Thank you, for knowing me and for taking care of me.” You mumbled, already half asleep again. “That´s what I´m here for,” he laughed, which was the last thing you heard before you drifted off into sleep again.

[ohraicodoll]

Fatherhood

Joel Miller x Reader (Feral Reader) Words 1.6k/3rd POV Feral Reader Masterlist Summary: Dina and Ellie have some news.

AN: Half funny, half a tad angsty, mostly some domestic chaos. No I hardly ever edit cause fuck it, we ball. Also I almost titled this Daddy 🤣

___________________________

Things had started to fall into a nice rhythm. Domestic. Slow.

Days of fixing up Jackson, movie nights at the house with Dina and Ellie joining them now, the tension having leaked out like decompressing steam from an old pipe. Slowly, turn by turn, watching it dissipate into the air.

They hadn’t thought anything of the girls wanting to have dinner. It felt like an olive branch after everything, a bridge across a healing chasm between Ellie and them. Another step after New Years, after exploding on each other about the hospital, after the attack, after healing and months of repair. 

She felt like Joel would have done anything Ellie asked.

He had cooked and she’d watched him busy himself to get rid of the nervous energy. It wasn’t the first family dinner they had since making amends but this one felt like it had weight to it.

Because Dina was coming as Ellie’s girlfriend and not her best friend. Word spread quickly in Jackson and the two weren’t subtle enough to hide how in love they were.

She knew Joel loved Dina like a second kid (even if she had gotten after him for using that as a crutch during the not-so-pleasant days and his excuse that “she doesn’t have any parents or family” made her wonder if he was gonna adopt all the damn orphans in town). But now she was seeing him in full dad mode preparing to meet their kid’s partner, and couldn’t help smiling behind his back. 

They were all a little feral but you could never deny that they all loved each other.

Both girls sat across the table, dinner in front of them while they kept smiling at each other and clasping hands. She could tell Joel wanted to tease them, poke fun about how giddy they were now that they were finally together, but he kept silent. Partially because this was all so new. Ellie being back and slowly forgiving him, her and Dina, family dinners with the kids. 

Family. Something none of them thought they would have.

And then the nice, easy calm was broken when Ellie finally spit out the news before Dina had a chance to open her mouth. 

“I’m gonna be a dad.”

Her fork paused in the air and Joel choked, deep rasping coughs as whatever he had been chewing lodged in his throat. The gears came to a crashing halt in her head. 

“You what now?” Joel gasped out, brow furrowed as he struggled to breathe.

The main thought that didn’t leave her head (thank god) was panic that they had never taught her sex education and how babies got made and Jesus Christ had they failed Ellie that hard? 

Dina winced, looking at Ellie like she hung the moon but also lived in the goddamn clouds, and grimaced, “What she meant is….that I’m pregnant.”

“That clears absolutely nothing up,” Joel put his elbow on the table roughly and rubbed his brow, “If anything, that’s worse. What the hell do you mean you’re pregnant and you’re gonna be a dad? Jesus, kiddo, you realize that’s not possible-”

“Joel,” she sighed under her breath and shoved her head in her hands, if only to try and get away from the conversation at the table. 

“Okay, start over from the beginning,” she put her hands down flat and looked at the two teenage girls in front of her, “Dina, you think you’re pregnant-”

Ellie scrunched her nose and from under the table, hesitantly raised not one but four pregnancy tests. 

“Lord almighty,” Joel groaned from behind his hand. 

She tried to ignore the man next to her, the part of her brain that wanted to laugh at how fucking ridiculous this was, and cleared her throat, “Okay, nevermind. You are in fact pregnant. Who?”

Dina didn’t have to guess the meaning of the question, only winced again and looked a bit embarrassed, “Jesse.”

“Does Jesse fucking know?” Joel interrogated, a bit harshly, but no one could blame him. The only sign that it was out of being overwhelmed and not angry was his palm finding her thigh under the table. Grounding, like he needed the support but couldn’t show it. Their world had been tilted on its axis and he was trying not to slip.

Dina pressed her lips together and nodded, “Yeah, he already knows.”

“We figured it might be a bit much if all three of us came for dinner to tell you we’re having a baby,” Ellie chimed in with a grimace. Everyone shot her a look that clearly said not now Ellie.

The calmer of the two leaned forward, looking at the older adults beseechingly with hands clasped, “Look, I know this is a bit of a shocker and absolutely not planned. But it is what it is and Jesse is gonna step up and Ellie is stepping up as well.” Dina smiled and looked at the girl next to her, love clearly showing in her eyes, "Ellie and I are gonna move in together, Jesse is gonna talk to Tommy and Maria, and we're all going to figure it out together."

“You’re both nineteen,” she replied, resting her own hand on top of Joel’s, “You literally both just got together and you want to throw a baby into that?”

“Well…it’s a good thing the kid is gonna have two grandparents to help us out,” Ellie grinned timidly. 

Joel groaned and sank further into his chair. 

They were right at least in the fact that there wasn’t anything to do about it. It wasn’t like the world before where it could be taken care of and she would never want either girl to be pushed into having any procedure they didn’t want to. And they were right. They were gonna have two pseudo-grandparents plus a whole goddamn village to help them raise a baby.

But the fact that they were nineteen rattled in her head. Kids. They were kids. Hell, a few years before Ellie was basically a little girl falling asleep on her lap and rattling off puns non-stop.

She couldn’t rain on their parade though. This was a different world and who was she to say they should wait when at any moment everything could fall apart again. Plus, this was what they had saved her for. So she could have a future. A family. Love. And she knew a part of that was also running through Joel’s head. There wasn’t anger in his stance, just overwhelming anxiety. Shoulders slouched, head in his hands, eyes blank.

Dina comfortingly patted his shoulder and Ellie kept pecking at him by calling him grandpa. Normal in unnormal times.

When they left for the night, he squeezed them tightly like he was afraid they’d disappear. Dina first, wrapping her up in his big arms and kissing the top of her head before telling her they needed to be kept up to date on everything she needed and Monday night dinners were mandatory. Then Ellie who looked like she wanted to climb inside of them, the way they both hugged each other so tight as if they were apologizing again. 

Normal, so normal, something they both craved and were getting. The family growing from him and Ellie to her to Tommy and Maria and Benji and now Dina…and Jesse. And a baby. 

She ran her fingers through Ellie’s hair and kissed her temple, seeing them out the door and into the Spring night air. Hand in hand, rounding the corner to Ellie's little back house. She made a note that they were going to have to properly fix it up now.

She wouldn't be surprised if Joel made them a crib.

Joel was still standing frozen in the living room, eyes glazed over and staring in the general direction of the floor. Some of that distance faded away as she went over and slid her arms around him, hands finding skin along his back under his shirt. He melted and pressed his forehead to hers, both rocking side to side if only to get the nervous energy out.

“Not quite what we expected tonight,” she whispered softly with a slight chuckle.

“Hmm, thought I damn near had a heart attack at first,” he mumbled, fingers playing with the waistband at the back of her jeans. 

“Sometimes Ellie is so incredibly smart. And sometimes…”

“Yeah,” Joel groaned and she couldn’t help but laugh, “A fucking baby. Y’know, when we found out she liked girls I had really thought ‘thank god we won’t have to deal with teenage pregnancies’. Turns out she wasn’t the one we had to worry about... Knew that girl was trouble-”

“You did not, Tex,” she scoffed, “Dina could punch Tommy in the face and you would act like he deserved it-”

“Maybe he did-”

“Shut up, Miller,” laughing, she leaned back and looked up at him, “They’re good kids. A little dumb, very reckless, but good. They’ll figure things out, how to be parents.”

“Ellie as a fucking parent,” he blew air out as if the words were sinking in all over again, “Jesus. Wasn’t ready to be thinking about that already.”

She smiled and kissed the side of his jaw, trailing hands up his chest and cupping his cheeks, “Things will be fine. They’ve got a good dad to look up to just like Tommy had a good brother that showed him the ropes.”

He smiled and mirrored her, brushing the hair out of her eyes and trailing his thumb along her bottom lip, “And you? You ain’t so bad.”

There was that flutter of fear, when it came to the mention of babies and kids and her. But she pushed it down, smirking to hide the discomfort, “I’ll be there as back up. Someone has to cover you both and be there to make sure you or Ellie don’t panic.”

There was that flicker in his eyes that acknowledged that part of her, that fear, that he could see it no matter how deep she tried to cover it up. But he didn’t say anything, didn’t push her to talk about how sometimes she was scared to even be around Benji or other children because they were so fragile and she believed she had a tendency to break things. 

He just kissed her and poured everything he didn’t have to say into it. 

And when she pulled him upstairs, jokingly calling him grandpa again, he may have even let himself smile. 

___________________

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[dina-winchester]

All Tied Up

Pairing: Dean x Reader - Established relationship

Summary: It’s late. The bunker’s quiet. You’ve been teasing Dean all night—subtle looks, the way you bent over that book, how your tongue slid over your bottom lip. And he warned you. Told you with that low, gravel-thick voice: “Careful, sweetheart. You keep that up, and I’m gonna have to remind you who you belong to.”

Warnings: PURE. SMUT. Y’ALL, bondage kink, praise, good girl kink, Dom!Dean, Sub!reader, no use of Y/N

A/N: Let me know what y’all think! Also, this is hella long and intense so please proceed with caution… I guess?😂

You’ve already been kissed senseless, already flushed and aching, and now…

You heard the soft clink of metal before you felt it—cool leather wrapping around your wrist, Dean’s fingers sure and unhurried as he fastened the cuff with practiced ease.

“There,” he murmured, almost to himself, eyes dropping to where your wrist now tugged gently against the restraint. “That’s one.”

Your breath hitched. Not from fear. From the way his tone slid over your skin, rich and low like a warning wrapped in silk.

The second cuff came next. He fastened it just as slow, his fingers brushing the inside of your wrist on purpose, watching your pulse flutter beneath his touch.

“You know,” he said, looking up at you now, his voice rough with heat, “I warned you, sweetheart.”

You barely managed to speak. “Warned me about what?”

Dean gave a short, dark laugh as he pushed your arms gently above your head, hooking the cuffs into the headboard, just tight enough to keep you there, not an inch of wiggle room.

“You keep lookin’ at me like that,” he drawled, hands sliding down your sides, “licking your lips, bending over in front of me like you don’t know what you’re doing…” His voice dropped lower, lips brushing your throat. “Yeah. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

You swallowed hard, heart thudding.

“And now?” Dean leaned back just enough to look at you—eyes hot, jaw tense. “Now you’re mine to play with.”

Dean’s hands were firm on your waist as he settled you back against the bed, the soft scrape of the cuffs overhead already tightening your breath. You were spread out beneath him, wrists bound, heart hammering as he loomed above—still fully dressed, while you were down to nothing but your underwear and shirt.

That didn’t last long.

With a slow, deliberate tug, Dean pushed the fabric up, baring your stomach, then higher. He didn’t rush. He knelt back on his heels, eyes dragging over every inch of skin like it was the first time he was seeing you.

“Damn, sweetheart,” he muttered, voice thick, rough with want. “You laid out like this for me… tied up, squirming already and I haven’t even started.”

You bit your lip, breathing shallow as he pushed the shirt higher still until it bunched above your chest. And then he just stared for a second. No words. Just heat in his eyes, his hands flexing on your hips.

Then he leaned in.

The first kiss was soft, barely a brush of his lips over the swell of your breast. Then another, slower, open-mouthed, teeth just grazing before he pulled back and blew a warm breath over the damp skin. You shivered.

Dean grinned.

“Oh yeah,” he murmured. “You’re already sensitive, aren’t you?”

You couldn’t answer. You didn’t have to. Your body said everything—arching into him, straining at the cuffs when he leaned in and finally closed his mouth around one of your soft nipples. You gasped, the sound ripped straight from your throat.

His tongue moved slow at first, teasing, circling, then pulling the bud gently between his lips and sucking just hard enough to make your hips twitch. Your fingers clenched instinctively, wrists tugging in protest—you needed to touch him, needed more but all you could do was lie there and take it.

Dean groaned low against your skin, clearly feeling the way your body responded. “You’re gonna be a mess before I even get down there,” he muttered, switching sides, giving the same attention to the other bud, drawing soft, desperate gasps from you with every drag of his tongue.

Your back arched again, hands twisting in the restraints, the need to touch him so intense it was almost painful. “Dean—please,” you breathed, voice cracking.

That earned you a smirk. “Oh, you wanna rush this? Not how it works, sweetheart.”

He slid a hand down your thigh, squeezing. “When I say you get to come, you thank me. When I say beg? You beg. You give me everything.”

His hands slid under your back, lifting you slightly so he could mouth across your chest, down your ribs, his stubble leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Each kiss lower sent a wave of anticipation rolling through you but he still didn’t go where you were begging for him to go.

He was drawing it out. On purpose. Making you writhe, whimper, fists curling tighter with every second.

And Dean? Dean was eating it up.

He bent down, kissing the inside of your knee. “Understand?”

You nodded, breath catching. “Yes, Dean.”

His eyes flicked up, voice low. “Try again.”

Your voice came out smaller, but no less sure. “Yes, sir.”

That made him pause, made something dark flash in his eyes. His hand slipped between your legs, barely touching, teasing, dragging slow circles that made you squirm.

“That’s better,” he murmured.

Then he pulled away, just enough to shrug off his shirt. Muscles flexing, body golden and solid in the soft light. He looked like sin and salvation all wrapped into one.

And when he leaned back down, mouth hot against your collarbone, one hand bracing the bed beside your head, the other trailing fire down your ribs, he whispered, “now hold still, sweetheart. I’m gonna take my time breaking you in.”

You tried to breathe steady but that was a joke. Not with Dean dragging his mouth over your skin like he owned every inch of it. Not with your wrists bound above your head, muscles tightening every time his hand moved lower, then not quite there.

He was making a damn show of it. Warm, calloused fingers skimming down your stomach, sliding just under the waistband of your underwear just enough to make you arch.

“Easy,” he murmured, palm pressing lightly to your hip to still you. “You don’t move unless I tell you to.”

You let out a shaky breath, fingers flexing in the cuffs. “You’re being mean…”

That earned you a deep, wicked grin. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

His hand disappeared altogether, leaving you empty and aching, but his mouth—his mouth kept going. He kissed his way down your ribs, biting gently at your side, sucking at your hip just long enough to leave a mark.

Then he sat back, just watching you. Chest heaving. Skin flushed. Legs twitching from all the attention and none of the relief.

“Look at you,” he said, voice low, approving. “Tied up and needy already. I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“You have,” you whispered, squirming a little.

He tilted his head, that sharp little smirk returning. “Not where you want it, though. Not where you’re dying for it.”

Then, finally, he hooked his fingers in your underwear and dragged them slow down your legs, leaving you completely bare under him.

But instead of going straight for what you were begging for, Dean paused again, his hands gripping your thighs, thumbs rubbing slow circles just to keep you twitching.

“You want me to touch you?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes, Dean, please.”

“You want me to ruin your pretty pussy with my fingers?” His voice dipped, hot and slow. “Get you soaked just from that?”

You whined, unable to stop the sound. “Yes. Please. I’ll do anything.”

Dean leaned down, nose brushing the inside of your thigh, breath ghosting over your clit, but still avoiding it.

“No, baby,” he murmured. “Tonight you don’t do anything. You just take it.”

He moved then, one hand sliding under your thigh, pushing it up and out, spreading you open so he could settle between your legs. He kissed the inside of your thigh again. Another kiss, closer. Then another one, even closer.

You whimpered, trying to rock your hips up but his grip tightened instantly.

“What’d I say about moving?” His voice turned sharp, commanding. “Wanna be good for me, or do I need to tie your legs too?”

That made you stop breathing for a second. Dean felt it. Smirked. Nuzzled just above your clit, maddeningly slow.

“Say it,” he ordered, looking up at you from between your thighs. “Tell me you’ll behave.”

Your voice came out broken, desperate. “I’ll behave.”

“Good girl.”

Then, finally, his mouth lowered, and that first, devastating swipe of his tongue sent you straight into a spiral.

You gasped at the first stroke of his tongue, head falling back, wrists instinctively yanking at the cuffs above you. But the leather didn’t budge. You were bound tight, completely at his mercy—and God, he knew it.

Dean hummed low against you, smug, satisfied. “That’s right… squirm for me.”

You let out a broken moan, body twisting, fingers curling into helpless fists. All you wanted was to reach down—bury your hands in his hair, pull him closer, do something—but the restraints held firm, a cruel reminder of who was in charge tonight.

Dean glanced up, watching the way your arms flexed, how your hands clenched and uncurled. He dragged his tongue slowly across your pussy, then pulled back just far enough to breathe:

“Wanna touch me, huh?”

You nodded frantically, voice cracking. “Yes, Dean, please, let me—”

“Nah,” he rasped, licking his lips. “Not yet. Not ‘til you’re shaking for me.”

Then he leaned back in, mouth warm and firm, tongue moving in slow, devastating patterns against your clit. His hands gripped your thighs tighter, thumbs digging in, holding you open like he owned you.

You cried out again, wrists tugging harder, nails biting into your palms. “Dean, please—”

“Shh,” he murmured, voice low, wrecked. “You just lie there. Take it like a good girl.”

Your whole body trembled, nerves drawn taut, each flick of his tongue a tease and a promise. And through it all, your arms ached with the need to reach for him—your fingers desperate, shaking, fists clenching like they could somehow will him closer.

Dean growled low in his throat, felt your whole body react to it and then wrapped his arms under your thighs, holding you tighter, pressing his mouth harder.

You let out a strangled, wrecked sound—so close it hurt, completely at his mercy, and loving every damn second of it.

His mouth was everywhere—lips dragging and sucking at your clit, tongue teasing, every motion purposeful, like he knew how wrecked he was making you. Like he was proud of it.

You were so close, the pressure inside you coiling tight, your hips starting to twitch in rhythm with every stroke of his tongue. Your breath hitched. Your fingers clenched into fists against the cuffs.

And then he stopped.

You let out a broken sob. “Dean—why—”

He looked up at you, mouth slick, eyes dark and steady.

“What’s the rule, sweetheart?” he asked softly, like he wasn’t already driving you insane.

You whimpered, squirming in frustration. “I have to ask.”

“That’s right.” His thumb slid down your clit slowly, pressing just enough to make you gasp. “So ask.”

“Please,” you breathed, chest heaving, “please can I come, sir?”

His smile was wicked, but there was warmth in it too. Approval. Possession.

“Attagirl.”

Then he was back on you—tongue working fast and deep, fingers pressing and curling inside you with perfect, punishing rhythm. It was too much, too good, and when you finally shattered, it was with a cry you couldn’t hold back, your whole body arching into the release.

Dean didn’t let up.

“That’s it,” he whispered, voice thick with pride, mouth never leaving you. “That’s my girl.”

He held you through it, hand firm on your waist, grounding you as you shook and gasped and whimpered his name like it was the only thing keeping you tethered to the earth.

He stayed between your thighs a moment longer, just breathing against your skin, listening to every soft, broken sound falling from your lips.

And then he pushed up onto his knees, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes never leaving your face.

“Still tied up,” he muttered, voice low and ragged. “Still shaking. And you think I’m gonna be gentle now?”

You didn’t even have time to answer, he was already undoing his belt, already freeing his cock with a low, desperate groan. You caught a glimpse of him in the low light—thick, flushed, hard—and your body clenched in response, still twitching from the aftershocks he’d pulled from you.

“Dean,” you whimpered, “I can’t—”

“Yeah, you can.” His hands gripped your hips, fingers sinking in. “You’re gonna take it, sweetheart. Just like my good girl should.”

And then he pushed in—slow but deep, every inch dragging through the slick heat he’d worked you into. The stretch made your back arch off the mattress, wrists straining in the cuffs.

You gasped. “Dean—too much—I’m too sensitive—”

“I know,” he groaned, head dropping to your shoulder as he bottomed out, his breath warm against your skin. “I know, baby. And you feel so fuckin’ good like this.”

He pulled back, just to slam back in again, hard enough to shake the bed frame, and your moan was ragged, high and helpless.

He set a rhythm then—relentless, deep and steady, hips rolling with power and control and a hunger he couldn’t hold back anymore.

“You hear that?” he rasped, one hand cupping the side of your face. “That’s how wet you still are for me. That’s how much you need me.”

Your fingers clenched into fists again, shoulders tightening.

“Please Dean, I need to touch you—baby, please.”

He groaned, deep and guttural, and then, finally, he leaned over you, his hands finding the cuffs and releasing one, then the other, lips brushing your cheek as he worked.

“Come on, baby,” he murmured. “Grab on. I wanna feel you hold onto me when you come for me again.”

Your hands were on him the second the cuffs gave way, fingers curling into his shoulders, nails dragging down his back. And God, the sound Dean let out—deep, guttural, wrecked—it only spurred you on.

“That’s it,” he groaned, rocking into you harder now, deeper, your legs trembling around his waist. “Hold onto me, sweetheart. Just like that.”

You were still so sensitive, every thrust sending sparks skittering down your spine, but it didn’t stop you from pulling him in closer, moaning against his jaw, whispering breathless praise into his skin.

“You’re so deep, Dean, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can.” His voice was strained, thick with effort. “You’re takin’ it so goddamn well.”

Your hips rolled to meet his, greedy and desperate, and his hand slid between your bodies again, finding your clit with the kind of precision that only he had.

You cried out, tightening around him, and he felt it—head dropping, breath catching.

“Fuck, baby, do that again,” he grunted. “Squeeze me like that—shit—”

You were gone. Overstimulated, gasping, dizzy from how much he gave you but still chasing it. Still needing more.

Dean kissed you hard, deep and messy, swallowing your whimpers as he kept pounding into you, no sign of stopping.

“I can feel you,” he rasped against your lips. “Clenching like you wanna come again. You gonna do it for me?”

You nodded wildly, hands in his hair now, tugging, anchoring.

“Then look at me when you do. I want your eyes on mine when you fall apart again.”

Your breath caught. Your body coiled tight. And when it finally snapped, it was with him, his name spilling from your lips, your hands gripping him like a lifeline as your whole world went white.

And Dean—Dean lost it with you, hips stuttering, a low growl tearing from his throat as he buried himself to the hilt and finally gave in.

“Good girl,” he breathed, voice rough, reverent, his body shuddering with the force of it. “So fuckin’ good for me.”

Your breath was still catching in little gasps, your thighs trembling, your body boneless beneath him but you managed to tip your head up, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

“Thank you,” you whispered, voice all wrecked and warm and sweet. “Fuck, Dean… thank you.”

His chest rose with a sharp breath—and he smirked, slow and smug, like your words went straight to his cock. Still twitching inside you.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, his nose brushing yours, hand cradling your cheek now. “Always so polite after I’ve fucked you stupid.”

You let out a breathless laugh, arms tightening around him, and he shifted just slightly—still inside you, still thick and hard and unmoving—just to watch you gasp again.

“You keep sayin’ thank you like that,” he drawled, “and I’m not gonna last ten minutes before I start thinkin’ about round two.”

You smiled against his throat. “Good. That was the idea.”

He kissed your temple, one hand stroking your thigh lazily. “Then I hope you’ve got more gratitude left in you, sweetheart… ’cause I’m not done earning it.”

[landoscarinthefastlane]

Every Missed Call - Landoscar

Summary: After Oscar’s sudden move to Red Bull, Lando is left with a string of missed calls and unsent messages. In the quiet of his motorhome, late nights become a ritual of replayed voicemails and things left unsaid. But when the season winds down and everything slows, a final voicemail changes everything.

Note ⚠️: Contains late-night longing, emotional voicemails, unresolved tension across team lines, and two stubborn hearts learning how to say “I miss you” and "I love you" without breaking.

PART I — Voicemail #1

March – Bahrain GP

“Hey. It’s me. You probably guessed that. Anyway…”

Lando pauses. What the fuck was he supposed to say? One minute, he and Oscar were one. And the next? They feel more like strangers.

“I saw the press photos. You're actually wearing navy blue. Still weird. But you looked… sharp. I guess.”

A beat. A sigh.

“I know we said we'd talk after testing, and I know you’re busy, but… I dunno. It just felt wrong not to say anything. So, good luck tomorrow. You'll nail it in that tractor that Red Bull calls a car. I'm sure of it.”

BEEP

Lando stared at the phone screen long after he had finished the voicemail message. Oscar doesn’t call back.

What had he expected?

PART II — Voicemail #4

May – Miami GP

"Hey, it's me."

A few seconds of silence.

“You waved at me on the grid. That was new.”

Lando sounds out of breath, like he’s pacing. He's very aware, thank you.

“I didn’t wave back, I know. It’s just—there were cameras, and Zak was hovering, and I panicked. Not because of you. Just… everything.”

A pause. A hollow laugh.

He hated this.

“Carlos noticed. Said I looked like I saw a ghost. He doesn’t know it’s because seeing you in Max’s garage still feels like a betrayal. Even when it’s not.”

Another pause. Softer now.

“I hope you’re okay. I hope… you’re sleeping enough.”

Another beat of silence.

"I-" He swallowed the words back. "Never mind. Good luck tomorrow."

BEEP

PART III — Voicemail #7

June – Canada GP

“It rained today.”

Lando doesn’t say hello anymore. Doesn’t say “it’s me.” Just picks up the thread like Oscar’s been listening this whole time.

“You always hated the rain. Said it made your hair frizz and your gloves stick. I forgot until I saw Max throw a towel at you in the cooldown room. You laughed.”

A sharp exhale.

“I miss your laugh. And it sucks that it's not me, who makes you laugh like that.”

Lando was sure he was going to die from heartbreak at this point.

BEEP

PART IV — Voicemail #11

August – Summer Break

“They’re sending me to the sim next week. The MTC feels empty without you there. I saw your name still taped on the locker next to mine. PR forgot to remove it.”

A long silence. Then—

"I hate them for it."

A deep breath.

“I didn’t remove it either.”

BEEP

PART V — The one that wasn’t sent

September – Monza GP

The message begins. Stops. Starts again. Then silence. Then:

“I can’t do this anymore.”

But Lando never hits send.

PART VI — The Call That Changed Everything

November – Abu Dhabi GP

The last race of the season.

Lando finishes P4. Oscar is on the podium, champagne soaking his navy suit. And Lando doesn't even care about missing the top three.

Because after the podium interviews, after the media pen, after everything that needs to be done, there is a voicemail waiting on his phone.

Lando had not thought the day would come after all his unanswered attempts.

It’s from Oscar.

“Lando,”

Oscar's voice is quiet, tired, but warm.

“I listened to all of them. I saved every one of them. I just… I didn’t know how to answer. I thought if I did, I’d want to come back. And I couldn’t. Not yet. I did not want to hurt you even more than I probably already did.”

A pause. Shaky breath.

“But I miss you, too. And I’m still wearing the bracelet you gave me in Singapore. I think that means something.”

Lando's heart flutters as he takes the words in.

“If you want to talk, I’m at the McLaren hospitality. I’ve got twenty missed calls to answer. Maybe more.”

BEEP

Lando bolts from the motorhome so fast he forgets his pass. Again.

Security lets him through anyway.

Oscar is waiting by the McLaren hospitality doors, back leaning against the wall, arms folded. His Red Bull jacket is tied around his waist. He looks exhausted, yet hopeful.

They don’t speak at first. Lando just walks up and punches him lightly in the shoulder.

“You couldn’t have texted?”

Oscar shrugs. “Thought I’d start returning calls in person.”

Lando doesn’t cry. Not really. His voice wobbles, sure. And when Oscar wraps his arms around him and mutters a soft “I missed you more than I let myself admit,” maybe he leans in too hard.

But he doesn’t cry. At least that's what he keeps telling himself.

PART VIII — New Voicemail

December – Off Season

“Hey. Just wanted to say that I got pasta for dinner tonight. Can't wait to have you home with me again. Hurry up.”

A pause.

"I love you. Come home safe, you muppet."

BEEP

[alienpossession]

The Hotel Chain General Manager: Desert Spring Part 2

Desert Spring Part 1

"Hey ladies, need any help with that?"

"Oh no, we're good,"

"Are you sure? Do you know the hotel got this insane soothing gel that helps really well with sore muscle? I swear by its quality, my pecs cramped after yesterday's insane chest day, the hotel PT applied this gel and the cramp instantly vanished," he said as his pecs twitched, a deliberate move from his end intended to arouse the two girls that giggled upon seeing the pecs twitch

"Well, I guess there's nothing wrong to try, our legs can use some soothing gel after all,"

"No, no, let me apply it to you two. You can just sit back, relax and enjoy the sensation," he said with a smirk as he squeezed the tube to release this huge dollop of black, sparkly cream, "no worries, the color will not affect your skin tone or anything, it's very quick to absorb into your skin," he added quickly as he watched the look of bewilderment in both girls face as they probably surprised to see the shiny pitch black texture of the gel.

He quickly positioned himself in between both girls's sun bed, ready to apply the supposed soothing gel. Once the gel made contact to the girls skin and sat for around several seconds, their amused and curious expression due to the chilling sensation instantly contracted into one filled with terror as they started to feel numb

"W---what the fuck w--was th--th---at? UNGGHHHHHHHH HH---" she shrieked, yet Reiner quickly covered her mouth so she stopped screaming while staring sinisterly at the other girl

"E....rin....I think he dr---drugged us,"

"Welcome to the pack, ladies, we will have a great time after you two fully turned into my slut puppets," Reiner said triumphantly with his misogynistic nature oozes out like the real Reiner would, yet another conversion he managed to pull off for the day and he's far from over

---

"That's a very scalable approach, to be honest. Rather than installing these hidden trap doors and whatnot, just put them in the utilities or the amenities. But you did that in-house?"

"Yeah, will make shit easier if we can just takeover our amenities partner factory and do it right from the source, but this is good enough because we can make the takeover more targeted,"

"Sounds about right. It's a more sure success anyway because the concentration is not going to be diluted if for example I squeezed myself into a small 100ml gel tube or 10ml toothpaste. Imagine how many of us needed to effectively affect an entire industrial vat of soothing gel?"

"Yeah, not to mention the ego,"

---

Colin lodged off two huge lump of black sludge to the sauna heater to infect the entirety of the heater and its resulting steam. He didn't take into account the potency of the steam for a takeover in comparison to a whole sludge taking over an individual, resulting in several slightly numb yet still fully-human vessels not ripe yet for picking.

Aside from that, the two black sludge actually infused altogether when they turned into steam and resulted in the men taken over by the infected steam to be controlled by two non-dominant entities that might cancel out each other's influence over the human brain, enabling the possibility of these human to break-free from their subjugation

Faced with crisis of having bunch of idiots walking around with their mind fucked by half-arsed alien invader that might return to their original human state and ruined everything, Colin then decided to call Micah and George to help him out to fully convert these men.

A simple breeding session in the sauna later, not only these men reached point of no return of being human, the infusion of differing-origin sludges caused them to be stronger than the rest of their pack, and they returned the favor given by the Shredded Bros as they bend those jocks over and started fucking the shit out of their hole inside the steaming-hot, packed-to-the-brim sauna

---

"So out of the whole guests.....per your calculation, how many of them converted from using the amenities?"

"I say.....20-30%, but they are the more aggressive one for takeover as they tend to attack their roommate or just general public more compared to the one we hid in trap doors or room fixtures,"

"Maybe hiding them so secretly caused them to be more cautious?"

"Maybe, but I'm not reaching that kind of conclusion yet"

---

"Dude, what the fuck, taking that long is one thing, but the screaming is a bit too much, don't you think? Are you okay? What the fuck happened to you?"

"Uh.....oh.....well, you know---"

"It cannot be that good bro, be fucking for real,"

"Well, what if I show you how good it feels?"

"Bro, ewww fuck no. What's gotten into you, bro? If this is a prank, you better stop this homo BS, it ain't cool, y'know?"

"You really need to stop saying all those words without knowing the implication, bro. You make me aroused beyond belief with your obliviousness," he said as he let the towel around his waist dropped to the floor to reveal a bobbing hard-on that looked ready to breed at its 7.5 inches gorgeous length

"Stop it right there you gay ass motherfucker! I'm telling the others how freaky you are,"

Yet before Diego managed to do so, Jesse already caught up to him and grabbed him from behind. It didn't take long before Jesse somehow overpowered the much bigger Diego and before long, Diego's hole already seeded with the black, viscous invader that took control within minutes over his body. Feeling submissive and apologetic to his senior, it used Diego's body to worship "Jesse", much to "Jesse's" delight. They tussled across the room, exploring each others bodies until the two of them reach their climax and laughed it off with their bated breath as the mess they just did started to sink in to their mind. With yet another mischievous smirk, both men cleaned themselves up and they started texting their other friends to gather in their room for a "quick surprise" courtesy of the roommate-turned-couple

"You think they'll see it coming?"

"Nah, too dumb. Besides, we can definitely play it off a bit for a while before we revealed the whole thing to them. I'm going for Ricky by the way,"

"Then Jerome is mine? Sure thing. Ricky is smaller, so do work on Bill after you take Ricky down,"

"No problem,"

---

The three college girls just giggled when Bill excused himself to enter the elevator

He positioned himself to the back end of the otherwise empty elevator, but he knows pretty well that his objective resided inside of him and it is attainable to achieve. As for the girls, little did they know, danger literally breathed right on top of their neck as they're about to see the world from Bill's perspective even before they arrived on the first floor, if he's in the mood......

[gunwoo-bh]

The Night Shift - Part 12 [Min Yoongi x f!Reader]

MIN YOONGI x F!READER UniStudent!Yoongi AU SUMMARY: You chose a boring, quiet job at your campus’s 24-hour library for a reason: it kept you away from drama, gossip, and parties. It was positively uneventful. Until it wasn’t. 18+ MDNI cw: warnings for more talks of depression, anxiety and not feeling enough, self doubt, some kissing, angst, fluff, reader being a hypocrite (nobody is perfect, we're all learning), overwhelmed reader, if i forget anything please let me know, oh, there's some nakedness but nothing smutty, but still wc: 4.2 A/N: WELL. This is chapter 12, which almost brings us to a close. It's a pretty short chapter but the next one will conclude the story. I can't believe we're already there to be honest. I won't stop writing drabbles for this even when it's over. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

THE NIGHT SHIFT

PART 12

You're both sitting on your bed. 

You, leaning against your headboard and him, sitting closer to the end of it. 

Sitting there, you wonder how he's doing and you want to ask him what he's been up to these last few days. He looks exhausted, completely haggard and so small. You never would have imagined your taller than life boyfriend being so small. You’re letting him take the time he needs to speak because it needs to come from him. Coaxing it out of him would be making it all worse. 

“I’m sorry…” “I know you are.”

You respond so fast you almost speak over him, both of you chuckling softly. 

“I’m guessing Namjoon spoke to you…” he starts.

You immediately look apologetic, “I know I can’t tell you how to feel, but I hope you don’t stay mad at him if you are…”

He shakes his head, “I was for a moment when I realized he probably spoke to you, and…told you everything…” he bites his lower lip, “He did tell you, right?”

You’re quiet for a moment, “About your depression?”

His shoulders sag when he exhales loudly, “Ahh, so he did.” 

He immediately starts picking at his nail bed and you crawl to him, grabbing his hand and he looks at you. You have to keep in the tears when you see how relieved he is that you’re initiating contact. He leans forward and presses a kiss to your lips, pulling back a few seconds later when you don’t respond. 

“Shit, sorry…I shouldn’t have, especially when we haven’t talked yet…”

You grab his face and kiss him back, moving your lips softly against his before you pull back, “Babe, I love you, and I don’t want you to think you can’t ever get comfort from me…” he nods softly, “but we do need to finish talking…”

You stay near him, holding his hands in yours, “He did tell me about your depression. Where it came from. How you’ve managed.”

“And what did you think?”

You shake your head, “I mean, it cleared up some things but I honestly mostly felt like a bad girlfriend, but it’s not about me. It’s about you and keeping this in, not telling me, because you were…” you sniffle, “because you thought you were protecting me from what?”

“From me. My bad days.” He admits.

The first teardrop falls, tracing your cheekbones, “It left me confused, Yoongi. Like I had done something wrong and I know that I didn’t, now, I know that, okay? I don’t know much about what depression does to you, but I’d like to. To be there for you. With you. To help you ride that wave and be your cheerleader.” 

He blinks softly, “Even if it’s shitty like this sometimes…?” 

You hum, “Yes! It’s not fair that you’re alone on your shitty days and facing those by yourself. We get to enjoy the good days together, let’s enjoy the okay ones and the bad ones too.” You wipe away your tears, catching his attention when he looks at you. “And vice versa.”

He smiles softly, reaching to wipe your tears with his finger as you lean into his touch and he slides his hand across your cheek to hold it, “I’d like that, too…”

Your lips curl gently into a smile, “Good. I’m glad we agree there…”

The talk stretches into the wee hours of the morning but neither of you want to be the first to end it. His body betrays him though because the moment he yawns it hits him just how tired he is. He looks over to you like he’s worried that you’ll ask him to leave, it’s written all over his face but you smile as you stand up. 

“When was the last time you slept?”

He blushes, embarrassed at the answer, “About a day ago…”

You tug him up with you, “Let’s go to bed, okay?”

You wash up for bed, Yoongi standing behind you as you brush your teeth. He stares at your reflection and disbelief is etched over his features. He still can’t believe you want him, but it really shouldn’t be so hard to believe. Not to you at least. You lean into his chest and he relaxes, his entire body relaxing.

When you’re snuggled in bed, facing him as he holds you with your leg hooked over his hip and a hand buried in his hair. You’re nose to nose, kissing each other softly in the quiet of your room as he pulls you as close as he can, which doesn’t seem enough. 

“I love you…” he breathes against your lips as he gathers your face in one hand.

Your entire body sags against his, “I love you, too…” 

“So, what now?” He asks, kissing your upper lip.

“We keep trying…and we can talk some more when we wake up…I don’t think it’s possible for us to figure things out in one night…” you both chuckle, meeting in a kiss. 

“Okay then…let’s keep trying.” 

Yoongi falls asleep within seconds and your heart feels light for the first time in days.

EIGHT WEEKS LATER

You turn a corner so fast your ponytail sways and whips you in the face so fast. It started off as neat, sitting as high as possible on your head but now it sits lower, loose strands making it messier as the dinner rush continues. 

You had begun working at the restaurant Yoongi’s parents’ owned about six weeks ago when your hours at the library were ruined by your new class schedule. You now worked there and here part time, making up enough hours for you to not worry about making your rent. But it also meant you were crazily busy and running yourself into the ground some days. 

Yoongi had mostly stopped working at the restaurant, coming to help some nights but mostly the ones you worked. His work as a teacher’s assistant kept him busy but he never stopped making time to pick you up, sleeping either at his or yours. 

He was doing better every day.

You made a point of showing him you were there for him, the few weeks following that rough patch touch and go until things settled down. Since then, he’d had only one other episode but he had tried so hard to open up to you, making you love him more for not wanting a repeat of what had happened. 

Your fears over the intensity of this new semester had somewhat simmered down now that you had settled into a routine. School, work, time with your friends and time with Yoongi. It was very much lather, rinse, repeat, but it was the thing that kept you going. Having to look forward to time with your boyfriend and friends. 

Your parents had also finally met Yoongi last weekend, which had been a source of nerves for your boyfriend leading up to it. It wasn’t meant to be a meeting, you had been careful to make it a casual visit from your folks with no pressure. A simple day visit that suddenly had turned into them staying overnight and meeting Yoongi, and his parents. 

He handled it all like a champ, charmed your mom and dad with ease, and both of your parents’ had also gotten along which only reinforced your inside joke. 

“How long ‘til they actually plan our wedding now?”

You smile at the memory because he’s the one who asked that question, making you chuckle when you quickly stole a kiss from him before going back to sit with your parents. 

Your name gets called as you turn to Yoongi’s mom, “Yes?”

“Leave those there, you have your class to go to!” You let go of the tray of dishes as you look up at the time.

Oh shit, she’s right!

Smiling at her sheepishly, you remove the apron when she grabs it from you as you grab your things and run out while thanking her. His mother had been a great support and working for them had honestly saved you in more ways than one. 

You no longer feared dealing with big crowds of people. You, too, changed these last few months. If you had told yourself months ago that you would be working at a restaurant as a waitress, you would have laughed and dismissed yourself. Blooming is the word your mom had used when she saw you last, grabbing your face with tear filled eyes. 

Leave it to your mom to make you cry for being proud of you. 

“Hey!”

You look up as you walk down the stairs out of the restaurant, smiling bright as you walk straight into your boyfriend’s arms. You pull back, mouth falling open when he slips his hand into your hair to pull your lips to his in a breathtaking kiss. 

“Hey…” you are breathless when he pulls back, smiling giddily.

He has the softest look as he pulls you in for a kiss to your forehead, “I have exactly half an hour to walk you to school and go back to grading papers…” he sighs. 

“Let’s go then…” You reach for his hand, dragging him cheekily. 

Managing to make time for each other has become a skill you both mastered, enjoying the quality of your time spent together no matter how short, or long, it was. 

“When is your class done?”

“At 8pm.” 

He pulls you under his arm, “I should be done grading then, I’ll come pick you up then…yours or mine?” 

You smile broadly, “Yours. Can we get some fried chicken on the way home?” 

“Yeah,” he looks down at you, “we can get fried chicken on the way home. Do you have your things?” 

“Not on me. But Hwayoung is going to yours with Hoseok to get ready before they go out so she’s taking my stuff to yours and that way I don’t have to go back home…”

He looks proud, “Look at you go, planned everything already, mhm?”

You nod, “Yes, sir!” 

He chuckles, stealing a quick peck as you look at him with adoration. 

“Should I just go to yours if you’re not done grading?” 

He frowns, “You can. You know the code. Shoot me a text if you do. Or come to me, I’ll be in your old stomping grounds…” he grins at that.

“The library, huh?”

“Yep.” He laughs.

Reaching your building he stops and pulls you closer, looking down at you and rubbing your shoulders. Sometimes you can see the wheels in his brain spinning, when his thinking gets a little bit too loud. 

“You okay?”

He nods, “Just tired. I mean it, I am okay. After we have food can we just go to bed?”

“Of course, baby…” 

He gets flustered at your calling him that. He’s used to it, but when you say it with understanding, patience and the love you feel for him, it makes him want to curl into your arms and stay there. 

“Okay, I need to get back…” he sighs, grabbing your face and pulling you to him, “I love you. I will see you later. Text me when your class is over?”

“I will. Good luck grading, yeah?” You kiss him, pulling back but he pulls you back. “Mhm?”

“Say it back…” 

You grin softly, realizing what he means, “I love you, baby.” He seals his lips to yours one more time, standing tall. 

God, he gets so proud when you say it. 

“Have a good class.” 

You watch as he walks away, feeling pride swell up in your chest. 

But your smile falters slightly when you think about your fears, how they creep into your mind every time you feel even the slightest happiness. They lurk at the back of your thoughts, waiting for you to let your guard down, eager to emerge and seize hold of you. 

That’s why you dread what you’re about to do. 

Once Yoongi is out of sight, you pause for a moment before turning away from the building. You never intended to lie to anyone, and you truly mean that, everyone. No one knows that you’ve been sneaking in appointments between work shifts and classes, and like tonight, even skipping a class to attend one. 

You feel like a hypocrite. Every day, you lied to go to an appointment, and the words you had spoken to your boyfriend and friends haunt you. Because when you had no boyfriend and no social life, it was easier to have fewer things to think about. You would never return to that life, but in these last few months, you have bottled everything up. 

Your hypocrisy annoyed you every single day. 

You reach your destination more quickly than you anticipated every single time, entering the building and walking to the elevator. As you stand there waiting for it, you glance at the sign between both elevators and find yourself fixated on one name.

Gangnam Counselling Centre 

You make the mistake of going directly to Yoongi’s right after your appointment, a little over an hour before the end of your class. But you’re mentally drained and don’t even clock it when you walk down the hallway leading to the door, hearing feet shuffling in front of you as you look up. 

Yoongi must see the fear in your eyes, how caught you look as you stop dead in your tracks. Your lips part slightly, letting the smallest of gasp escape you as you grapple with what’s about to happen.

Yoongi is soft, but cautious when he asks, “Class let out early?”

He’s not doing it to manipulate the situation, you know that. He asks because he knows there’s no way for you to keep hiding whatever this is. 

He looks hurt though. His shoulders sag, lips held in a tight somewhat smile but his eyes betray his attempt at looking like nothing is going on. 

“No. Didn’t go.”

“I see…” you avoid his eyes, tears threatening to fall already, “I’m sure you wonder what I’m doing, not grading papers…”

To be honest, it didn’t even cross your mind until now. 

You shrug as he says, “Let’s go inside. We…we can talk…” his voice trembles when he says ‘talk’, like he’s concerned your world as you know it is about to collapse. 

You hate that you’re putting him through that. 

He holds the door open for you as you step in, completely in silence. You unburden yourself of your things and drag your feet to the couch where he’s gone to sit. He looks scared, like you’re about to break his heart and you have to wipe angrily at a tear that falls for putting him through that. 

You sit next to him, moving your body towards him as you hold your hands in your lap and you can’t look at him as you sniffle. 

“So…” he breaks the silence, “I won’t force you to talk, but I’m confused?” You could smile if you weren’t so scared and sad. He’s being open and vulnerable with you. “Wondering…why you lied or…and why you would go through the trouble of lying…”

He releases a long, shaky breath as he adds, “...I’m scared…”

“I’m not cheating.”

He huffs, “I never thought you would. Still don’t. That’s not what scares me…”

Blinking quickly, you finally look up at him, “Oh…”

“Can I tell you what scares me?” You hesitantly nod. Were you really ready for this? “That you felt like you needed to lie to me about something and that, that something is that all of this, all of me is too much…for you…Like it all caught up to you now…” 

That’s exactly what you were absolutely terrified of, this exact situation. Tears start to fall, looking down to your lap and swallowing thickly. 

“I’m…” Yoongi’s bracing for what you’re about to say, you can see the way his body tenses when you finally meet his eyes, “I’m so fucking stupid…”

He shakes his head, “Baby, you’re scaring me…”

“I’m in therapy! Counselling, whatever…” you look and sound disappointed, even though you know there is nothing to be ashamed of. 

“What?” 

“Therapy. Counselling. That’s where I was instead of going to class…” 

You don’t expect the next reaction out of him, he scoots closer to you and grabs your face to make you look at him, to make you stop hiding from his gaze. He’s showing you he wants to see you, to understand every bit of you in that moment. 

“Talk to me.”

And you unload everything.

“Three weeks into the semester I-I got so overwhelmed with the workload, working the library and learning being a waitress, making time for the girls, for our friends and for us…” you feel awful for saying that but he keeps looking at you, “and I made no time for myself…I wrote a shitty essay about a month ago and my teacher was concerned, she knew me and knew this wasn’t like me…”

You feel yourself inch closer to him and he lets you, “...I broke down, Yoongi. Completely broke down in front of my teacher and I was fucking embarrassed but she’s the one who recommended I go get some counselling. So, I did. Went a few days after and it’s been four weeks now…and it’s annoying but it’s helping.”

“What made you break down?” He asks softly.

“That I’m not doing enough…?”

“For who?”

Your entire body deflates, “Everyone. I feel like I could be a better daughter to my parents and visit more often, call more often…A better friend to the girls, make more efforts to spend more time with them even though they say it’s fine, spend more time studying and maybe go to office hours and ask for help, try to spend more time with you and get closer to your parents because y’know…” you make a face and he can’t help but chuckle. 

“Because we’re getting married someday…” It’s your little inside joke that isn’t so much a joke anymore.

You nod softly, “I just let it get to me…the pressure I put on myself to be perfect…”

“Baby, nobody is perfect…”

You snort, feeling a single tear fall still as he wipes it, “I know! I sit there during my appointments and my counsellor reminds me that I’m being really hard on myself and that…” you shake your head, “if I spoke to you, or Hwayoung or Eunji, or even my parents…that everyone would most likely understand and tell me that everything is fine…”

He smiles, nodding, “Tell me…tell me how you feel…”

You open your mouth and shut it again, “I feel like I’m not doing enough to be of support to you. Like I could…come over more often, maybe make food more often because you cook for me a ridiculous amount of times. Since school started I feel like I haven’t been good about asking you if you’re okay. And with being so busy I just…I really miss hanging out with you. I don’t think I’ve been a great girlfriend recently…”

You exhale loudly, letting your face relax in his hands and he just stares at you, “You’ve been a great girlfriend but,” you fear what comes next, “you will never be perfect. And I don’t expect you to. Do you know why?”

You simply shake your head.

“Because you never expected that of me. What did we say? As long as we keep trying?” He comes closer, watching you carefully. 

You remember that conversation as you smile sadly. 

“Also, do you know why I’m hurt, too?”

“Why?”

“It’s not fair that you stood by my side during my shitty days and that I don’t get to do the same for yours…” You mouth the air, scoffing when he uses your own words against you in the sweetest of ways, too. 

“Wow.”

“What?”

“Using my own words, huh?” You put your hands on his thighs.

“Well, it’s always easier dishing it out than taking it, right?” He looks at you, chewing on his lower lip as he pulls you in his lap suddenly. You’re as flush to him as you can physically be, his hands still adoringly holding your face. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” 

“Actually,” your hands fly to his shoulders as his hands snake around your back to pull you even closer, “I’m in love with you.” 

He can’t help the grin on his face when you stay quiet, but you don’t look surprised. Peace is what you’re feeling as his words sink in. You fall forward, your arms wrapping around his shoulders to hug him tightly. You revel in the silence of his confession, your face buried in his neck as he holds the back of your hand with one hand while holding you tightly against him. 

You know then that being as young as you are, it doesn’t matter. You’re going to do everything in your power to spend the rest of your life with him. 

Lifting your head but staying exactly where you are, you whisper in his ear, “I’m in love with you, too…” 

You feel him squeeze you tighter, pulling his head back to look into your eyes, “Yeah?”

You hum faintly.

“Then, let me in on those bad days. And I’ll do the same. Let’s keep each other accountable…” he delicately tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “And don’t hide therapy from me or anyone you feel safe sharing that with…It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I go too, you know that…” 

“I know…”

“And let’s figure something out to maybe help with the school stress, yeah?”

You sniffle but nod, “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.” 

Staring at each other for a moment he pulls you into him and seals your lips to his in a loving kiss, breathing heavily through his mouth, “I fucking love you, I need you to know that…”

You whine into his mouth, nodding as he captures your lower lip and tugs at it, “I love you, too…I'm sorry...”

"Shhh, don't...you don't have to apologize for that."

When you lie naked in bed with him later that night amidst more talking, lots of kissing and some time with your hands on each other’s bodies, you lie in his side as he tells you the story of how his mom had been on him, in the most loving of ways of course, to secure you as her future daughter-in-law. 

“Really?”

His hand rubs down your side, squeezing your hip, “Yeah! She…fuck, she loves you and loves that you’re working at the restaurant now…” he smiles, kissing the crown of your head, “I think she’s trying to make me jealous though…”

“Of?”

“She says there’s guys trying to get your number and being real handsy sometimes…” he quirks an eyebrow at that

“It’s nothing I can’t handle…” You shrug as he laughs.

“So, they are flirting?” 

“Yes. I always gladly tell them I have a boyfriend.” He blushes furiously at that, shifting under you as he squeezes your body tighter to his. 

“That’s good…”

“Just good, huh?” You tickle him once, and you’re given a warning, but you go again, and again. Soon it evolves into you full out tickling him as he twists your bodies around so he hovers over your naked form. With the sheet barely covering your body and his breath hot against your lips, you anticipate his next move when you still, your foot running up and down the length of his calf. 

You look at him and know that through it all, you will always be able to rely on him and have his support just as you’ve shown that you will do the same for him. You break into a smile as he frowns before laughing, meeting your lips in a playful kiss.

“What?” He asks, nose to nose. 

You shake your head, “Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. Tell me, please…” he kisses the high point of your cheek. 

You cup his cheek, feeling him nuzzle the palm of your hand as you pull him to your lips for one more kiss. He’s smiling when pulling away from you, “I’m just really grateful you came into my shift that one night…”

He scoffs, “I was scared shitless to talk to you…”

“You know what sealed the deal for me early on?”

He frowns in question.

“That damn tangerine.” He bursts into laughter, his forehead falling to your shoulder as you pull him into your body. “I swear! I went soft for you right then and there!” 

He peppers kisses to your bare shoulder as he looks up at you, “Well, that just means one thing…” you furrow your eyebrows, “I gotta find some tangerine level grand gestures now…”

You shake your head, “Nope, keep to the small stuff…that means more to me.”

“Yeah?” 

You hum brightly. “There was a lot of love in that tangerine and all the tangerines you brought me…”

“I hoped it came across that way…” he confesses. 

“It did.” You promise him.

He inhales deeply as he shifts above you, looking down at you tenderly as he bites his lower lip, “Y’know what?”

“Yes?”

He kisses your lips once more, “We’re gonna be just fine…”

As the words settled, they resonated within you like being swept by the tide and a profoundly genuine joyful smile tugged at your lips as you nodded.

“Yeah, we are.”

A/N: Again, another kinda heavy chapter but this will soon be of the past! Reader will hopefully have learned something just like Yoongi has last chapter. Communication! We only have one more chapter before the end of this story. I can't believe we're here already.

tag list: @muchwita @kam9404 @ot72025 @lalazilz @janeelizabeth1216 @rinkud @yngisstuff @lolpanda94 @angelicbunnee @wubbz05 @illicitelle @legendarydreamqueen @flyxfall @mintmango-min @moorepls @gojomyoneandonly @yoongiiuu93 @wobblewobble822 @michaela0901 @ariakamil @watchingover-hypegirl @lovesvt17 @misschelliejeon @niieceyy @this-most-assuredly-counts @ronaa33 @yoonminv @meghanacloud @petroogorodnik @existentialzaddy @illnevertrustmyselfagain

Post separator credit to @hyuneskkami

[fruit-fight]

YOU GET IT!

Hear me out!( Ramble that quickly turned into a dialogue mini fic)

Wukong finally starts to understand the beef when he starts attending PTA with Macaque, so he's like, "dw babe, watch this." And decides to show off their son's other 50% which as we all know is gremlin little shit(who also happens to be FILTHY rich). Imagine one of her kids is a fan of Monkey King(he's all over children's media), and another is a friend of Xiaoxing, so both get invited to his birthday. Linda has to go or she looks petty and can't pull the old "well you can't expect everyone to be available at the same time" bc Mac made a point to invite her and her sons, personally, in front of everyone including her sons. Her babies even got their own individual royal RSVP cards to feel grown up. She looks at the location. It's FFM and free, SAFE, transportation is provided. Wukong is standing behind Mac, looking far too pleased despite doing everything he can over the centuries to keep people out. Her sons are estatic. She can't refuse or bash it. But she's too stubborn to trust sending her boys only, so she's coming.

Wukong remodeled everything back to its glory days. The cave tunnel system are all rustic, beautifully carved hallways of the mountain that's technically a palace on the inside with modern touches in the more "commonly used" areas, like tech and plumbing(✨️Magic✨️) and hand painted murals. The mountain is literally a stone palace! The weather is perfection. The Monkies are perfectly mannered, gentle, and playful with all the kids Xiaoxing invited, and avoid Linda like the plague after she huffed and puffed about animals loving her. To the point it was almost comical watching them go out of their way to get away from her, a bold young one going so far as to throw a nut at her head to give another the chance to escape(theyre all over Macaque as usual tho). And the beaches are pristine.

Wukong worked on it for months just to see Linda's face as Mac had the time of his life rubbing it all in.

Macaque: "Oh, Linda, I'm sure your 5th husband would have party prepped an entire island, and payed for all the cantering, and bought a pile of expensive gifts, and payed for all the set up, and still be an amazing stay at home dad if you gave him the chance. Or was it the 3rd? Which one are you on now? I can't remember. At least you never get back with an ex, you're so much stronger than Wukong and I, in that regard. Guess we can't seem to let the other go" *sighs wistfully*

Wukong: *Slides up next to them with brightly colored drinks* Hey Mrs. ___! Hello, beautiful~ the Nannies you're sister recommended just arrived and bar is now open~

Linda, desperately latching onto the only thing she can complain about: Hello, Mr. Sun~ that sounds fun but I gave up most alcohol after my first litter, besides this is a children's birthday party. I wouldn't want that to be what breaks my streak. It'd be irresponsible of me.

Shadowpeach: *bombastic side eye*

Wukong: Well, that's no problem, everyone to their own. Virgin is an option for most drinks, and I caught that 'most', plum wine, and peach wine are both options available. Also there will be karaoke for the kids soon soooo

Macaque, genuinely surprised and pleased: *gasp* Plum wine?! You got my favorite? I haven't had that in forever!

Wukong: one correction, I made Plum wine with the grove I grew here for you. And yeah, I noticed you haven't had the chance to relax were you weren't to tired to bother with alcohol so I picked up a couple old hobbies. I had the time to kill anyway for a bit of research. Surprise!

Macaque, genuinely touched and lowkey forgetting the act for a second: Oh, mango, thats so sweet🥰

Linda:

Wukong: That reminds me, I'm also giving mango wine a go, so that'll be out of the cellar in a few months for taste testing.

Macaque, remembering himself and trying really hard(failing) to get his shit together: That'll be fun!

Linda, lowkey fuming as she watches the exchange: I'm sure. So what is that you have there Mr. Sun?~

Wukong, legit forgot she was there for a sec: oh! Right! *hands a rainbow drink to Macaque* This is a drink I saw online. Thought it would be fun to try.

They both take a sip.

Wukong: Oh!

Macaque: This is actually really good, what's it called?

Wukong, already giggling: Sex on the Beach

Macaque, rolling his eyes fondly: So Mature. Though that does remind me~ You worked so hard to make today perfect for Xiaoxing, how will I ever thank you?~

Wukong, caught a little off guard: *Stares. Looks down at his drink as though asking what was in it before deciding he didn't care rn. Looks back up at Macaque, processes. Glances down at the drink again before finally focusing on Mac and responding* I might be feeling inspired~

Linda, actually loosing her mind at being pushed aside so casually so many times: Maybe I will have a little treat for Mommy. Wukong, you seem to know your stuff, any recommendations?~

Wukong: I'm sure you'll get a much more interesting answer out of our bartender. Anyway, peach! You want me to adjust your dampening spell now or later? One of the kids seem really excited about Frozen.

Macaque, delighted by the way Linda's face crumpled at being brushed off by Wukong: I can wait until they pull out the machine, thank you mango~ *pecks his cheek just to rub it in*

Linda finally huffed and stomped off toward the bar as dignified as she can manage, leaving Macaque giggling into Wukongs shoulder. Wukong trying not to laugh as he watches her stumble through the sand on unfamiliar paws.

Wukong: Well pissing her off was fun

Macaque: Right! Did you see her face after she asked for a drink? I think she expected you to fetch it for her!

Wukong: I did! Dumb bitch. I'm literally a king. Even if I was interested, expecting me to wait on you is not how you flirt with me.

Macaque: I don't know~ you seem pretty eager to serve me last week~ you look so pretty on your knees.

Wukong: Stfu. I'm gonna go check on the other parents.

Macaque: Okay, I'm gonna go check on the kids and let the caterers know they can bring out the popsicles now.

When are you gonna drop a Linda design? I need to draw the beef!/silly

- @fruit-fight

Give me an animal to base her off of and I’ll get to work💃💃

[browneyebby]

༉‧₊˚. “ greenlight “ by tate mcrae — (fem) prissy!reader x d.w

“ two chains hangin’ off your neck when you kiss me,

so strange, who’d’ve thought we’d get here with our history? “

( cw: kissing/making out, cussing, brief mention of prostitution (joke tho lol))

god, you were such a soc. your room was covered in piles of delicate clothes and lace, the walls were painted a gorgeous light pink, and you had a fresh bouquet of flowers ever time dallas would come visit (which was very often). so dally finds himself wondering every now and then how he even likes you. you were against everything he stood for, you were so prissy compared to a rugged man like him. but our dallas winston did always seem to have a soft spot for pretty soc girls, didn’t he?

he remembers why he likes you in moments like this — when you’re underneath him, and his pink lips are on yours. your freshly-done hair is getting ruined as you lie against the pillow, manicured hands in his greasy hair. he adores having you like this, he adores infiltrating your spoiled and feminine life. he feels like such an outcast in your world, but he likes it that way. he likes being stared at by judgemental kooks and greasers alike, wondering how someone like you ended up with someone like him. he loves the attention, and it’s all worth it when he gets to hear your voice whimper out a “dal,” whenever he bites your lower lip too hard.

his forearms rest on either side of your pretty face, viens buldging in the most sexy way possible as he cages you under him. “god, you’re fuckin’ perfect, aren’t ya?” he drawls quietly as he kisses your cheek.

you giggle, often having reactions like that when he compliments you. “i know,” you say back, going to capture his lips again with a peck.

“yeah, trust me doll, i know you know,” he says after you kiss him, his brown eyes looking down at you, and his perfect mouth shaped into a breathless half-smile. “silly soc,” he mutters, moving to lie beside you. he lifts his arm so you can go under it and rest against his side.

“dirty greaser,” you playfully say back to his quiet dig, not taking offense to his.

he scoffs and lights a cigarette, letting out a breathy chuckle to your comment before taking a hit. he’s quiet for a bit as he does so, and when he’s finished after a few seconds, he speaks again. “you know,” he starts, clearing his throat from the smoke. “we’re not even meant to be dating, a’ight? least y’could do is be nice to be, sweetcheeks,”

you roll your eyes but keep your smile. “oh please, give me a break,” you say. “you’re not nice either. so you could do the same, and put out that cigarette in my room to start the process. told you so many times i don’t want it to smell like smoke in here,”

“fuck nah,” he puts it in between his teeth again. “c’mon doll, if you’re datin’ a greaser then you gotta accept our culture,”

“‘culture’ my ass, it’s an addiction, it’s not good for you,” you poke his chest. “listen to your girlfriend, dal, isn’t that the first thing darry taught you when you dated sylvia?”

“hey, sylvia was a bitch, darrel didn’t give a fuck if i was a bitch back.”

you sigh and rest your head on his chest, giving up the playful argument for now. your lips were swollen and all you wanted to do was either keep kissing him or take a nap. you fiddle with his silver st. christopher aimlessly as you speak again after a couple moments. “don’t you think it’s weird that we’re together?” you ask him.

“yeah,” he mutters, shrugging as if it’s nothing.

you pout, having expected him to say something like ‘no’ or ‘what’s that supposed to mean?’, not an immediate agreement. “what? why?”

“you know why, s’why ya asked,”

“well— i just didn’t think you’d agree so fast.” is your response.

another shrug. “c’mooon,” he drawls. “every fuckin’ idiot here knows it’s weird, so it would be sad if i didn’t. you’re a spoiled soc, and i’m a greaser. one o’the bad ones, too, i’m not tolerated like pony or johnny,”

“…yeah, guess so. but i tolerate you,” you murmur.

“you’re a sweetheart, that’s why,” he explains his point while complimenting you.

“thanks dal,”

he takes a final hit of his cigarette, and then uses your pretty pink ciramic jewlery tray on your bedside as an ashtray as he sets it down. “now c’mere,” he changes the topic and pulls you on top of him. “think we’ve got some unfinished business, don’t we, sweetheart?” he asks, using the earlier nickname on you again.

your smile is back instantly as you nod, painted nails and pristine fingers instantly finding their way in his brown hair and on his chest. “mm, only if you buy me a milkshake after,” you tease, knowing you’ll kiss him regardless.

“god, got a prosititute of a broad, don’t i?” he’s smiling anyway, though trying to feign annoyance. “you think i’ve got the money for that?” he pokes your side playfully. “c’mon, honey, kiss your man,”

so you comply, glossy lips finding his once more. you could go without a milkshake, as long as you were with your dallas.

. ۫ ꣑ৎ taglist (comment here to be added!) : @avroravia @r0seb100d @fawning4leif @dinerlana

[sunsetmade]

Dirty Business

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: Everything changed for Rafe after he met you. No more drugs, no more using, but he’s still wrapped up in the business of selling.

Rafe’s fingers throb with a dull ache as he counts yet another stack of cash. Another deal. Another drop. Another day stuck in the cycle. Across from him, Barry lounges on the couch, casually chopping lines and snorting them without hesitation.

Rafe doesn’t flinch—just rolls his eyes. Yeah, he’s still tangled in the business, but he’d left the drugs behind a long time ago.

“C’mon, country club. Just one hit,” Barry rasps, that wicked grin stretching across his face.

Rafe barely looks up. “Nah. I’m done with that.”

Barry clicks his tongue, leaning back with a smirk as he wipes his nose clean. He reaches for a blunt already rolled, lighting it like it’s just another part of his routine.

“Gone soft now?” he goads.

Rafe’s elbows rest on his knees, jaw tightening as the irritation flickers across his face. “I’ve told you. I’m not like that anymore.”

Barry laughs lowly. “Guess that’s what happens when you get yourself a girlfriend.”

Rafe’s teeth clench. If he had it his way, he’d be out of this mess completely. But with his dad off on one of his mysterious business trips, someone had to keep the money flowing.

But Barry wasn’t completely wrong.

Rafe had changed—because of her.

He hadn’t planned on it. He never does. She just sort of appeared, soft-spoken and bright-eyed, in a world that never had room for people like her. And somehow, she stayed. While everyone else saw the worst in him, she looked right through the smoke and blood and chaos and saw something worth saving.

Maybe that was the problem. She believed in him more than he ever had.

She never asked him to stop. Never begged or judged. She just existed in his life with so much light that the darkness started to feel less comfortable. And eventually, he didn’t need the high. Didn’t need the numbness. He just needed her.

So no—Barry wasn’t wrong. But he didn’t get to talk about her.

“Don’t talk about her,” Rafe muttered, voice low and sharp as he thumbed through another stack of cash on the table, jaw tight.

Barry held his hands up in mock surrender, a lazy grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Relax, country club. Just sayin’.”

The smirk didn’t fade, but Rafe didn’t look up. He focused on the money—because if he didn’t, he might actually do something about that look on Barry’s face.

⸻

The first time he had ever seen her, it had been raining that day—one of those warm Outer Banks downpours that soaked you in seconds and didn’t care who you were. Rafe had been parked outside of a corner store, waiting on a guy who was already late, already pissing him off. His patience was wearing thin, and the storm hadn’t helped.

He saw her before she saw him—hair plastered to her face, arms wrapped around a bag of books like it was the only thing keeping her upright. She was standing under the awning, watching the rain like it was something magical instead of miserable.

It didn’t make sense. People like her didn’t belong in his world. Sweet, soft-looking, with that kind of quiet energy that made you want to get closer just to hear her speak. Rafe hadn’t looked twice at anyone in a long time—but something about her made him stop.

And then she looked over. Caught him staring. Instead of glaring or turning away, she offered him the smallest, gentlest smile. Like he wasn’t soaked in anger and frustration. Like she wasn’t afraid.

He remembered rolling down his window, calling out something dumb just to keep her there a second longer. Something like, “You know there’s a storm, right?”

She’d smiled wider, clutching her bag tighter. “Yeah. I like the sound it makes.”

And that was it. That was the moment. The quiet click of something shifting inside him.

He didn’t know her name yet. But he’d spend the next week finding excuses to run into her again.

Because for the first time in a long time, Rafe Cameron didn’t want to disappear into the darkness—he wanted to stand in the rain.

And the first time he realized he wanted to stop- stop all the drug shit- it was when he was with her.

It had been late—bordering on midnight—when she’d fallen asleep on his couch for the first time.

They weren’t together, not officially. But she was always around. Drifting in and out of his days with that soft voice and kind heart, like she didn’t notice—or chose not to care—that he was someone people warned others about.

Rafe had just gotten back from a drop, pockets full of cash, nerves buzzing, the kind of itch in his skin that used to have a very specific fix.

The little baggie sat on the kitchen counter. Same spot it always did. He could’ve crushed a line in seconds. No one would’ve known. Hell, Barry probably expected him to.

But when he turned around, she was there.

Curled up on his couch with one of his old hoodies swallowed around her, hair messy, face peaceful, chest rising and falling slow like she had no idea how close he stood to unraveling.

She trusted him.

That thought hit him harder than anything ever had. She trusted him enough to sleep soundly in a house that had seen things it never should’ve. She believed he was safe. And somehow, just being in her orbit made him want to be that.

His hand hovered over the bag for a moment. Then he pushed it off the counter. Watched it fall into the trash without a second glance.

Rafe stepped into the living room, the dim glow from the hallway light casting soft shadows across her sleeping form. Quietly, he slid onto the couch beside her, easing into the space like it belonged to him—because she did.

She stirred at the motion, a sleepy sigh escaping her lips as she reached out instinctively, searching for him in the dark. Still half-asleep, she scooted closer, her head settling against his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Rafe’s breath caught for a moment. Then he smiled—soft, real. The kind of smile he didn’t show anyone else.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in gently, like he was afraid to wake her or lose her. Her warmth pressed against him, grounding him in a way nothing else ever could.

This—she—was the calm he never thought he deserved.

He didn’t need the high anymore.

He had her.

And for the first time, that felt like enough.

⸻

The sound of the front door closing snapped Rafe out of his thoughts.

“Rafe? Baby?”

Her voice—soft, sweet, familiar—floated through the house, and he felt it like a jolt to the chest. His ears perked up, heart lifting for a split second.

Barry let out a dramatic sigh. “Yo, your girl’s here.”

Just like that, the warmth drained from Rafe’s face. The comfort of knowing she was home twisted into dread the moment he remembered who else was in the house—and what they were doing.

Lines on the table. Cash in stacks. Plans for more drops.

It made him sick.

“Hey, I need you to go. Pack all this shit up,” Rafe muttered, standing quickly from the couch. His voice was low, urgent, already heading toward the bedroom to stash the money before she saw any of it.

Barry didn’t move. Just frowned, arms crossed lazily. “She doesn’t know what you do?”

The question wasn’t just a jab—it held judgment, sharp and pointed.

Rafe didn’t even look back. “Doesn’t matter. Just get out.”

Because she didn’t belong in this world. And the longer Barry stayed, the more he’d poison it.

Rafe knew one thing for sure—Barry didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as her.

“I’m not playing—I need you to fucking get out,” Rafe snapped, voice sharp and final.

Barry rolled his eyes, scooping up his stash with no real urgency. As he passed, he flipped Rafe off with a smug grin before slipping out the back door.

Rafe exhaled hard, running a hand down his face. The relief hit instantly.

He cracked open the bedroom door. “Up here, baby!”

Her response was immediate—footsteps on the stairs, her presence filling the space before she even stepped through the doorway. When she appeared, her face lit up the way it always did when she saw him.

She walked over with ease, stopping between his legs as he sat on the edge of the bed. Rafe looked up at her with that lazy smile that always carried the edge of a smirk, his hands already sliding around her waist like they belonged there.

“How was lunch?” he asked, fingers tracing slow paths along her hips.

She sighed, shoulders relaxing as she shrugged. “It was good,” she murmured, visibly softening just from being near him.

Rafe watched her carefully—the way her eyes fluttered shut as she took a deep breath, the way she melted under his touch.

But then she paused. Her nose crinkled.

“It smells weird in here,” she said, glancing around.

Rafe’s stomach tightened. He cursed Barry silently, jaw clenching.

“Yeah?” he said, trying to keep his voice casual. “Like what?”

She chewed on her lip, eyes wide and uncertain as she looked down at him. “I don’t know… something strong.”

Rafe let out a heavy sigh, dragging a hand down his face as guilt settled hard in his chest.

“Barry was here,” he admitted, voice low. He didn’t want to lie—not to her. Not ever.

She studied him quietly for a moment, eyes dropping to the way his shoulders tensed. Then she leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to the bridge of his nose.

“What’s wrong with that?” she asked softly, like she could already sense the storm behind his words.

Rafe swallowed hard, eyes flicking away for a second before coming back to hers. “He’s bad… really bad. The kind of influence I don’t want anywhere near me anymore. Used to be easy to fall into that shit with him, but I swear—I don’t do that now. I don’t want to. It’s just for quick money.”

Her smile came slowly, warm and honest, grounding him in a way nothing else could.

“Rafe,” she said gently, cupping his jaw. “I know you don’t. You’re not who you used to be. You’re a good person.”

Something in his chest cracked at that—because maybe he didn’t fully believe it yet. But she did. And for now, that was enough to make him want to try.

“I know you stopped for me,” she said softly, easing onto his lap and threading her arms around his shoulders. “And I can’t even tell you how much that means to me.”

Rafe didn’t say anything at first. He just pressed his face into the crook of her neck, breathing her in like she was the only thing keeping him grounded. His arms wrapped around her tightly, steadying her—but more than that, steadying himself.

“Everything I do now… it’s for you,” he murmured against her skin.

She giggled, the sound soft and breathy as his lips brushed gently along her neck. But she knew he was serious.

“You’re such a sap,” she giggled again, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Rafe lifted his head just enough to smirk at her. “Yeah? And you love it.”

She scrunched her nose, pretending to think. “Mmm… I tolerate it.”

“Oh, really?” he challenged, eyebrows raising as his hands slipped under the hem of her shirt, fingertips brushing the bare skin of her back.

She let out a squeal, squirming in his lap. “Rafe! Stop!” she laughed, but didn’t actually try to get away—if anything, she leaned closer, completely curled into him.

He was grinning now, that rare, boyish grin he only ever showed when he was with her. “Don’t act like you don’t melt every time I get all sweet.”

“Okay, maybe a little,” she admitted with a mock sigh, letting her forehead rest against his. “It’s just… not what people expect from you.”

His voice softened, “Yeah, well… people don’t get to see me like this.” He traced a finger down her spine. “Only you.”

She looked at him then, really looked, her expression growing quieter—more serious beneath the softness.

He held her gaze, heart thudding. “I mean it. You’re it for me.”

Her breath caught slightly, the teasing gone, replaced with something delicate and real.

“I love you,” he said, no hesitation.

She blinked, like she hadn’t expected it but had been waiting to hear it all along. And then a smile bloomed across her face—slow and radiant.

“I love you too,” she whispered, brushing her lips against his.

And in that moment, with her wrapped around him and her heart in his hands, Rafe felt more high than he ever had before.

[wakebymoonsleepbysun]

Untitled Mr. Ring-a-Ding x Reader - Chapter 1

Oh boy me and my poor impulse control again. I do plan on continuing this but it'll be more of a side project until I finish one of the fics I'm actively posting on ao3 atm. But have it anyway, cuz why not.

Reader will be gender-neutral, but a lot of Ring-a-Ding's nicknames will lean to what a lot of people would consider feminine. Doll, Sweetiepie, etc, and the word pretty will probably be used in later chapters. I mean all of this CAN be gender-neutral but if it's not your cup of tea please handle with care. :) Chapter 1 - Palazzo

The light of creation…

Lux had been everything, and yet nothing. It had lasted an eternity, yet had been over in a second. Eventually, he meets the fate that all immortal gods meet after achieving their machinations.

Boredom.

Boredom, boredom, boredom. The one true enemy of all immortals. Sure, sometimes they’ll play dead or sulk in some other realm for a time and let the mortals think they’ve won. Sometimes their power is so depleted it’s even necessary to do so, but those are temporary setbacks. In reality, the only real threat to those with infinite time is running out of things to fill it with.

So what to do?

He’ll have to start small, obviously. Nothing that would be worth recording, nothing that would become legend. Little more than a warm up--a simple dalliance.

He’ll start at the last place he’d been, in the only form he’s ever taken. The familiar is simple and as good a starting point as any for his little excursion.

Slowly, he gathers himself, pulling himself back to a singular point in space and time--where and when the Palazzo next plays the Mr. Ring-a-Ding reel.

Back to Miami, back to the Palazzo…and back to being Mr. Ring-a-Ding.

*

Cleaning out the projection booth isn’t supposed to be part of your job. Yet here you are, sweeping the dirt and grime that’s piled up after 73 years of the theater being abandoned. At least it’s winter, and a fairly cool winter at that, making the inside of the unairconditioned theater “muggy” rather than “unbearably hot and stuffy”.

The power itself is on, so there’s some lighting, though the majority of the light bulbs have long since burned out, leaving the place fairly dark, especially now that the sun has set.

You’ve been told to try to salvage whatever old equipment or “antiques” you might find. Your boss has even offered to split any proceeds 70/30 in your favor--your his “magnanimous” way of compensating you for the extra responsibilities.

Never mind that hauling the equipment, restoring it, and finding a buyer would probably be a part-time job in and of itself…one which, like your current job, won’t pay much, especially after the split.

But you can’t turn up your nose at it, either. So you go through the old books, papers, and machinery that lay scattered on the floors and shelves. Whatever antiques may have been worth anything probably are too ruined to sell at this point. The massive hole in the side of the building from the film closet exploding all those years ago had never been repaired, so the theater hadn’t exactly been shielded from the elements. Even the door to the projection room had eventually rotted and fallen away, leaving the room open to critters and even more dirt and leaves and detritus carried in by the wind.

You guess the projectors themselves are the only thing in the room that may be worth the effort of hauling anywhere but the dumpster. But they’re so covered in dirt and grime you can’t imagine that any of the interior mechanisms could possibly work.

…Do collectors of antique projectors even care if said projectors actually work? You suppose you’ll have to research that later. In any case, you’re sure anything worth anything would have been stolen by looters long ago.

So far you’ve been more focused on clearing away the obvious trash to clear a path to the projectors. Sweeping dirt, mud, and leaves off the floor, then clearing the broken bits of wood from the rotted shelves and what you guess used to be some kind of desk. Finally, there’s space to stand alongside the projectors so you can look them over.

They’re covered in grime, of course, but as you begin to wipe that away, you see they actually look to be in decent shape beneath it all. No sign of rusting or warping on the metal casing, which is surprising. You’d half expected the old things to go to pieces as soon as you’d touched them, but it seems--like a lot of old tech--they’re built fairly sturdy.

Though that doesn’t mean their inner workings are still operational, you remind yourself.

As you move to the second projector, your brow knits as you notice something.

There’s still a roll of film loaded into it. That’s not so surprising on its own--from what you’ve heard this place had been abandoned pretty hastily back in the 50s--but what is odd is just how pristine the celluloid looks.

The bits you’d found scattered about while cleaning had been dirty, crumpled and curled from age, and trying to load it into a projector would have just made it fall apart.

But the roll in the projector now looks brand new. You adjust your glasses, leaning close and squinting. It looks like a cartoon, but the images are too small and the room too dim for you to tell much more than that.

An old reel like this might be worth something if it’s still playable. Maybe it’s even a piece of lost media? Though you doubt you’d be so lucky. You push your glasses back into place, trying to find the mechanism to unload the reel. Your hand brushes a switch on the back of the machine, and despite you barely touching it, the projector suddenly springs to life.

The light flickers on and you hear the familiar whirring and clicking of the old film projector starting up.

You glance to the theater below, where an odd image is displayed on the tattered remains of the movie screen.

Some kind of cartoon character, a blue-skinned bug with a pig-like nose and straw boater hat, grinning widely. The title card which follows reads: “Mr. Ring-a-Ding Goes to Town!”

Not a character or show you’re familiar with, and you like to think you’re pretty versed in old cartoons.

“Oh it’s such a beautiful day! I think I’ll go to town! Yes sirree!” the titular character says as he strolls down the road with the sort of jauntiness that can only be captured by old rubber hose animations.

You only watch for a moment before turning your gaze back to the projector. As much as you’re curious about this old cartoon you’ve found, you don’t want to risk potentially damaging the film. So you’d rather get the reel out and back into its case before something goes wrong.

You have no idea how you even turned the projector on. After a moment of searching, you find a labeled ON/OFF switch and press it.

Nothing happens. The film keeps rolling.

“...What did I just turn off, then?” you mumble to yourself. After a moment of searching, your eyes happen to drift back to the screen, and you do a double take.

Mr. Ring-a-Ding is gone. The camera’s just holding on an empty shot, showing only the pathway and the sign pointing to town. It looks like the show’s been paused, but the film’s still rolling.

Why had the cartoon hung on this long shot of the background? Some kind of joke you’d missed the setup for?

As you’re staring, the projector abruptly switches off…despite the reel not having ended. You glance sharply at it, wincing. It’d be just your luck if you find a working pre-1950’s projector and film reel only to immediately break it…

Before you can think too much on that, though, you hear a rustle of fabric from the theater, and peering through the darkness, you see the heavy curtains that cover the screen are being pulled shut.

“Hello?” you call out. No answer.

You quickly leave the projection room, jogging down the short hallway and entering the back of the theater. “Hello?” you call again. “Brent? Brent, is that you?” you ask, guessing--and hoping-- your boss had come by to check on your progress for some reason.

You keep your gaze on the closed curtain, slowly walking down the stairs of the center aisle towards it. The few lights that are on are mostly towards the back, leaving the front of the theater fairly dark.

You’re just reaching the third row of seats and getting ready to call out again when the curtains suddenly fly open.

“TADAAAA!!!” shouts none other than Mr. Ring-a-Ding himself.

You scream, scrambling back, your heel catching on one of the steps and causing you to fall on hard on your rear.

Ring-a-Ding laughs, though it’s not a particularly mean-spirited laugh. “Whoopsie daisy! That’s why we don’t walk backwards on stairs!” he says with a teasing wink.

“W-W-Who are you?” you stammer out, your eyes wide.

He smirks. “Glad you asked, my dear!” A jaunty tune begins playing out of nowhere, and Mr. Ring-a-Ding begins a lively dance. “I’m Mr. Ring-a-Ding, I’ll make your heart bells sing!”

Your mouth hangs open even further as you simply stare at him, agape, as he sings. And sings. And sings. For well over a minute, which may not be that long as songs go but is certainly a long time for him to sing and dance unprompted while you can only stare on in shock.

“I’m Mr. Ring-a-Diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing!” he belts out the last line, taking off his hat and spreading his arms wide.

You can’t even begin to muster a response.

Mr. Ring-a-Ding chuckles, placing his hat back on his head. “Y’know, usually I get interrupted before I finish the song,” he says.

You make a vague, strangled noise that sounds like a distant, “Uh-huh…?”

He lets half a beat pass before shaking his head, his grin never leaving his face. “Yannow, this is usually the part where you’d introduce yourself. Buuuuut if you ain’t got a song prepared you can just say your name.”

After a brief hesitation, you manage to stammer out your name. Your eyes haven’t gotten any less wide, and you haven’t been able to stop staring at the cartoon man before you.

“Who…are you?” you ask again.

He quirks a brow, smirking playfully. “Oh come now! I just sang about that for a full minute and a full thirty-six seconds! Don’t tell me ya need all that repeated?” he teases.

“Erm--ah, no…” you say. You lean forward, managing to pull yourself to your feet and begin slowly walking towards him.

He seems unphased, grinning up at you innocently as you approach. You stop when you reach the bottom step, standing in front of the stage…barely an arm’s length from the odd creature atop it.

“You’re…a cartoon…”

“Yes indeedy-do!” he chirps.

“D-Did…you just…come out of that film?”

He smirks, waggling a finger at you. “Don’t make me laugh!”

You blink. “Is…that a funny question?” you ask blankly.

“Don’t make me laugh!” he repeats.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I must be going insane.” Not exactly a surprising result, given what Brent has been putting you through, but you hadn’t expected it to manifest quite like this.

“Naaah!” he says with a flick of his wrist. “You seem perfectly sane to me. I’m perfectly real, after all!” he says cheerfully.

You can’t help but let out a weak chuckle at that, shaking your head. “Yeah, that’s just what a hallucination would say…”

Mr. Ring-a-Ding snorts. “Well, alright, doll…ya got me there. Buuuut…is it not also what a real cartoon brought to life would say?”

One corner of your mouth ticks upward in the faintest hint of a smile. “You uh…you got me there,” you say, borrowing his phrasing.

His grin actually seems more genuine for a moment, a bit more warm than his somewhat teasing smirk.

“You’re…really real, then?” you ask. Slowly you reach out towards him with one hand.

He raises a brow, and for the first time his smile falters. Only for a moment, though. His grin returns as he lightly pushes your hand aside with one finger. “Not sure what I can say to that that ain’t already been said,” he chuckles.

“F-Fair…” you say, taking the hint and lowering your hand. Him moving your hand aside has already proven that he’s solid…or that your hallucination includes touch in addition to sight and sound.

He steps forward, hopping down from the stage. You take a step back, watching as he walks around you and up the stairs.

“Well this place has sure seen better days, huh?” he says, looking up at the deteriorating building. His gaze pauses on the hole in the ceiling. A blue tarp is pulled tightly over it, keeping out some of the elements until the construction crew arrives to patch it.

“Heh. Not in my lifetime,” you say wryly.

“Oh no?” he asks casually, turning to glance back at you.

“It’s been closed for over 70 years now,” you say.

“Oh?” he asks again, continuing to walk up the stairs, his gaze turned upwards as he takes in the state of the theater. “Don’t suppose you know why?”

If you weren’t so flustered, you may have noticed the lack of surprise in his tone…maybe even the underlying coyness. But as it is, you simply take the question at face value.

“A fire in the film closet caused an explosion. That’s why there’s that hole up there,” you say, nodding towards the tarp.

He follows your gaze, humming in thought. “Oh, is that all?” he asks, glancing at you sideways.

This time you do notice the coyness in his tone, but you think he’s simply trying to be funny.

“I think there was some other drama around it,” you say. “I did a bit of research before coming out here…but it’s hard to tell what’s true and what’s just urban legends these days. But it sounds like there was some kind of hostage situation, and that’s what led to the explosion. No casualties though, from the sounds of it.”

Mr. Ring-a-ding chuckles. “Well, that’s a relief!” he says, managing to sound genuine, though not particularly invested. “And where’s good ol’ Mr. Pye these days?”

“Who?” you ask blankly, following him up the stairs towards the projection booth.

“Reginald Pye. The projectionist,” he says simply, not bothering to glance back at you.

“The--?” You cut yourself off. “Uh, abandoned theaters don’t have projectionists,” you say, with a weak laugh…not thinking about why he may be asking after the former employee.

He stops, spinning on his heel to face you. “Well of course they don’t, you silly billy!” he says, waggling his finger at you. “That’s why I asked where he is, because he’s obviously not here!”

You open your mouth to speak, then quickly close it again, your brow knitting in sympathy. “I-It’s…been 70 years…”

Mr. Ring-a-Ding cants his head, grinning up at you. “So you’ve said,” he says blithely, clearly having no idea why the point bore repeating.

…Does he really have no idea?

“How…old was he? Mr. Pye?”

“Dunno. Kinda old I guess. Why?” he asks. He doesn’t seem to be understanding the significance of your questions.

You find yourself wondering if a living cartoon even knows what death is. You chew your lip, shifting uncomfortably.

“What’sa matter, sweetie pie? Cat got your tongue?” he asks playfully.

You sigh, rubbing your arm as you finally meet his gaze. “Seventy years is…a long time for humans. I-It’s…rare for humans to live past a hundred. A hundred-twenty at most.”

His smile freezes in place as he stares at you in silence for a moment before simply saying, “Ah.”

“I-I’m…sorry,” you say quietly. You crouch down in front of him and are about to put a comforting hand on his shoulder, when he steps back, waving a hand.

“Don’t make me laugh!” he says, a bit more forcefully than he’d said it before.

You pull back, your eyes widening at the seemingly heartless response. Mr. Ring-a-Ding turns on his heel and resumes his march up the stairs while you slowly get to your feet, stunned.

Is he really that callous, or does he just…not understand the situation? You have no idea what kind of show Mr. Ring-a-Ding had been. Many cartoons from that time never mentioned death, and the ones that did…well, they had a fairly…irreverent attitude about it. So it’s not much of a stretch to imagine a 1930’s cartoon brought to life, would be wholly unequipped to deal with it.

…No more a stretch than “1930’s cartoon brought to life” is to begin with, anyway.

He’s nearly at the top of the stairs by the time you begin trotting after him.

*

Lux leaves you behind without a second thought, making his way into the projection booth. The two projectors are still there, a bit dirty but otherwise the same as he remembers them. Objects wielded by the gods tended to withstand the passage of time remarkably well, after all.

Objects…but not mortals. Not humans. The difference between a year and century is nothing to a god…but apparently it’s everything to a human.

Lux has no heart, but he feels an unpleasant sensation in a place very similar.

He doesn’t like it.

He wanders over to the pile of rubbish and broken wood that had once been Reginald’s desk. Of course, there’s nothing of significance there. Not anymore. Reginald would have taken any pictures of himself or Helen when he’d left. Lux knows that much.

Lux is aware of you entering the room behind him, but doesn’t pay you any mind as he moves to the projection window, hopping up onto the edge of one of the projectors to look out the small window into the theater. Where he’d spent so long watching Reginald and Helen dancing together.

There’d been something compelling about it. Almost more compelling than light itself. Lux had never understood his own fascination with it, but also hadn’t really cared to think too much on it.

As he’s staring down at the empty house, you finally speak.

“Was he…a friend of yours? Mr. Pye?” you ask gently.

Lux tears his gaze away from the window to look at you curiously. He’s not sure how to answer. Gods aren’t friends with mortals. They’re barely friends with each other most of the time. Pye had been a disciple, a minion, a servant.

Yet Lux doesn’t want to speak any of those words aloud. He tells himself it’s because you’d react poorly to them. While he’s not convinced he has any use for you, he’s not so unconvinced that he wants to drive you off over something trivial.

So, he dips his head in a nod, returning his gaze to the ruined theater. “Something like that,” he says, his voice flatter and more gravely than the upbeat, chipper tone he’d used before.

“I-I’m…sorry,” you say again. “D’you…have anywhere to go?”

“Don’t need to go anywhere,” he says shortly. Maybe he should have just endured the boredom for another millennium or two to recover his strength…then maybe he could muster the power to do something actually interesting. He assumes the conversation is over and is almost ready to simply return to light when you speak again.

“Well, you can’t stay here!”

Lux’s eyes flash yellow for the briefest of seconds and he turns sharply to face you, incredulous at your impudence. A human, a mere human, not even a particularly powerful one, telling a god where he can and can’t go?!

He’s about to banish you into celluloid for your insolence when he processes your expression.

Your brow is upturned, your eyes filled with worry as you clutch your hands together fretfully.

It hadn’t been an order. You’re not demanding he leave. You’re worried what’ll happen if he stays.

It occurs to Lux that his entrance hadn’t been as grand this time. A silly little fellow popping out from behind a curtain--not a giant creature emerging from the screen before banishing fifteen people to film.

You have no idea what he is. Well, that had been true of all the humans back then, too, but they had at least understood he was an immeasurably powerful being--something to be feared.

But you don’t think that. You clearly think he’s far more helpless than he is. Do you even realize he’s immortal? Surely not, if you’re fretting about him squatting in some old building. Do you imagine that he’s capable of being hungry? Sick? Cold? Like some feeble little mortal?

Most gods would be insulted at such a notion and would be quick to put you in your place…but Lux finds the idea…interesting. A mortal who doesn’t fear him. Who asks nothing of him. Who thinks he needs them.

That last part is particularly amusing to Lux…He supposes he had been in the mood for a bit of a dalliance, and it seems one has presented itself.

His irate expression softens, and turns his brow up in a tired, melancholy expression. “But…I got nowhere else to go.”

Lux makes sure not to lay it on too thick. He’d made that mistake with the Doctor, though he hadn’t really expected to be able to fool a Time Lord for all that long regardless. So he hadn’t exactly bothered to bring his A game to that bit of deception.

You move to stand beside him, leaning against the wall beside the window. “Well…maybe, you could stay with me?”

The surprise on his face isn’t entirely feigned. That had been easier than he’d thought…Not that he needs to stay with you, or anywhere in particular of course. The grin that spreads across his face is also mostly genuine.

“Oh, gee willikers! You’d let me do that?” he says, keeping his tone suitably modest as his smile turns ever so slightly shy.

“Well, I don’t want to leave you alone in an abandoned theater all night…” you say with a small smile. You frown, tapping your chin in thought. “Though I don’t know how I’m going to get you back to my apartment without anyone seeing you…”

Lux chuckles. “Mmm, I can draw quite a crowd,” he agrees with a wink.

“Yes, I’d imagine,” you laugh, glad he at least understands the potential consequences of just taking off down the street on his own. “Hm, what time is it, anyway? Maybe the streets won’t be too crowded…” you muse.

You pull some kind of electronic device out of your pocket, pushing a button on the side of it. Suddenly the room is lit up with a blinding white light.

“Gah!” you yelp, covering your eyes and touching something on the screen to dim the glow. “Sorry about that, didn’t mean to flashbang you,” you say to him with a sheepish chuckle.

Lux is hardly phased of course, but he can tell by your rapid blinking that you’ve utterly destroyed the night vision you’d been building up in the darkened theater. “Quite alright! Seems you got the worst of it,” he says good-naturedly. “But what is that, exactly?” he asks, leaning forward.

“Oh, it’s my--Well, it’s called a phone but it’s…probably much different than any phones you’d’ve seen in the fifties,” you say, holding it out for him to look at.

“Hmm…” he hums. He places his hands on either side of the phone, turning the screen towards himself slightly to examine it. He knows more or less what it is, of course. While he’s not familiar with this exact bit of tech, many, many civilizations have similar devices. Glowing, lit up screens or holograms, connecting everyone to everywhere, millenia’s worth of information at the push of a button.

Well, maybe not millenia on this one. Not yet. It’s still fairly primitive as far as most displays go, and he doubts the signal could even reach the Earth’s moon, much less another galaxy.

Though he’s glad for your unintentional reminder that someone who only knows the Earth of 70 years ago ought to be impressed by this clunky old tech.

“Oh goodness!” he gasps eagerly, doing a suitable job of pretending this is by far the most advanced piece of tech he’d ever seen. “My my my, what a tiny little screen!” he says. He pokes part of the screen, pretending to be startled when one of your apps opens.

“It even plays videos,” you say, tapping the YouTube app and letting a random video from the recommended list autoplay.

“Golly, how clever!” he pretends to marvel. “Say, that gives me an idea…”

It doesn’t, really, but it presents a good segue to the idea he’d had the moment you pulled out the device.

While you hold the phone, he presses one of his hands against the screen. Even at his small size, his hand is still bigger than the screen, but as he pushes his hand flattens and shrinks, becoming an image on the screen.

Your eyes widen in surprise as he leans forward, and soon all of him has disappeared into the phone.

He grins at your sputtering noise of shock. Humans are always so stunned at the most innocuous things.

You turn the phone around, and see him standing in front of your app icons and desktop background, which is a stylized picture of a starry night sky, complete with blue and purple nebula-clouds.

“Mind clearing a bit of space, honey?” he asks, leaning against the edge of the screen and pointing behind him with his thumb.

“Oh, s-sure, hang on,” you say. You swipe the screen slowly, making sure moving the desktop icons doesn’t fling him offscreen as well. Once you’re sure it won’t, you swipe past a few screens until you’re at a blank page on your desktop.

“Much obliged!” he says, tipping his hat. He turns around, whistling appreciatively at the background. “Shame to be blocking this lovely view!”

“Heh…right…” you say. “A-Are you um…sure you’re okay in there?”

“Of course!”

“My apartment’s about a half hour walk away, is that alright?”

“Certainly! Take all the time ya need!” he says, sitting down at the bottom of the screen, turning away to look up at the stars.

“Right,” you say, carefully setting the phone down so you can sling your backpack over your shoulders. You carefully pick up the phone, moving it carefully as if you’re balancing something delicate atop the screen. “I’m not gonna jostle you too much moving around, am I?”

Lux has to resist the urge to scoff and roll his eyes. Just how fragile do you think he is? Though at the same time…it’s not exactly difficult to pretend he’s moved by your concern as he turns around, flashing a brash grin.

“Aw shucks, sweetie pie!” he says, waving a hand. “I’m tougher than I look! I can handle myself just fine, even on a little screen like this!” he declares, puffing out his chest proudly.

You laugh, and he’s a bit surprised at the warmth in it. “Alright then. Just uh…let me know if it’s too bumpy, alright?”

“Sure thing!” he says, turning back to face the starry background, ending the conversation for now.

*

You don’t mind the quiet walk. It gives you time to process.

A living cartoon. He just came out of the theater screen, then put himself into your phone, and now he’s crashing at your place for a yet-to-be-determined amount of time.

Your curiosity at how he can even exist and how he works has been quickly overshadowed by worries about his mental state. You suspect he’s grieving his friend, even if he’s reluctant to show it. He’s from the 50’s after all--not exactly a time rife with emotional vulnerability, especially in men.

From what you’ve pieced together, he’s a living cartoon who had been friends with the theater’s projectionist in the 50’s. Somehow after the theater was abandoned he’d…gone dormant?  Or something? You’re not sure how that works yet but what you are sure of is that the poor guy has been essentially flung forward 70 years into a world he likely no longer recognizes.

You reach your apartment building and climb up the stairs to your studio apartment. “It’s a bit cramped…” you warn him.

“I’m sure I can make do,” he says easily. “Two-dimensional characters don’t take up much space, after all,” he winks.

“I suppose,” you say, locking the door behind you. “You can come out--”

You’ve barely finished the sentence when he pushes against the screen, his whole upper half emerging almost instantly, bringing his face so close that your noses almost touch as he grins widely at you.

You squeak in surprise, your cheeks burning as you drop the phone. To your relief, he hops out the rest of the way before it hits the ground, gracefully floating to the floor while your phone thuds on the rug next to him.

“A-Are you alright?” you say in alarm, kneeling in front of him.

Mr. Ring-a-Ding steps back with a sheepish chuckle, picking up your phone for you. “Oh, perfectly fine! Didn’t mean ta startle ya!” he says playfully. He checks over your phone, whistling in surprise at the weight of your heavy phone case. “This thing’s got some heft! Why’s it armored up like it’s going to war?” he asks as he passes it back to you.

You grin wryly at him. “In case someone jumps out at me.”

He raises his brows, his smirk showing some appreciation for the quip.

You get to your feet, flipping on the main light. As promised, it is indeed cramped. An unmade twin bed is shoved into one corner, and across from it is a small flatscreen TV atop a stand, positioned in a way that one would either have to lay on their side to watch TV or sit atop the bed with their back against the wall.

The kitchen takes up half of another wall, being little more than a fridge, sink, some cabinets, and less than a foot of actual counter space. A microwave sits on a small, rickety shelf next to the fridge.

A decent chunk of the floor is covered in old newspapers, atop which sit an easel splotched with paint. A small table holds some paints and brushes, but the easel itself is empty.

“You a painter?” he asks with genuine curiosity.

“Trying to be,” you say as you set your backpack down beside the bed.

“Trying?” he repeats with a quirked brow.

“Well, I mean, I paint, so I am a painter I suppose, but…not…really making money off it yet.”

“Ah. ‘Fraid I can’t help you there,” Mr. Ring-a-Ding  says, turning out his empty pockets. A moth flies out of one of them and disappears behind him and he grins sheepishly up at you.

“Oh, don’t trouble yourself over it,” you say easily, waving a hand. “I…do sort of have a job lined up. At the theater. I’ll be painting a few murals in the lobby.” 

“Yeah?” he asks, intrigued. “If ya don’t mind me saying so, honey, it’s gonna take more than a fresh coat of paint to get that place back in shape.”

Your laugh is a bit cynical as you shake your head. “Oh, trust me, Ring-a-Ding, I’m well aware. The builders and cleaning crews are running behind, so the boss--my dad’s friend’s son--is giving me some money to do what I can to get things moving while we wait. And I kinda need the money, so…” you trail off, shrugging.

“I see,” he says, stroking his chin in thought.

“A-Anyway, do you…need anything? D’you eat, or…or need me to set up a bed for you somewhere?”

He chuckles sheepishly. “Well…the truth is, I don’t need food. Or sleep,” he admits.

That possibility had occurred to you on the walk home. That perhaps staying in the theater wouldn’t be as detrimental to him as you’d initially feared…though it doesn’t make you regret your invitation. Surely he’d still be lonely? Maybe even scared…at the very least you’d like to think your apartment is still an improvement over a busted up old theater.

…Though perhaps you’re just flattering yourself.

“So what do you do all night, if not sleep?” you ask.

“Watch movies. What else would ya do in a theater all night?”

“True…” you say with a weak chuckle.

“But I think my first night back, I’ll be just fine hanging out at the window.”

“Oh,” you say, surprised. You’d been about to try to set him up with your laptop, but maybe that’ll be an endeavor for another time, when you have more time to explain it to him. “In that case…I think I’ll get ready for bed, if that’s alright?”

“Certainly, sweetheart!” he says easily.

*

As you go to get changed, Lux perches on the console table below the small window, looking out it. The stars are barely visible--humans have apparently entered the phase of their development where they haven’t a clue how to manage light pollution.

Though that doesn’t bother Lux all that much. The glow of the neon signs and street lamps is light too, and at the moment he’s not overly picky.

He smiles softly to himself, replaying your words in his mind. If that’s okay. Why wouldn’t it be? As far as you’re aware, he’s harmless. Maybe even fragile. Yet you still ask his permission for something as innocuous as getting ready for bed.

You’re certainly interesting. Though perhaps not very sharp. Your boss is clearly taking you for some kind of ride. Lux isn’t a trickster god, but he doesn’t have to be to see that you’re being duped.

Maybe he can help you out with that. Not out of any sense of justice or loyalty to you, of course. Gods don’t need food but they can rarely turn down a hearty serving of comeuppance.

As far as idle dalliances go, you might just be a good one.

[littlegochu]

2am text 2/3│ jjk 18+

"You still up?"

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader (f)

genre: exes to lovers, cold male lead, cold female lead

rating: 18+, smut

synopsis: we broke up eight months ago. mutual, no dramatic fights—just distance and timing. but we made one rule before ending things: no texting each other after 2AM.

tonight, he breaks it.

the room is quiet. too quiet. he’s standing by the counter like this is neutral ground, like we didn’t bury pieces of each other in this space.

i sit on the edge of the couch, arms crossed tight.

“so?” i say. “what now? what did you come here for?”

he shrugs. slow. like he’s still thinking about it. “i didn’t plan it. just ended up here.”

“that doesn’t sound like you.”

“maybe i’m not the same.”

i huff a breath through my nose. “guess we’re both different.”

he looks at me then. for real.

“you are,” he says.

i blink. “what?”

“you’re different,” he repeats. “better. prettier.”

my chest tightens.

he pauses, jaw tightening like he wants to swallow the next part but can’t. “i hate that i didn’t get to see it happen.”

i look away. stupidly. “that’s not fair,” i say.

“i know.”

we fall quiet again. the only sound is the fridge humming and the blood in my ears.

“you missed it too,” he says, voice low.

he’s not wrong. but that doesn’t make it easier.

“we could’ve grown together,” i mutter.

“we tried.”

i nod. “and then we stopped.”

his gaze drops to the floor. “second year,” he says. “that’s when it started feeling like i was dating a stranger.”

i scoff. “funny. i thought i was the one dating someone who wasn’t there.”

he flinches, just barely. “maybe we were both gone.”

“but neither of us left.”

“until we did.”

i press my lips together. “we were kids.”

“we still are.”

i look up at him again. he’s staring at me like he wants to say a hundred things and won’t let himself say one.

so i say mine first.

“i missed you.”

his whole face shifts—like he’s been waiting for that but didn’t think i’d actually give it to him.

“fuck,” he mutters. “don’t say that unless you mean it.”

“i mean it.”

he exhales, and i watch his shoulders drop like he's been holding that breath for a year.

i stand.

his eyes track me, cautious. still as stone.

i take a step. then another. and then i’m right in front of him. close enough to feel the heat off his skin. close enough to hear the catch in his breath.

his hands stay in his pockets. like he’s trying not to scare the moment away.

i reach for his hoodie. twist the fabric in my fingers. “i don’t want to keep wondering,” i say quietly. “i just want to know.”

and then i kiss him.

slow. intentional. like i want him to feel every second of it.

he doesn’t move at first—just stands there like he’s stunned. like i cracked through whatever wall he built to survive being without me.

then his hands rise. one finds the back of my neck. the other slides around my waist. and he kisses me back like breathing hurts less this way.

i pull back just enough to whisper, “say something.”

his forehead presses to mine, lips still brushing. “this wasn’t the plan,” he says.

“what was?”

“i came here to beg for you back.”

my fingers tighten on his hoodie.

he exhales shakily. “but this? you kissing me first? you still feeling it? fuck. it’s better than i hoped.”

i kiss him again, deeper, letting all the ache in my chest pour into it.

“i feel it,” i whisper. “i never stopped.”

his mouth crashes into mine this time—no hesitation. no control. he kisses me like he’s remembering everything he tried to forget. like he’s done pretending he doesn’t want this.

my back hits the wall. his hands are on my hips, then my waist, then everywhere at once.

i arch into him, mouth parted, breath gone.

his voice is low, rough, wrecked.

“tell me this isn’t a dream,” he murmurs. “tell me you’re still mine.”

i kiss him again. “i never wanted to stop being yours.”

he groans—just once—and it sounds like regret and relief colliding.

whatever this is, whatever comes after, we’ll deal with it later.

right now, we’re here.

and for the first time in over a year… it feels right.

part 3 here https://www.tumblr.com/littlegochu/783481552442163200/2am-text-33-jjk-18?source=share

[saturnsag3]

more of your willmack frat au please please please

Last Laugh- fratboy!will smith x macklin celebrini

summary: will and mack have a petty fight, the boys are on mack’s side (obviously)

wc: 3,083

It had started over something stupid.

Because it was always something stupid with them.

Will had been in the middle of planning for the frat’s upcoming fundraiser—already half stressed, half annoyed that no one else seemed capable of handling logistics—when Macklin had rolled into the living room after grabbing a quick snack, wearing Will’s hoodie and a smug little smile.

“You’re grumpy,” Mack had said, dropping onto the couch beside him like he owned the place. “Grumpier than usual.”

Will hadn’t even looked up from the spreadsheet. “I’m busy.”

Mack huffed. “You’re always busy lately.”

Will’s jaw clenched. “Because if I’m not, this whole house falls apart.”

“Yeah, yeah, Mr. President, savior of all,” Mack had teased, poking his side. “But I’m here, you know. And you’re ignoring me.”

Will finally looked at him. “I’m not ignoring you. I’m doing my job.”

Mack rolled his eyes. “Your job is being an overachieving control freak. I’m talking about your other job. Boyfriend? Ring a bell?”

That had gotten under Will’s skin more than he wanted to admit.

“Mack, I can’t drop everything just because you’re bored.”

Mack stiffened, smile fading. “Wow. Okay.”

Will winced but didn’t backpedal. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Yeah, actually,” Mack said, standing up abruptly, hoodie sleeves dragging over his hands, “I think it is.”

Will sighed. “Macklin, don’t be dramatic.”

“Dramatic?” Mack’s laugh was sharp. “I literally came over to hang out, and you act like I’m some clingy inconvenience.”

“That’s not what I—” Will ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “Jesus, Mack, can you not twist every—”

“Twist?” Mack stepped closer, poking his chest now, the bratty smirk gone and replaced with something almost hurt. “Maybe if you actually looked at me instead of your dumb spreadsheet for once, you’d see I’m trying, Will.”

Will’s voice was tight. “And maybe if you respected that I have responsibilities—”

“Oh my God,” Mack cut him off, throwing his hands up. “You’re so obsessed with this stupid frat, you don’t even realize you’re pushing everyone else away.”

Will’s tone snapped. “And you’re so obsessed with being the center of attention, you don’t even realize the world doesn’t revolve around you.”

That landed.

Hard.

Mack went still, expression shuttering in a way that immediately made Will regret it.

“Right,” Mack said quietly. “Guess that clears things up.”

Will opened his mouth. “Mack, I—”

But Mack was already grabbing his bag.

“Don’t worry,” Mack said, smile sharp and fake as glass, “I’ll get out of your way, Mr. President.”

And then he was gone.

And Will had sat there, staring at the door, with the spreadsheet still open in his lap, feeling like maybe he actually had fucked up.

But pride?

Pride had kept him from texting first.

And Macklin’s stubbornness?

Yeah, that was unwavering .

---

Will knew he was in trouble the second he walked into the kitchen and the room went silent.

Dead silent.

Six guys. A bag of half-eaten tortilla chips. A Mario Kart tournament still paused on the TV in the other room. And not a single one of them was looking him in the eye.

Ekky, Toff, Gabe, Leno, Wenny, and Mario—his friends, his brothers, his frat guys—all stared at him like he’d walked in like kicked a puppy.

Will dropped his keys in the bowl by the sink. “Okay,” he said slowly. “What’d I miss?”

Toff crossed his arms. “What’d we miss?”

Will blinked. “Huh?”

Gabe leaned forward from where he was perched on the counter. “You and Macklin. Don’t play dumb.”

Will groaned. “Jesus. Did he text all of you?”

“No,” Wenny said. “He just didn’t show up tonight. Again.”

Leno, sitting on a stool with a Red Bull in one hand and a marker in the other (why?), looked up. “And we noticed.”

“Because we like Macklin,” Ekky added, as if that wasn’t obvious.

Will scowled. “He’s not in the frat.”

Mario raised an eyebrow. “No, but he shows up. He brings snacks. He laughs at our jokes. He remembers Toff’s class schedule and actually asks about it. He knows Wenny’s allergic to peaches. He brought Leno a Squishmallow.”

Leno held it up silently in solidarity.

Will rubbed a hand over his face. “We just had a stupid argument. He got mad, I got mad. It’s not like he’s banned or something.”

“You might as well have banned him,” Gabe muttered. “It’s been four days, Will. Four. And the vibes? Rotten.”

“He’s dramatic,” Will argued weakly.

“Toff cried during Fast & Furious last week and Mack was the one comforting him,” Ekky snapped.

“It was emotional!” Toff said defensively.

“I’m just saying,” Wenny cut in, “you’re the one who messed up.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“No, like—seriously, dude,” Leno said. “You don’t fight with a guy like Macklin unless you’re ready to grovel. He’s a menace, but he’s our menace.”

“He’s not yours,” Will muttered.

“He’s more ours than yours right now,” Mario shot back. “You know what he said the last time he was here?”

Will braced himself. “What.”

“He said, and I quote: ‘Don’t worry, even if Will dumps me, I’ll still visit you guys. He doesn’t own me.’ Granted he was joking but still—“ 

Ekky slapped the table. “ICONIC!” 

Will stared at them. “You’re all insane.”

“And you’re in denial,” Toff said, pointing at him with a Cheeto. “You’re miserable. We’ve seen you watching his IG story’s on loop for hours.” 

“I—what—I’m not—!”

“Just apologize,” Gabe said. “You’re the leader of this house. Act like it.”

Will gave them all a long look. “So I’m supposed to just say I’m sorry and let him walk all over me?”

Wenny shrugged. “You love it when he walks all over you.”

Everyone nodded solemnly.

Will turned to the one guy he thought might be on his side. “Mario?”

Mario didn’t even blink. “You literally let him wear your letters before you even asked him to be your boyfriend. You’re obsessed with him, man. Own it.”

Will threw his head back in defeat. “God, I hate you all.”

“We love you too, Prez,” Ekky said sweetly. “Now text your boyfriend.”

“And tell him he can come back for game night,” Leno added. “We’ll pretend not to stare.”

Will rolled his eyes but pulled out his phone. “Fine. I’ll text him.”

“Good,” Toff said. “And tell him we saved him a seat. Yours.”

“Shut up,” Will mumbled, typing with a scowl.

---

Will stared at the empty message box for longer than he’d ever admit.

God, he hated this.

He hated admitting when he was wrong.

He hated that Macklin had gotten under his skin so bad that the entire house was siding with him. He hated that the guys were right.

But mostly?

He hated that he’d hurt Mack.

He took a deep breath, finally typing.

Will

i’m sorry, baby.

i mean it.

i was way out of line. i didn’t mean what i said.

i was stressed and being a dick and i took it out on you. that’s not fair. you didn’t deserve that.

i know you were just trying to be there for me, and instead of appreciating you, i pushed you away like an asshole.

you’re not an inconvenience, mack. you’re never an inconvenience.

i’m sorry, baby. i miss you. i miss us. please let me make it up to you.

He stared at it.

It felt soft. 

But Macklin deserved soft.

Maybe Will needed to be soft sometimes, even if it made his chest ache in the worst, most vulnerable way.

He hit send before he could overthink it.

The three little dots popped up almost immediately.

Macklin

took you long enough dummy

i was about to make a dramatic post about how i died of neglect.

Will smiled, relief loosening his shoulders for the first time in days.

Will

i deserved that.

you can post whatever you want, baby just come over? 

please?

i’ll shut up about spreadsheets and frat shit. we can do whatever you want. or nothing. i just want you here.

Mack left him on read for five painfully long minutes.

Then finally:

Macklin

i’ll think about it.

you owe me snacks. and kisses. and a massage. and your hoodie.

maybe also you groveling a little more in person.

i wanna hear you say it to my face.

Will laughed under his breath.

Will

i’ll do all of that.

just come home, pls 

The dots danced again.

Macklin

see u in 10 :P

Will smiled to himself, tucking his phone into his pocket.

The frat guys in the kitchen burst into cheers like he’d just won a championship.

“Finally,” Toff groaned. “Jesus, I was about to text him myself.”

“Bro,” Gabe added, “never fight with your boyfriend when we like him more than you.”

“Shut up,” Will said, but he was smiling now.

Because yeah.

Macklin was gonna make him say it to his face.

---

Will didn’t say it to his face.

In fact, Will barely even had time to unlock the door before Macklin was on him.

Immediately stumbling their way up the stairs to Will’s room. Shoving him back against the door, grabbing his hoodie, kissing him like he was trying to erase every second of the past four days. Will let him. He deserved it. He deserved all of it.

“I hate you,” Mack whispered against his mouth, breathless, lips bruising.

“I know,” Will said, pulling him closer. “Hate me later.”

“Fine.”

The hoodie came off. Clothes followed. The apologies got a little lost somewhere between the desk and the bed.

Because yeah.

Maybe Will was making up for it.

But Mack wasn’t exactly being quiet about it either.

---

Downstairs, the frat living room looked like the site of a funeral.

A very loud, very tragic, very traumatizing funeral.

Toff was face-down on the couch cushion. “When I said I wanted them to make up,” he groaned, “this is not what I meant.”

Ekky threw a pillow at the ceiling. “I take back every word I said. Make them stop.”

“I can’t even play Mario Kart with this in the background,” Gabe complained, flinging his controller down.

Leno had his hoodie pulled over his head like he was trying to block out the world. “Why does Mack moan like that? It’s... it’s so specific.”

Mario was eating popcorn like he was at the movies. “Bro, you’re the one who begged Will to text him.”

“I didn’t ask to be scarred for life,” Wenny hissed. “There’s groveling, and then there’s whatever the hell is happening up there.”

Another thump.

Another moan.

Leno whimpered. “Oh my God, is that the bed frame? I sleep in this house.”

“Maybe we should... I don’t know. Leave?” Ekky offered weakly.

“We live here, Ekky,” Toff mumbled into the cushion. “They should leave.”

Mario threw popcorn at him. “You want to go tell Macklin that?”

Silence.

Then collective groaning.

“I can’t believe I liked that guy,” Gabe muttered.

“Shut up, you still like him,” Toff snapped.

“I do,” Gabe admitted miserably. “But not like this.”

Upstairs, another creak echoed through the house, followed by Will’s voice—loud, smug, and very clear.

“Louder, baby. Let the whole house know you’re mine.”

The living room erupted in screams.

“I’M MOVING OUT,” Wenny wailed, covering his ears.

“THIS IS WORSE THAN FINALS WEEK,” Toff yelled.

“IT’S LIKE THEY’RE TRYING TO KILL US,” Ekky added.

Leno flopped onto the floor dramatically. “Tell my mom I love her.”

Mario was cackling. “This is what you all wanted.”

And somewhere, between the chaos and the collective frat-boy suffering, Will and Mack were definitely having the last laugh.

sages thoughts⋆˙⟡: this frat au is kind of my fav thing to write rn so if anyone has ideas or requests please send! hope u lovelies enjoyed <3 (p.s: masterlist coming soon!)