#gets dragged into hell willingly again

[mmixcelbleegg]

No bro nnoooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[dc-gotham-instincts-wild]

Headcanon that Jason just kidnaps his siblings instead of asking them to hang out sometimes.

Sometimes he does the normal abduction thing and other times he has his methods.

Dick: Jason sneaks into Dick’s apartment in Blüdhaven at 3 AM, throws him over his shoulder, and drags him to his motorcycle. Dick wakes up mid-ride, half-conscious, groggily mumbling, "Jay, what the hell—?"

- Jason just shushes him and tosses a burger into his lap. "Shut up and eat, Goldie. We're bonding." (Jason, allowing his big brother to ruffle his hair? Nooooo, absolutely not...)

Tim: Jason straight-up drugs him asleep him when Tim refuses to take a break. He wakes up in Jason’s apartment with a cup of coffee and a sandwich waiting for him, while Jason sits on the couch reading a book.

- “You looked dead on your feet, Replacement. Either you napped willingly or I made you. Guess which one you picked.” (Jason totally doesn't rake a hand over his lil bro's hair during this time)

Steph: Jason knows Steph is a wild card when it comes to hanging out, so he has to be a little sneakier with her. He'd show up at her place unannounced, pretending to just be casually passing by, and in one smooth motion, he'd grab her and yank his little sister into his car or bike before she even realizes what's happening. (He totally doesn't do this in time with hard school, noooo)

Damian: Jason scoops him up mid-battle and just walks away with him. Damian kicks, bites, and yells, "UNHAND ME, TODD!" but Jason holds him like an angry kitten.

- They end up at a rooftop picnic with Alfred’s homemade food. Damian eventually eats while grumbling about Jason's “barbaric methods” but secretly enjoys the attention. (Jason maaayybe ruffles his hair a lot.)

Cass: She just lets it happen. Jason shows up, gestures toward his bike, and Cass just hops on without a word. They go on long road trips in comfortable silence, getting ice cream at 2 AM and scaring off criminals for fun. (Jason totally doesn't take the time to help her with her speech-)

Duke: Duke gets fake-napped. Jason tells him, "Be outside in five minutes," and when Duke says no, Jason still shows up, grabs him, and hauls him into a car.

- Duke just sighs and texts Bruce: "Jason's 'kidnapping' me again. Back later." (Jason totally doesn't get the names of school bullies from him and uses them, noooooooo)

Bruce knows this happens. He just sighs and lets it happen because, honestly? It’s Jason’s way of showing love. And at least the kids are getting along.

Jason kidnaps his siblings because it's his way of saying, "You're important to me, and I'm gonna drag you into ridiculous situations whether you like it or not."

He also, however, does it to Bruce.

In fact, it might be one of his favorite things to do, just because Bruce is always so serious and “responsible.”

Jason thinks it’s hilarious to force Bruce to take a break. He just shows up at the Batcave, probably with some kind of overly complicated plan to "kidnap" Bruce without him realizing.

Step 1: Jason would distract Alfred with a "Oh, just a quick check-in, you know, 'cause it’s been a while.’"

Step 2: He would wait for Bruce to get fully immersed in some case files and then sneak up behind him, tap him on the shoulder, and when Bruce turns around, Jason’s already got him in a headlock, pulling him out of the chair like, "Get up, old man. We're going to a diner. No arguments."

Bruce would protest, of course. He'd probably try to get out of it with his usual grumpy “I’m too busy” routine. Jason might fake-sigh and act like he's just trying to help Bruce loosen up, reminding him, "I know you think you’re invincible, but you still need to eat, Batman."

And if Bruce insists on not going, Jason would just drag him anyway. He might even grab the Batmobile for a joyride (he's always wanted to), making Bruce sit shotgun while Jason drives like an absolute maniac (Jokes on both because Bruce taught him to drive-)

Bruce would probably be scowling the whole time, but Jason would know his dad is secretly enjoying it, even if he won't admit it.

Eventually, Bruce would probably give in and get his grumpy little “dad” lecture��“You’re so reckless, Jason—” but Jason would just smile and be like, "Whatever. You’re welcome.”

Jason totally doesn't like it when his dad just ruffles his hair at some point.

[hirayalore]

SIRIUS BLACK is a lot of things. he’s reckless, impulsive, handsome, charming, the epitome of trouble—yet what he refuses to be is disloyal to his friends, and that remains to be one of the few things that others can at least commend him for despite his questionable reputation.

however, his moral compass wavers a bit every single time he catches a glimpse of you, a fellow gryffindor whose laughter sounds like literal music to his ears whenever you’re near in the common room and whose smile can make him feel things that he isn’t sure he’s familiar nor okay with for that matter.

it’s mushy… fluttering… too soft for a git and well-known casanova like him who moves from girl to girl like a quaffle during quidditch.

but he can’t deny that when it comes to you, there’s an undeniable pull that he can’t seem to shake off no matter how hard he tries. it’s as if even if he makes a conscious effort of not staring at you, or tuning your voice out during class recitations, or choosing to step away when the only seat left in the gryffindor long table is next to yours—you still end up lingering in his mind after school hours, making him wonder what it would be like if he just succumbs to his desires. 

which is wrong. on so many levels.

because peter pettigrew likes you, and if there’s one thing that sirius hates the most, it’s willingly betraying your friends.

so, why does it feel this bloody good to kiss you like this?

“okay, fuck—” sirius pulls away, restraining himself from deepening the kiss and pressing you harder against the wall he’s caging you in. “you—you absolute dangerous little thing—” he tries to complain, but you tug him by the collar of his shirt again, kissing him once more which sirius groans against your mouth to, his head tilting to the side to kiss you better nonetheless.

everything happened so fast.

one second the gryffindors are celebrating a quidditch win in the common room, the next he finds himself standing next to you by the fruit punch that might have been spiked by james and himself, and then by the following hour or so, he’s seeing you flirt with him and he can’t resist the urge to flirt back, not when it’s you who’s smiling at him and batting your eyelashes in a way that definitely makes him stare far too long on that pretty face of yours.

“bloody hell,” he curses, dragging his mouth away from your lips, his forehead falling on your shoulder where he takes even breaths.

he hears you breathe with him, chuckling, before the palms of your hands find his cheeks, softly cupping them and forcing him to look at you.

you both stare at each other, and sirius scans your features—your shiny eyes, the strands of hair that fan your face, the way your lips appear sinful being swollen and red like that, as if begging him to make it worse.

you smile and pull him in for one more kiss, a soft kiss that he melts into and renders him completely helpless under your touch.

when you pull away, resting your forehead against his, he whispers something that one definitely shouldn’t say after a moment like that:

“peter likes you.”

you continue to gaze at him, raising an eyebrow. “what?”

“peter likes you.”

“yeah, no—i mean,” you laugh a bit, your hands falling on his shoulders, “why are you telling this?”

“because he’s…” he swallows hard, looking pathetic or like he doesn’t want to say his next words out loud, “he’s a mate of mine. and this—this thing that just happened between us—it shouldn’t have happened.”

“oh.” 

you don’t seem like you’re hurt by his words. if anything, you’re confused, and he gets why. the infamous sirius black isn’t exactly recognized for taking the high road.

“yeah, so.” he clears his throat and steps back (grudgingly, his feet protesting while he does so), unsure of what to do other than leave. “i’m sorry. i just…”

he feels foolish as he tries walking away. but he doesn’t even get to feel foolish for that long because the moment you call his name, he doesn’t even think—he just stops and turns to you once more, curious on what you have to say.

you’re still leaning against the wall, your hands behind you, and you’re looking at him in a coy manner that his inside feels goddamn weird again.

“i don’t like peter,” you say.

sirius inhales sharply.

“i like you.”

his hands form into fists at his sides, every bit of restraint crumbling as you stare at him like that.

and then with the press of your lips, you deliver the final blow.

“don’t you like me too, sirius?” 

he sighs, the innocence and sweetness of your tone causing him to close his eyes for a moment, further sending him spiraling due to his dilemma of being a good friend or having you for himself.

but then he hears you call his name again, with that breathy voice that he knows he’ll replay in his head for nights to come, and throwing every last bit of moral he has in his system, he curses under his breath and dashes towards you, kissing you senseless with much more fervor and want. 

your lips curve upwards against his and he groans.

“have me wrapped around your finger, have you?” he says.

your victorious laugh echoes in the dark hallway.

gentle reminder: this author loves feedback! let her know your thoughts if you enjoyed reading this fic and you’ll add 100+ points in her writing motivation meter ♡

[starlessnightsblog]

7 minutes in heaven with ...Hyunjin?!

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18+ | smut | wc: 2.7k

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fuck, i shouldn’t of come.

you thought to yourself. you sat on the floor in a dimly lit room in a frat house getting ready to play a game of spin the bottle. your best friend had dragged you out of the dorms, for this? you’d rather be anywhere else right now, especially after making eye contact with him. Hwang Hyunjin.

you two didn’t like each other - that was putting it lightly. He was annoying, arrogant, and everyone worshipped him. you hated that, and he hated you because you didn’t, or at least that’s how it seemed.

after a few spins, the bottle landed on you and …him. your friend laughed, knowing the lore between the two of you, and this round the chosen were to play seven minutes in heaven. was this the demon lord’s doing? someone had to have had it out for you.

you rolled your eyes, but you didn’t wanna cause a scene, you wouldn’t, so you went willingly, Hyunjin leading the way.

after a few minutes, you were already sitting in a cramped closet, very cramped. you were sitting opposite of him, your knees almost touching, though you were trying your best to keep even that from happening. while he looked at you with a cold expression, “well?” he spoke.

you huffed, coming off bored. “i’m not doing anything with you.” disgust laced in your tone, “i’d rather swim with sharks.”

“please,” he scoffed, “it’s not like i want to be here with you either.”

“this is hell.” you sighed.

he smirked, “it’s just 7 minutes.”

“7 minutes too long.”

he leaned over to you, “stop whining. it's gonna pass very quickly.”

you shot him a glare.

“asshole.”

he chuckled at your insult, then proceeded to purposely click his knees to yours.

“calm down. It’s not my fault the bottle fell on you.”

you were clearly not amused with any of this. how he was so calm was beyond your comprehension. you looked up, a warm light hung above, doing little to nothing. he was fidgeting with his rings on his nimble fingers. the shadows casted shaping his perfectly sculpted features whilst loose strands of hair framed his face, his honey skin glistened and lush as ever. it was aggravating how perfect he was.

he must’ve felt you staring because he looked straight up at you. a sly grin appearing on his face.

“are you checking me out, princess?”

fuck. that’s exactly what you were doing.

“no.”

“seemed like it.” he slurred his words, he even sounded hot.

“just because everyone else finds you attractive, doesn’t mean i do.” a lie. “and don’t call me that.”

he tilt his head to the side, brows furrowed and holding his bottom lip between his teeth. he spoke again, his tone deep and low, inching closer on into your side of the closet. your back sank into the wall behind you, you had no where to go. like a mouse caught in the cat’s mouth.

“no need to lie to me. i can see right through you, princess.” he whispered.

your breath caught as he closed the distance between you even more, he was enticing, daunting, was this a test? he rendered you near speechless, your cheeks were burning up, and you hoped he couldn’t tell. you held your ground, wanting to be just as intimidating (failing). though his black eyes were pulling you in further, his expensive cologne clouding your thoughts. you liked all of it, and you couldn’t admit it, or more like, you were choosing not to.

“this is a game for you, im not stupid Hyunjin.” you whispered, your brain felt fuzzy, your eyes hung low, and were draped with lust induced curiosity. your tone not nearly as serious as you words. maybe you even batted your lashes, and stole a glance at his lips, not that.. that meant anything, or whatever.

he smirked once more when you whispered his name. he was enjoying the way you looked at him, your lashes casting shadows that met the blush on your cheeks. he’d gift you the world if you asked him to in this moment, that’s how awestruck he was in your presence. and the way you said his name, he usually only heard insults from you, he knew he was getting somewhere if that wasn’t the case now. he placed his hand on your knee, pushing them down and slowly dragged his hand along your inner thigh, seeing just how far you were gonna let him go.

his eyes were low, focused on his own movements, as you watched, your heart now pounding against your rib cage.

he spoke in a low, calming tone, “im not playing a game. you’re just obvious.”

you scoffed, “and you’re just delusional.”

you attempted to remove his hand with your own, but when your hand met his, something shifted. his hands were much larger than your own, your eyes lingered on them for a moment, they could swallow your own hands whole. you began to wonder how they would feel wrapped around your-

your smile slipped as you came to terms with your situation, locked in a closet with the campus it boy, mr.prince himself. anyone else would kill for this opportunity, not you though, right?

shit.

when he realized you weren’t gonna move his hand, his grip tightened and he edged even closer. he was now sitting between your legs.

he loved the way you couldn’t look away from his eyes now, the way your smile faded. he could see the wheels turning in your head and he held your gaze, but admiring all of you. “if i am, tell me to stop.”

you were able to come up for air for a moment.

“you just want me to fall into your trap.”

and if it was working? then what? but he knew the answer to that, jerk, you thought.

“you’re so use to just getting what you want… i’m not that easy.”

your words were hollow, yet they stung. he held the close proximity anyway, and you didn’t try to change that, rather, your body didn’t, no matter how much your brain fought against it. your eyes flickered between his eyes and his lips, they looked soft… were they?

he held back a smirk, he noticed your glances, swooned in silence. he knew deep down you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. his hand still rested on your thigh, moving it from time to time to make you feel more and more needy for him. he enjoyed that you weren’t as unaffected as you tried to act. “i know you aren’t. you’re the most difficult person i’ve ever met.”

a truth.

you weren’t begging for his attention like others did, he didn’t want you to. he liked the back and forth, he had to admit. though, he had long coveted for you, you despised him, yet here you two were, and at a mere coincidence. you had him in the palm of your hand and you were all but aware of it. he edged closer, risking it all until his lips were hovering dangerously close to yours.

“Hyunjin….” you whispered, a warning. he was winning, but you were too far gone to do anything about it.

Hyunjin’s breath caught as he heard you say his name in a soft voice. you were driving him insane. he wanted to lean in and kiss you, but he held himself back. he needed to tease you a bit more. “yeah, princess? can’t think of anything to say?” his lips hovered over yours as he spoke.

“you’re the one giving it up so easily.” you gave one last bite with your words, shaking your head while your tone and body gave in.

he could sense it all, how your body and tone completely changed. his body was nearly pressed against yours.

he chuckled against your neck and spoke, “just shut up.” he placed small kisses on your neck and collarbone. His hand went up higher on your thigh until it reached your waist, pulling you into him even more.

you held your breath as his lips hit your skin, your nails found their way into his hair, tugging softly. you whispered his name again, your tone needy and desperate. you mentally scolded yourself, what the fuck was that?

he could hear the desperation in your voice, you needed him and it was clear as a day, his name sounded heavenly out your mouth, he wanted to make you say it over and over again. it made him want to do more, to do so much more. he spoke against your skin in a soft, hungry voice. “princess…”

“kiss me already.” you spoke through gritted teeth.

Hyunjin pulled away from your neck slowly when you spoke out those words. he looked at you for a moment, observing how you looked with your eyes full of lust. he didn’t need to hear you beg twice. he crashed his lips against yours and captured them in a heated, hungry kiss. savoring the feeling, and the taste. you were so delicate and soft. he adored it. his tongue slipped in between your lips as his hands grabbed your waist and pulled you on his lap suddenly, his back hitting the wall.

you let out a soft whine into his mouth as he pulled you on top of him, his strength taking you by surprise.

he smirked at that, melting under your pretty little whimpers. as you straddled him, his hands were firmly on your hips, he began to grind you gently on his, in rhythm with the kiss.

and he held you close, like he would lose you at any second, he couldn’t get enough, both your chests pressed against each other, he could feel how hard it was slowly becoming to breathe.

he wore jeans and you could feel everything, the rough fabric easily getting you off already. this was so fucked, yet you were drowning in all of it. the way he held you, the way his hands were slipping under your shirt to squeeze your skin, how he kissed you like he was starving. you couldn’t help it. your hands cupped his face, deepening the already intense feeling between the two of you. you pressed yourself down against the fabric, growing needy for some type of release.

Hyunjin let out a moan quietly as he broke the kiss. he looked at you, breathing heavily, he spoke in a low, dark voice, “(y/n).” he started to run his hands down your waist and thighs, his touch getting more firm and dominant. his gaze was murderous.

he brought his lips to yours again, meeting for a moment but not connecting. you chased them, meeting his again. he kissed you with, if not more, hunger than the last. this one was more merciful, labored. melting every fiber of your being. neither of you could get enough. he pulled back to breath.

“we should stop…” you breathed.

he chuckled at your comment, he leaned in and placed gentle kisses on your shoulder as he responded. “oh really?” he continued giving you kisses up your neck, till he reached your jawline, he looked up at you and spoke, “still wanna stop?”

he was making this difficult, you couldn’t stay in here. someone was bound to catch you. but you really didn’t want it to end either.

“we’ll get caught pretty boy.” your nails traced up his neck.

he was well aware that someone could catch you, that you shouldn’t be doing this at all, but he couldn’t stop himself. he pulled away from your skin and spoke against your ear, “doors locked, we can be quiet?”

your hands snaked past his neck and down his back, underneath his shirt, he was so warm, you let your nails drag softly on his skin. “are you gonna make sure i stay quiet?” you whispered against his ear, leaving one gentle kiss just below it. you couldn’t believe what you were saying, but it was like word vomit, wether you meant it or not.

a shiver went down his spine as he felt your fingernails on his skin and your lips on his ear. he let out a small “fuck” and closed his eyes. he could feel the fire inside of him igniting more and more as your body was pressed against his, your lips on his skin. he didn’t let you speak once more and instead pushed his lips against yours in a voracious kiss. a moan escaped your lips.

Hyunjin grunted against your lips as you started to grind against him again, his hands that were resting on your hips were now fully grasping your ass, he took control. he was breathing heavily and he broke the kiss for a moment again, he spoke in a hot, low voice, sounding very desperate now, “… you’re driving me insane.”

“oh, so now you wanna stop?” you breathed out, you were almost out of breath from the heated kiss. your hands slid down his chest to his torso, and they landed on his belt. he watched you, studying your every move with an ardent gaze, he bit his lip, he couldn’t believe his eyes, all the times he thought of you, and now here you were sitting on his lap, teasing him. he took a deep breath, wanting this so badly, needing you so badly. he furrowed his brows, he took your hands in his, “are you sure you wanna do this?”

and suddenly, you stopped to think.

all of this was happening so fast, you didn’t even recognize this side of yourself. Hyunjin… the boy who was always such a jerk to you, was gripping your hips and moaning curses in your ear in a tiny closet at some frat house. maybe you shouldn’t do this, what were you thinking? he didn’t actually like you, this was probably another regular friday night for him. he probably wanted this to happen so he could brag about come monday. he’d tell everyone how easy it was, how you were the whore who gave it up to him. but when you looked into his eyes, sincerity was all you could sense. you felt like an idiot, you wouldn’t fall for it, fall for him. none of this was genuine. it’s not like you wanted anything more with him. let alone this.

you were telling yourself anything at this point. but every negative thought seemed like a false one. you were confused.

“i-“ you removed your hands, tucking loose strands of hair behind your ear. you removed yourself from his lap suddenly and sat back in your original position, missing his warmth already. “i should go-“

you attempted to stand up, and Hyunjin felt his heart sink as you moved away from him, he reached for you, finding your fingers. “hold up-”

you could only look at him, wanting to cry now.

he was quiet for a few moments as his thoughts were entangled together, not knowing what words to use and how to say it without seeming vulnerable. he wasn’t even sure what he was doing himself. he just knew that he wanted you. he looked up at you, his tone soft, “don’t go.”

typical, you thought.

“that’s it?” you scoffed, “i’m not doing this with you. you don’t even like me outside of here… i won’t be made to look like another whore that got added to your roster.”

you yanked your hand from his grasp and stood up, your hand resting on the door handle.

Hyunjin followed suit, towering over you. your words stung, your assumptions weren’t true, and he could say that, but you wouldn’t believe him. he wasn’t gonna defile you in a frat closet anyway, you deserved so much better.

“i don’t wanna do this here either. let me-“

you didn’t let him finish, “i don’t like you.”

your eyes were soft, your tone shattered. nothing he could say would change your mind now. you hated him, you hated him so much, and yet you were getting lost in his eyes again. they were soft, solicit, lust-filled, and crushed. your eyes trailed down to his lips, the ones just glued to yours mere seconds ago. why couldn’t you think straight? you felt pathetic.

Hyunjin inched closer, wanting nothing more than to touch you again, kiss you again. “i don’t want you like this. let’s get out of here.”

you were hesitant, “don’t-“

and then someone started banging on the door, you unlocked it and stormed out. leaving some very confused guys peering in, and Hyunjin behind.

- end: part 1 ????

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[7-deadly-cats]

killing me softly | 17

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

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

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

✿ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ✿ swearing, suggestive language & themes, hints at jjpope, jealousy and possessive rafe, tension and angst, FLUFF

✿ S U M M A R Y O F L A S T P A R T ✿ at bulk & bloom, rafe fought off suggestive thoughts while you two had some teasing back and forth. later at barry's pawn shop, he told you to stay in the car, but the silent treatment made him give in. inside, rafe got tense when he saw you and barry knew each other. it quickly became clear barry had the upper hand. while rafe was sent to the backroom, barry warned you not to trust him, which triggered a spiral: what if rafe only saw you as a dispensable toy? back in the car, rafe confronted you about barry threatening him, but your passive replies made things worse. frustrated, he eventually admitted he liked spending time with you and wasn’t trying to mess with your head but he still likes the idea of getting to bend you over. you explained how mixed signals make you anxious, and that you needed clarity to feel safe. after some back and forth, you both agreed this could be a friendship. when cara called, you asked rafe to drop you off. he hid his disappointment but offered to pick you up later, quietly worried that sarah might pull you away from him.

✿ W O R D C O U N T ✿ 10.6k+ (oopsie again)

✿ A / N ✿ whew. another super long-ass chapter. a lot is happening here, lots of jumping back and forth but i really wanted to squeeze it all in so i wouldn't need another "saturday" chapter. maybe this whole thing feels a little rushed (especially the very end, sorry for that) or floppy but i srsly wanted to finish it today so you guys wouldn't need to wait for another day but i guess it will have to do. anyway, I SCREAMED AND GIGGLED AT THE ENDING SO PLS LMK WHAT YOU GUYS THINK. enjoy <3

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W E E K O N E // S A T U R D A Y 2 : 3 0 P M

You had literally just a few seconds between the moment Rafe dropped you off and the moment Cara immediately descended on you with Diggory and dragged you to the beach, where a group of energetic Pogues greeted you.

But in those few seconds? Your brain had already gone absolutely haywire and it was all Rafe, Rafe, Rafe, Rafe, Rafe.

Because holy fucking shit, today? Those not even three hours you'd spent with him? Jesus fucking Christ, that was—what—like, no seriously, what???

Just what. That summed it up pretty well.

Rafe, who'd shown up unannounced at your house to drop off your bag and had had lunch with your family. Rafe, who then willingly dragged you out to hang out (okay, under the pretense of sobering you up, but like, STILL). Rafe, who had almost gone for your throat in Barry’s pawn shop just for knowing Barry. Rafe, who'd actually tried to help pull you out of that goddamn spiral in your head. Rafe, who somehow had a shocking amount of patience for your absolutely deranged overthinking episode (seriously, you needed to tell Barry never to say shit like that again, even if he meant well).

FUCKING RAFE, who said he LIKED hanging out with you AND HOLY SHIT was down to sleep with you if you gave him the green light LIKE JESUS CHRIST I’M SORRY WHAT IS HAPPENING???

Just. Rafe.

Oh, and Rafe, who’d also offered to PICK YOU UP LATER LIKE GUYS WTF WHAT UNIVERSE ARE WE IN?! Because it sure as hell wasn’t the one you knew.

Some real life Marvel Multiverse Quantumjump shit must’ve gone down, because this? This day? THIS RIGHT HERE? RAFE!?!?!?!

Nope.

Just no. How? What?!?

This dude had turned your entire brain inside out with a single conversation like CAN WE JUMP BACK TO RAFE GENUINELY WANTING TO FUCK YOU LIKE HELLOOO??????

Like for real now. The fact that you’d even managed to finish that conversation? And without having a full-blown panic attack after what he'd admitted? Remarkable.

Because your brain hadn’t just short-circuit after that, it was shattered. LIKE YOUR FUCKING CRUSH BEING SEXUALLY ATTRACTED TO YOU I MEAN??

WHAT.

Nah, that hadn’t even been you in that conversation. No way. Your body must’ve switched to passive flight mode or autopilot or something because you, just a few days ago, would’ve freaked out so hard you'd have launched yourself into another dimension.

Oh. Hah. Funny. Apparently, you had.

Holy shit, seriously.

But again, you didn’t really get the chance to process any of that truly. No time to spiral, because one, your serotonin levels were sky-high just from how absurdly patient Rafe had been with you today—like, fuck, that alone had made you fall even harder for him.

And two, you’d barely managed to half-say goodbye to him when Cara was already there waiting with her terrier at the parking lot, pulling you into a hug with the biggest, smirkiest smile in the world.

And then she started absolutely blasting you with questions. First one being: “Did you make out?” followed by “What did you guys even do?”, “Why were you hanging out in the first place?”, and “How big is his dick?”

Uhm yeah, that didn’t exactly help your already overloaded brain.

You tried catching your breath after she let go of you with a, “Wait—did I just interrupt something between you two?”

You just shook your head with a smile. “Probably better that you called, otherwise I might’ve actually exploded.”

“Okay, now I seriously need to know what the fuck you two were up to,” she said, eyeing you like a dog begging for treats.

A tired chuckle escaped your lips. “I think we’ll need a separate meeting for that. Wouldn’t wanna keep your loverboy waiting.”

After a bit of back and forth with her saying “His ass can wait” and you insisting “Actually, I need the distraction,” she finally gave in and led you across the parking lot, over the dunes, to a shady little spot where probably the last people Rafe would want to see you with were waiting.

His sister and Pogues.

Well. Good thing you hadn’t been specific about who exactly you were meeting up with. And thank god he hadn’t asked. Otherwise, you probably would’ve had to listen to a whole speech about why you shouldn’t be hanging out with that kind of scum (let’s not forget, last week in Econ he'd said he’d rather shoot himself than hang out with a Pogue, so yeah, that said enough).

ANYWAY. Whew.

You had barely a millisecond to breathe before Cara threw you right into the next interaction.

“Tadaaa, everyone, meet Y/N,” Cara said with a dramatic hand flourish as you arrived at the shady spot.

With an awkward wave and a smiling “Hi,” you greeted the three girls lounging on towels under a sun umbrella, who all perked up with visible curiosity.

You recognized Kiara Carrera: She’d gone to Kildare Academy for a year, a grade below you, and also lived in the 8. Cleo Nash you vaguely remembered from bonfire parties. And of course, you knew Sarah, both from around and, well…from that little awkward encounter on Wednesday at Tannyhill.

All three of them eyed you curiously and with varying levels of friendliness. Sarah had that big warm smile she’d greeted you with the first time. Cleo looked like she could murder someone if she felt like it, but even her smile had something soft about it, like running your hand along the dull side of a blade.

Only Kiara seemed a little... you didn’t even know how to describe it. Not cold or distant, just... cautious.

“Hey,” Sarah said, patting the towel next to her. “Come sit down. Nice seeing you again.”

God, why did this feel so awkward? You were a year older than the three of them and yet, this was just... weirdly uncomfortable.

Still, you sat down cross-legged with an awkward, “Thanks, good to see you too,” as Cara plopped down beside you. And oh no, judging by the way all four of them were now staring at you…

You shot Cara a what-did-you-tell-them-about-me-and-Rafe look, and she just gave you an innocent little grin that said, Nothing, I swear.

In response, you shot her a telepathic I’m gonna kill you.

“I hope Rafe didn’t throw a fit when he dropped you off,” Sarah said with a smirk. “Actually, I’m kinda surprised he even let you come hang out with us.”

Kiara gave a wide-eyed Yep-nod.

Welp…

You chuckled awkwardly. “I kinda... didn’t tell him who'd be here.”

Sarah raised her brows, still smirking. “And he seriously didn’t kick you out?”

“No?” You blinked, an embarrassed smile tugging at your lips. “I mean... he even offered to pick me up later.”

Cara shrieked beside you (Kiara flinched with a “Shit”). “WHAT.”

Sarah chuckled. “Okay, now I’m even more surprised. He knows I hang out here all the time. Literally calls it the rat hole.”

Um…

“A lot of people hang out here,” Cleo said with a shrug.

Kiara scoffed. “It’s Rafe. Are we sure he’s not hiding behind some dune waiting to jump us?”

O-kay. What kind of picture did she have of him?

“More like he’s hiding to spy on the love of his life,” Cara said, and you immediately wanted to dig a hole in the sand and die inside it.

Cleo and Sarah chuckled. Only Kiara raised a brow, eyeing you in disbelief. “And you willingly hang out with him? Like, he’s not forcing you?”

“I... yeah, he’s...” you started, but honestly, what were you supposed to say? An idiot, an asshole, intense, a lot, a total dumbass. No, you said what you always said in situations like this. “Nice.”

Kiara blinked at you like you’d just announced World War Three. She curled her lips and furrowed her brows. “Are we talking about the same Rafe Cameron or...?”

“Kie,” Cleo muttered with an eye roll and a chuckle.

Kiara lifted her hands in mock innocence. “I’m just saying, ‘nice’ wouldn’t be my first choice of words to describe Rafe Cameron.” She raised her brows. “More like brazen or, I don’t know, ruthless. No offense, Sarah.”

“Nah, that sounds like my brother,” Sarah replied with a smile but then turned toward you again, eyes a little more curious now. “Okay, stupid question, but... have you two, y’know…?”

“God, Sarah,” Cleo groaned.

PLEASE.

Camerons clearly had a gene that made any situation instantly awkward.

With flushed cheeks, you shook your head and fidgeted with the strap of your bag in your lap. “Um... no.”

What did that even have to do with anything?

“Interesting,” was all Sarah said, a big grin on her face. “And you’re not, like, a witch or something?”

Literally what.

"Excuse me?" Cara raised her brows in mock offense and gestured at you with both hands. “Do you see that radiant aura? Of course he’s obsessed. No spell needed.”

“Okay, shouldn’t we be asking if he’s the one casting spells on her?” Kiara muttered, frowning. Then she turned to you directly. “I seriously can’t believe someone like you actually enjoys being around him.”

Somehow that was kind of offensive… but also weirdly sweet?

“Who’s hanging out with who?” A dripping, shirtless John B appeared by your little towel circle, surfboard tucked under his arm. A few steps behind him, JJ Maybank and Pope Heyward wandered up too, bumping shoulders and laughing about something.

Also: shirtless… and wet…

Jesus Christ.

“Y/N and Rafe,” Sarah said, glancing up at him with a sweet smile.

John B nodded with an Ahhhh expression like he already knew about it, like, ??? Then he looked at you with a smile and gave a casual wave. “Oh yeah, hey. And he’s not holding you at gunpoint for this?”

“Thank you,” Kiara said, pointing to John B.

“Wait, who’s holding who at gunpoint?” JJ dropped his surfboard in the sand next to you all and planted his hands on his hips. His gaze finally landed on you, eyebrows shooting up with a grin. “Wild day when two Kooks voluntarily show up in the Cut. What is this—the Purge?”

“Three, actually,” Cara said, giving him a cheeky look. “If you count Rafe.”

Now Pope was the one looking confused. “Rafe was here?”

“Not with us, dumbass,” Cleo said, then pointed at you. “With Y/N.”

Can someone just shoot me? Shotgun, sniper, I genuinely don’t care.

Pope turned to you, gave a slightly awkward smile and a little wave.

OMG A FELLOW SHY GUY.

You smiled back and gave him a small wave in return and wow, it didn’t even feel awkward. One fellow introvert was all it took to help you shake your own nervous energy.

“Yeah, we just haven’t figured out yet if Rafe put a spell on her or if it’s the other way around,” Kiara said. “My money’s on the first one.”

“Nah, I’m going with the second,” John B replied, with Cleo and Sarah nodding in agreement.

“How about he’s just smitten with her,” Cara said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

JJ squinted, tilting his head. “Mmm, not sure. Rafe’s nuts. Wouldn’t shock me if he’s doing some voodoo shit in his room.”

Okay, what was going on between Rafe and these people, like seriously?

Pope let out a scoff. “Don’t tell me you actually believe in witchcraft.”

“I believe in anything until I’m proven wrong,” JJ said with a shrug, gesturing to you. “And a nice girl willingly hanging out with Rafe?” He shook his head, lips curling. “That’s gotta be some supernatural stuff.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, amused. “Not sure about that.”

“Guys, it’s simple,” Cara said like she hadn’t just met these people three hours ago. “He’s just head over heels for her.”

OKAYYY, THAT’S ENOUGH.

You barely knew like 90% of the people here and this was not the first impression you wanted—hanging out with Rafe being your entire personality. You hadn’t even properly introduced yourself yet.

“Yeah, um… can we maybe just…” you said with a sheepish smile.

Kiara nodded. “Yes. Please.”

"I don’t know about you guys, but I could go for a snack," John B said, and everyone seemed to agree.

"Bob’s Iceshack?" JJ asked.

John B shut his eyes, lips escaping a delighted Mmmm. “You get me, bro.”

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

"So, why exactly did you want me to come here again?" you asked Cara, washing your hands in the restroom of Bob’s Iceshack.

After placing your orders at the beachside café, the others had already snagged a spot out on the wooden balcony, but you’d shot Cara a more-or-less telepathic signal (aka a gentle kick to the foot) that you needed a quick minute with her.

On the phone, she'd said she needed backup because of JJ but hadn’t said exactly why. And yeah, to be fair, Rafe was kind of right—what did Cara ever need backup for in a situation like that? Especially from you, of all people???

Especially when the sexual tension between her and JJ was practically leaking off the walls. All those two needed was a room and the rest would just... happen. Shit, they probably didn't even need that.

Cara furrowed her brows. "I’ve been thinking..."

Uh-oh. That could mean anything, from I’m becoming a nun to I’m buying a crocodile and starting a family of five. Today.

“Mmh-hmm,” you hummed, in that high-pitched danger incoming tone, pressing your lips together and raising your brows as you dried your hands.

Cara sighed. "Okay, JJ's cool. He’s really hot, funny, and also kinda got this soft side. Oh, and did I mention, he’s really hot."

You nodded. "Uh-huh, loud and clear."

"And like, I know I could end up in his bed tonight if I wanted to," she said, drying her hands too. "God, the things he could do to me... I’d let him explore every direction on the compass with me, like full-on—"

"Okay, too much information."

Cara wrinkled her nose. "But the thing is... I don’t know. Now that the opportunity is right there, like literally one move away..." She gave you a look like she’d just tasted something weird and couldn’t decide if she liked it. "...I kinda don’t want it anymore?"

Oh!

That’s...

Not surprising at all.

You let out an amused chuckle, which earned you a stunned look from Cara.

"What?" she asked, genuinely flabbergasted. "I’m serious. My whole body is screaming for this guy, but my head’s just like, ugh, I don’t know, it’s pulling in another direction." She widened her eyes. "I think I’m getting sick."

"Orrrr," you said with a big grin, "That other direction is called Topper Thornton."

Cara blinked.

You chuckled again. "I mean... it’s kinda obvious he likes you. And you like him too, judging by how close you two were last night."

"Trust me, I KNOW he likes me. I could see the little hearts in his eyes every time he looked at me," she said dryly. "But like... it’s Topper."

You laughed. "Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you almost hook up with him a few weeks ago before he chickened out? And weren’t you the one always preaching how sweet and nice he is?"

Cara’s face twisted into a dramatic frown. "Yeah, I mean, he really is sweet. We texted forever last night, but—"

"Define forever?"

"7 a.m."

Jesus Christ.

"Girl. Connect the dots."

Cara made a tortured face. "Ughhh, I don’t wanna."

"Think of it this way," you said, chuckling. "Baddie and simp duo."

Cara burst into laughter, a soft pink tinting her cheeks. "Great. Now I just want him for the trope."

You both started laughing.

"So what now? Do I spend one night in JJ’s Wonderland and then circle back to Topper?" Cara asked, raising her brows, real frustration in her voice.

You shrugged. "I dunno. I support you either way. Just trust your gut."

"Girl, my gut’s telling me to ditch all men and marry you instead."

You scoffed. "Would be the easiest route."

"The smartest one," Cara corrected, then gave you a playful smile. "But I wouldn’t want to snatch Rafe’s future wife right from under his nose."

You made a tsk sound. "Pretty sure he doesn’t see it that way."

"Oh, I’m sure he does. I can already hear the wedding bells," Cara replied, clasping her hands together like she was already planning the ceremony.

Jesus. If she was already talking like this, she was going to absolutely lose her mind when you told her about today.

But honestly, you hadn’t even processed it yourself: Rafe Cameron being down to hook up with you? Like... let’s be real, you were probably never going to be ready to process that. So, for now, you just shoved it into a deep, deep mental box.

So instead, you just said, "Okay, we should really get back before everyone thinks we both have parallel diarrhea."

Cara raised a brow. "Girl, have you seen us together? They’re way more likely to think we’re making out in here."

"Oh, speaking of," you said, grabbing your bag and glancing at her. "Am I crazy or are JJ and Pope giving—"

"Yep."

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

"Hey, why aren’t we tagged?" JJ asked, genuinely offended, holding up his phone screen.

Sarah chuckled. "Because the picture’s only of our drinks."

"Cold," Pope said, and John B nodded in agreement.

"Y’all need to chill your balls," Cara said while filling a little water bowl for Dig. "Everyone knows you’re just the accessories to these hot baddies. No need to tag you separately."

All the girls chuckled in amusement.

"Ouch," John B said with a suppressed smile, giving JJ a pat on the shoulder. "Come on, man, clearly we’re not wanted here."

Sarah laughed, and Kiara nodded along.

"Pope is," Cara noted. "He’s the only one of you who hasn’t made me lose brain cells with the stuff he says."

And fucking Pope smiled all flustered and awkward and honestly, it was like looking into a mirror. "Trying my best."

"Whoa, nope, thanks," JJ said, grabbing Pope by the shoulders and pretending to pull him away from your group, narrowing his eyes at Cara. "Careful, man. Those are Kook compliments. Blink once and she’s got her claws in you like some Fury."

"Sounds like your wildest fantasy," Cara shot back, sipping her Corona.

Yep. She had clearly chosen to enter JJ’s Wonderland tonight.

"Geez, get a room," Kiara said, eyeing them in fake disgust.

JJ scoffed with a crooked grin. "Meh, maybe later," he said, then guided Pope away from the table by his shoulders.

"Alright, you girls have fun," John B said with a smile, giving Sarah’s shoulder a soft squeeze and planting a quick kiss on her cheek before heading down the stairs toward the beach.

God, those two were actual relationship goals. Each of them alone was already Golden Retriever energy, but together? Just... pls adopt me.

Cara clearly felt the same way. "Can you two please get married already?"

Alright, second time within minutes that Cara had brought up marriage. Like, at this point it was painfully obvious that Topper had her thinking about some things.

Sarah chuckled. "You wanna be a bridesmaid?"

Okay, real talk—how long had they known each other now? Two, maybe four hours at most? How the fuck were we already at personal wedding invites?

Cara’s friendship game? Not to be underestimated.

"Fuck yeah," she said with a nod. "I’ll be the damn church bench if I have to."

You all laughed.

"Honestly," Cleo said with a smirk, sipping on her passionfruit lemonade, "every time I saw you and Y/N, I thought you were typical Kook princesses." She chuckled. "Cara’s got the whole shiny blonde hair, heels at a beach party vibe, and she looks like she’d throw hands with a bitch given the right reason."

"Hey, I don’t need a reason," Cara chimed in, smiling proudly.

Cleo nodded, grinning. "Yeah, thanks for proving my point." Then she looked over at you, her smile deepening. "And you? Shit, you’ve got that Death Star stare, like you know something about me I don’t, plus this whole don’t-talk-to-me energy."

You smiled awkwardly. "Yeah... more like my awkward stare and help-I-have-social-anxiety please-don’t-talk-to-me energy."

"Yeah, that’s more accurate," Cara said, raising her brows at Cleo. "So, what you’re saying is: We give off major baddie vibes."

Cleo shrugged, amused. "That and cool girl vibes."

"These Kook-Pogue stereotypes are bullshit anyway," Kiara chimed in, making a face. "Just like there are bitchy Kooks, there are bitchy Pogues. And just like there are hardworking Pogues, there are hardworking Kooks too."

You immediately thought of your parents and nodded. "Guess it’s always easier to judge than to meet somewhere in the middle."

"Whoa, okay, people," Cleo said, laughing. "I wasn’t trying to throw stereotypes around. I just meant, yeah, that judging people by looks or whatever is stupid when you don’t even know them."

Your phone buzzed in your bag. While still half-listening to the conversation, you took a quick glance at the notification.

And your heart dropped.

Is this guy actually crazy?

"...all the patriarchy’s fault and—wait, where are you going?" Cara stopped mid political rant, eyeing you as you slung your bag over your shoulder.

Feeling your cheeks heat up like you’d just been caught doing something you shouldn’t, you gave an awkward smile. "Oh, I, um... I’m just gonna grab a water. Be right back."

Judging by their expressions, they all knew what was really going on, but they just nodded, giggling and stifling their smiles.

"Tell Rafe I said hi!" Sarah called after you.

Fucking Camerons, man.

Heart thundering in your chest, you thanked Bob for the glass of water and let your phone plop back into your bag.

Okay, so… like, sure, you and Rafe had gotten to some kind of mutual understanding earlier—basically that you enjoyed each other’s company—but holy hell, the fact that he wanted to pick you up just an hour after dropping you off?

Right. Three possible reasons here:

He didn’t like that you were hanging out with Sarah and Pogues, considering his weird dynamic with his sister and the general class war in his head.

Rafe Cameron was actually clingy with people he liked. At least in private. You had skimmed some of his chat with Kelce, and they seemed really close. And honestly? Last night after your balcony talk, he’d stayed glued to your side until the very end. Like—shit—he probably would’ve followed you into the bathroom if you hadn’t giggled and told him to play bouncer instead.

Barry had been right and Rafe was possessive. Okay, no, not like in a throw-you-into-a-psychological-horror-movie way. Not like a dog with a chew toy either. More like... a kid who couldn’t stand seeing his mom give the baby sibling more attention. Ugh, okay, gross metaphor. You weren’t his mom. But your brain wasn’t coming up with anything better right now.

So yeah. Option one seemed the most realistic, but your gut told you there was probably some truth in the other two as well. Otherwise, your brain wouldn’t have gone there in the first place.

God, where was that positive thinking system you’d come up with on Thursday?

Okay, let’s try that:

Maybe he just really likes spending time with me and he’s excited about the idea of having a new friend, so he’s just a little too eager to hang out again.

Ha. Yeah. Sure.

YES, SURE. DUDE. HELLO??? He literally said he liked you, that he enjoyed being around you, and that he was open to some kind of friendship.

Seriously, how much clearer did your brain need it spelled out? (Also, why did you hear this in Rafe’s voice—help.)

ANYWAY. Time to head back.

“Damn, that must’ve been some really good water you got there, judging by that smile,” Cleo said with a smirk as you returned to the table.

Sarah giggled. “Also took you quite a while for just water.”

“Can’t blame her,” Cara added, grinning. “That water’s got some very visible attributes we clearly don’t.”

Kiara sighed, half exasperated, half amused. “We’re never gonna pass the Bechdel test.”

Your cheeks burned as you sat back down, cradling your glass. “Yeah, sooo... I’m heading out around seven-thirty.”

“You and the water got a date?” Cleo raised her brows with a smirk.

Cara went one further. “You and the water better use protection.”

Your brows knit in hot-faced disbelief as Cleo and Sarah burst out laughing.

Kiara just curled her lips. “Blink three times if you need help.”

Jesus Christ.

“I—no,” you said, laughing in embarrassment. “He’s just picking me up and then I don’t know, probably driving me home.”

Cara rolled her eyes. “Sweetie, we all know damn well that’s not what’s gonna happen.”

“And if it is,” Cleo added, “he can turn his ass right back around. Taking you from us just to drop you at home? Disrespect.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Kiara said dryly.

The way she always talked about him made you think there was some history there. Just... what kind?

“No,” Sarah said with a chuckle. “If that was his goal, he’d already be here. My brother doesn’t have the patience to wait for stuff like that.”

If you only knew.

“Okay, I appreciate you guys cheering this on—or well, not cheering, in Kiara’s case,” you added with a side-smile. “But honestly, this whole topic is frying my brain a little, so if we could shift the gears? That’d be amazing.”

Sarah smiled gently. “Sorry, we didn’t mean to push. It’s just, my brother never puts in effort with any girl. I mean, Wheezie’s kind of the exception, but other than that?” She shrugged. “He takes whatever falls into his lap. Anything more would be too much work. But with you? I don’t know.” She tilted her head, almost fascinated. “It’s like he’s chasing you. Even if he doesn’t realize it.”

“Duh.” Cara gestured toward you. “Have you seen her?”

Sarah chuckled. “Of course, Y/N’s gorgeous.” You could feel the heat crawl up your neck. “But I don’t think you guys realize how unusual it is for Rafe to spend time with a girl and not try to hook up with her. He’s never been into relationships. But now—"

“Oh—um, no. No.” You cut her off, laughing awkwardly and shaking your head like your life depended on it. “That’s not—like, no. This is more of a friendship thingy.”

They all looked at you. Deadpan.

Kiara was the first to speak, brows raised in disbelief. “Yeah, no, trust me. Rafe doesn’t do female friends.”

Sarah also shook her head, but before she could say anything, you raised your hands like you were waving off the whole convo. That tiny little sentence from Barry earlier had already sent you spiraling enough for one day. You didn’t need a rerun.

Especially not after you'd just talked things through with Rafe and nearly driven him to the brink of insanity.

“Please. Seriously, I appreciate your concern and support and everything, but I’m actually really okay with how things are right now,” you said with another nervous laugh. “I mean, I...who even says I’m interested in him like that?”

Another round of flat stares.

Yikes.

You eyed Cara, but she just raised her hands. “All I said was that Rafe dropped you off and you'd come to hang out with us.”

“A girl willingly sticking around to hang out with my brother?” Sarah said, feigning innocence. “I just put one and two together.”

“And girl, them numbers are loud,” Cleo added, clearly entertained.

Alright. If everyone already clocked that you had a crush on Rafe...how the hell had he not picked up on it yet?

Oh. Oh no. Or what if he had?

Jesus fucking Christ WHAT IF HE—

“Okay, I can literally see the gears turning in your head,” Cara said. "And the drinks are empty, so let’s go stretch our legs and hit the beach.”

And that was exactly why this queen was your bestie.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

"Huh, you're leaving already?" JJ asked as you slung your bag over your shoulder. "Gotta hit the hay or what?"

You’d all regrouped with the guys back in the shady spot on the beach. And honestly? You’d just hung out, chatted, laughed, Cara, Cleo, and JJ had shared a joint, and it had actually been really fun.

They’d welcomed you right in, super chill and easygoing, and the dynamic between them all felt like a little mini family. It was kind of adorable.

But now it was almost 7:30 p.m. and well, you’d promised Rafe to dip at this time.

You smiled a bit awkwardly. “No, I just…” Am getting picked up by the guy you all seem to hate. “…I already had plans for tonight,” you decided to go with.

“It’s fine, you can say his name,” John B said, grinning as he took a sip of his beer. “He’s not, like, the Darth Vader.”

Cleo raised an eyebrow. “Wrong franchise, dude. You mean the Dark Lord.”

Everyone laughed in unison.

“Okay, okay,” Cara said. “We promised her we’d drop the subject.” She stood up and helped you to your feet. “Now chop chop, Cinderella’s got a carriage to catch.”

She gave you a tight squeeze goodbye, grinning wide, which of course triggered a whole wave of hugs.

First Sarah, who jumped up next and hugged you warmly with a “Have fun, see you soon,” then Cleo and Kie, who added a good-natured “Don’t let him get away with any crap,” and JJ, who patted your shoulder and told you, “Protection first, fun second,” and finally Pope and John B, who said, “Take care and we’ll probably see you tomorrow, yeah? You guys are coming, right?”

Oh right, the open-air movie night.

Cara nodded for both of you. “Absolutely.”

“Want us to pick you up?” John B offered.

“Uh-huh, we’ll sort that out tomorrow,” Cara said, already nudging you away from the group.

With one last smile and a wave, you turned and headed back over the dunes toward the parking lot where Rafe had dropped you off.

Whew. Another wild chapter of today officially crossed off the list.

Now that you actually had a moment to yourself—no one talking your ear off or asking about Rafe—you finally had time to think.

Except… you couldn’t.

No thoughts. Head empty.

No energy left whatsoever. And no, that wasn’t really the Pogues’ fault. God no, they were all basically drama-free, free-spirited serotonin boosters. But the day itself had just been a lot.

And your body? Still recovering from last night and probably processing the final fragments of your hangover.

And the worst and best part? No time to exhale, because Rafe was already there, waiting with his black Benz in the parking lot, the setting sun throwing golden glints off the sleek surface.

Only when you got to the passenger side did you catch your reflection and realize you were grinning like an absolute idiot.

Already hit my peak craziness today, can’t get any worse, you thought as you climbed into the car with a cheerful, “Hi.”

Fuck. Every single time, it hit you again. Those painfully blue eyes of his. Then the scent of his cologne, the now-familiar smell of his car, that slightly unbuttoned polo shirt, and—oh. He was wearing his hair in curtain bangs style again.

He’d had it like that this morning too, now that you thought about it. But you were only really noticing it now that your head was clear enough to focus.

“What’s with the smile?” he asked, raising an amused brow and turning down the volume on the Kendrick Lamar track playing through the speakers.

You shook your head, still smiling. “Nothing, it’s just…” You glanced at his hair. “Too lazy for the slick back today?”

Rafe scoffed and started the car. “Nah, just taking a girl’s advice.”

YOU. HE MEANT YOU. OMG.

No way. Had he actually taken your little compliment from last night to heart? When you'd said curtain bangs suited him more than his usual style?

For some reason, that made your heart race fast.

“You take advice?” you teased, trying to play it cool despite the adrenaline spike. “Wow. That’s a first.”

To your surprise, he didn’t laugh or clap back with something snarky. No, he actually furrowed his brow, let out a bitter scoff, and pulled out of the lot. “Looks like Sarah and her little loser friends are already rubbing off on you.”

You blinked. Was he serious right now?

“Yeah, well I was joking,” you replied flatly.

Rafe glanced at you for a second. There was something—hesitation, maybe—in his eyes. “Yeah, some really funny joke, hanging out with people like that.”

Okay. Seriously? Fuck. That.

You were not in the mood for this bullshit right now.

“Okay, wait no,” you said, turning your body to face him fully, “I don’t know what your problem is with them or your sister, as a matter of fact, but keep me out of it. And, just so we’re clear: I can hang out with whoever I want, regardless of how you feel about them. Plus, if you’re gearing up for some kind of confrontation or Pogues-are-scum lecture, let me out of the car right now. I’ll go back to said ‘losers.’” You made exaggerated air quotes.

“And also,” you raised your eyebrows, more amused than angry now, “did you seriously just call me a loser?”

Now it was Rafe who blinked, clearly thrown off, gripping the steering wheel tighter as he threw you a very dry side-eye.

And as good as it felt to have said all that, to shut him down before the confrontation even had a chance to erupt, part of you couldn’t help but hope he wouldn’t actually start a fight now.

Not now, not when things between you were going so well. When you were at the peak of your… getting-to-know-each-other-project-partner-acquaintanceship.

Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease don’t blow up now.

“Shit, do I look like someone who hangs out with losers?” he finally said, and although he sounded tense—like, tense enough to physically restrain himself from crashing the car—there was an amused undertone to his voice.

Translated from moody-Rafe-speak, that probably meant something like: You’re not a loser. I didn’t mean it like that.

You let out a breath, but your voice stayed firm. “Well, apparently I do. And clearly, that bothers you.”

“Shit, yeah, I mean, why are you hanging out with my sister?” he asked, shrugging in irritation. “That’s weird as fuck.”

You shook your head, already irritated. “And what exactly is so weird about that?”

That seemed to make him think for a second. Maybe you should piss him off more often, then he’d actually start using his brain.

“I don’t know, it just is, okay?” he snapped back, somehow sounding both soft and frustrated.

You just stared at him, completely deadpan. “Uh-huh.”

Rafe scoffed. “Don’t ‘uh-huh’ me.”

“Okay, you wanna know what’s weird?” you said, raising your brows and gesturing toward yourself. “Telling me who I can and can’t hang out with. That’s weird. You’re not my dad, you’re not my mom. And I don’t even take that kinda shit from them.”

Rafe furrowed his brows like you were the crazy one. “What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not telling you what to do, I’m questioning your judgment.”

“What fucking judgment?” you snapped back. “They’re just normal people. And one of them happens to be your own sister. How can you talk about her like that?”

And now the craziest part: Rafe was clearly tense and worked up. It was obvious he didn’t like that you’d hung out with Pogues today, that you got along with Sarah. Like, he wanted so badly to keep picking at you, to criticize you, throw some kind of blame your way.

But all he did was exhale sharply, clench his jaw tight, and mutter, “Shit. I’m not in the mood for this shit right now.”

Okay. Something was definitely off. Rafe Cameron… backing out of a confrontation? Nah. Universe must’ve glitched.

“No, I want to know why it bothers you,” you pushed, surprised by your own willingness to keep going, considering this was probably playing with fire. “I mean, I think your sister’s cool. Shouldn’t that… I don't know make you happy or something?”

Rafe scowled. “Fucking great, you two are besties now.”

Oh my God. This was starting to sound an awful lot like theory #3 from earlier: Rafe being lowkey possessive.

“Cara is my best friend,” you said calmly, though really, you were just trying to outsmart the spiral slowly forming in your head by faking some semblance of calm, “but yeah, Sarah’s probably a great friend, too.”

Rafe clenched his jaw so tight, you could see a vein popping in his neck. His chest rose and fell like he was trying hard—really hard—not to lose it.

But despite the tension, he looked a little lost, like he didn’t know what to say. Hesitant. Unsure. And somehow, that clawed at your chest. He’d been so patient with your spiral earlier, so maybe it was your turn to meet him halfway when he had his little moody episode.

“I’m just trying to understand why this is hitting a nerve,” you said softly. “I mean, Sarah seems really nice and kind to me. But maybe she’s different around you. Of course, that’s not really my place to—”

“She’s a greedy bitch, okay?” Rafe snapped, his tone almost hateful, eyes fixed on the road ahead with shocking intensity. Then he glanced at you—pure rage flickering in his eyes. “She sticks her curios nose into everything, always has to be faster, smarter, better than everyone else.” He shook his head, eyes darting forward again. “And everyone treats her like some fucking princess, like she’s royalty or some shit, just for batting her damn lashes. Even at home.”

His voice had taken on a dangerously sharp edge. Visibly agitated, he jabbed a finger at his own chest. “I’m the one driving Wheezie around. I’m the one who listens to Rose’s bullshit. I’m the one who’s always backing Dad. I’m the one who deserves the kind of shit Sarah gets handed for free. But no one fucking sees that. Everyone’s too blinded by her fake charm and smiles.”

His face, already twisted with emotion, looked almost pained with the bruise still visible on his cheek. “Every fucking person in my life she tries to turn against me or pull over to her side. Dad. Wheezie. Fucking Topper, once. And now you,” he said, gesturing to you in one swift, bitter motion. “And I’m so fucking sick of her always getting away with it.”

The frustration and bitterness that followed cracked in his voice. “Every time she’s about to fall, there’s always some fucker there to catch her.” His brows twitched, and then his eyes finally locked with yours—sharp, bitter, and frustrated. “And I’m just so fucking sick of being the only one who sees through her bullshit.”

You were stunned. Completely thrown off by the sheer weight of what had just spilled out of him. All the anger, the bitterness, the jealousy but underneath it all, what you really heard was desperation. Frustration. A fear of being left behind. And maybe a deep-rooted sense of not being good enough.

And if you had to guess… the root of it all wasn’t really Sarah.

It was Ward Cameron.

Because no matter how hard he tried to pin the blame on his sister, something about the way he spoke… it didn’t feel like she was the real issue.

You didn’t know what went on behind closed doors, of course, but your gut told you: His dad was the reason Rafe was like this.

The way he always talked about his dad, like Ward was some flawless, perfect man. The way Rafe instantly tensed whenever his father was even mentioned. The way he’d completely flipped into submissive mode when talking to a male authority figure—like your dad—calling him sir, being polite to the point it was almost… eerie.

And then, of course, the way he couldn’t hold a normal conversation without posturing, getting defensive, or misinterpreting every neutral word as an attack. Like he literally didn’t know how to express a single honest feeling.

Like that had to be the result of some kind of suppressed trauma.

And this? Rafe voicing his frustration out loud? To you?

That made your heart ache for this angry, wounded boy who maybe wasn’t so stupid after all. Just bitter. And broken.

And as much as you wanted to tell him that Sarah wasn’t the real problem, that he needed to take a long, hard look at his dad, open his damn eyes—it would’ve been pointless.

His hate, his bitterness toward Sarah ran deep. Too deep for you to reach right now.

So you tried a different approach.

Because what he really seemed to ache for was to feel seen. Maybe the only thing you could do right now was acknowledge that.

“If I’d rather hang out with Sarah, I wouldn’t be here right now,” you said softly, heart pounding so loud it nearly drowned your own words.

Rafe's brows twitched like he was weighing the truth in your words, but then he shook his head bitterly, eyes fixed on the slowly darkening road. "You don't fucking get it. That invite to her stupid little hangout was just the start of her bullshit. She always gets what she wants, eventually." He scoffed. "You already jumped at the first chance she gave you."

Let's add Theory #4: Rafe being scared of abandonment.

You fidgeted with your fingers in your lap, taking a slow breath in. This wasn’t just playing with fire—this felt like walking across a paper-thin glass dome, already cracking beneath your feet, threatening to shatter and drag you down at any second.

"But Sarah wasn’t the one who called me or asked me to come," you reminded him softly. "Cara wanted me there. She needed advice about JJ. If she hadn’t needed my help, I wouldn’t have asked you to drop me off." A small, almost amused chuckle slipped from your lips. “Not after driving you this close to insanity.”

That seemed to ease some of the tension in his body.

With a stern look, he muttered, "She's chasing fucking Maybank? Of all the shitty-ass Pogue rats, she chooses him?"

You laughed at the dry amusement in his tone and how quickly his demeanor had shifted. "Yeah, but I doubt it'll turn into a long-term thingy. Topper kinda flipped all her principles upside down."

Rafe didn’t respond. He just kept staring ahead, a stormy mix of exhaustion, confusion, and frustration in his eyes.

It was strange seeing him shut down like this, considering he was always the one with the cocky remarks and sharp comebacks. But right now? He felt like a wolf shedding his skin to reveal the sheep underneath.

“If what’s got you scared is—” you started, but he cut you off immediately.

"I'm not fucking scared, alright?" he snapped. "I’m just not in the mood to waste my fucking time on someone who’s already dancing to Sarah’s tune."

In other words: he was scared.

You eyed his harsh profile, your gaze soft. “Okay, but I don’t get why you'd even think that. I mean, I’m here, aren’t I?”

“The fuck do I know,” Rafe muttered, voice tinged with visible frustration. “Why’d you stay over there then, huh? Or did Sarah send you to spy on me?”

Paranoid too. Fantastic.

An amused smile tugged at your lips. “Well, for starters, Cara was there, and I’d already promised her we’d hang out today anyway. So I figured I might as well knock that out." You toyed with the strap of your bag. “And, even if you don’t want to hear it—or won’t get it—I actually thought the people there were… nice. Welcoming even. To me, at least.”

Rafe looked about two seconds away from pulling over and kicking you out of the car, so you hurried on: “But as friendly as they were… they’re also a lot. Like, imagine a room full of Caras, Kelces, and Toppers all at once,” you said with a soft chuckle. “Sure, it’s fun in small doses. But for someone like me? That's exhausting.”

The car came to a stop at a red light, but Rafe didn’t meet your gaze—just kept staring straight ahead, uncertainty written all over his face. A heavy silence settled in the car.

"And this right here?" you continued, your voice suddenly quiet. "This is like a welcome escape."

Only the soft hum of the engine and the loud pounding of your heart filled the air as you waited for his reply.

The light turned green, casting a glow across the car’s hood but Rafe didn’t move the car. In the side mirror you only spotted an empty road behind you.

Rafe's eyes finally met yours, and for some reason, with that bruise on his face and the exhaustion in his gaze, he looked wrecked. Completely worn down, like he didn’t even have the energy to snap back.

“See, that’s the thing,” he said flatly, his usual fire missing. He gestured vaguely to his chest. “I don’t want the doll Sarah tosses away after she breaks it.”

That sounded a hell of a lot like I’m sick of being everyone’s second choice.

Jesus. This boy had issues so deeply tangled it made your chest ache. All you wanted in that moment was to hug him.

“Good thing I’m not a doll, then,” you said with a soft chuckle. “And maybe I worded that badly. I didn’t mean it like I’m just using this,”you motioned between the two of you,“as some kind of doormat.”

You tilted your head slightly, tapping your finger against your temple as the light turned red again. “That would be a shitty move, especially considering I recently just mentally added you to my friend book today.”

And just like that, the hard edge in Rafe’s face melted. His crooked smile crept back, and the heavy storm cloud hanging over you both finally drifted on. “Shit, you actually did that?”

Was that really all he needed? A little acknowledgment? Some reassurance? It was almost like you both carried the same core issues, just rooted differently.

You smiled wide and shrugged. “Your folder idea wasn’t bad not gonna lie, but that felt a bit too impersonal for me.”

Rafe scoffed, amused, and god, your heart flipped at that familiar sound. “Thinking about it, maybe Sarah can have you,” he said with a lopsided grin. “Your crazy ass would fit right into her fucked-up group.”

A laugh burst from your lips. “You can still turn around.”

His brows twitched, a flicker of irritation in his eyes.

Oh god—no way he thought you actually meant that.

So you quickly added, “But I’d much rather stay here.”

Rafe held your gaze for a moment, his expression still harsh, but the green traffic light seemed to soften the sharp lines of his face at just the right angles.

Funny enough, he actually did remind you of a Doberman—sharp, alert, a little intimidating, but really just an anxious soul underneath.

A loud, grating honk made both of you jump.

“Holy shit,” you laughed, startled, pressing a hand to your chest.

Rafe glanced up at the rearview mirror, scowling. “Fucking Pogue in his shitty-ass truck.”

“Just drive, please,” you said, half-nervous, half-amused, glancing through the rear window. “That guy actually does not look friendly.”

Rafe let out an amused breath as he finally started moving the Benz. "Guess there’s still a little bit of reason left in that crazy head of yours."

And just like that, the energy between you two was back to normal. Or, well—as normal as it could be, considering neither of you was exactly normal. You had a full-blown overthinking-spiral problem, while Rafe... yeah, let’s not even try to unpack those issues.

Still, that one moment where he’d let out some of his frustration—even if it had been aimed at his poor sister—only made the pull you already felt toward him even stronger.

It was like, every day, he peeled back another layer of himself. Compared to the beginning of the week? Holy fuck, that was a completely different ball game.

Where you’d been anxious as hell just riding shotgun to Kelce’s place on Tuesday, now you felt this calm, this ease around him. Rafe had started out as nothing more than an intimidating crush but now? He was just a guy, carrying way too much unprocessed shit, trying to bottle it up in public.

And despite the absolute oceans of differences between the two of you, despite constantly arguing, snapping at each other, and testing each other’s patience daily—somehow, it worked.

He shut down your overthinking, and you drove him fucking insane. Nah, just kidding. (Actually… not really.) You helped him be real, humbled his cocky ass now and then.

And maybe that’s why this weird project-partner-acquaintance-kinda-friends-now-ship was working for both of you.

OKAY GIRL, that’s enough thinking for today, damn. Just chill out already.

And you did.

The sun had finally dipped below the horizon, letting the moon and stars take center stage. Rafe was just cruising around the Outer Banks without any real plan. Kendrick Lamar and J. Cole played in the background, and at some point he even tossed you his phone to pick songs yourself. You caught him tapping his finger to the beat of Tame Impala and Suki Waterhouse, even though he had the audacity to call it ��depressed emo girl music.”

Other than that, the two of you just vibed. Rafe bitched about Kelce and Topper, you both talked shit about Chris Reid and Ruthie, and you rambled on about some design ideas for your school project and how to execute them in collage form, until Rafe had had enough of the school talk and, surprisingly, steered the convo back toward your little beach hangout earlier.

You could tell he was physically restraining himself from crashing out, but he still nodded, showed some (fake) genuine interest, and only threw in a couple minor passive-aggressive comments.

Another small win.

Around ten, you both got the munchies. After going back and forth way too long, you finally insisted on McDonalds.

Rafe nearly cried (no joke) as he squeezed his massive Benz into the way-too-narrow drive-thru lane. Then he almost had a full-blown breakdown when the cashier handed him your milkshake without a lid—because God forbid his precious seats got dirty. Luckily, the lady was kind enough to give him one before the panic attack fully set in.

And once you were in the car? He opened every window and door to eat—because, apparently, the fabric seats were at risk of absorbing “that garbage smell.”

Jesus Christ, this guy was a drama queen.

“You know,” you said, laughing as you daintily picked up a fry, still not over the fact that he actually paid for your order too, “we could’ve just eaten inside.”

Rafe just scoffed as he layered, like, seven hundred napkins across his lap. “It’s bad enough I even showed up here. No way in hell I’m letting anyone see me inside that cracked-out hellhole.”

You seriously doubted anyone gave a single fuck that Rafe Cameron was picking up 9-piece nuggets and a Big Mac meal on a Saturday night at McDonald’s, but sure—let’s not ruin his illusion.

He then frantically gathered every single piece of trash and had you throw it out so no one would catch him in the act.

Then the car just sat there, windows wide open, for ten whole minutes to “air out the cursed stench,” before he finally drove off again.

About an hour later, around 11, a heavy wave of sleepiness hit you. You’d barely slept the night before and had spent half the day with a lingering hangover. Tomorrow, you at least wanted to feel like a semi-functional human.

So yeah, you decided to call it a day.

Rafe looked mildly offended, but truth be told, he seemed ready to pass out too. That didn’t stop him from taking the longest, most unnecessary detour ever (clingy Rafe confirmed) before finally pulling into your parents’ driveway half an hour later.

“Thanks for the ride. And the food,” you said when the engine shut off and everything went quiet.

Rafe let out a breath, half amused. “Pretty sure you can’t even legally call that crap food.”

“You sure didn’t hesitate with those nuggets, though,” you teased, smiling.

“Protein,” was all he mumbled in response.

You laughed softly. “Sure.” Then unbuckled and slung your bag over your shoulder. “Okay, well... uh... I guess I’ll...” OH GOD WHAT WERE YOU SUPPOSED TO SAY.

Last night you’d been absolutely wasted so you hadn’t given a single shit, but now??? Awkward silence GO.

“Wait, I’ll get the door,” Rafe mumbled, unbuckling too. “Don’t want your dad kicking my ass because I didn’t open it for you.”

You looked at him in disbelief, amused. “He’s definitely already asleep.”

Rafe opened his door with a frown. “Not risking another fucking bruise.”

You felt this weird, fluttery feeling in your chest and stomach as he walked over to your side and actually opened the door for you. Clutching your bag strap, you got out with a quiet, “Thanks.”

With a soft thud, Rafe shut the car door behind you.

“So,” Rafe said flatly, “do I have a sniper’s red dot on my forehead yet?”

You chuckled. “He was a combat medic, not a sniper.”

“And now chief physician,” Rafe said deadpan. “Pretty sure he’s got some shady connections and could get my doctor to prescribe me something lethal.”

You laughed again. “Alright, I better head inside before you start spouting more half-asleep conspiracy theories.”

“I’m wide awake,” he chuckled. “You need me to walk you to the door or you got this?”

You glanced at the door and nodded, your brows furrowed. “Dunno, what if some Pogue’s lurking behind the bushes?”

Rafe let out a dry “Fucking hilarious,” and then PUT HIS HAND ON YOUR BACK TO GENTLY STEER YOU TOWARD THE DOOR.

ALARM ALARM ALARM ALARM.

Exactly six steps later, he dropped his hand. “I’m not tucking you in though,” he said, and of course added with a crooked grin, “Unless you’re scared of sleeping alone.”

UM. HELPPPPPPPPPP.

A half-embarrassed, half-anxious laugh escaped your throat, your chest and neck heating up, and you shook your head. “I think I’ll manage, thanks.”

“Aight,” he said. And then—something shifted in his usual cocky posture. It could almost be interpreted as hesitation. Or nerves.

Okay, guess you had to say something now.

“You’ve got something on your mind,” you said, amused.

“Nah, I just…” He scratched his chin, his face twisting into a grimace. “I went to the gas station earlier after I dropped you off. Had to fill up my car.”

You nodded. “Sounds like something you’d do at a gas station.”

Rafe let out a shaky breath, followed by a “No shit, smartass,” the corner of his mouth twitching up in the faintest smile. “Okay, I just—when I was at the checkout, you know how they always have those shelves full of random dumb crap?”

“Gas station core,” you replied deadpan, trying to mask the way your nerves were absolutely going crazy, BECAUSE RAFE BEING NERVOUS ONLY MADE YOU TEN TIMES MORE NERVOUS.

Rafe looked at you with furrowed brows. “Yeah, and they had that dumb horse merch, that—what’s it called, that damn cartoon?”

“My Little Pony?”

He nodded impatiently. “Yeah, maybe. Whatever.” His hand slipped into his pocket. Then he pulled out a palm-sized yellow-pink plastic bag. “Anyway, figured your fucked-up brain might need this. All that stuff you said earlier about needing clarity and shit like that.”

He held it out to you, a smile on his face that didn’t quite match his usual cockiness. “Didn’t craft it myself though, but guess it’ll do.”

[system shutting down, please consider doing a backup]

…

DBJKHKSUEGFBVMLCDMCDJVGFSDWODJFDNCJKFLSÖ;XNAAGHDFSMDS;KMKSXKDWHATWHATWHATWHATWHAT

WHAT.

Your heart was pounding, nerves threatening to explode, adrenaline ready to hand you a goddamn stroke.

THIS. OH MY FUCKING GOD.

You probably looked like a complete idiot—lips slightly parted, eyes wide, just straight up staring at the thing in his hand.

You had no idea what to say or do. Despite the crooked smile on his face, Rafe looked way too serious for this to be a joke.

“Shit, take it already. I can see the minions in your head running around in panic,” he said and basically forced the bag into your hands.

You took it and stared, baffled. A smiley Fluttershy was printed on the front, surrounded by pastel pink hearts and yellow stars. And right under the big-ass MLP logo, in bold letters, it said: “Friendship Bracelet for the Fluttershy in your life.”

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP EXPLODING DYING REBOOTING.

MENTALLY JUMPING OFF A CLIFF.

Actually physically vibrating.

Okay. Okay. You needed to get a grip before you actually combusted or—holy shit—started crying for absolutely no reason.

Your eyes met his again, adrenaline surging through every damn corner of your body. “That’s... I don’t even... thank you, that’s really sweet.”

“Jesus, please don’t thank me for spending money on that shit,” he scoffed, stepping closer, his finger tapping the plastic. “And look, it says ‘friendship bracelet’. Not ‘I’m-trying-to-get-in-your-pants-or-use-you-for-a-hookup bracelet’.”

His intense blue eyes locked onto yours, and holy shit HE WAS CLOSE CLOSE. He tapped his own head. “That clear enough for your crazy brain? Or is there still some stupid little minion in there running his mouth? ‘Cause if so, I’ll knock the little shit out myself.”

Even though you were massively taken aback by this incredibly and unexpectedly sweet gesture, you somehow managed a laugh. “No, I think that should do it.”

Rafe let out a strained breath. “Jesus Christ. Fucking finally.”

You smiled, cheeks hot. “Where’s yours?”

“What?”

“Your bracelet,” you said, amused at his baffled expression. “Friendship bracelets only make sense if both people wear them.”

Rafe gave you a blank stare. “Shit. Wait, what? You actually wanna wear that?”

“Yeah, why not?” you chuckled. “You bought it for me, might as well put it to use.”

Rafe scoffed. “That crap didn’t even cost five dollars.”

“And?”

“And it was clearly just meant to make a point. Didn’t actually expect you wanting to wear that shit."

“Okay well, let me at least see what it looks like,” you said, tearing the little bag open.

And—holy shit.

You’d expected some hideous, oversaturated, cringey kid bracelet with plastic hearts and cursed Fluttershy charms but this was actually ridiculously cute. And definitely not sized for a child’s wrist.

A silver chain with pastel-colored hearts, flowers, and beads dangled between little silver charms: a butterfly, a key—OH MY GOD.

“It’s cute,” you said, grinning as you looked at him. “I like it.”

Rafe scowled dramatically, raising a brow. “Lemme guess, you want me to put it on for you.”

DKFJHSDHFBVJDLNSKADNVJSDFKLS YES PLEASE.

“That’d be nice,” you said quietly, handing him the bracelet.

You held out your arm, and Rafe stepped even closer, wrapping the bracelet around your wrist from underneath. His fingers brushed against your skin as he clumsily fumbled with the clasp, his expression focused like he was defusing a bomb.

You couldn’t even laugh at how badly he was struggling with a literal children’s bracelet because your heart was pounding so loud, your breathing had basically stopped because you could feel his warm breath on your wrist.

“Fucking hell, what is this shitty-ass clasp,” he muttered, brows pulled together in frustration. But finally he managed to close it, letting out a breath like he’d just survived a 24-hour brain surgery.

“Thanks,” you said as he stepped back, your eyes dropping to the bracelet and the tiny little charms dangling from it. You were smiling like an idiot. “It’s actually really pretty.”

Rafe looked at you like he was now absolutely convinced you belonged in the ‘mentally unstable’ section. “Shit, well, I guess as long as it spares me from another long-ass conversation.”

You let out a soft chuckle. “Maybe on that topic, but I can’t make any promises in general.”

“Aight,” he said, making a hush motion with his hand. “Better get inside before I regret buying that crap.”

“Okay,” you said, probably still grinning like a dumb idiot. And then—you took a step forward, courage powered by a serotonin overdose, and hoped to EVERYTHING ABOVE he would catch the signal and not turn this into the most awkward goodbye of your life.

AND HE GOT IT.

Rafe stepped forward too, immediately wrapping his arms around you. Your own found their way around his neck. The little bracelet jingled between you, and you actually giggled like a total idiot because of this. This was everything and more.

His warm body pressed against yours, the scent of his cologne, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back—SJDHAKJDHKDJWH.

When you both pulled away, you were smiling at each other like two hopelessly dumb idiots. And of course, this dumb idiot in particular had to ruin it with some stupid comment.

Rafe nodded toward your wrist. “Try not to think about me when you—”

“Mh-hm, good night.”

He laughed, boyish and smug. “Aight. Sweet dreams.”

With that, he turned around, and you let out the most tension-filled breath of your entire life. Because what. the actual. fuck. Like--

“Oh, and you’re coming tomorrow, right?”

You looked up while digging for your keys. “What?”

“That shitty-ass open air thing,” Rafe said. “Topper’s driving, so you can get wasted again if you want.”

Oh. Now it was fine that you were riding with Topper? This guy made zero sense.

“Um, yeah... can we discuss that tomorrow?” you asked with a sheepish smile. “I still have to check in with Cara.”

Rafe’s brows twitched, but he nodded.

You exchanged one last round of goodnights, and finally—finally—you made it into your house. Without overthinking, you went straight to your room, shut the door, and collapsed onto your bed with the biggest motherfucking grin on your face.

And without even letting yourself process what kind of batshit insane day this had been, you knew you had to text Cara. Or rather, send a voice memo. And then tomorrow morning you’d have to suffer through like a thousand delusional, chaotic messages in response.

But when you opened your messaging app, a final (hopefully final) surprise of the day was already waiting for you.

You sighed, now LITERALLY completely finished for today. But just as you were about to switch your phone to airplane mode and get ready for bed—this:

You immediately put your phone into airplane mode, shut that thing off and tossed it onto your nightstand. Then you quickly got into your pyjama set, brushed your teeth and hurried back into bed.

Tucking yourself comfortably into the blankets, you force-shut your eyes and tried to ignore your thundering heart.

Your head was FULL. Like it had reached maximum capacity and workload today. AND NOW RAFE WAS BACK AGAIN WITH HIS CHEEKY LITTLE MESSAGES AND THAT CRAZILY GOOD LOOKING MIRROR SELFIE, GOOD HEAVENS HELP ME.

And that after he'd claimed--

NOPE. NO SPIRALING NOW. No overthinking, no questioning, no coming up with theories.

Absolutely not.

Rafe’s a flirty guy. He literally said so himself. And he was right, flirting didn't have to lead to anything. Plus, he just gifted you a freaking friendship bracelet like twenty minutes ago. So you’re not going to ruin your happy little bubble again.

That’s it for today. Tomorrow you’ll have plenty of time for unnecessary mental gymnastics and whatnot.

Brain, shut up now. Good night.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

EXTRA SCENE rafe buying reader the bracelet at the gas station

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

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

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[hrts4nagi]

best friends brother!

my best friend's brother is the one for me!

pairing :: itoshi sae x gn!reader (short implied)

synopsis :: third year of high school and graduation is right around the corner! you have so many great and upcoming things up ahead. some planned and some unplanned.

what definitely wasn’t planned was falling for itoshi sae, more commonly known as your best friend’s brother.

what a way to break the pact.

wc :: 2.3k

extra :: i love the victorious sound track!!!! p.s listen to best friend's brother for a better experience :>

the best friend pact - rules:

#1 - always be happy for each other

#2 what was number two again?

#3 - do not fall for your itoshi sae

SUCCESS FAILED

shit.

well, to be completely fair it’s not like you meant to fall for itoshi sae right? it’s not like you were always searching for him as soon as you entered the room. it’s not like you didn’t mean to get lost in his gorgeous teal eyes. or the way you’d get sneak a peek at his abs whenever he had to wipe the sweat from his forehead.

who am i kidding?

you’re completely, utterly, hopelessly in love with itoshi sae. did i mention he was your best friend’s brother?

who knew a pact made 12 years ago would be the sole cause of your distress?

the rules have gotten fuzzy over the years but the one clear rule rin emphasized every time was to not fall for sae. he claimed it was because they have the same eyes, eyelashes, and name. he thinks it would be the equivalent of you dating him.

and he does not like the sound of that.

-

“reo i’m so screwed!” you flop onto his king-sized mattress rolling around face covering your eyes.

“hey! at least change out of your uniform before rolling around in my bed.” he scolds.

you stuck out your tongue at him in response earning a scoff back. “i wish i could lay here all day," you sigh contently.

“that’s what i’ve been saying,” you yelp not noticing the white-haired boy under the covers.

gasping, you clutch your chest in shock. “what the hell, nagi? have you been here this whole time?”

“yah, you woke me up the second you landed on me.”

he rubs his eyes before sitting up. “hey, y/n while you’re here can you make those buldak noodles you always make? i really want something spicy."

“yeah sure, reo do you still any packets left?”

he sighs before pulling some out of the cabinet. “only for you guys.”

you slide a bowl over to nagi and reo. you lean onto the counter awaiting their response, tapping your fingers in anticipation.

“so what's up with ya?”

“stop eating with your mouth full.”

“it's sae.” you frown taking a seat at the counter across from the two.

nagi perks up his head. “oh, so you finally confessed to him?"

you slam your head down onto the counter in frustration.

“i'm taking that as a no.”

you slightly raise your head up to make eye contact with the two. “what do i do? if i act on my feelings, rin will kill me! falling for his older brother is the ultimate betrayal.”

“i don't think you're betraying him, per se,” reo defends. “think of it more like bending the rules a bit!”

“i'm completely breaking the rules reo. the golden rule for that matter!” you argue.

“huh, well that's unfortunate.”

-

study sessions at rin’s was commonplace. having a terrible habit of bad time management and being a professional procrastinator, rin dragged you willingly forcefully to his house after school, to get all the studying done. but don't worry, it came with perks!

#1: free tutor

#2: free snacks

#3: getting an occasional glimpse of sae

"for english, there's a lot of words that have a silent-"

rin's words drown out as you begin daydreaming. losing complete track of rin's current lesson, you turn your head towards the backyard, where you see sae dribbling the ball outside. watching his figure run by every other second.

“you know if you’re gonna stare at my brother, can you at least do it when i’m not in the general vicinity?” rin deadpanned.

“i wasn’t oggling at sae,” raising up your arms in defense.

rin raised an eyebrow at your choice of words. “what was i talking about then?”

“uhm,” you ponder attempting to trace back your steps. crap. you were way too focused watching sae to even comprehend what rin was saying. the lesson is completely bleary in your mind.

“about our upcoming exam right!” rin lightly smacked your head with his notebook in response. you rub the area he hit before looking at him with a pout.

“wrong, i was talking about my upcoming game which you’re going to. right?” rin points his pencil at you accusingly.

“yup! wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

you nestle back into the couch trying to regain focus on the question in front of you. unfortunately, your mind began to wander elsewhere. every time you close your eyes to think of the solution of the equation, the image of sae would flash in your head.

first, you'd see his deep teal eyes, donned with his infamous bottom eyelashes. you swear you could get lost in them all day. next, the shaggy magenta hair that managed to look 100x better when styled down.

what were you doing? aren't you supposed to be studying?

you shut your textbook quickly, startling rin in the process.

“i’ll be back, i think i need a drink.” rin nods in response as you usher to the kitchen.

you sigh looking down at the glass of water, swishing it around. unaware, you turn without realizing there was someone in your pathway. colliding with a hard chest as the glass shatters to the kitchen floor.

you crossed your fingers hoping you didn't bump into last first person you wanted to see.

“woah careful.”

there stands itoshi sae. you notice his hair being slightly damp, presumably from the exercise drills he just completed. you snap out of it, realizing you were staring at him longer than necessary.

“shit, i’m sorry,” you bend down to pick up the broken glass, before you even get the chance to, sae gently swats your hand away.

“careful. don’t want you to hurt yourself,” your cheeks burn at the subtle contact.

he cranes his neck towards you, making eye contact. “it’s okay, i’ll clean it up myself.”

sae slips off his hoodie but not before you take a quick peek at his toned stomach.

you were definitely no better than a man the way you shamelessly watched him. he glances at you while raising an eyebrow before turning away to avoid eye contact once more.

“well, it was nice running into you! sorry about the glass, i have to go back to studying!” you hurry out of the kitchen before sae can even respond.

returning to the living room, rin is surprised to see you all flustered and sweaty. “what happened with you?”

“nothing!”

rin raises an eyebrow, not entirely convinced. unconcerned, he turns back to his notebook reviewing the material.

-

you swear itoshi sae is doing this on purpose.

every time you're over, you always find yourself in lucky terrible predicaments. last week, you wandered into a seemingly empty bathroom to be met with a shirtless sae. a single towel wrapped around his waist, leaving little to no imagination.

and what does he do?

he tilts his head at you and continues to brush his teeth, as if you were never there in the first place. when you return to rin’s room, even he's concerned that you might be coming down with a fever from how flushed you were.

just yesterday, you were aiming for a glass on the top shelf. before you knew it, sae was behind you pressing his chest onto your back. he was so close that you could feel the warmth emitting from him and the fresh, crisp scent of his cologne.

it was intoxicating.

nonchalantly, he reminded you to be careful next time as he handed you the glass and walked away. you were left blinking at the action.

itoshi sae was driving you crazy. scratch that, insane. you absolutely had no idea what to do about it.

you think it's absolutely infuriating how itoshi sae remains perfect and composed, sporting the same deadpanned look every time.

meanwhile, you're left a stuttering, blushing mess from each and every interaction. you swear you want to punch his face the next time. (you wouldn't dare to ruin his pretty face)

-

“hey, can you do me a huge favor?”

itoshi rin never asks for favors.

stunned, you continue to listen along, wondering what he has to say.

"you're not going to ask me to kill anyone are you? did isagi really piss you off that bad?"

rin flicks your forehead with irritation.

“sae’s down with a fever," he starts. "neither my mom or i are able to tend to his needs cause of our schedules. you don't have anything to do this afternoon right?”

you slowly nod.

“cool, all you have to do is serve him leftovers my mom left on the stove and make sure he takes his medicine. after that, you're free to go.”

-

you could not do this.

standing in front of the itoshi household suddenly felt foreign to you. a sense of dread washes over you at the thought of the current situation.

what's the worse that can happen being alone with sae?

you didn't want to give it a second thought.

after twenty minutes of back and forth, you managed to enter the kitchen to prepare sae's meal. it didn't take too long, it was a quick and simple task. though, you're unsure why you ended up missing the bowl once or twice, having to clean up the mess.

the tray settled on your hands became ten times heavier from the nerves coursing through your body. you make your way to second floor, your legs feel like jelly. you sure hope none of the sweat droplets from your forehead fell into the soup. mustering enough courage, you lift a hand to the door and softly knock.

“sae?”

there's a moment of silence.

“come in.”

you enter the older itoshi’s room. you watch as he slowly sits up. prominent bags under his eyes, a flushed face, and weak deameanor. not to mention, the complete lack of color from his face. this looked nothing like the sae you know.

"hey, how are you feeling?"

"like absolute shit." you chuckle from his remark.

"sorry that was a stupid question."

you make your way towards the side of his bed, tray still in hand. being extra careful to ensure the contents of the bowl don't spill.

"do you think you're able to eat?" you stretch out the tray as an offer.

"my throat is killing me but i'll just suck it up, i have to take medicine anyway."

you place the back of your hand to sae's forehead, eyes widening at the heat. his face was hot to the touch.

"yikes, you really are burning up."

all sae could do was nod weakly in response. a frown replaced your expression. seeing sae in such a state tugged at your heartstrings.

"i can feed you so you can save your energy?"

sae nods once again.

he hopes you mistake the flush of his face from being sick, not one of revealing his feelings.

carefully, you lightly blow onto the soup, gesturing sae to open his mouth. he complies, opening enough for you to slip the spoon in. soon enough, he finishes his meal. he takes his medicine shortly after.

"almost done! let me go get a new rag for your forehead and then i'll leave you to rest," you smile softly, turning to exist his room before he latches onto your wrist.

“wait, don't go.”

you whip your head back so fast you're sure you have whiplash. gently, sae pulls you towards him. all you can do is let him lead you closer and closer.

this was so unlike sae.

“stay with me? please.”

itoshi sae never pleads. who were you to deny such a request?

you pull up a chair from his desk and take place to the side of his bed once more. the two of you share a moment a silence, basking into the

“never knew you were the type to be so clingy,” you tease.

sae doesn't even have the energy to throw you one of his usual glares. instead, he grabs your hand once more bringing it up to his chest. shocked from the gesture, you attempt to bring your hand back towards you but to no avail. sae has other plans.

“what are you doing?”

“i'm showing you what you're doing to me.”

your eyes widen at the unexpected confession. you're sure your face is beet red. your heartbeat feels so loud you wouldn't be surprised if sae can hear the rhythm of your heart.

"wait, sae i can't! it's one of rin and i's rules."

he scoffs hearing the mention of the younger itoshi. he composes himself despite being sick to make his actions loud and clear.

“i don't care. rules were meant to be broken anyway.”

in a swift motion, sae drags you from previous seated position to under the covers with him. you gasp from the abrupt action. he buries his head into your neck, softly inhaling the scent of your perfume.

you comply as your hand makes it way to the top of his head. you scratch light shapes into his scalp earning a sigh of contentment from sae.

"if you get me sick, im going to kill you."

"yeah yeah."

guess his plan worked out after all.

-

bonus:

“huh? what pact?”

you gape at rin. surely, he didn't forget. right?

“the pact we made when we were 5? that pact? the best friend pact?”

all rin does is blink at you.

“doesn't ring a bell."

“you're joking right? please tell me you're joking.”

“i can assure you i'm not.”

you face palm before returning to meet rin’s eyes once more. “so, you really don't care that i'm dating sae?”

“oh that's great news actually, i was wondering when you'd finally make a move.” he shrugs.

“what? so you knew!”

“how could i not? you weren't exactly subtle about it.”

"so, you're not gonna kill me for dating sae?"

"no, i'm livid."

you can feel a sweat drop trickle down your forehead. rin releases a breath before speaking again.

"but, you seem happier with him. i guess. so, i don't really mind." rin ruffles the top of your head as you continue the way to your second home, the itoshi household.

☆.

a/n :: rin is a 10/10 best friend. i lowk hate the ending might revise at a later time </3

[speaknowgirl3184]

omg can I pls request a fic where anakin does turn to the dark side but then sees the twins he has with the reader and tries to idk redeem himself? with like a shit ton of angst but then a little light of hope in the end

im really bad at explaining what exactly the request really Is but u get the gist of it😭

Ashes To Stars

Unburnt! Darth Vader x female reader

As the galaxy burns under the Empire’s shadow, a lost love and hidden children may be the only light strong enough to reach what remains of Anakin Skywalker.

Warning: ANGST, Major character death, killings, death, funeral, gore, kinda war. (Let me know if there is anything else).

Word Count: 2.2k

Masterlist

Before

The Jedi Temple burned behind you, its flames licking the Mustafar skyline like fingers of hell reaching toward the heavens. A grotesque parody of a funeral pyre, for hope, for peace, for everything the Jedi Order once stood for.

You had arrived too late.

Smoke thick as mourning shrouds coiled around the great stone pillars, charring once-pristine walls with soot and sorrow. You stumbled through the carnage, boots slipping in blood and ash, the stench of death clinging to your robes and searing itself into your lungs.

Tiny bodies, so many of them, scattered like broken dolls on the marble floor. Limbs twisted at unnatural angles. Faces frozen in fear. Lightsabers still gripped in small, trembling hands that would never grow strong enough to wield them again.

You dropped to your knees beside one of the younglings, brushing a strand of hair from their wide, glassy eyes. You bit down a sob.

“Anakin,” you gasped, your voice hoarse from smoke and disbelief. “Anakin, where are you?”

No answer came.

Only silence.

Then—

Snap-hiss.

The hum of a lightsaber igniting echoed in the ruined hall like a war drum.

A blade, red as spilled blood, pierced the gloom.

Your eyes lifted.

And there he stood.

Your Anakin… and yet not.

His silhouette emerged from the shadows like a nightmare carved from obsidian. Cloaked in darkness, his saber casting hellish light across the smoldering temple, he looked more wraith than man. His face was impassive, carved from stone, but those eyes—

Gone was the sun-gold warmth that once danced in his gaze when he looked at you.

Now his irises burned a molten amber, twin infernos of hate and agony and something worse than rage—emptiness.

“Anakin?” Your voice cracked, nearly drowned by the crackling of flames and the weight of the moment. You took a step forward. “What have you done?”

He didn’t speak.

Only stared.

You wanted to reach for him. Wanted to believe this was a trick, a vision, some dark Force illusion. But the truth lay around you, splattered on the floor in crimson and silence.

Your hand hovered over your lightsaber hilt. You didn’t draw it.

He did.

He was trying to kill you.

And some twisted part of you understood why. Because you knew him. Knew the guilt would rot him alive if he let you live. You were the last piece of the old Anakin. The last witness.

If you lived, he couldn't hide from what he'd become.

He wouldn't let that happen.

Not willingly.

You survived. Barely.

It took everything, every drop of strength, every trick Obi-Wan ever taught you, every prayer you’d never believed in, to get away.

Mustafar nearly finished the job.

Lava scorched the sky, a mirror to the fire that had swallowed the Temple. You collapsed on blackened rock, your body broken, saber gone, breath shallow and wet with blood. You remembered the smell of burning flesh, his screams, and the stench of betrayal seeping into your skin like poison.

You had seen him fall.

And you had still reached for him.

“Please, come back. You don’t have to do this.”

“You’re a liar.” “I loved you.”

“You killed everything we ever were.”

He hadn’t hesitated. Not then.

You crawled away from that planet half-dead, dragging yourself aboard a stolen ship, your limbs barely responding, the pain a constant roar in your ears.

You didn’t know how long you drifted in space, slipping in and out of consciousness. Sometimes you screamed. Sometimes you prayed.

And sometimes you whispered his name.

Anakin.

Anakin.

Anakin.

But he didn’t answer.

Not until the Force began whispering back.

Not until you felt it—a pulse, faint but persistent. A flicker of life inside your broken body.

It started as a warmth low in your belly, a tiny flutter like a star being born. You thought it was the pain, a hallucination.

Until the Force wrapped around you like a breath.

Two heartbeats.

Not just your own.

You were pregnant.

And that was the moment the last piece of you shattered.

You wept for Anakin Skywalker.

The man who had died with his hands soaked in the blood of the future.

The man who would never hold his children.

The man you loved more than anything.

Even now.

-----------

Years Later

The Outer Rim was harsh, but you raised your children in its shadows. Two of them, twins. Luke, steady and protective, with his father’s quiet strength. Leia, fierce and luminous, her eyes full of fire and stars.

You told them stories of the Jedi. You told them of a man named Anakin Skywalker, who blazed through the galaxy like a supernova, too bright, too fast, trying to hold back fate with bare, bleeding hands. But you never spoke of Darth Vader.

But the war never truly ended for you. You moved often. You taught them to hide, to bury their power. The Force pulsed strong in both, and the galaxy was no place for children of Skywalker blood.

You dreamed of him sometimes. The man with sun-touched curls and a smile that softened even your darkest days. The one who kissed your bruised knuckles after battle and promised that if there was ever a peace, he’d build you a home on Naboo.

Sometimes, even now, you still woke up crying.

-----------

Now

The Empire was relentless. It never stopped hunting.

You were a fracture in its foundation. A splinter of the past the Emperor never managed to crush beneath his boot. A memory wrapped in flesh. A threat.

So it was only a matter of time.

Vader found you on Dantooine.

The wind was sharp that morning. The sun low and veiled by ash-grey clouds. The cold arrived first. Then the silence.

Then the dread.

You barely had time to usher the children into the underground chamber, heart hammering, before the bunker doors blew inward with a metallic shriek.

They came in like a flood, stormtroopers, faceless and ruthless, shouting orders you didn’t hear as they seized your arms and forced you to your knees in the dust. Your cheek scraped the stone floor, blood smearing your lip. You didn’t struggle. There was no point. You could already feel him drawing closer, every step a thunderclap in your soul.

And then he appeared.

Black armor. Labored breathing. A towering shadow of death, framed in smoke and ruin. The mask was the same you’d seen in holos, the one children feared and rebels cursed. But it wasn’t just a mask to you.

It was a tombstone for the man you loved.

Your throat clenched. Your heart tried to crawl out of your chest. You couldn't breathe, not from fear—but from knowing. Because behind that mask was Anakin. Your Anakin.

Or what was left of him.

“You should have died,” he said. His voice wasn’t his. It came through a filter, flat and warped and wrong. It sounded mechanical and hollow.

Your fingers curled into the floor.

“And yet I didn’t,” you spat, tasting copper. “Neither did they.”

For a moment, there was nothing.

Then his head turned, the mechanical whirring was the only sound.

“They?” he repeated, slow. Almost cautious.

And then, like a wire pulled tight between you, the Force cracked like a whip.

He felt them.

His body stilled, like stone beneath ice.

Two presences pulsed in the distance. Two familiar, flickering stars. Bright. Trembling. Luke’s resolve was already hardening, his small fingers wrapping around the hilt of his training saber. Leia’s fear shone brighter, like fire, but it didn’t crack. She was afraid, yes, but not broken.

He felt all of it.

And you saw the tremor ripple through his stance like lightning striking the sea.

“No…” you whispered, barely audible, tears springing to your eyes. “Please. Anakin... not them.”

The name, Anakin, split the air like a scar. It clung there, heavy and hollow, a word too full of history.

He didn’t speak. But he didn’t move, either.

You saw his hand twitch. Not toward his saber.

"Look at me," you said, voice trembling. "Look at what you became. Look at what they could be. Don’t let this be it. Don’t let this be how it ends."

Something cracked in the silence. Not out loud. Inside him.

The air grew heavy, tense, like the galaxy itself held its breath.

The stormtroopers were frozen, unsure whether to fire or wait for a command. You weren’t sure what would happen either. You were trembling, whether from fear or hope, you didn’t know.

And then, with slow, almost painful movements, Vader stepped forward.

And removed his helmet.

It hissed as it detached. The sound was final. Like the slamming of a coffin lid, only backward. A door opening, instead of closing.

He looked... ruined.

Older. Worn. Paler than you remembered. Scars crawled across his skin like jagged cracks in porcelain, and his eyes, his eyes, they were sunken, haunted things.

But they were his.

Blue, beneath all that shadow. Just barely.

And the moment he saw them, really saw them, everything stopped.

Two small figures stepped into the threshold of the hallway behind you, drawn by something they couldn’t name. Luke, wide-eyed, tense with uncertainty. Leia, brave as ever, her hands clenched at her sides even as her lip quivered.

The second he saw them, Anakin Skywalker fell to his knees.

Not in pain.

Not to dominate.

To beg.

His saber deactivated and dropped beside him with a thud.

“I didn’t know,” he rasped, voice barely more than a whisper through scarred lungs. “I didn’t know you lived. I thought—I thought I killed you—I saw you fall—"

His voice broke, and so did your heart.

You didn’t know how you moved, only that you were in front of him, the twins behind you. He looked at them like they were ghosts.

Leia stepped forward first. Brave little flame. She looked at him, chin held high, and said in a voice far too soft for the moment:

“Mom said you were a hero.”

Anakin flinched as if struck.

A breath escaped him, ragged, wounded. His shoulders crumpled, hands shaking. His fingers curled against the floor, as if trying to hold on to something slipping too fast through his grasp.

You moved closer.

Kneeling in front of him, you reached out and gently touched his cheek.

He didn’t flinch.

Didn’t pull away.

You saw it then, the flicker. The flicker of the boy who’d held you beneath Naboo’s waterfalls. The man who kissed your stomach when you first told him you wanted a family. The warrior who fought with too much passion and loved with too much fire.

“You still can be,” you whispered, your voice breaking in two. “It’s not too late. Come back. Please. Let them know their father.”

Silence.

Then a sound.

Snap-hiss.

Your breath caught.

But the blade wasn’t red.

It was blue.

He turned it, not on you, not on the children, but against the stormtroopers still standing dumbfounded by the door. Against the monster he had become. Against everything Palpatine ever chained him to.

He moved like the wind. Efficient. Cold, but not cruel. He didn’t slaughter them for vengeance.

He did it for you.

For them.

For the light still buried beneath years of shadow.

-----------

Later

You buried him beneath the trees of Naboo.

A quiet resting place, where the wind sounded like laughter, and the light through the leaves looked like peace. Where the water shimmered like glass and the grass remembered bare feet and kisses stolen under moonlight.

You chose the spot where he'd once told you he wanted to build a home. Back when his eyes were still blue, when the war hadn’t yet carved him into someone else. When you’d both believed, naïvely, foolishly, bravely, that peace was possible.

Leia’s hands trembled as she laid her bouquet down, delicate blossoms she'd gathered herself, wrapped in a strip of her old tunic. She didn’t cry, not where anyone could see. But she stayed closest to the grave, as if trying to understand the shape of a man she’d never truly known.

Luke stood beside her, quiet and still, his eyes fixed on the horizon like he was trying to see the galaxy their father once believed he could save.

The stone you placed was simple.

No titles. No rank.

Just a name.

Anakin Skywalker.

The one he finally earned again.

As the final clumps of soil were placed and the wildflowers arranged, Leia knelt beside you. Her small fingers laced through yours. Her voice was soft, almost unsure.

“Did he say anything? At the end?”

You turned your head, you swallowed against the grief swelling in your throat and smiled through the ache.

“He said he loved you,” you whispered. “Both of you. And me.”

There was a long silence after that. No one moved. Even the wind seemed to still, as if the world itself wanted to preserve the moment.

Then Luke stepped closer.

Without a word, he took your hand.

And as the three of you stood there, beneath the trees where love had once bloomed and returned to die, you looked up.

The stars shimmered above you.

Endless.

Quiet.

Hopeful.

Like maybe, just maybe, there was still something out there waiting to be healed.

Something worth fighting for.

Something worth remembering.

Something like hope.

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

I loved this rec, I hope it matched their expectations. Also sorry for the sad ending but at least it was happier than my other stuff. 💗 Tysm for reading everyone hope you enjoyed!!

[obeythebutler]

Hi! I'm new to your blog so I apologize if I mess anything up.

Could I request MC surprising the brothers with a feast they accidentally cooked up because they were worried that there worried that their wouldn't be enough food for the brothers?

It's 7:30am and his brother still aren't ready for RAD.

Hell, they haven't even stepped down for breakfast. Even Beel, never the one to miss it is missing.

Did all his brothers decide to skip today's classes? Were they orchestrating some other useless prank?

Lucifer stares at his watch, waiting. If they don't come down in the next five minutes he's going to leave them at home and give them detention. Maybe he'll have to pull Mammon out of his bed again, or carry Belphegor down the stairs.

The thought of dragging his brothers like sacks of potatoes down the stairs makes his head ache. It’s always been like this, him caving in so easily to his brothers demands, being so lax on them.

The saving grace is the human exchange student.

MC.

They're on breakfast duty today, and Lucifer can smell the pleasant hint of roasted hellfire mushrooms. Cinnamon too. They've always been a diligent person when it comes to their work.

Unlike his brothers.

Sigh.

"If you all don't hurry up, the food is going to get cold!" Their voice rings from the kitchen, and Lucifer opens his mouth to give one last reprimand to his brothers, to hurry up and come down before he drags them.

There's a blur besides him then, a flurry of moment that messes up his perfectly styled hair.

"Food cooked by the human! I call dibs on it, I'm the great Mammon after all!"

The eldest gawks at his brother, perhaps in disbelief or surprise, and then fixes his hair in resignation. Whatever makes him be on time, his scoldings or MC's voice.

Lucifer rolls his shoulders, steps forward to get into the dining hall instead of the hallway, but then he senses footsteps on the stairs. Five pairs of shoes, each distinguishable from the other.

His brothers are a blur as they surpass him to get to the dining hall.

What the—

At this point, all the man can do is to slap his palm on his forehead.

They won't listen to him, but they'll willingly rush to the dining hall when MC calls, huh? For the sake of hell and everything that is corrupted, they're such simps that its intolerable to watch.

As soon as he steps in though, Lucifer is rendered speechless by the sight in front of him. So are the brothers.

There's just.....so many plates of food. Creamed Bonnacon, Devil Zebra Bacon Sandwich, Hell Pancakes, and that doesn't even cover it. Blood Strawberries, Caramel Shadow Tart, Ghost Watermelon....It's a feast fit for a banquet, and it must have taken so much time to cook all that...

"T-That's......that's just like that anime! Where the main character cooks up a feast for their roommates because they didn't want them to go hungry so they woke up at the crack of—"

"Shut yer mouth Levi." Mammon says, although there is no irritation in his tone as he gapes at the dining table. He can spot some of his favorite foods, given that there are plates and plates of them. He mentioned some of his favorite things to eat to MC long time back, but he didn't think that they would remember.

The fourth-born has a smile on his face now, as he stares at the cat drawn on his pancake with blueberry syrup. It's so cute.

He remembers MC placing some pots and utensils on the table the night before, stating that it would be less time-consuming in mornings given the rush.

His cheeks feel hot.

"Now, darling, that is quite a feast you have cooked up for us!" Asmodeus hangs behind MC's shoulder as he compliments them. There is still flour on their cheeks, and so he wipes it away from them using his thumb, earning squawks of protest from both Levi and Mammon. "Thank you so much! This is soo going on Devilgram!"

"I thought the usual wouldn't be enough," They mumble, nervously shifting their gaze from the brothers to the table. Asmo's weight on their shoulders is a comfortable one, yet the intense scrutiny they are subjected to makes them want to hide away. "Next thing I knew was that I kept adding and adding ingredients until I realised what I did. So you better finish it all."

Belphegor giggles. "That won't be a problem." He can sense his twin's growing hunger at the sight of the feast before him, and food does taste better when cooked by your loved ones. The demon is glad that he chose to be on time today.

Wait, Beel was right besides him, he isn't here....

"Woah—" MC can only stumble out the words as they are caught off guard when pulled into a hug by the sixth born. He's tall, and so warm. "Easy there!"

"Thank you MC!" Beel's voice is full of happiness, and he can't help but hug them for it. He knows his gluttony is a lot to handle, and it causes a lot of trouble for others, but them going out of their way to make extra efforts and ensuring that he and his brothers won't go hungry makes him feel loved.

He'll wait this time, to eat with MC.

"At what time did you wake up to cook all of this?"

You turn your head towards Satan, who is now besides you. Gazing at you ever so softly. "I woke up around three, couldn't sleep since I had drunk a lot of coffee the night before."

"Your sleep schedule will be messed up if you continue," He reprimands you, but his tone is light.

"Thank you for ensuring that we all don't go hungry though." Lucifer smiles as he says that.

Maybe this is what home is.

You and the brothers, cooking too much and enjoying it nevertheless. Casual conversation drifting across the table, with Hell coffee as bitter as ever, packing some for Purgatory Hall residents and leaving together for RAD as the gates to the house close behind you all in remembrance.

[seoulmatez]

𝓈𝓎𝓂𝒷𝒾𝑜𝓈𝒾𝓈

it's time for your final project and a surprising someone wants to pair up.

anaxagoras x reader ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ college au ﾉ enemies to lovers (?)

Evening classes have a way of dragging on for what feels like forever—three hours of lecture with a measly ten-minute break would make anyone feel the same. So when your professor finally dismisses the class for the night, the only thing you can think about is putting your materials away and getting off campus as soon as possible.

With the click of your pen, you flip your notebook closed and move to put it in your bag. When you return to your upright position to do the same with your laptop, a shadow falls over you—someone is standing over you. You drag your gaze up to see who has joined you and your eyes meet pale aqua ones. It’s Anaxa. You fight the groan threatening to bubble from your throat.

Once he has your attention, he doesn’t waste any time getting straight to the point. “Let’s work together on the final project.”

Yeah, like you’d do that again.

Group work has always been a pain. You’d think it would get better in university, even more so having been paired with one of the top students in your cohort, but you couldn’t have been more wrong. Last semester was probably the closest thing you can personally compare to hell—a combination of conflicting ideas, clashing schedules, and incompatible personalities was never bound to work. At no point did it ever feel like the two of you were on the same page. You’re sure you can scroll through your texts from months ago and find at least a hundred of them complaining about him and how difficult it was to work with him.

The only saving grace of the entire experience was that you managed to make it out with a good grade—a perfect grade, actually. That and the fact that you would probably never have to work with Anaxa again was enough for you to put the unsavory incident behind you.

But here he is now, asking if you would willingly do it all over again. You can’t help but snort.

“I don’t think I said anything funny.” Anaxa frowns. Your unwarranted (at least in his mind) sound of amusement seems to have struck a nerve.

You shrug, continuing to pack your things away. “It was kind of funny. I thought we both agreed we’d never be each other’s first choice given the chance to pick partners of our own.” You never explicitly said those words to him and he never said them to you, but you assumed it was a sort of silent agreement when you parted ways.

“I didn’t particularly enjoy having every one of my actions questioned by you—”

You cut him off, “The feeling is mutual.”

Anaxa sighs in annoyance. You had almost forgotten that he hates being interrupted. You didn’t do it on purpose, the words met the air before you even had time to comprehend that you were speaking, but seeing him bothered makes your lips twitch in a reserved smile. Serves him right with how many headaches he gave you. 

“But,” he emphasizes the word in a way that further highlights his annoyance which only makes your smile stretch wider, “working with you offered the most ideal outcome.”

“So you’re using me to get a good grade.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement. You know that’s exactly why he sought you out. You’ll never admit it aloud, but despite your differences, the two of you tend to think alike at times. A favorable mark is the only reason you would consider renewing this partnership.

“You make it sound exploitative.” He sounds almost offended, though, you can’t say whether it’s because you accused him of using you or implied that he needed you. “I view it as a symbiotic relationship—we help each other and both benefit from the association. Equivalent exchange.” 

You silently weigh the pros and cons, wonder if you can put up with him for a month without ripping your hair out. You’re sure you could get by well enough working with anyone else in your class and that it would be much less of a hassle to do so. You’re positive of that, so why can’t you tell him no?

Anaxa isn’t the most likable—he’s prickly around the edges and treats his word as absolute. Though, for all his faults, he isn’t really that bad of a guy. Personal biases aside, he’s smart, and, as far as you can tell, his goal is to share that knowledge with others. That much is worthy of respect. You huff out a breath through your nose. “Fine. I guess you’re right.”

You don’t outright say it but both of you interpret your words the same—it seems you’ll be working as partners once more.

“I’m rarely wrong,” he tells you with a borderline cocky grin. The way your eyes roll is automatic. Unlike last time, you can’t say that you didn’t sign up for this. “Are you free to go to the library?”

“That eager to get started?” You raise your eyebrows as you finally rise from your seat, though you shouldn’t be surprised. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were looking forward to this.” You gesture between the both of you with a finger.

Anaxa doesn’t find your joke funny. “I’m eager to start the project.”

“Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but I’m going home. Not everyone is a workaholic like you.”

He clicks his tongue. “How long do you plan on making me wait?”

The phrasing of his question makes your heart thump loudly against your ribs. For a moment, you wonder if he picked up on the underlying tone of it, how it could be easily misread, but the placid look on his face leads you to believe you’re the only one thinking in such a way.

You only realize you haven’t given him a response when he raises his eyebrows curiously. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so confused… it’s, dare you say, cute.

You smile. “Not long. You have my number, text me tomorrow.”

manon here ( ≧ᗜ≦) thanks for reading! if u enjoyed, reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[tobeholyistobeempty]

simon riley • i’ll haunt you forever.

The monster softened by circumstance. Tenderized by your heart bleeding out in his hands.

cw: military inaccuracies. blood. war depictions. gunfire. reader is wounded badly. religious undertones and interrelation. simon breaks a few medical rules but hey fantasy right? soft simon riley peaking out behind his wall of steel. near death. extreme angst. 2k.

CAIRO — THREE YEARS AGO.

It was supposed to be clean.

Grab the drive. Get out. Sweep the alleyways before call to prayer turned the whole district into a wall of sound.

It’s funny how the space of a gunshot can turn even the most solid paper plans to ash. The op went sideways before your boots could hit the stairs, echoes cracking off sandstone and minarets — rapid gunfire in a dead-end courtyard with kicked up dirt and half torn tac vests for cover.

You’d grown up believin’ in God, lost it when you saw what the world was really wound with, but that day in Cairo had you looking at the sky a little different. When the blue bled bright even as the air turned tan — you felt the belief in your bones that if higher intervention did exist — it was with you, then. Five fingers forcing you forward unscathed through gunfire and hellstorm in whatever halfcrafted version of miracles these wars allow for.

It was preternatural at best that you hadn’t been shot at least a dozen. Type of unbelievable just shy of religious. And if you hadn’t been all but twenty feet from the safe house when it all went to hell — you may have even praised Christ himself.

But the frag caught you off-guard. One step too slow. You took the scraps of its ricochet in your left shoulder.

It’s one thing to witness it happen. It’s another to feel it.

Pain stung sharp. Hot as white off the bleeding sun. Sunk into your bloodstream with something odious and jagged and lodged itself deep before you could gasp for breath — knees hitting the ground on instinct with a scream that cauterized in your throat and never made it past your teeth, hand bathed slick with the heat pouring down your ribs as you reached up in some pain-delirious attempt to pull the flesh-lodged metal free—

Fruitless. Whatever belief you’d held for that greater power was gone with the life you were losing into the dirt. But then he was there. Immediately.

Ghost.

Mask half shredded, stone-faced and furious, dragging you up by the front of your vest and through rubbles of broken tile — boots grinding through debris and dust as he shouldered your weight. You were slurring your curses, spilling red all over his chest.

“G-Ghost—y-you gotta—“

“Not here,” he grunted. “Hold on. Y’don’t fucking fold on me, yeah?”

Maybe it was the fool still left alive in you who longed to believe salvation came from the sky. That fool died this day — when you finally understood no saints ever came when you needed them.

But Simon always did.

He half-carried, half-dragged you through the narrow warren of backstreets, seething something into comms with one hand, other banded around your waist — keeping you upright. You barely registered when he kicked open the safehouse door, slammed it behind him, and hauled you toward the grimy cot in the corner.

You slumped.

He caught you before the cot did. Lead you onto it with a grunt — sweat-soaked, breath coming hard and fast at your ear.

“Stay with me,” he barked, slapping your cheek lightly. “C’mon. Eyes on me.”

Any other circumstances, he’d have paid for that.

“M’alright, fuck.” You slurred, trying to swat him as he pressed cloth to the wound. “Slap me again you’ll get a worse answer.”

You felt his exhale, then. It bathed you in the physical variation of the look in his eyes.

“That’s the spirit,” he muttered. “Lay back.”

You shook. “Hurts.”

“I know.”

He urged you onto your back anyways, when you wouldn’t do it willingly. You twitched as pain came roaring in again, smothering the scream in your throat.

His gloved hand found your jaw.

“Breathe,” he crouched over you, firm. “S’alright. You’re alright.”

Everything burned. The room spun.

“S’bad, isn’t it?” You blinked up at him, trying to focus. “You’re doing the thing. With your jaw.”

His eyes flicked to yours. “What thing?”

“When you’re pissed. And scared. You—mmff—you grind your teeth.” He stilled. You didn’t notice. “When someone’s hurt. And y’think it’s your fault.”

The world tilted and blurred behind your lashes, pain carving a raw trench through your left side. You choked on the flames of it and Simon didn’t wait to find a response. He threw his bag by your side while one knee came down beside your ribs, then the other. Straddling your hips, pinning you to the creak of the cot to stop your writhing.

You bucked — instinct — until his hands pressed down on your good shoulder and waist. “Easy. Stop fightin’ me.”

Faith. Blind and desperate. That’s all you knew.

His face above you — balaclava torn halfway across the jaw, dyed with dust and dirt — the sweat stuck in the hollows of his throat. There was a gash running from the corner of his right eye down to the meat of his cheek. God, you still remember the fucking persecution in his stare. Caught in the middle of rage and fear.

Fear. Not for himself, but for you.

Ghost — Simon — had been many things to you over the years. Anger when he needed to be. Control when he’d had no other choice. Restrained at his baseline and naturally too fucking perceptive for his own good. Emotionless. Cold as stone with eyes that never seemed to rest. But afraid?

“Need your vest off,” he said after you’d settled enough, peeling back the cloth. “It’s holdin pressure but it’s already soaked through.”

Your breath hitched. Wet, shallow. “I can do it—”

“Like fuck y’can. Hold still.”

His gloves were gone before you finished breathing. One-handed, he pulled the buckle. Tore the strap. Peeled the ruined material from your shoulder with an awful, sucking rip that made you scream. Your shirt was tattered — bled black by blood and dirt — so he slid his knife up the seam in one clean motion, the fabric splitting with a shhhhkt as the blade ran to your collarbone.

He paused again, just for a second — long enough to see the wound. To really see you beneath him. Shirtless and flushed. The crimson decoration of your barely covered chest.

“Fuckin hell,” he muttered, more to himself than you. “One piece. No exit point. Least you’ve got that.”

“How big.”

“Bout six inches.”

You winced. “Y’gonna pull it out?”

“No,” he deadpanned. “I was thinkin’ of leavin it in. For character.”

You choked on a half-laugh. Delirious. Breathed like a drowning thing.

“Hate you.”

He shifted then, tore off his shirt and pulled it into shreds. Makeshifted a tourniquet around your upper bicep. Tight enough to make your fingers go numb. Then looped another under your shoulder. And even through the noise — the screaming under your skin, the blood loss haze — you saw him for what he was in that moment: unnatural like this. All bulk and brutality bent over you.

The monster softened by circumstance. Tenderized by your heart bleeding out in his hands.

“Y’will during this.” He replied, before shoving something into your fingers. His knife’s leather sheath. Then pushed it toward your mouth. “Bite this.”

You hesitated. “I’m—“

“I mean it,” he cut you off, eyes meeting yours. “It’s deep. You’re gonna fight me. Bite.”

You didn’t. Because that was when everything became real. You stared at the sheath in your hand. At the blood soaked into the creases on your palm. At the war-torn ceiling above you where the fan didn’t spin and the air didn’t move.

Then you stared at him.

“Wait.” You rasped, spit-slick and shaking. “W-wait. We’ve got evac—I just—just wait—”

His hands shook. Just once. You would carry that image forever. The man who never broke — breaking, in the smallest of ways.

“Listen t’me,” he said it slow. Not with fear, but with something that lived next door to it. “I’ve got nothin’ but a blade and my bare fuckin’ hands. Evac’s fifteen out. You’ll bleed out before we hit five.”

You reached for him, weak, fingers scrabbling until you gripped the side of his belt. The only thing solid enough to hold that wasn’t his skin. You’d never known fear like this. Not the battlefield kind but the personal kind.

And in the flicker of his eyes, in the way he stilled under your touch — you wondered if maybe it was the first time he felt it too.

“S-Simon. This could kill me. If you pull it wrong—”

“I won’t.”

“—you don’t know that!”

Your voice vibrated — rough and ragged and right on the edge of begging. You were slipping, and you knew he was right. It was the cold in the fingertips, heat in the mouth, vision tunneling into a pinpoint blur that held only him.

He didn’t flinch at your panic. But the air changed when his hand moved, calloused fingers pressing against the side of your jaw then sliding down, settling at your throat. Thumb at your bloodbeat.

“Maybe I don’t,” he murmured. “But I do know your pulse is slowin’. Pupils are blown. Breathin’s laboured.” He swallowed hard. You saw it. Felt it. “You’re goin into shock. Sepsis if we wait.”

The ceiling spun. “Simon—“

He shook his head. “I can’t stem the bleeding. Can’t put pressure on what I can’t reach. There’s one fuckin’ option here.”

You gasped like something had just ripped straight through your lungs. Pain worsening. Grit in your teeth. Dust on your lashes.

“Simon—this can’t be on you—”

“Y’think I wanna do this t’you?” He grabbed your face then. Both hands. “Y’think I don’t know what this is gonna sound like? What it’s gonna feel like in my goddamn hands?”

You stared up at him. Wide-eyed. Lips trembling. “Then don’t. Fuck. It’s okay—I’ll wait—“

“You won’t.”

He looked away. Just for a second. Turned toward the wall like he needed something — anything — to anchor to that wasn’t the sight of you in this state. Five years by his side has made you a close acquaintance to death, but never this close. The logic of it was there. He can’t stop the bleeding if he doesn’t remove the metal. If he removes the metal, the chances of it nicking something. The chances of you flinching just wrong —

Your thoughts died when eyes came back to yours. Full steel in the ruin.

“Please.” He seethed. “If I gamble on time, it ain’t the fuckin’ metal that kills you. It’s me.”

His voice made you choke. You tried to shake your head but he held it firm.

“Simon—don’t—“

“C’mon now.” His thumb found your pulse again, shaking against it. “You’d do this f’me.”

You blinked back the blur but the effort fell short. Those tears spilled, cut clean down your cheek. He leaned in then. Closer than command would ever allow. Closer than men like him are ever meant to get. Nose almost touching yours. Breath warm against your skin.

“You’re not dyin’ in this fuckin’ place,” he whispered.

And there was your faith again. Placed in your pleading eyes cast skyward into the bark browns of his. Not a God nor saviour. Just a man. Built of death and forged by the worst places these wars have to offer. A man staring at you like you’re the only thing in this whole ruined world worth saving.

“Hate me after, yeah? Take your shot. I’ll stand there and let y’swing.” A moment passed, he exhaled with it. “Just means y’lived long enough t’get the chance.”

You tried to laugh, at that. Only because you weren’t sure what else to do. It caught on the edge of his jaw as you blinked up at him. You wanted to remember this. The shape of him above you. The fear he wouldn’t name.

You still do. Even now.

“Okay.” You croaked. “But if you kill me. I’ll haunt you forever.”

His brow twitched. Subtle. You’d thought he’d laugh, maybe smirk or feed you something biting in reply. But what you didn’t except — with hands still bloodslicked — he reached up and swept sweatdamp strands back from your forehead. Ghosted his touch down your temple, across the shell of your ear—

Then he bent lower. Pressed his lips to your forehead.

A benediction. A battlefield baptism. The kind of kiss men like him only know how to give when they mean it.

“Y’already do.” He whispered.

[whimsicalpolitical]

Use me - Matty Healy x Reader

in which you always come to matty when your boyfriend doesn’t get you off

content warning: 18+mdni, smut, p in v, cheating, face sitting, fingering, oral (m & f receiving), dirty talk, handjob, aftercare,

“Sorry, where you uhm, going somewhere?” You ask Matty, pointing to his loosened tie and shirt.

“Nah, came back from dinner,” your eyes shoot up at his face. Dinner sounds romantic. He sees right through you though and eases your nerves, “dinner with my mates, love.”

You nod, taking another sip of your hot tea which matty brought you five minutes after banging on his door in the middle of the night.

“D’you need something else?” He asks, “anything at all?”

“No, thank you,” you smile, sinking deeper into the couch, hoping you could stay here forever.

Matty hums and sits next to you, at the end of the couch. He’s throwing his head back slowly, rubbing his forehead.

You watch. You trace the vein under his neck until it disappears into his shirt. His tousled hair reminds you of all the times you tugged at his curls because it was too much. Fuck. You’re still sticky between your legs. You were not able to chase your own pleasure because it doesn’t matter to your boyfriend, it never did and it never will.

Matty always gives a shit, perhaps that’s why you’re here, because you know you’ll feel good. Or maybe you’re here because he shows you an escape from the reality and he’s the only one who has that ability.

“Do I have something on my face?” He jokes, his eyes on you.

You shake your head, “no, it’s perfect as always.”

“Charmer.” Matty spreads his legs further and turns to you, “now, would you like to talk about why you came to mine at two in the morning or should we skip that part where you tell me your little boy isn’t enough for you?”

“Matty-“ you tilt your head and want to apologize, that you’re not using him for your own good but to tell him you enjoy his company.

“Actually, I would like to know what happened this time. Couldn’t he make you finish or did he not care in the first place, c’mon what was it?”

You sigh before locking eyes with him. The brown eyes you can’t stop thinking about. Ever.

“The second,” you respond with shame, “but I don’t care anymore, I just want you, can’t stop thinking about you.”

Matty lets a laugh slip out of his mouth before he moves closer to you, taking your legs and dragging them across his lap.

“Oh, darling, that’s a fucked up situation you’re in, s’ a real shame though- for him I mean.”

His hands are going up and down your thighs, teasing you, making you go crazy.

“What did you say to him ‘fore you left, sure didn’t say you were going to see me.”

You shrug, “told him I need to get work done, I guess.”

Matty hums, his hands now closer to the place you want him the most.

His knuckles brush against your lower stomach which is on display because your shirt had risen up. He sends goosebumps down your body at the feeling of his warm hands on your bare body and you want nothing but to feel them everywhere.

Matty wants to be close to you as well so he takes the opportunity and drags you onto his lap with his arms under your knees.

You don’t have time to make a sound because his mouth is on you again.

You part your lips willingly, gasping when he lurches forward and slides his tongue along yours, biting and sucking at your lips. Matty groans softly at the faint noises you make, your fingers tightening in his hair, the pleasing sting in his scalp sending jolts down to his hard cock.

“mmm matty” You’re panting, desperate for air he won't give you. He likes this—making you gasp, making you weak, making you forget entirely about your boyfriend.

Your hips move over his’ one slow time, gasping at the friction.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he grips your hips and drags you across his bulge again, enjoying the pleasure himself, “is’ good?”

“Yeah-“ you breathe out, his hands kneading your hips to pull you back and forth over his hard cock beneath his jeans. With his eyes closed, lost in the feeling of your tongue in his mouth, his hands finding his way to your ass.

“Matty-“ you gasp, as his jeans hit your clit over and over. You can’t wait, it’s impossible. You tried all night to chase your pleasure but how, if your boyfriend stops when he’s done and doesn’t help you.

“Please, can we-“

Matty is quick to lay you down on the couch, dragging your jeans with your panties down your legs. He shakes his head though when he throws your jeans down the couch.

“I don’t want you to beg, alright? M’sure you’ve done enough of that tonight. I just want you to use me, make yourself feel good, the way you deserve.”

You bite down on to your bottom lip, nodding.

“Want to kiss you here first, that alright?” He asks, spreading your legs with his hand.

“Fuck- yes.”

“Mhm,” he leans down, eyes looking up at you one more time before his gaze fixates on your dripping cunt.

"Fuckin' christ. You're a mess down here. You really tried, hm?” he says, and you can feel every word blow against you.

"Uh-huh," you say, a kiss sucked to your thigh striking stealing all thought from your mind.

"Get close?" he asks, with another kiss, hands kneading at your thighs and ass as they wrap around you and try to tug you closer.

You nod, hoping he can see you as your eyes slip closed with the feeling of him right here, between your legs.

“That’s fucking cruel though,” he chuckles, “fucking dickhead, would make you come everyday for the rest of my bloody life.”

He bites the inside of your thighs until you feel a soft, teasing kiss to your clit. You shudder and whine and your hand falls to his curls to encourage him to give you more.

“Please just-“

“Darling, ease up, like I said, use me, c’mon let’s switch places.”

You frown, not knowing what he actually means but it gets clear when Matty shoves a pillow under his head and you straddle him but he tugs you up his chest.

“Wait-“ you slow him down, “shirt off?”

“Sure,” he says, opening the four buttons that were closed, “now.. up.”

He's licking his lips and looking up at you - all over every inch of you - eating you alive with his stare.

He pushes and pulls you then, dragging you up his chest until your knees are settled either side of his face. You can feel the gust of his breath against your thighs iust before he hauls you forward a little more until his half face is completely covered by your cunt, only his eyes and the bridge of his nose visible now.

“Fuck, love, need me so bad you’re dripping down your thighs. I’m not making you wait, sit down, darling.”

“That’s it.” You settle down slowly onto his face, listening as he guides you down until you feel the first broad swipe of his tongue up through your folds.

"Perfect,” he says, swallowing the taste of you.

He kisses around your clit, nudging it with the curved tip of his nose when he finally licks up into you again.

And then, he's pulling your flush to his face and feasting.

The noise that leaves you is stupid. Somewhere between a gasp and a moan and a question all at once. His nose is pressed against you, his laughter fanning out across your mound as you try not to squirm and wiggle against him, fearful of crushing his head beneath your weight, or at the very least suffocating him.

His face burrows deeper, his hands holding you firm, squeezing and scraping calloused fingertips against your delicate skin.

His hands move from anchoring you to his face, locked around your thighs, to pressing against your ass, gripping the globes of them in each of his broad hands.

He grunts, squeezing your thighs up to your hips as he pulls your clit into his mouth, lathering it with his spit and your wetness. It's white-hot: the pressure on your sensitive little bundle of nerves, the insistent bump of his nose against your clit as he teases his tongue around your tight hole.

"Matty, Matty, fuck," is all you can manage, sweet little gasps that he drinks in, his hips bucking involuntarily with the delicious pain of your fingers pulling at his scalp. You're losing grip on the real world and slipping elsewhere, and he wants to get you there.

One of Matty’s hands slides between your legs, easing them open even more, and rests on your belly, shifting to your ribcage and helping you steady yourself atop him. His fingertips graze your breasts under your shirt.

“Mhmm, fuck, perfect,” he mumbles.

The sounds are slick and obscene, mingled with your drunken sighs and words of encouragement as you curl your fingers against the couch uselessly.

"Matty,” you whimper, your hips rolling against his face, “so good, shit.”

He groans, his hand smacking your thigh, feeling your cunt gush on his tongue as he flicks his tongue against your clit repeatedly.

He groans, his hand smacking your thigh, feeling your cunt gush on his tongue as he flicks his tongue against your clit repeatedly. He'll imprint the feeling of him on your skin forever-if he hasn't already. He'll make sure you never have another man like you have him.

"I'm... oh, fuck, I'm gonna..." Your hips buck wildly, and a growl rumbles deep in his chest, holding you steadfast and firm to his face. He sucks your clit back into his mouth and fixes his tongue to you, wiggling slightly as he feels you stiffen above him. "Matty, shit.”

He knows. You're already coming. You’re both not surprised, you’ve been trying the whole evening and the orgasm that’s been stolen is now more than back.

“Yeah, like that, darling,” he praises, lapping at your cunt in the same pace.

Your hand leaves his hair and braces next to your other one on the couch, ensuring you don't fall over as your thighs shake uncontrollably and your mouth drops open in a keening whine. Matty keeps sucking at your clit long after your orgasm fades and you cry out from the overstimulation.

Gently, you reach down to tug his hair, and he reluctantly pulls away. He's so hard he can't conjure much mental activity besides getting his dick wet.

“Alright?” He asks with a big grin on his face.

“More than,” you respond.

Your chest is heaving as you try to pick your leg up and get off him, but your strength fails you. Instead, Matty grabs your hips and sits up, your cunt sliding down to sit on top of his erection. Experimentally, you grind down on him, watching a muscle in his jaw feather.

"Need you. Are you going to let me take your pants off?" you ask him, teasing, your finger tracing the metal of his belt buckle.

He grits his teeth, letting you take control for a moment, sliding the belt achingly slow out of each loop.

“Do anything you want to, you’re in control. Don’t need to act all modest with me.”

You dip your body low to his chest and press gentle kisses all the way down to his stomach.

Matty moans brokenly when you shuck his jeans down his legs and squeeze his hard length before it can slap up against his stomach. Your tongue darts out and licks up the precum pooling at his slit, making his cock twitch in your grasp. “jesus,” he groans. “You don’t have to, darling, you can make this all about yourself.”

You ignore him.

Your soft lips part around the throbbing head of his cock. Squeezing his strong thighs to ground yourself, you swirl your tongue around the tip and take him deeper, your throat expanding to accommodate him in your mouth. Your thumb rubs over his ‘we are kings’ tattoo like you always do, you look at him as you do so. His eyes are watery, blinking hard to expel the tears, his hand instinctively cradling the crown of your head to keep you on him, keep you choking around him.

“Christ, fuck,—” His fingers curl in your hair and gently urge you off his cock; you pout, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his length. His dick jumps at the sight, lying hard on his stomach.

“Don’t pout, don’t need to come in your gorgeous mouth if you want me again,” he rasps.

“Fine,” you playfully roll your eyes but of course you listen and crawl up his body until your hips are flush, his hardness slotted, thick and throbbing, between your folds. The hum that leaves your mouth is wanton, your teeth tugging at your bottom lip. His hands move to your lower back, digging into the flesh just above your ass so you’re forced to roll your hips along his shaft.

“Have at it, darling,” he says.

You lift yourself up but instead of sinking down you take his cock into your hand and start moving up and down.

Matty shudders and grips your wrist, “fuckin, d’you want to kill me?”

You only giggle and shake your head innocently, “want you to fuck me now, I’ve been good.”

“Yeah, you reckon you are?” he reaches down, his hands going to your hips and guiding you down onto him. You both let out a moan as he fills you, the sensation almost overwhelming.

“You feel so good, love,” he breathes, looking down at where his cock disappears, “want you all the time n’ I can’t fucking stand the thought of you being with him.”

You look at each other, pupils dilated, mouths parted. You don’t move, not just yet, but you lean forward to crash your lips against Matty’s as a response.

Your hand grips the back of his neck to keep him exactly where he is, his tongue gliding across yours, filthy sounds coming from the both of you when you finally start to move.

“Yeah- fuck, you’re so good.”

You can feel his gaze on you, and it only served to heighten the pleasure building inside you. You start to ride him properly, your hands grabbing onto his shoulders.

His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips, his grip almost painful as he struggles to maintain control. The sounds he is making are sinful, the low moans and gasps escaping his lips spurring you on.

“Oh fuck, Matty,” you moan, “you make me feel so good.”

“Y-yeah?” He gasps, his thumb coming down your body to rub your clit in a torturous, slow pace, wanting to build the pressure, “s’ what I want, babe, need you to feel good.”

You moan again when he lowers his face to kiss you all over your breasts, sucking and biting at your nipple, offering you another way of stimulation.

“Need you, Matty, need you,” you repeat, your head falling against his shoulder while you keep your pace, your hips moving up and down.

“You have me, love,” he groans, moving his thumb a bit faster.

You clench around him and he can’t help himself but thrust into you so deep it makes you scream his name so loud you thank yourself he doesn’t have neighbors.

“Keep doin’ that,” he moans, “fuck.”

“Please,” you beg, just wanting to come with him all together, “Matty please.”

“I’ve got you,” he says, his brown eyes melting when he sees your fucked out face, “wanna come so badly again? Couldn’t feel good all evening and you need me for it?”

“Yes,” you admit, your hips slowing down, not having the energy like you had in the beginning, “fuck- I can’t.”

Matty hums and grips your hips, helping you to ride him faster, “like that, s’good, rub your clit for me though.”

You don’t waist a second and start as fast as when he stopped.

“Fuck, matty.”

“You’re perfect,” he says, moving his hips with yours, doubling the pleasure, “I- fuck, are you close?”

You know he is. His thrusts are faltering, eyes closed, head thrown back, his hands definitely bruising you but you don’t care. You want him to mark you. And honestly you couldn’t care less, not when you’re at the edge, letting yourself fall into him completely.

You clench around him again, a sign that you are close.

“Kiss me,” you whine, “plea-“

He does, it’s not a perfect, sweet kiss. He’s moaning against you, lips messily on yours, licking into your mouth as you both move together.

"You deserve this, you deserve to be fucked like this every day. Not treated like you're worthless."

Matty’s mouth is everywhere-his lips moving over your neck, nipping at your skin before kissing and licking at the sensitive spot just below your ear.

His tongue flicks out, tasting the salt of your skin, and you moan, your fingers digging into his shoulders as his cock hitting that perfect spot deep inside you.

"You're so fuckin' gorgeous," he groans, “fucks sake, my girl.”

He spurs you on and you can’t go any longer.

“Matty, im gonna come, can I- fuck.”

You whimper, your body trembling as the pleasure mounts, your mind going blank as Matty’s cock slams into you harder, deeper. Your hand on your clit, his mouth on your neck, his body pressed tightly against yours-it is too much, and you feel yourself spiraling toward release.

"You don’t need to ask for permission, are you mental?" he laughs, “come for me, love, whenever you want to.”

With a final, devastating thrust, the coil inside you snaps, and you scream his name as your orgasm tears through you, your body shaking violently as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you.

Your pussy clenches around his cock, milking him as he groans deeply, his hips never stopping, prolonging your pleasure as he fucks you through your orgasm.

“Fuck,” he groans, your hips slowing down as his hips slam into you one strong time, releasing in you with a whimper, groan and moan, “jesus fucking christ.”

You whine, only grinding softly against him until you’re both too fucking exhausted to move.

You stay like this though- with him softening inside of you until he accidentally slips out making the both of you hiss.

“I really really like you,” you say, not being able to lift your forehead from his shoulder just yet, “I swear I’m not using you for this.”

“It’s alright,” he soothes you, hand brushing through your hair, “I’m the last to judge, m’just glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” you whisper.

After a long while Matty decides to lift you up, keeping your legs wrapped around him. You whine at the new coldness, air hitting your naked form.

“I’ll just need to clean you up, darling, you okay?”

“Mhm,” you hum holding on to him, “bed though, please?”

“Course,” he says, pushing the door with his foot softly that leads you into his bedroom, “I’ll be right back then.”

He lays you down softly but before he can walk to the bathroom you pull him down, holding his face to give him a sweet kiss.

He’s kissing all over your face then, asking you multiple times if you need anything, praises leaving his mouth, “you’ve done so good, love, going to let me get you a towel?”

“Fine,” you groan, rolling your eyes and pushing him away.

While he waddles over to the bathroom, slipping a pair of boxers on while doing so, you get yourself a piece of clothing as well. A simple black shirt from Matty’s drawer.

You flop down onto the bed then and not even a minute later he’s back, a wet towel in his hand and a lotion.

“Let me take care of you,” he says, kneeling on the edge of the bed and spreading your legs, “it’s what you deserve.”

You can’t help but smile at his sweetness, letting him drag the towel up your thighs to your core, hissing at the soreness.

“M’sorry,” he apologizes, being as careful as he can be, “even used warm water, thought it would be more pleasant than cold.”

“It’s alright,” you nod, “thank you.”

His brows are furrowed in that intense way of his, and you are lost, as always, in the precision of it all — how someone so careless about most things could be so careful with you.

When he finally sets the towel aside, his hands replace it, gliding along your thigh with a gentle grip. He reaches for the lotion he brought, squeezing a bit into his hand before warming it between his fingers. The scent is faint, familiar, like something he’d chosen just for you, and he slowly works it into your skin, thumbs pressing softly in circles along the tops of your legs.

You hum, a sound low in your throat, and he glances up at you, his mouth quirking into a half-smile. "Feel good, love?"

You nod, letting your head rest back on the pillows, eyes drifting shut as his hands continue their slow, steady rhythm.

"Matty?"

"Yeah?"

There is a pause, the silence stretching as you weigh the words you’re holding back. You swallow, feeling the weight of them settle in your chest before you finally let them go. "I think I want to break up with him."

For the first time that night, his hands still, his fingers still warm against your skin as he looks up, his gaze locking onto yours, eyes dark and searching. "You sure?" he asks, voice rough but soft. "I mean… I’d definitely drop that wanker if I were you. But… are you sure?"

You nod, your own voice quieter than you expected. "Yeah, I’m sure. I don’t…" you hesitate, trying to find the right words, "I don’t feel right with him. He’s a selfish bastard, Matty. Only cares about himself. Never really… I don’t know. Not like you do."

The corner of his mouth lifts, just a hint of satisfaction, but he covers it with a quick raise of his brow, setting the lotion bottle aside.

"About time, I’d say. I mean, you deserve better than some bloke who’s all talk and no bloody follow-through." He moves closer, leaning in so his face is just inches from yours. "What kind of idiot would treat you like that? He’s the one who’s missing out.”

"Yeah… I just kept thinking things would get better, you know? Like maybe I was the problem."

Matty’s scoff is loud, dismissive, and his hand finds yours, fingers threading through yours with a surprising softness.

"Nah, not a chance. Don’t you dare let him put that on you. You’re the best damn thing that’s ever walked into his life, and if he was too stupid to see that? Then he deserves what he gets." His fingers squeeze yours, grounding and reassuring. "But you already know that. Just needed a little push?”

You nod, squeezing back. "Guess so."

He lets out a soft chuckle, leaning back just enough to take you in, his gaze lingering on your face as he tilts his head.

“You shouldn’t be with someone who’s not good for you, you know?”

You nod, leaning forward to kiss his cheek and pull him up by his biceps, “you’re right, and that’s why I’m here.”

Matty gets the hint immediately, letting himself be drawn up until he’s lying half on top of you, chest pressing against yours, his weight warm and solid as he settles against you. His head dips down, burying into the crook of your neck, and he lets out a soft, contented sigh, his breath warm against your skin.

“Been wanting this all day,” he murmurs, his voice a little rough, like he’s barely holding back some deeper feeling. “Just you, here with me. None of that rubbish, none of him messing with your head. Just us.

You hum, the sound vibrating in your chest as you feel him relax against you, his hand reaching up to stroke your hair, brushing it back from your face with a tenderness that sends warmth flooding through you.

“Can I bring you anything? Water? Tea? Anything you need, just say the word.”

You smile, shaking your head slightly. “No, Matty, I’m good. You’ve done enough already, honestly. Thank you.”

He lifts his head, just enough so he can see your face, his eyes searching yours with that familiar intensity. “Enough? Don’t say that. Not a chance I’m leaving you without everything you could possibly want, got it?”

You squeeze his arm gently. “Well, in that case, just stay here with me. That’s all I want.”

His lips curve into a grin, his eyes warming. “Now that’s the easiest thing you could’ve asked for. I’m not going anywhere.”

“How about this: we sleep in tomorrow. Really let ourselves be lazy, yeah? Then I’ll take you somewhere nice, like that bakery on the corner. We’ll get those ridiculous pastries you like so much. What d’you think?”

You smile, the thought of it filling you with a cozy sense of comfort. “That sounds… perfect, actually. Can we get those chocolate croissants?”

“Anything you want.” He chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’ll get a dozen if that’s what it takes to see you smile like that.” His thumb brushes across your cheek, his expression softening as he looks at you. “Deserve to feel like this all the time. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Least of all some idiot who doesn’t know what he’s got.”

“Thank you, Matty,” you whisper, meaning it more than you can say.

“Just glad you’re here.” His eyes hold yours for a long moment, then he settles back down, pulling you closer until you’re tangled together. He murmurs one last thing, just as you’re drifting off.

“Sleep well, darling. Wake me if you need something or just feeling lonely.”

You giggle as you start to rub small, slow circles along the back of his head, your fingertips grazing his scalp. He lets out a soft sound, almost a purr, and relaxes even more against you, his kisses drifting down to the corner of your mouth, lingering there as if he’s savoring every second.

“I definitely will,” you joke, “good night.”

“Night,” he murmurs, kissing your shoulder blade before you’re both drifting off.

[haute-pockette]

Theory: The spy is the character you pick in the beginning

My only evidence? A lot of the characters' lines before they jump from the balcony sound like they made a mistake/trying to make up for something. "We were just playing out a fixed match. And I was nothing but a figure head all along..." - Jin

"You simply cannot help but stick your nose in everywhere, can you? ... I'm counting on you to handle the fallout." - Tohma

"I'm sorry... Yet again, I've failed to protect the people most important to me... Please don't make that face. This is the only path left." - Luca

"What're you doing here? Geez... What else am I supposed to do, huh? I'm the only guy for the job." - Sho

"I just couldn't do it in the end. I couldn't protect my home, or you guys, or anything at all..." - Haru

"This is exactly why I didn't want to do this! I knew this was how it was gonna end!" - Ren

"Tell me something, would you? What could you have done differently to change this outcome?" - Taiga

"I see you've guessed my intention. It's of little consequence. I suggest you get as far from here as possible. Father... I was unworthy to be your son. I hope you can forgive me." - Ritsu

"This is all my fault. I don't expect you to forgive me, but this is the least I can do... Please take this as my final act of good faith." - Subaru

"Sorry. Guess I couldn't be the guy you wanted me to be. Haha... Don't look like that. Never lost faith in me, did you?" - Haku

"I knew this day would come. It's a little earlier than I expected, perhaps. I'll shut those lowly creatures up-- Their bleating is unbearable. You can thank me in the next life." - Edward

"Dammit! Get back! You're a human, you're s'posed to run away! This is my mess to fix. I'm gonna drag 'em all to hell." - Lyca

"There's no coming back from this. I will struggle until it's over though. Dying always looks like it hurts. I hope I can save you at least, but don't get your hopes up. Bye." - Jiro

Basically I think they are the spy but not willingly/under duress. They decide to make up for the fact by sacrificing themself at the end. The spy technically isn't the real culprit, maybe a teacher is pulling the chosen character's strings or such. IDK cause I'm not sure how well that would work with the whole story mode of the game but :shrug: it's what I got.

[hitomisuzuya]

Gamer!Scaramouche x fem!reader. Cock warming. Smut. Degradation. Scara receiving praise and encouragement. Mean!Scara

Think he should win this time? I think he should. As promised, here is more Gamer!Scara smut. This is just pure filth, honestly. Btw, I loved the movie🥰

Scaramouche was ready to send Freddy back to hell. That top hat wearing shit wasn't going to get the best of him tonight. He was halfway into Night Two, and despite the fact you were whimpering quietly in his ear, he found he was able to concentrate with his cock resting between your warm, clenching walls.

Having you cock warm him while he played was the best idea he'd come up with in awhile. He was quite proud of himself.

"You are doing so good, Scara," You encouraged, nuzzling your face lovingly into his neck. You nipped at his earlobe, shifting in his lap as you craned your head down to kiss his neck. "You'll win this time, for sure. I just know it."

God, your praises were making his cock throb. Noticing nothing really going on on the cameras yet, Scaramouche dipped his hand down to rub your clit. The tighter your walls clamped around his cock, the better he concentrated. Damn it if he didn't want to fuck you raw, right now though.

But he had a victory to achieve first.

He made sure your skirt was well hiked up around your hips, giving him a good view of the way his cock glistened shiny from your arousal when he bounced you a little on his cock to tease you.

"Please, please, let me bounce a little, please," You pleaded, feeling his the head of cock nudging against your sweet spot a little.

"Quit whining, slut," Scaramouche said, pinching your clit between his fingers. He smirked when your back arched, putting his hands firmly on your hips to halt your pathetic attempts to discreetly bounce on his cock for relief. "I'm trying to concentrate."

You mewled, ultimately doing as you were told. You dropped your head into his neck, trying to keep yourself busy by nuzzling and kissing his neck again. His degradation only served as fuel to make your cunt clench around his cock.

You still tried to reason with him anyways. You couldn't help yourself. Your cunt was practically sucking his cock in, resting against your sweet spot in a way that your legs shake. "Pretty please, it won't take me long to cum," You grinded needily in his lap, making him smack a hand across your ass.

He believed you. "You are cock warming me, not fucking me,"Scaramouche hissed, gritting his teeth as you yelped in pleasure. Denying you would only make you feel more sensitive for him.

"But I..I," You licked a line across his neck, smiling a little when you heard him let out a shaky sigh of pleasure. "I really want you."

Growling because he had to take his eyes off of the cameras to quiet you down, Scaramouche roughly grasped your jaw, and picked your head up from his neck. He kissed you to shut you up. He explored your mouth with his tongue, smirking against your lips as you melted from the kiss. "You just be quiet, and take it," His hand lightly smacked your throbbing clit, his teeth nipping at your lower lip when he pulled away

You moaned in bliss, your arms tightening around him. You nodded, tears burning in your eyes as you struggled to sit still. It was bad enough that before he set you on his cock, he'd made you sopping wet by teasing and dragging his tongue across your clit.

It felt like an eternity to you before Night Five came around, and Freddy made his move. Scaramouche reached down to rub your clit occasionally as he checked every camera over and over again until..

"HA! Fuck yes, and fuck you, Freddy!" Scaramouche suddenly declared his victory. He'd finally won before he forked over the money (willingly) to take you the movie later, making victory taste even sweeter for him.

"Guess what, doll? You can starting bouncing now," Scaramouche smacked a a rougher hand on your ass, groaning when you immediately started riding him like your life depended on it.

Feeling his cock repeatedly stretching your walls apart as he slammed against your sweet spot, your skin slapping against his, nearly made you fall limp against him.

"Your cunt is suffocating my cock..fuck..," Scaramouche moaned, pressing his fingers into the skin on your hips as he bullied his cock deeper inside of you. He lifted you off his cock just to abruptly drop you back down on it.

You screamed in pleasure, making him laugh. "Is my slut going to cum, hm? You nodded, your moans sounding pornographic as he held you still in his lap, gripping your hips.

Scaramouche craned his head down, flicking his tongue over your nipple once he yanked your shirt and your bra down off one of your breasts. All it took was a few more rough thrusts into your tight cunt to make you squirt, your body shaking from the intensity of your orgasm.

Hearing you babble in his ear about how you love him, and how only he could fuck you this good made his warm cum gobb and ribbon inside of you. He clutched you against him, fucking his cum back up inside of you.

Scaramouche gave you a long, sloppy kiss as he slowed you to a stop. He was panting a little as he pulled away, sighing content when you licked submissively at his mouth with a fucked out expression on your face. "Now go get ready. The movie is at 8."

[lurochar]

Little Abomination

That... thing was separate yet still a part of him. It was how Alastor even became aware of your existence to begin with. You were his. You just didn't know it yet. Alastor x Reader (sorta) + Catlastor

Warnings? - You call Catlastor ‘Little Red’. Reader sorta has a backstory.

–-------

“Settle down now.”

His shadow chittered with excitement and restlessness as it fluttered from building to building, moving along ahead of him like an enthusiastic child who possessed no manners whatsoever.

Well, he supposed his shadow was just mirroring what he truly felt deep down that he certainly could not display publicly, so he could let it slide for now.

After all, he had been watching for seven years and now that he was back, he could finally come and claim what was rightfully his.

You, that is.

Not that you even knew it yet.

Well, how could you? You had only just recently woken up in Hell shortly after he disappeared, probably only hearing of the ‘Radio Demon’ through rumours and gossip, if you even bothered to pay attention at all.

You had more important things to worry about than missing Overlords, such as surviving the brutal environment of Hell with your small and frankly pathetic build.

Yet survive you did.

Sure, you didn't have the rich and opulent lifestyles that Overlords such as himself could easily obtain through power or wealth.

In fact, you had absolutely nothing but the clothes on your back and even those were stolen with a skill that was practiced far too much.

He did believe you probably had done so often enough in your mortal life that you had no choice but to do so.

And in the seven years he had been watching you, stealing was the only crime you committed.

If that was the reason you were sent down to the burning pits of fiery Hell to suffer for your ‘sins’, well, clearly Heaven was nothing but a fucking joke.

No matter, he would get what he wanted and if Heaven made a blunder, it was his gain.

Of course, there was the pesky obstacle standing in his way, the reason he even knew of your existence to begin with.

Your little bodyguard.

That cat(?) creature-like thing that had become your companion and grew an affection for you simply because you showed the little abomination kindness again and again, over the wellbeing of your own health as you fed it the last scraps of your stolen food.

You foolish girl.

Did you really think that creature could not fend for itself? That it could not rip the limbs off whichever Sinner that it designated for dinner?

Who knows how many the little beast had already devoured for your protection? How many times you may have been killed if not for that cat stalking after you and pouncing on your would-be attackers before they could even hope to reach you? 

How your protector dragged those fools away out of your sight into the shadows, never allowing you to see just how gruesome Hell truly was?

You were a pretty little thing and many would be eager to snatch you up and ground your soul down until your light was snuffed out.

No, but him – he saw you for the pretty little gem you were, a pure indulgence that should not have been sent to the depths of Hell for such lowly crimes.

As for your little beastly companion, Alastor was not too sure what it was, but if he had to theorize, he would guess it was simply the remnants of flesh, fur, bone, and even bits of his antlers that he lost during his uprising and toppling of the previous Overlords during his first few years in Hell.

He supposed it just took years and years for the pieces of himself to slowly form into something (he would not say that creature resembled himself in any shape or form, it was a hideous little thing).

Despite it somehow growing its own consciousness, Alastor could still look through its eyes and it was then your fate was locked and sealed.

You were his.

Even that beast, separate yet still a part of him, already knew that and he did expect that you would come willingly now.

Wouldn't you?

–

You sighed.

“It's not much, I know.” You leaned back against the wall of the warehouse that served as your current ‘home’, “But it's better than yesterday! That bakery is on to me, I think. I'll have to move on to something else.”

The cat stared at you, its chilling grin not creeping you out in the least (not anymore anyway). Its unblinking eyes didn't move away from you even as you placed two pieces of bread in front of it.

“C'mon, Little Red, don't let it go to waste!” You begged. You knew it wasn't exactly fond of food like baked goods and it usually took a good while for your companion to relent to your pleas, but it eventually would gobble down whatever you managed to scrounge for that day.

Something like meat was a luxury you definitely couldn't afford.

“See, it's not so bad?” You let out a forced laugh when your furry friend swallowed the two pieces of bread after unhinging its jaw in a manner that used to disturb you, “Yeah, I know it’s plain. I woulda went for the doughnuts, but that baker was eyeing me pretty hard.”

The cat’s tail wagged and it let out that strange staticky purr as it bumped its head against your leg and you let out a huff of amusement, feeling its odd protrusions poking you. You scratched behind its ear and you felt the critter literally vibrate under your hand.

It was a bizarre creature, but it proved it was the only one you could trust during your time in Hell thus far.

You had come across the little fellow only a month after you woke up in Hell and despite your shock and despair at your fate and the cat’s initial indifference to your presence, your stubborn insistence in giving it the meagre amount of food you stole, and were sometimes beat bloody for, had won it over in the end.

(If you only knew it had stalked you the entire time, intrigued by your absurd reasoning. It had thoroughly enjoyed consuming those who did lay their hands on you).

Its grin widened at the memory.

“Maybe I should try getting a job again?” You muttered out loud, sighing as you let out a breath, “Try to save up money, get an apartment.” It was a pleasant thought, but that required you to actually retain said job.

Your mortal life hadn’t been so great, with a drug-addicted mother and an absent father, it didn’t take much for both of you to end up on the streets and your mother dying of an overdose not long after.

It had been under the directive of your mother at first, stealing had become a second nature to you. Anything for her drugs when she was alive, but after she died, it had turned to necessities only. 

Food, clothes, money.

It was never a good idea to steal money though.

You had chosen the wrong person to steal a bit of cash from and got a bullet in the head for it, only to wake up in Hell for simply being born in shitty circumstances and having to do what you did to survive.

It sucked.

You had sorta lucked out where you spawned in Hell however, in a territory owned by an Overlord known as the ‘Radio Demon’. 

He had apparently cleaned up the area, turned it into a civil area compared to other territories owned by other Overlords, and the denizens of his territory behaved (whether out of fear or respect, probably both) like a polite society.

Even though the Radio Demon had not been seen or heard from for years now, the citizens of his territory still acted cordially (again, out of fear and respect) since no one wanted their soul to be ripped apart over a live broadcast whenever he decided to return.

Or angering Rosie, the Overlord who was supposedly looking after the Radio Demon’s territory in his absence.

Due to your past life, you retained bad habits and the few jobs you tried to uphold, your sticky fingers had gotten the better of you and you were fired for stealing, even though it was mostly just food.

You really didn’t want to find out if you could starve to death in Hell.

A paw lightly smacked your face and you jumped, startled out of your thoughts and you looked down to find your cat friend sitting in your lap, its grin as wide as usual, “Heh, just lost in my head, Little Red,” you patted its head, “wondering what kind of job I could even do?”

The cat’s ears twitched.

Your body stiffened unwittingly.

Static hummed in the air, growing louder by the second and you began to shake uncontrollably, feeling your heart pound against your chest as you struggled to your feet. “W-what’s that noise?” You barely noticed as the cat tumbled off your lap while you looked wildly around the warehouse.

A shadow streaking across the ground caught your eye.

“Fuck, what is that?” You tried to keep your eyes on the quick moving shadow, but it was just so fast and your panic was not helping nor was the dim light, “W-where did it go?”

You almost screamed when you felt cold hands grab your shoulders and a strange chittering sound and you blindly threw your arm out, hoping to at least hit whatever grabbed you.

Yeah, you were pathetically weak, but you still had claws and fangs like the majority of Sinners, so you would put up something of a fight.

You hit nothing as you stumbled, looking behind you to see nothing either before those same cold hands skimmed up your sides. You shrieked when you were literally lifted off the ground from under your arms and you found yourself looking at a shadowy figure with glowing eyes and a grin that eerily reminded you of your little cat companion.

You were speechless as the shadow seemed to chirp at you, shaking you with what seemed to be excitement(?), but before you could react to this alarming situation, you felt something wrap around your midsection and the shadow was literally ripped away from you and thrown across the warehouse. 

Shadows had mass?

You were placed on your feet and you looked down to see what was wrapped around you–was that a fucking tentacle?!– before you shakily glanced back up when the appendage released you.

What in Satan’s name?!

“Little Red?” You weakly asked, staring at your little cat friend, which now looked like an Eldritch Horror monster, complete with a drooling jaw at least half the size of its body and whipping tentacles sprouting from its back.

The shadow recovered with no damage and growled back, but stayed the distance as the two beings glared each other down.

What the fuck was going on!?

“Now now, didn’t I already tell you to settle down?”

You were trembling again at the sound of a voice – one that sounded like an old-timey radio host – “No.” Your eyes widened as you took a step back, “No.”

“Oh, but I’m afraid it is, my dear,” the tall figure arose from a void of black through the ground, “I’m quite honoured you know of me despite my disappearance for seven years.”

“I-I mean, who doesn’t?” You swallowed thickly, “a-are you here to kill me?” Would there even be a point putting up a fight against the Radio Demon? It might just piss him off more, “I’m sorry for stealing! I’ll… I’ll find a way to pay you back somehow!”

“Oh, dear me! You believe I care about a misdeed as petty as theft? Especially when it’s concerning your very survival? No no, Darling – I’m here for something far more important.” Alastor’s chilling smile widened when you looked at him with uncertain surprise.

“W-what does that mean?” You asked, flinching under his unwavering red gaze, “You have much more important things you could be doing, r-right?”

Alastor took a step forward, stopping when a tentacle slammed down in front of him only inches away. “I couldn’t expect any less,” he eyed the drooling cat, amused with its warning to stay back, “You are a part of me, after all.”

“I’m sorry, what!?”

“In a sense, I suppose you could call this… thing a familiar that split off from me. And it chose you, my dear, because it was drawn to your soul,” Alastor’s proceeding smile almost split his face, “Now tell me, why do you think I am here?”

“No, no. Nope, nope!” You shook your head, clutching your chest protectively, “I’m not giving you my soul. Y-you’re just going to have to kill me!”

There was a yowl and snarl and the Eldritch cat and Alastor’s shadow were suddenly encased in some sort of black barrier glowing with green symbols with a slam of his cane and you would have fallen to the ground in surprise when Alastor appeared abruptly in front of you, only avoiding it when he gripped one side of your face and forced you to look at him.

“It would be a waste to take your soul. No, I want you complete and whole, my dear girl. In either case, the result would be the same. One is simply instant gratification. I am a patient man, I have no need to use force for my desired outcome.” He released you and you took several steps back, certainly glad to see the manic glee in his red eyes fade ever so slightly, “I have come here with an offer. No deals.”

“What’s… that?” You asked hesitantly, unsure if he was trying to trick you.

“Princess Morningstar has just announced a ridiculous plan, a hotel to redeem Sinners, in hopes they will be allowed into Heaven.” Alastor chuckled darkly at the utterly laughable idea, but he had plans and he needed the princess for them to come to fruition. “Even if it is a foolish endeavor that is bound for failure, surely staying at a hotel is better than this?”

You eyed him warily.

“My offer is that you simply come with me to this hotel. Why, I even heard what you said earlier, that you wanted a job?” Alastor’s grin was sleek when you looked at him sharply, “I’m sure the staff there will be quite lacking. Perhaps you can pay back what you stole?” It was a simple jest, but it seemed you took it seriously.

“Y-yes, maybe I can do it this time! Especially if this hotel wants to redeem us!” You said excitedly to yourself, not noticing the dark look in Alastor’s eyes at the idea of you ever being ‘redeemed’, “I’ll go as long as Little Red can too.”

“‘Little Red’?” Alastor repeated as his brow rose, glancing over to the barrier he had conjured to contain the two while he simply talked to you. There had been no need for a fight after all, “Ah, that… thing.” He slammed his cane against the ground and the barrier dissolved at once. “I am sure Princess Morningstar will allow it.”

He didn’t care for the creature himself, but it was your companion and he knew you would never leave it behind. Besides, the little abomination could act as your bodyguard when Alastor himself was out and about as he couldn’t stay near you 24/7.

“You okay, Little Red?” You approached the cat, noticing that it was back to its more normal form and its tail wagged when you picked it up gingerly, “I didn’t know you could do something like that! Tell a girl next time!” You giggled when it gave that staticky purr.

You heard the sound of a chitter and looked up to see the shadow practically leaping towards you and you flinched, closing your eyes and waited to be toppled to the ground. The cat vibrated in your arms in anger, hissing as its pupils turned into radio dials.

“Enough.”

The shadow immediately stopped, letting out a whimper as its ears dropped, giving you one last look before it disappeared behind Alastor.

“Well then, are you ready?” Alastor smirked, watching as you simply grabbed the cat, your only ‘possession’, and nodded, “Let us hope this was the break you were looking for, my dear.”

You were his.

And you seemed partially aware of it now.

[holidayinhell]

With a firm grip on Whumpee’s hair, Whumper yanked his head back, forcing their gazes to lock. Even upside down, Whumpee’s eyes blazed with fiery defiance. 

Amused, the vampire's lips curled into a hungry grin. 

“Don’t fight this," Whumper chided. "You know you won’t win.”

Leaning in closer, Whumper craned his head down, his breath hot and heavy against Whumpee’s exposed skin. His tongue traced the length of the man’s outstretched neck, squeezing an involuntary moan past Whumpee’s lips.

“Mmm. Good. Stay just like that," Whumper cautioned under his breath. "Don't struggle."

He readjusted his grip on Whumpee’s dark hair, pulling the man's head backwards until it rested against his shoulder.

Whumpee shuddered. He could already feel his energy beginning to leech from his fingertips.

“Please don’t…” Whumpee’s voice trembled as he tried to comply. It was supposed to hurt less if he went along willingly. But the idea of playing nice with this fucking monster made him sick to his stomach.

“Haha, what was that, Whumps? Please?” Whumper taunted, savoring every flinch as he dragged his tongue along the skin again, licking him greedily like a melting popsicle. “It’s a little too late for the nice act.”

Whumpee squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself. “Go to hell.”

He bucked his hips backwards with enough force to drive his skull into Whumper’s forehead. It wasn’t enough to hurt the vampire, but it gave him some time to twist his head free from Whumper’s grasp.

His freedom was small and temporary. In no time, Whumper had already climbed on top of Whumpee and pinned him with his back to the floor.

“That was cute.” Whumper shifted his weight into his knees, grin widening as he crushed Whumpee’s chest.

“Shut.. up..” the captive gasped breathlessly. “Ngh…get… off me.”

“I told you not to fight. I could make this a lot worse for you. This is me being nice.”

He lowered his lips to the tender curve of Whumpee’s neck, the intoxicating aroma washing over him. It was overpowering, maddening.

“God damn.” The vampire licked his lips like he was starving. Against Whumpee’s neck, he whispered. “So good. You smell so fucking good...”

Whumpee thrashed beneath him, legs kicking out uselessly against the weight holding him down. “Get off. Get the FUCK OFF!”

“Can’t.” Whumper groaned. He nipped at Whumpee’s earlobe, teeth scraping the delicate skin. “I can’t. Even if I wanted to…”

“GET OF--!”

Whumper’s lips smashed against Whumpee’s unexpectedly. It was a violent kiss—a collision of force and hunger, teeth scraping against teeth as Whumpee twisted under him in a final, panicked bid to escape.

When Whumper finally pulled back, Whumpee's head was reeling. The world spun around him, blurred into a wash of muted sound and light. He could feel free will diminishing, the remainder of his energy floating out of his body like a ghost. With his last ounce of strength, he muttered pitifully, “please, don’t…”

But Whumper only held him tighter.

“It’s okay, Whumpee.” Whumper whispered against Whumpee’s bruised lips, his voice shaking with hunger.

“I just want to taste you.”

((more whump))

[bennyboyfics]

Would love to see model!reader who is high maintenance and acting up when Ben is practicing and he’s not having it 🤭

Diva || Ben Shelton x model!reader

A/n: hahah I love this!!!

Wc: 866

Warnings: none just r being a diva 😂

MASTERLIST

-

The sun was absolutely relentless—high in the sky, merciless, baking down on everything and everyone without even the courtesy of a breeze. You were seated on a flimsy folding chair courtside, legs crossed at the knees like you were on a Paris runway instead of sweating through your designer tank top at a tennis facility in Florida.

Your sunglasses—oversized and expensive—shielded your eyes, but even they couldn’t hide the glare etched into your face. Your arms were folded tight across your chest, the glossy nude manicure tapping impatiently on your forearm. “Ugh,” you groaned, dragging the word out like it personally offended you.

“Ben, I swear, if I knew it was going to be this hot, I never would’ve come. This is actual hell. Like, I think I’m melting. My hair is frizzing. And my feet—oh my God—my feet are killing me. Why did I wear these shoes?” Your voice pitched into a whiny register, and you uncrossed your legs just to recross them dramatically, toe of your Chanel sandal dangling from your foot like it was about to give up too.

The straps were digging into your skin, leaving faint red marks, which you immediately pointed out to Ben with a sharp flick of your perfectly manicured finger. He was standing nearby, towel slung around his neck, a water bottle in hand, sweat dotting his forehead and chest. He looked like an ad for Gatorade, toned and flushed, practically glowing.

You looked like you’d been dropped into a war zone by mistake. Ben didn’t say anything at first—just blinked at you, then slowly looked you up and down, jaw tightening slightly. Then he huffed a laugh, but it was dry, clearly unimpressed. “Fix your attitude,” he said flatly, squinting at you under the sun. “Seriously. You’re acting like a brat.”

You scoffed, lifting your sunglasses to perch on top of your head, revealing your full scowl. “Excuse me? I am suffering, Benjamin. Suffering. I’m out here trying to be supportive and not get heatstroke at the same time.” Ben gave you that look—the one that was half amusement, half warning. “Babe. You sat down five minutes ago.”

“Well, it feels like five hours,” you snapped, shifting again in the chair, tossing your glossy hair over your shoulder with a dramatic flair. “And I don’t understand how you’re not dying in this weather. I’m not built for this. I’m built for air conditioning and iced oat milk lattes.”

Ben walked toward you, shaking his head with a grin, like he couldn’t believe he had willingly signed up for this level of diva. He bent down slightly so he was at your level, sweaty and beautiful and frustratingly unfazed by your complaints. “You came out here wearing platform sandals to a tennis practice. What did you think was gonna happen?”

“I thought you’d be done quicker,” you said, tone clipped. “I thought I could sit here, look pretty, and clap when appropriate. Instead, I’m stuck in a sweat lodge listening to my bones scream.” Ben leaned in a little closer, voice lowering. “ I love you,” Your eyes narrowed beneath your sunglasses, suspicious. “What?”

“I love you,” he repeated, reaching down to wrap his fingers around your ankle, giving it a gentle tug—part teasing, part grounding. “But if you don’t stop acting like you’re auditioning for ‘Real Housewives of Miami,’ I’m leaving you out here with the ball boys.” You gasped, sitting up straighter. “You wouldn’t.”

“I will,” he warned playfully, walking backwards toward the court again. “I swear to God, you start talking about your feet one more time—” “But they hurt!” “—ball boys, babe. Ball boys.” You watched him with an outraged expression, arms folded tighter now as you sank back into your chair, fuming but also…a little flustered.

He always had that effect on you. Infuriating, gorgeous idiot. You muttered under your breath, “I hate you,” just loud enough for him to hear. He winked. “Love you too, princess.” And with that, he was gone, back on the court, dripping sweat and stealing your breath in a whole different way.

You sighed dramatically and adjusted your sunglasses back over your eyes. Fine. Maybe you were being a little prissy. But he didn’t have to look that good while calling you out. Rude.