#my being is diffused with calm

[prettypinkdork]

The Fallout trailer looks bad (the vault suits look cheap, the ghouls look like Halloween makeup, the environments lack detail) but it also filled me with joy and wonder and I want to go live in that world and I am anticipating Fallout becoming my entire personality for at least a month (The PRYDWEN, power armor, MR HAAAAAAANDYYYYYY)

[casdeans-pie]

He's full of ✨️anxiety✨️

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Can’t live without your love inside me now

Tags: sextherapist!Nanami x fem!reader, nocurse!au, taboo romance, heavy topics such as sexual assault, dead dove due to the power imbalance and heavy conversation, is this considered angst? idk

Synopsis: In which Kento Nanami is a sex therapist, and his client is a young neglected wife with an emotionally absent husband. He teaches you what love is really all about.

An: Just another warning that this fic deals with heavy themes. It’s honestly been so therapeutic for me to write due to my own history. If it’s not for you, I have plenty of other Nanami fics that are more lighthearted. For the anons in my requests asking for more Nanami, this is for you.

Part one. | Part two.

“With those things in mind, I’m interested in what has brought you into my office today.”

“I’m not sure… Sex just doesn’t appeal to me much anymore.”

Being a sex therapist, Kento Nanami has heard it all. He’s seen this same presenting problem again and again. He’s counseled young and older men with erectile dysfunction. He’s counseled persons of the LGBTQ+ community come to terms with their sexuality and how that relates to sex. He’s counseled so many people who come from purity culture and struggle with sex. He’s counseled couples who can’t seem to get it right in the bedroom. He’s counseled sexual assault survivors.

Kento Nanami prides himself on upholding the ethics of counseling. He keeps the code of ethics proudly sat upon his shelf. His goal as a therapist was to give everyone a safe space to divulge their most vulnerable inner thoughts to him.

Sex was too often treated as a taboo, offensive subject, which is why Nanami got into sex therapy in the first place. He wanted to change the stigma around it. Sex was a basic need for the majority of individuals, and many times, people have poor experiences with sex since it’s not normalized and hardly talked about.

“Okay, so is it fair to say you don’t often feel like you’re in the mood for sex?” he asked as he looked towards his client. A pretty young lady sat across from him on his couch. His “office” was in his home, finding that people often didn’t want to talk about sex in what they considered to be a “public” space like a therapist’s office.

“Yeah, I mean… I just...” your voice trailed off. You already felt like this might be a mistake. Your arms crossed over your chest as it felt like you were naked in front of your incredibly handsome counselor.

His office was nice, serene almost. He had different seating options and all kinds of fidget items around his office. He also had a plethora of books on a shelf behind his desk.

It seems he enjoys spending his time reading up about the art of sex. You can’t help but feel your face warm from thinking about him reading those sorts of things in his free time.

The walls were painted a nice soft blue grey color, and the office smelled like fresh linen from the aroma diffuser in the corner of the room. Several different houseplants were also scattered about. They all looked healthy, assuring you that Nanami paid attention to detail. He was responsible and consistent.

“Take your time,” Nanami assured you as he sat back in his chair. “The first visit is always the hardest. Don’t feel pressured to get down to the bottom of why you’re lacking a sexual drive. These things take time and trial and error.”

That was… almost reassuring. You took a deep breath as your fingers absentmindedly twirled a strand of hair behind your ear. The familiar ministration worked to calm your mind.

“I’m young, and I’m recently married. I have no kids. I feel like I should be… I don’t know— at my sexual prime or something.”

“What gave you that idea?” Nanami probed as he continued observing your small nervous habits. He found his lips trying to curl into a smile, but he kept his face meticulously trained as a look of interest.

“Well, girls talk, you know? My girlfriends talk about their lack of a sex life stemming from other obligations or from a lack of a connection…” you explained as you briefly looked up at Nanami. Each time his hazel eyes met yours, you had to look away immediately.

When you found his information online, you didn’t think he’d be this handsome. You just saw all of his credentials, and you had heard good things about him on different websites centered around “rating” therapists.

Of course, you had done some digging on him. There was no way in hell you were going to go to some strange man’s house to talk about sex. That sounded ridiculous.

“Do you compare yourself to these so called ‘girlfriends’ often?” Nanami asked calmly. His voice was even and smooth, allowing you feel even more safe to open up.

“I mean, no. They’re just all I have in terms of what’s normal for sex.”

“Okay, so let me make sure I understand this right. You lack a sexual drive. You feel guilty that you lack sexual drive because you believe you don’t have a good enough reason to not want sex on a regular basis, and you think that you’re not normal. Does that cover it?”

You winced a bit as it was all laid out on the table for you. Your eyes squeezed shut, trying to hide from how pathetic you sounded. You sheepishly nod in response.

“Y/n, open your eyes for me,” his voice spoke gently, coaxing you to slowly flutter your eyes open to look into his. Once he had your gaze, he went on, “These are all normal feelings to have. I can blab on and on to you about how our society is blatantly misogynistic when it comes to sex, but I’ll spare you the details since I’m sure you’re painfully aware. We’re going to figure this out together, alright?”

You took a deep breath, letting his words wash over you as a security blanket. It was nice to have someone to just talk about these things freely to. You felt a glimmer of hope shine through.

“Okay,” you said with a small nod, feeling more confident now.

“So, you mentioned earlier that you're recently married. Tell me a little bit about that."

You try not to have a physical reaction when Nanami brings up your husband. It was a topic that felt too raw.. too close to home. You’re supposed to be a dutiful wife, right? So, why would you feel that way when talking about your husband?

“Oh, uh… well,” you stammer, looking away from Nanami as you suddenly came up blank on your own marriage. “We got married about a year ago. Some say we’re still in the honeymoon phase, but…”

Nanami perks up a little in his chair. Some therapists take notes or record their sessions. Nanami doesn’t believe in it. He thinks it takes away from the moment. He’d much rather be present with his client rather than jotting down notes.

“But..?” he urges you to go on.

“But… I guess it just doesn’t feel that way.”

“What is your idea of the honeymoon phase? What does that look like to you?” Nanami asks, clasping his hands together in his lap as he relaxes into his chair.

You take a moment to process his question. What does the honeymoon phase look like?

“For me, it looks like the movies where couples do things for each other without being asked. They’re attuned to each other’s emotions, and they make a conscious effort to be sensitive to their partner’s feelings.” Your eyes meet Nanami’s once again, and you let out a deep breath. No one told you that counseling would be this mentally strenuous.

“Okay, what about in your current life? Do you feel like that’s how it is now?”

You nearly laugh from the question. You mentioned that sort of love being in movies because you’ve never seen it in real life. You’re nearly convinced that it doesn’t happen in real life, and anyone who claims to have that type of love must be lying.

“No, I feel like we’re both focused on our own lives… We just happen to also be in a marriage together.”

“That doesn’t seem like an active partnership,” Nanami responds as he searches your face thoughtfully. He can feel his heart ache for you. This is by far his least favorite presenting problem to work with because he can’t just tell you that you need to leave your husband. All he can do is inspire you to seek the changes you need. “What are you focused on in your own life right now, y/n?”

You feel the tension set in your shoulders and neck as soon as you hear that question. Just thinking about what all you have to do is enough to stress you out. “For starters, I work full-time. It’s a standard corporate job from eight to five, but it can be a lot.”

“That’s not easy, y/n. Just because that is what’s considered to be standard, doesn’t mean it’s easy. I’m sure that’s a lot on your plate.” His voice was low and calm. His presence felt so warm in the room; you feel like you’re finally able to open up a little.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I also take care of the house and our pets.”

“The housework… is that all your responsibility?” Nanami asks as his eyebrows knit together slightly. He feels like he’s already scratching the surface of why you don’t have any sex drive.

“Yeah. If I want him to do anything, I have to delegate the work to him. My husband always says to just tell him whenever I want something done, and I should be grateful that he’s willing to help—“

Nanami couldn’t help himself. He doesn’t like to interrupt clients often, but the more you talk about tour husband, the more he’s having to hold himself back. “That’s the bare minimum.”

You’re slightly taken aback, and you look away from Nanami. A part of you knows that he’s right, but… you didn’t want to bad mouth your husband. A large boulder of guilt settled into your stomach.

“Tell me what you’re feeling right now,” Nanami’s voice returns to that gentle tone. “That probably wasn’t appropriate for me to say. I apologize.” He knows he shouldn’t have said that, and he knows he has to appropriately handle this if he wants you to feel comfortable enough to open up again.

“I guess I just… It feels wrong talking negative about my husband to another man. It just feels different when I’m ranting with my girl friends.” You straighten your posture and take a deep breath. It feels good getting that out in the open.

Nanami slowly nods his head. He can see why you view that act as troublesome. “So, you’re feeling tense because of our opposing sexes? Tell me. Does your husband know where you are right now?”

“Well, yeah… He was honestly the one who told me I needed help since I don’t feel any sort of sex drive.”

Nanami’s teeth subtly clench together, but he keeps a stoic expression as best as he can. The thought of your husband claiming that there’s something wrong with you absolutely repulses Nanami.

“How does that make you feel?”

Your fingers twitch a bit as you look down to the ground. You should be honest with Nanami if you really want the help that you came here for.

“I guess it makes me feel like I’m not good enough for him. Every time we have sex I try to cater to him, but it just feels like it’s never enough. If he had it his way, we’d probably have sex everyday, but I just don’t have that kind of time, energy, or desire.”

Nanami feels his chest tighten while he listens to you. This is why he hated working with this presenting problem. This man is ruining your confidence and self-esteem, and your low sex drive is either completely natural or it’s because of him.

If Nanami could show you what it was like to be truly loved, he would. Then, you’d probably open your eyes and see that your husband is the one who isn’t good enough for you.

He shakes those thoughts out of his head. He knows he’s bound to a code of ethics. He can’t pursue you romantically or sexually. It’d be morally wrong.

“That’s heavy.” He nods, allowing silence for reflection. He then speaks up again after a pregnant pause, “Let’s break down what you said sentence by sentence, okay? First, you have said that you feel guilty and not good enough in terms of sex.”

You slowly nod, still avoiding eye contact with Nanami. Why didn’t anyone tell you that this would be so emotionally exhausting.

“Do you put a lot of pressure on yourself to perform?”

That question alone opened up the floodgates. Tears bit into your eyes, and you covered your face with your hands. “All the time,” your voice cracked, betraying how deep this affected you.

“Oh dear,” Nanami says softly. He grabs a box of tissues, and he hands them to you. “Sex is meant to feel natural and progressive. It’s understandable that you don’t feel any drive if you’re constantly pressuring yourself.”

You nod as you take the tissues, dabbing your eyes gently.

“I just,” you let out a deep shaky breath, trying to calm your nervous system. “It’s easier to just do it and get it over with rather than to hear him ask multiple times.”

Nanami clenches his jaw. His hand gently finds your shoulder, and he makes you look up at him. “Listen to me. If you take nothing else away from this entire session, take this. Asking multiple times even though the answer was clearly a no is coercion. Whenever he asks multiple times, he’s hoping that you get tired of telling him no and just give in.”

Your eyes meet Nanami’s, and your eyebrows furrow a little. Coercion? No.. no, that can’t be right. He’s your husband. He’s just asking to make sure you hadn’t changed your mind. He wouldn’t coerce you into anything you didn’t want to do…

You slightly pull away from Nanami. “I don’t think that’s right… He wouldn’t do something like that. He’s not abusive.”

Nanami leans back. He chides himself internally for going in too deep too quickly. He’s grateful that you’re giving him grace right now. You definitely could’ve just left the session after he blatantly told you that your husband was a conniving piece of shit.

He takes a deep breath. “I apologize. I must have it wrong,” he says as he regains his posture. He knows he needs to make you understand. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Oh—? Uh, no.. no I’m okay, thanks.”

“Are you sure? It’s good tea.” Nanami leans in slightly, not breaking eye contact with you.

“Yeah, I’m sure… I don’t really think I can stomach it..” you respond, confused as to why he was suddenly wanting to make you tea.

“Tea is good for digestion. It might help your stomach. You really don’t want any? I can make it quickly with an electric kettle I bought the other day.”

You slouch back a little, a frown covering your lips. “I mean.. I guess tea would be okay.”

Nanami then gives you a knowing look, and the realization hits you. “Did you actually want the tea, or were you just going to accept the tea because I kept pestering you?”

Goddammit. This therapist is good.

Taglist: @theuniversesnepobaby @airandyeah

[likeumeanit9497]

| after hours c.s. |

chris sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: chris practically begs his best friend to massage his back, but after an awkward discovery, y/n finds it difficult to keep her hands -- and her eyes -- on the job.

warnings: smut; established friendship; oral (m/f receiving); fingering; hand job; squirting; unprotected p in v; dirty talk(!!!!); 18+

notes: whew! long time no see! life has been putting me through the absolute ringer lately! i haven't felt like a real person in months! i still don't tbh! im working on it! but i have absolutely missed writing and tumblr and u all so much! pls forgive my absence on here i literally haven't even been able to open this app since october when my life went south. my semester is over now so i have one major thing off my plate, so im hoping i can be a bit more consistent with writing. I MISSED U ALL SO SO SO SO MUCH and i hope u enjoy this chrissy one shot that i started months ago and just finally finished it today. love u all <33333

“No Chris.” I chuckled, standing up from my couch and walking to my kitchen to put away our leftover dinner. “Please,” I heard him whine behind me, “My back is killing me Y/n.” I turned around, facing my best friend still sitting on the couch where I left him. I laughed at his fake expression of misery, and the hand pressed to his lower back was a nice touch. “Chris, you know I’ve made it a rule not to massage my friends in my free time.” I explained, putting my hands on my hips. He groaned dramatically. “But why? You have all your stuff in the next room!” He began standing up from the couch, being sure to make it seem like a painful struggle.

He was right. I was a licensed massage therapist, and had recently started my own practice from the comfort of my home. I had turned my den into a massage room, fully equipped with a massage table, calming music, and essential oils. But I had made it clear to all of my friends — especially Chris — that I wasn’t going to massage them after-hours. Of course, I would treat them free of charge, but they had to book during normal hours. I was brand new in this career, and I wanted to ensure professionalism right from the start.

“You already know why.” I replied, turning away from him and opening up the fridge to put away my leftovers. As I leaned down into the fridge, I gasped as I suddenly felt a hand press against my lower back. “Just right here.” Chris whispered behind me, circling his thumb along my lower back. “It’ll only take five minutes.” I shuddered at the sound of his voice and the feeling of his touch. Chris had a habit of turning on his sex appeal when he needed something from me, and even though him and I were only friends, it unfortunately worked.

I turned around and closed the fridge, coming face to face with my friend. His eyebrows were knit together in what I could only assume was faux pain, because there was a playful smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair before pointing at the closed french doors leading to my massage room. “Go in there, take off your shirt and lay on the bed. Call me in when you’re under the sheet.”

A smile consumed his entire face, and before I could change my mind he walked over to the room and shut the door behind him.

Chris’s POV:

As I shut the door of the massage room behind me, I stood for a moment to take in the room. She had never let me in the room before, in fact she made it known that she considered it separate from her home and so she didn’t like going into it when she wasn’t working. I always joked around with her because of that, asking her if it was really a secret torture room, but as I saw it for the first time, I couldn’t help but smile. It was professional, but still had personal touches that made it clear that it was hers.

The lights were dim, enough to see clearly but dark enough that everything had a blurry haze to it. It smelled like that shit she diffuses in her bedroom — I think she told me once that it was lavender or something. I noticed the various candles dotted around the room, and took it upon myself to light a few of them. As I lit the last candle on the small table beside the bed, I noticed an old phone connected to a small speaker. Finding that the phone didn’t have a password, I opened it and hit play on the playlist that showed up first, smiling at the title: music that makes strangers fall into my bed.

I chuckled to myself. Not so professional, sweetheart.

Typical spa music filled the small space, and I couldn’t lie, it did add to the meditative atmosphere of the room. Looking at the massage table in the middle of the room, I remembered what I was actually in there for and felt a wave of excitement hit me. I hadn’t been lying when I told her that my back had been hurting — not exactly, at least — but I had definitely been exaggerating. The truth was, I just really wanted to see what her hands could do. Not wanting to waste any more time, I took of my clothes and climbed onto the table, slipping my lower half under the thin white sheet.

“Y/n!” I shouted, “I’m all set!”

Y/n’s POV:

From my place at the kitchen counter, I heard Chris’s voice and my stomach did a flip. I wasn’t sure why I was so nervous, I had given a few of my other friends massages before, but for some reason I had been dreading the idea of giving one to Chris. Maybe it was because him and I had such a playful relationship, and I was so used to being professional with my clients, I couldn’t quite envision how combining my two personalities would go. Still, I took a deep breath and headed for the room.

Once I opened the door, I noticed the candles were lit and soft music was already playing. Looking at Chris, laying face down on the table, I chuckled. “I see you made yourself comfortable.” I remarked. Heading towards him, I noticed the pile of his clothes on the floor, including his sweats and boxers. “Uh Chris,” I began, stopping at the top of his head, “I said you only had to take off your shirt, remember?” He lifted his head from the table, looking up at me briefly. “I know. It’s just that the pain goes pretty low down my back and I figured it would be easier to just take everything off.” There was a playful look in his eyes. “It’s what I’ve seen them do in the movies.” He added softly, making me chuckle.

“It does make it easier,” I replied, moving so that I was now standing on his right side. “It’s really just about what you’re comfortable with.” As I spoke, I began running my hands down his back, from his shoulders down to his tail bone, to check for any tightness. He remained silent underneath me as I applied pressure on certain areas. “So, you said right here is sore?” I asked, pressing down on the same spot that he had when demonstrating on me. I heard a muffled hiss and watched as he nodded his head. “And the pain kind of shoots down to here.” He added, awkwardly moving his arm behind him and trailing it from where my thumb was down to just below the white sheet.

I hummed in acknowledgment, pumping the bottle of massage oil beside me and rubbing it in my hands. “Okay, I’ll get started. Let me know if the pressure is too much.” I said the same thing that I said to all of my clients robotically, before working against his muscle. It was pretty tight, but definitely not as bad as he was making it seem before on the couch. Like I do with my other clients, I stayed silent to encourage him to relax against my pressure. A few groans of pain fell from his lips as I worked, but he encouraged me to keep going each time I asked if he was okay.

I noticed him shuffle a few times under the sheet. “Are you uncomfortable?” I asked him softly, wondering if maybe the massage table was too hard. “N-no, I’m fine.” Was his reply, and even though there was a slightly panicked edge to his voice, I took his word for it and continued working my hands lower down on his back. I felt my cheeks grow hot as my hands pulled the white sheet lower to gain access to his pain. I had never seen this much of Chris’s body before, and even though I was trying to be professional, I felt like the act was a little too intimate.

I rushed to finish up, and after about fifteen minutes I was satisfied that the knot in his back had improved. “Alright, I think I’m done. Want to flip onto your back for me?” I asked, pulling the sheet up slightly. “W-why?” Chris asked, his tone filled with alarm. “I usually finish every session with a neck massage. Sometimes the neck gets stiff from the way it lays when you’re on your stomach.” I replied. “Oh, uh, it’s okay.” He replied, refusing to move. I rolled my eyes. “What? Not even 30 minutes ago you were begging me for a massage, and now you’re turning it down?” I crossed my arms and moved over to his head, “Come on, turn over. It won’t take long.” I reassured him.

He sighed, and, holding onto the edge of the sheet, slowly turned over. I stifled a gasp, because between his legs, the thin white sheet had tented, and I could clearly see the outline of his erection. I was thrown off, unable to take my eyes away from it, but quickly recovered — clearing my throat and dropping my eyes to his face. His eyes were still closed and his cheeks were flushed; I could tell he was embarrassed. In a normal circumstance, I would think that I would have made a joke about it, and he would have just told me to shut up. But at that moment, there was something so real about his exposure and humiliation, and so I knew that I would just ignore it.

I began massaging his neck, trying to focus on my actions and regain my professionalism. But, I couldn’t stop looking at the white sheet; it being the only thing between his cock and my eyes. I could tell that it was huge, and I watched as it grew harder and harder as I continued working his neck. It went from standing straight up and wobbling in the air as Chris breathed, to being pressed right against his front. The sheet draped around it, perfectly outlining its girth, and I could see a small bead of dampness taint the sheet a translucent shade of white at its tip. My mouth watered and my mind wandered. I felt my own body begin to react to the sight in front of me, and the tension in the room began to grow so heavy that I began to gasp for air.

“I-is the pressure okay?” I asked, doing my very best to keep my voice strong as I worked his neck. I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed nervously before nodding his head. “It’s good, Y/n.” His reply was so simple, but there was something about the gruff undertone, the almost indiscriminate breathlessness as he said my name, that caused my knees to weaken and my throat to turn into a desert. Suddenly, I could no longer hear the soft music playing throughout the room as my blood pumped deafeningly in my ears. I couldn’t pull my eyes away from his bulge for more than a few seconds at a time — it seemed so hard that it had to be painful. My eyes continued to flutter between his flushed face and pulsing member until suddenly, when my eyes returned to his face, his bright blue eyes were wide open and staring right at me.

I felt a new wave of heat crawl up my face at the fact that I had just been caught red-handed staring at the one thing in this room that both of us had been actively ignoring. I opened my mouth to attempt to explain myself, but his words beat me to it. “I’m sorry.” He murmured sheepishly, his face turning the same shade of red that I imagined mine to be as he squeezed his eyes shut. Immediately, I began shaking my head rapidly. Partially as a reassurance to him and partially as an attempt at erasing the last two minutes of my life. “No! Don’t be sorry. It happens all the time.” I rushed out, doing my best to make light of the situation. “No it doesn’t.” He replied flatly, with a hint of disbelief in his voice. I forced a chuckle. “Okay fine, it doesn’t happen all the time. But its not not normal.” I tried again, brushing a soft curl out of his face.

Chris was silent for a moment, his eyes still squeezed shut in either embarrassment or concentration. I had stopped massaging his neck, but my hands were still on his damp skin; my thumbs drawing gentle circles against his rapid pulse. After a moment, an exasperated sigh fell from his lips. “It won’t go away.” He said, his voice laced with genuine disgust. “I’m sorry Y/n, this is creepy.” A forced laugh, then another sigh.

The room fell silent again as I tried to find the right words to fill the space. Words that would reassure him more genuinely than more “it’s okay’s”. Because, from the way my pulse had quickened, and from the way my core had grown so slick from arousal that I could feel it dripping steadily onto my panties, it really was okay. It was more than okay. So, instead of trying to find the words that could possibly portray just how okay it was, I leaned down and pressed my lips to his.

I felt him tense at the first brush of my lips against his, clearly shocked by the sudden close proximity of our mouths; closer than they had ever been before. So, I pulled away for a moment, finding his piercing eyes to search them for whatever thought is running in his mind. They were wild, racing across my face trying to make sense of what just happened. But there was something else there, something erotic that was blurring the line between right and wrong. Between professionalism and spontaneity. Between friends that fuck around and friends that fuck. I could tell that we were both balancing on that same fine line, but when I brought my lips back down to his, and when he opened his mouth to welcome mine with the kind of hunger than can never be satiated, I knew that we both came to the same conclusion.

Our lips moulded together in rhythmic wonder as our tongues explored each other. Immediately, I felt his body relax as his hands reached up and wrapped themselves in my hair. A soft moan of satisfaction fell from his lips as I nibbled on his bottom lip, causing my body to react in a way that was foreign to me. I felt goosebumps raise up across my skin as if his hands were all over it. He pulled his lips from mine and used his grip on my hair to tilt my head to the side, giving his swollen lips access to my neck. He sucked and nibbled against my electric skin just below my ear, and I felt as though I could fall apart and dissolve into a puddle just from that. “L-let me make you feel better.” I managed to moan out through the waves of pleasure I was feeling. My eyes wouldn’t leave the rock hard bulge under the white sheet, just barely out of my reach. Chris groaned against my neck at my words, and I watched as his cock twitched under the sheet as if it heard my words itself and was begging me to help it.

After another moment of Chris devouring my neck, tasting every inch of it as if he couldn’t get enough, his grip on my hair loosened and he allowed me to straighten up. I looked down at his face, now even more flushed than before. His lips had gone bright pink and were so beautifully swollen from their journey against my skin. His chest was rising and falling rapidly and, after a short moment, his eyes fluttered open and landed on me. “You sure you want to do this?” He asked, his voice slightly tentative, and I knew what he meant.

A kiss between friends is one thing. It can be brushed off as a slight moment of weakness, can be something that the two friends can one day laugh about as they look back on their friendship. It can be never spoken of again, can be hidden from their other friends deep in the vault of the minds of the two people that shared it. But anything more than that, any other touching, or licking, or exploring of the other person is not as easily ignorable. In friendships there is deep love and strong understanding of the other person. Once that love and understanding collides with the act of literally merging together, of being as physically close to another that you can be in this lifetime, it’s not so easy to ignore. My mind may not be able to shut out the events that transpire with Chris tonight ever again. We may never be able to chalk it all up to a moment of weakness, or keep it a secret from our mutual friends. We may never have the same friendship we had before I agreed to this massage. But there is no way to know that for sure. What I did know for sure in that moment, with Chris staring up at me with eyes filled with intoxicating desire, with my own body vibrating with lust, was that I wanted this.

So without a word, I walked down his body towards his beckoning cock. I took a moment to just gaze at it, closer to it now than I had been all night. I rested a hand on his thigh hidden beneath the sheet, and watched as his cock once again twitched. I chewed on my bottom lip in an attempt to keep myself from moaning just from the sight, and after a moment let my eyes flutter back up to his face. “I’m sure Chris.” I replied softly, searching his expression. “Are you?” I asked, realizing that he was likely considering the same potential outcome that I had been. He kept my gaze for a brief moment, his eyes focusing on different parts of my face. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” He replied finally, a cheeky smile growing on his face. I felt my own expression mirror his own, and without wasting another second I began peeling the thin sheet down his waist.

My smile fell the moment his bare cock was finally exposed, and was replaced by what I knew was the expression of desperate hunger. His length was impressively long, and I felt my mouth water at the thought of running my tongue along its veins up to its swollen head. Reaching to my left, I pumped some massage oil into my hand. I brought my cupped hand above his upright cock and let the oil drip between my fingers and coat him. He released a sharp hiss at the feeling of the oil as it trailed down his length towards his base, and I watched as his hips thrust forward desperately from the barely-there contact. A bead of pre-cum suddenly dripped from his slit, and I used my thumb to collect it before finally pumping my hand up and down his shaft. Immediately, a deep moan fell from Chris’s lips as I worked his oiled cock in my hand. I focused on his body language as I adjusted my movements to figure out exactly what he needed to feel good.

When I went slow, I watched his breath grow steady, telling me that I should pick up the pace. When I used a softer touch as I moved along his cock his hands would stay relaxed at his side, but I knew he liked it when I used a bit more pressure along his tip as his hands would tighten into fists against the sheet. But when I used both hands, twisting in opposite directions with the occasional brush against his balls with my pinky, I discovered that was what he liked most of all. A deep grunt followed by a moan fell from his lips, and his right hand flew to my upper thigh; where he gripped so hard I was sure that he would leave a bruise. “Fuck, Y/n.” He breathed out as I continued with these movements.

His hand traveled further and further up my leg until his fingers slipped under my loose-fitting shorts. I continued to stroke him with both hands, even when I felt the tip of his fingers just milimetres from my trembling core. They brushed against the ever-so-soft place between my pelvis and my pussy, and I bit back a moan. Subconsciously, I adjusted myself so that my legs were wider apart; giving him access to touch even more of me. My hands continued to work his cock as his fingers inched closer and closer, before finally, I felt the very tip of just one of his fingers reach my core and dip into its warmth. My knees buckled at the barely-there contact just as he released a muffled moan. “Jesus fuck, Y/n,” My eyes flew to his face and the translucent arousal that I found all across it was almost enough to push me over the edge. “Put that on my face right fucking now.”

His demand was so jarring, his voice so gritty and raw, that I didn’t hesitate before peeling my shorts down my legs, lifting myself onto the massage chair, and straddling his face. Immediately, his hands gripped onto my thighs and pulled them apart; giving his eyes untethered access to my glistening core. “You’re fucking soaked.” His words came out in an almost-whisper, as if he hadn’t actively planned on speaking them aloud. Still, they shot straight to my lust and I leaned forward, resting my head against his chest to allow him to see even more of me.

I gasped as I felt his thumb against my slit, collecting my arousal. I heard a wet sound and then another deep moan. “So good.” He whispered before suddenly his warm mouth was suctioned to my clit. Immediately, I dissolved into a puddle of desire as his tongue swirled and licked against my sensitive bundle of nerves. Moans fell from my lips as my brain turned to mush from the relief of finally having his mouth on me. I began moving my hips against his face, chasing a high that I so desperately needed. Satisfied moans slipped from his mouth into me, and I felt a sharp slap against my ass cheek that added to my intense need.

I had turned into nothing more than a dead weight on top of him, his lethal tongue paralyzing me. But as I opened my mouth to release a guttural moan, I felt my lip brush against the tip of his cock. Without a second thought, I slipped his cock into my mouth and began pumping up and down. Another moan fell from Chris, vibrating against my clit and causing me to moan around his girth. “Fuck.” Chris muttered against me, and I responded by deep throating his cock until my nose pressed against his bare thigh. “Mmmm, Y/n.” Chris breathed, removing his mouth from my clit. I stopped my movements as well, waiting on shaky legs for him to continue.

“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna cum.” He began, gently running his knuckles against my ass cheek. “And I don’t want to do that yet.” He slipped two fingers into my core effortlessly, causing me to immediately begin rocking against them. “Mmm. Thatta girl.” He breathed, presumably watching for a moment as I rode his fingers just inches above his face. “What I want you to do is focus on making a mess all over my face, then after that I want to cum with these tight walls wrapped around me.” His words caused my eyes to roll to the back of my head, and a sharp moan fell from my lips. “Sound good?” He asked, his voice muffled as he reattached his mouth to my throbbing clit. I nodded my head maniacally as he resumed his impressive movements against my nerves. He kept his fingers inside of me, and as I slid my soaked cunt against his face, I cried out at the added sensation of his fingers filling me.

“Fuck C-Chris.” I moaned, my words nearly incomprehensible as I grew closer and closer to my climax. He could tell that I was quickly approaching, and tightened his grip on my ass cheek with his free hand; pressing my cunt so hard against his face I was afraid that he would suffocate. “G-gonna cum!” I warned him just before the tumultuous waves of my orgasm took over. My body began shaking as I came hard against his face. I had never before felt so out of control of my own body, and relished in the feeling as my back arched and a plethora of moans fell from my mouth. I felt a gush as I squirted against Chris’s mouth, and trembled at the guttural moan he released as he began lapping me up.

Once my mind reattached to my body and my orgasm had finishing ripping through me, I rested my head against his stomach as he ran his hands along my tense back and dropped gentle kisses against my sensitive core. He let me lie there on top of him for a few moments, catching my breath and slowing my heart rate, before gently lifting my limp body off of him and sliding off of the massage table. I sat up on the edge of the table, facing his standing figure before me, and my gaze landed on his excruciatingly hard cock. He grabbed my chin and lifted my head up before pressing his wet lips harshly against mine. He tasted like me, and immediately a new wave of arousal filled my core.

As his tongue flicked into my mouth, I reached between our bodies and began stroking his cock. He thrusted into my hand instinctively, and a moan fell from his lips as his hand shot to my core where he drew torturously slow circles against my over-stimulated clit. Caught up in how good we were making the other feel, our kissing slowed and our mouths eventually turned into matching O’s; eyes shut in pure bliss. I dropped my forehead against his bare chest, and watched as our hands worked on the other’s body, slowly working up the nerve to do the one thing we hadn’t yet done with each other.

“You still want to do this?” Chris asked, his voice strained. I jolted slightly at his words, shocked at the fact that he seemed to be reading my mind. A sharp wave of pleasure hit me from his fingers and I moaned softly before looking back up at him. “Mhmm.” I breathed, meaning it. “Do you?” I asked in return as I felt his cock jump in my hand. “So much.” He replied before lowering his head and planting another deep, wet kiss against my mouth. After a moment, he grabbed the hem of my t-shirt and pulled it over my head. He took a moment to admire my bare chest before kissing each of my painfully pebbled nipples. “God, you’re unreal Y/n.” He moaned, running firm hands against my completely naked frame. I arched my back against his touch and shut my eyes blissfully.

He leaned forward and ran his tongue along my collar bone. “You ready?” He asked. I felt his hand replace mine on his shaft, and bit my lip as I felt him line the head up with my soaked core. He used his free hand to hold firmly onto my lower back, and I wrapped my legs around his waist; using the grip to press him against me. “I’m ready.” I replied breathlessly, looking up at him through my eyelashes. Without wasting a second, Chris kept his glazed eyes on mine as he slowly pressed his hips into me. My jaw dropped as his girth stretched my walls out further than I thought possible, and the intoxicating mix of pleasure and pain that can not truly be described with words turned my brain into mush.

Chris hissed as he bottomed out in me, his cock taking up every inch of my cunt. He remained still as he rested his forehead against mine, his breath erratic and hitched. “Fuck.” He finally groaned out, his body more tense than I’d ever seen it. “You okay?” I asked, wrapping my arms around his neck. He nodded. “I’m gonna cum in, like, record speed here Y/n.” He replied, taking deep breaths and keeping his forehead pressed to mine. I couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s okay Chris,” I replied, running my hands through his hair. “Just give me what you’ve got.”

My last seductive whisper seemed to give him the motivation to power through, because immediately he snapped his hips into me. I released a sharp moan from the depth of his movements, and that was enough to bring him fully back into it. Using the grip he had on my lower back, he plowed into me relentlessly. My eyes were rolled into the back of my head as I felt my walls stretch with each thrust; allowing him to hit my g-spot each time. “Jesus!” I cried out, gripping onto his shoulders in a weak attempt at holding onto my sanity.

“You’re so f-fucking tight.” Chris groaned into my shoulder as he continued to drive his ruthless cock into me. The room filled with the sounds of our bodies smacking against each other, adding to the indescribable arousal I was filled with. Chris’s hands began travelling all across my body, taking his time on my tits as his thumbs drew circles around my hardened nipples. He gave my tits a harsh squeeze before travelling down my stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps on my skin as he reached my clit and began rubbing it in rhythm with his thrusts. “God, keep going baby.” I moaned, wrapping my legs even tighter around Chris’s waist, “F-feels s-so good!” I cried just as Chris lifted me up off the table and slammed me into the wall. I released a sharp gasp from the shock, but as he continued pounding into me, my pleasure was intensified.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Chris growled as he nibbled against the skin on my neck. “You always this fucking wet?” His dirty words make my head spin. “N-no. I’m n-not.” I reply honestly, feeling my juices spread all over his front. A wicked smile covers his face. “Just for me then, huh?” His tone was arrogant, but there was an undertone of overwhelming arousal in it that told me he needed it to be true. I nodded my head rapidly. “Y-yes Chris! O-only this wet f-for y-you.” I managed to reply just before my second orgasm swept in and overtook me.

Just as I began riding my high — my nails digging into his skin and my mouth sputtering out profanities — Chris stilled inside of me and released a ragged “Oh fuck!”. I felt his cock pulse inside of me, painting my walls with his warm seed as my orgasm milked him dry. He released soft grunts against my neck as he rode through his own high, and I relished in the feeling of his cum as it dripped from my cunt.

After a while, both of our bodies relaxed and we rested against one another as we caught our breath. I waited for the overwhelming feeling of regret to wash over me, as one would expect it to after fucking your best friend, but it never came. In fact, I was so relaxed in that post-sex liminal space, pressed against the wall with Chris’s softening cock resting in my core, that I almost couldn’t believe that we had never done that before.

I was pulled from that thought by Chris placing a deeply passionate kiss to my lips. There was no lust, no untethered desire attached to it; it was almost as though this kiss was the end of one chapter of our lives and the beginning of a new, more exciting one. Our lips moved in slow motion, as if we had kissed like this a thousand times. With his lips still on mine, Chris slowly helped me down so my feet were on the ground. After another moment of our mouths merged as one, I pulled away and was immediately wrapped in a hug. Chris’s warm body felt so familiar, even more familiar than before, and I closed my eyes and took in the moment, as I knew it was the start of something new.

“Well, I think we have some things we should figure out,” Chris said, and I felt a soft chuckle against my head tucked into his chest. “Because I don’t know about you, but there is no way I can go the rest of my life without doing that again.” It was my turn to laugh, and I pulled myself out of his arms and looked up at his face. “I think I am officially under your spell.” I replied, feigning a smile. “Let’s go sit down and figure this all out.” I grabbed my discarded shirt and threw it over my head before walking towards my living room. “Oh by the way Y/n,” Chris grabbed me by my waist from behind as we walked through the door, “My back feels great now, in case you were curious.” I rolled my eyes with a smile and continued walking. “You have magical hands.” He whispered, and all I could do was laugh and give him a half-hearted shove.

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

[shortnspidey]

SILENT RIFT

JJ maybank x cameron!reader || WC: 4.5K

SUMMARY: The Pogues finally find the gold they've been searching for after countless obstacles. However, when it comes to actually succeeding, the universe has other plans. Held at gunpoint in the middle of nowhere, a spontaneous decision changes everything. In the heat of the moment, words are said that reveal hidden feelings. Emotions run high, leading them to confront not only their enemies, but also their own emotions.

WARNINGS: established relationship, cursing, mild angst, talks of drugs, typical OBX level violence, suggestive towards the end but no smut!

A/N: Happy OBX 4 release day! This one shot is one of my old Wattpad drafts from when I was writing a JJ story. Enjoy this drabble as I try to publish another chapter of broken record or collateral hearts soon! This ended up being a long one, enjoy! Divider by @marvelstoriesepic

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"Hell of a job melting it down, Dr. Frankenstein," JJ scoffed, narrowing his eyes at Kiara as he stepped out of the Twinkie. He clutched the melted piece of gold tightly in his hand, its weight a tangible reminder of what everyone was expecting him to do. As the group arrived outside a shabby pawn shop on the outskirts of the Outer Banks, the rundown aspect and the graffiti on the walls made your skin crawl. The shops window's were smeared with grime, making it impossible to see inside, and the peeling paint revealed patches of weathered wood.

Kiara shot JJ a glare, her frustration evident in the tight set of her jaw and the clenching of her fists. "Like you could have done any better." She retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. JJ stepped closer, standing toe to toe with her, not backing down from her challenging gaze. "I could have done much better. I took a welding class," He sassed, a smirk playing on his lips. "Woah, woah, hey!" John B chastised, stepping in between his two friends.

His presence seemed to diffuse some of the tension, his calm demeanor acting as a buffer between the two. You followed his lead, grabbing JJ by his arm and rubbing comforting circles with your thumb on his forearm knowing that he was anxious. You could feel the taut muscles in JJ's arm slowly beginning to relax under your touch, the rhythmic motion of your thumb providing a small measure of comfort.

"Chill out, okay?" John B coaxed, his voice gentle but firm. You watched as Kiara's eyes softened slightly, her earlier anger giving way to a mix of concern and frustration. She took a step back, her shoulders sagging as she exhaled deeply. "It's easy for you to say that," JJ scoffed, his voice tinged with bitterness. "You're not the one that has to pawn off this piece of shit." He emphasized his point by holding up the gold bars that were now melted in a unrecognizable shape, the once gleaming metal was now a twisted, misshapen lump.

"How did I get this job anyway?" JJ muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "Cause you're the best liar." Pope replied nonchalantly, his tone matter-of-fact. Letting out a sigh JJ turned to you, his cerulean blue eyes locking with yours. His eyes were a stormy sea, filled with a mix of frustration and determination. He turned his head, tapping his cheek. "Kiss, for you know, good luck." He grinned, his usual mischievous spark returning momentarily. You rolled your eyes at your boyfriends antics yet leaned in to kiss him nonetheless.

Just as your lips were about to collide with his cheek, he turned his head at the last second, smashing his lips with your in a kiss that was way too passionate for it to be in front of your friends. The warmth of his lips, the sudden intensity, made your heart race. You could have sworn you heard your sister mutter an "aww" while everyone else fake gagged, their exaggerated sounds filling the air. Pulling yourself away from the kiss, much to JJ's dismay, you smiled, leaning up and pressing one more chaste kiss to his pouting lips.

The brief contact left a lingering warmth, a promise of more to come. "You got this," You reassured him, squeezing his bicep in emphasis, feeling the tension in his muscles. "Showtime," He mumbled to himself, mentally preparing. Straightening his shoulders, he took a deep breath, and gave you one last look before stepping forward. Behind you, Sarah reached out and squeezed your hand, her grip offering a silent message of solidarity and support. The warmth of her touch was comforting, grounding you in the moment.

Everyone followed JJ into the empty shop, the jingle of the bell on the door announcing your arrival. The sound seemed to echo in the quiet space, a stark contrast to the tension that hung in the air. "Afternoon, ma'am." JJ greeted, his voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of anxiety. The shop was dimly lit, with dust particles dancing in the beams of barely there sunlight that filtered through the windows. Shelves lined the walls, filled with various trinkets and curiosities, each one telling its own story. “Afternoon.” The pawnbroker, an elderly woman with a stern face and piercing eyes, looked up from behind the counter.

Her gaze swept over your group as you spaced yourselves around the room, lingering on JJ for a moment longer. JJ stepped forward, trying to maintain his composure under her scrutinizing gaze. "I see you buy gold," He emphasized, his voice steady but with a hint of nervousness. "That's what the sign says, don't it?" She retorted, her lips curling into a sneer. She glanced at the sign hanging in the window, its letters faded and worn. "Well, I sure hope you buy a lot of it, because I am about to blow your mind." JJ carefully opened his bag, revealing the items inside. The pawnbroker's eyes never left his hands, watching his every move with a hawk-like intensity.

"I ain't got much mind left to blow, so have at it," She challenged, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Her eyes gleamed with a mix of defiance and curiosity. "How about them gold apples," JJ replied, his voice steady as he placed the melted gold onto the counter with a thump that echoed throughout the shop. The sound seemed to reverberate off the walls, adding a weighty finality to his action. The pawnbroker chuckled cynically, shaking her head. "That ain't real," She declared, her voice filled with disbelief and a hint of mockery. Her eyes flicked to the gold, then back to JJ, as if daring him to prove her wrong.

"That ain't real?" JJ scoffed, his eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. He leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a near whisper. "It can't be," The pawnbroker pressed, her voice faltering slightly as doubt began to creep in. She reached out a tentative hand, her fingers hovering just above the gold, as if afraid to touch it. "Feel how heavy it is," He countered, his voice firm and confident. He nudged the gold closer to her, the metal glinting under the dim light. The pawnbroker hesitated for a moment, her eyes locked on JJ's, searching for any sign of deceit. Finally, she picked up the gold, her fingers curling around it.

Her expression shifted from skepticism to surprise as she felt the weight of the metal in her hand. The shop fell silent, the only sound being the faint creak of the floorboards as she adjusted her stance, the gold weighing heavily in her grasp. "Mhm, here let's get some light on that." The group watched intently as she narrowed her eyes, but nevertheless picked up a nearby magnifying glass with a light, inspecting the chunk of gold closely. "Spray-painted tungsten." She concluded, her voice laced with doubt but still firm.

"Really, okay?" JJ rolled his eyes. "Why don't you see how soft it is." He suggested. "You mind?" The pawnbroker asked, holding up a small mallet, her eyes seeking permission. "No, go for it." JJ urged, his gaze unwavering as he watched her. She brought the mallet down gently, making a small dent in the gold, then pushed down on it for further inspection. "Wow. Would you look at that." JJ remarked sarcastically, a smirk playing on his lips. "Hold your horses, we ain't got the acid test yet." She shot back, her confidence wavering slightly. "Ooh, the acid test," He turned, his eyes locking onto yours, a mischievous glint in them.

"My favorite, baby." He added with a wink, grinning as he noticed how the simple action made you flush. You pretended to be distracted by a limited edition book on the shelf, your heart racing as you tried to avoid his piercing gaze. This was certainly not the place or time. Everyone held their breath as the woman dribbled a few drops of acid on top of the gold. The liquid sizzled slightly, emitting a faint, acrid smell that filled the small shop. "Well, it ain't plated, and it ain't painted," she assessed, her tone now more serious. "Ma'am, I'm telling ya, this is as real as the day is long," He insisted, growing tired of the back and forth, his patience wearing thin.

"It looks like someone tried to melt it down," she raised a brow, her eyes meeting JJ's in a challenging gaze. The air seemed to crackle with unspoken accusations. "My mom," You stepped in, linking your arm through JJ's as the pawnbroker eyed you both suspiciously. "She had all this jewelry laying around the house, and she thought it was best to melt it down to "consolidate" it." You tried to sound as convincing as possible, your voice steady despite the nervous flutter in your stomach. The lie felt heavy on your tongue, but you pushed through, hoping it would be enough to satisfy her.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sarah bite her lip to stop the laugh that she almost let out at your evident lie. The pawnbrokers gaze flickered between you and JJ, her skepticism evident. The silence stretched, each second feeling like an eternity. Turning around with a sigh, she placed the gold into a small scale behind the counter, the scale creaked under the weight. "Seven pounds," Her eyes widened. "That's a lot of earrings." Her voice had a hint of disbelief, and you could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she tried to piece together your story.

"Okay, to be honest, ma'am," JJ spoke, clearing his throat and adopting a more somber tone. "It's really hard to see my fiancé's mom fall apart with Alzheimer's. Breaks my heart, truly." His voice wavered slightly, adding an authentic touch to the fabricated story. "Give me a minute." She tsked, walking towards a secluded office. JJ nodded solemnly, playing into the act of the heartbroken fiancé. "Take your time, ma'am." As soon as she was out of earshot, you turned to give JJ a look of disbelief. "Alzheimer's really?" You whispered, trying to keep your voice low. The absurdity of the situation was almost too much to handle, and you could feel a nervous giggle bubbling up inside you.

"So I talked to my boss, and this is what I can do." The pawnbroker returned, holding a piece of paper with a price written on it. Inspecting it, JJ raised his brows. "Fifty thousand?" He repeated, his voice tinged with incredulity. The offer was far lower than what you had hoped for, and you could see the frustration building in JJ's eyes. "You think I walked in here not knowin' the spot price?" JJ retorted, his voice firm. "I know for a fact this is worth 140 at least." His confidence was unwavering, and you could see the pawnbroker's resolve starting to crack. "Well sweetie, you in a pawn shop. This ain't Zurich." Her voice was firm, but there was a hint of concession in her tone.

"Ninety, or I walk," He bargained, his voice steady. "Seventy, half price, and I don't ask questions about where you got this.” JJ clenched his jaw, looking over at John B, who nodded his head, giving him the green light. "I'm gonna need that in large denominations, please," JJ agreed, his voice calm but resolute. "Well, here's the snag, I don't have that much denominated. Not here anyway, but I can write you a cashier's check." JJ immediately shook his head. “No ma’am, I want the cold hard, that’s what that sign says. Cash for gold, and that’s what I expect.” He pointed to the sign on the wall as emphasis.

“Well, I have to send you to the warehouse. I have the money there. Is that alright?” Everyone in the room held their breath, watching as JJ mentally weighed his options over in his head. “Where’s this warehouse?” He finally asked, his voice steady but with a hint of skepticism. That is how the group found themselves further into the middle of nowhere following the pawnbroker's instructions to the supposed "warehouse". The road was rough and winding, lined with tall, ominous trees that seemed to close in on them as they drove deeper into the unknown.

To say you were on edge would have been a complete understatement. Every creak of the van and small jolt from where you were seated on JJ's lap made your heart race faster. "So, they keep money out here?" Pope voiced aloud the question everyone was probably thinking. His voice broke the silence, but instead of easing the tension, it only seemed to heighten it. The unease in his tone mirrored the anxiety that had settled in your chest. JJ shrugged, attempting to lighten the mood. "That's what she said," He chuckled at his own joke. "That's what she said." His snicker was met with silence, the gravity of their situation overshadowing any chance of humor.

"Stop," Pope warned, his expression hardening. The seriousness in his eyes was a stark contrast to JJ's attempt at levity. "That was cute, but definitely not the time, J," You exasperated, your voice barely above a whisper. The fear and uncertainty in your tone were unmistakable. The blonde boy nodded, his playful demeanor fading. He held onto the melted gold in one hand, the other resting reassuringly on your thigh. The warmth of his touch was a small comfort in the midst of the overwhelming tension. "I've never even heard of Resurrection Drive." Sarah inquired. "That's cause your rich." JJ mumbled under his breath.

"You've never heard of it either." Both you and Kiara retorted in unison. "Thank you." Sarah replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "There's nothing but weeds back here." Kiara informed the group, looking out the van's window and seeing nothing but shrubbery. JJ was about to retort with another sarcastic comment, yet he was interrupted by the sudden, piercing sound of a siren. The noise sliced through the tense silence like a knife. Sure enough, John B looked in the rearview mirror, his eyes widening as he saw the flashing lights of a car behind them, signaling for them to pull over.

"Cops? Out here?" Kiara questioned, her voice tinged with disbelief. "Are you kidding me!" JJ fumed, his grip tightening on the gold and your thigh, the panic in his eyes was evident. "What did we do?" Sarah questioned, her voice small and wavering, the fear clear in her tone. "Stash that," John B whispered urgently to JJ, who was still holding onto the gold in his hand. You quickly got off his lap and sat next to Kiara, your heart pounding in your chest. The van's interior felt even more confined as Pope and John B coaxed JJ to hurry up. The oppressive weight of the situation pressed down on you, making every second feel like an eternity as you waited for what would happen next.

Your heart sank in your chest upon hearing the cock of a gun and seeing a rifle a few inches away from John B's face. The metallic click echoed ominously in the confined space of the van. "Why don't I go ahead and see them hands in the air?" A gruff voice declared, belonging to a mystery assailant who wore a bandana on the lower half of his face. The fear that gripped your heart quickly morphed into a seething anger. You knew that voice. "All of y'alls hands up in the air right now." Oh hell no, you thought to yourself. This was going to end here and now. "No," You seethed, making direct eye contact with your assailant. You could tell by the look in his eyes that he knew you recognized him, and his cover slipped slightly.

The tension in the van was palpable, like a coiled spring ready to snap. Every muscle in your body was tense, ready to spring into action. The familiarity of the voice only fueled your anger, making it harder to think clearly. You could feel the eyes of your friends on you, their fear and confusion mirroring your own. "Just do as he says, Y/N," John B urged, his voice steady but his eyes betraying his fear. He slowly raised his hands, setting an example for the rest of you. "No," You shook your head, challenging him. The defiance in your voice was clear. The assailant's eyes narrowed behind the bandana.

"Alright, tough girl, come on out here then," He taunted, his voice dripping with mockery. "Y/N, what are you doing?" Sarah whimpered, her voice trembling as she watched you step out of the van, the barrel of the gun trained on you. "It's gonna be okay, Sarah," You reassured her, trying to keep your voice calm despite the fear gnawing at your insides. "Y/N!" This time it was JJ. His voice cracked with desperation. As your eyes met his, you could see he was barely holding it together, his usual bravado nowhere to be found. "JJ, trust me, stay here," You coaxed, trying to project as much confidence as you could muster. The last thing you needed was for him to do something reckless.

"I'd listen to the lady, unless you want your brain scattered here on the side of the road," The assailant threatened, his voice cold and unyielding. The weight of his words hung in the air, adding to the already suffocating tension. "I'll be okay, I'll be right back," You promised, hoping your words would be enough to keep your friends from doing anything rash. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever was to come, and stepped further away from the van, feeling the eyes of your friends burning into your back. Once you were a safe distance away from the van, Barry lowered his rifle, letting out a surprised chuckle. "Mighty brave of you, Cameron, especially 'cause I'm the one holdin' the gun." He mocked.

"Oh please," You rolled your eyes, your voice laced with disdain. "Drop the act, Barry," Addressing him by his name with a tone of authority, you crossed your arms over your chest, standing your ground. "We both know Rafe will kill you if you so much as lay a finger on me." You smirked confidently. "Now, why don't we cut to the chase, shall we?" You proposed, your eyes never leaving his as you reached for the shiny gold diamond ring that adorned your knuckle. Barry watched in disbelief as you slipped it off and held it out to him. "Here," You coaxed, handing him the ring. "This will get you a couple thousand dollars if you pawn it off right." Barry took the ring, studying it in the sunlight. "This covers what you and your friends got, but not what country club owes me, you feel me.”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest once more, the frustration evident in your posture. "How much does he owe you?" You asked, your voice tinged with exasperation. "At least two hundred," Barry replied, a smirk playing on his lips. Sighing, you reached into your back pocket for your wallet, picking out two hundred dollar bills. "Are we free to go?" You huffed, knowing that if this deal took any longer, your boyfriend would most likely come and take matters into his own hands, whether Barry had a gun or not. "Tell your boy toy that his attitude's gonna get him in trouble," Barry sneered. "Don't," You spat, your eyes narrowing. "If you even think of touching him, we're going to have a problem. You feel me?" You threw back his previous words with a defiant glare.

Raising his hands in mock surrender "Damn, looks like I hit a nerve." Barry chuckled. "I mean it, Barry," You insisted, your voice steady and unwavering. With one final smirk in your direction, Barry pockets the cash and the ring and climbs into his car without a single look back in your direction. You let out a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding and turn back towards the van. As you approached, the tension was palpable, hanging thick in the air. "What the hell was that?" Sarah was the first to question you, her eyes wide with concern as you climbed into the backseat as if nothing had happened.

"I handled it, it's over." You shrugged nonchalantly, but the tightness in your chest betrayed your calm facade. Sarah scoffed, clearly unconvinced by your bravado. "That was pretty stupid, Y/N," Kiara scolded, her voice filled with frustration. Everyone nodded in agreement, their faces a mix of worry and disapproval. You shrugged them off, trying to meet JJ's eyes, who had yet to say anything. You could see the worry and anger battling for dominance in his eyes, the tension in his jaw making it clear just how much he was holding back. "Let's get out of here," John B broke the silence, his voice a calm command that cut through the tension. Everyone was unharmed, yet you somehow knew this was far from over.

Arriving back at the Château, you watched JJ throw open the door before John B even parked his van. The sound of the door slamming against the wall echoed through the air. You watched as JJ stormed inside, his movements quick and agitated. One hand was gripping his chest, his knuckles white from the pressure, while the other was balled into a tight fist, veins visible under his skin. He didn't look back, his anger propelling him forward. John B, Kiara, Sarah, and Pope turned to you, their faces a mix of concern and curiosity. It was as if they were silently asking if they should get involved, their eyes darting between you and the direction JJ had gone.

"I'll handle it," You sighed, feeling the weight of the situation settle on your shoulders. You stepped down from the van, the gravel crunching under your feet. "Good luck," John B sing-songed, a teasing lilt in his voice. You flipped him off with a smirk, hearing Sarah and Kiara scold him in unison. Their voices faded as you walked through the door, the familiar scent of the Château enveloping you. You found JJ in the spare bedroom, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. His footsteps were heavy, each step reverberating through the wooden floor. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, filled with a storm of emotions - anger, frustration, and a hint of vulnerability.

"JJ, talk to me," You urged softly, stepping closer. Your voice was calm, trying to soothe the tempest within him. He stopped pacing and turned to face you fully. His expression was a mix of anger and hurt, his jaw clenched tightly. "What the hell were you thinking, Y/N? You could've gotten yourself killed!" His voice cracked slightly, betraying the fear behind his anger. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, but you took a deep breath to steady yourself. "He's the scumbag who sells coke to my brother. I know him and what he's capable of. As much of a psychotic asshole as he is, he wouldn't hurt me. Not without facing Rafe's wrath." That only made JJ angrier. "How are you so sure?"

He shook his head, his eyes narrowing as he stepped closer, the space between you shrinking. "Maybe next time you won't be so lucky, or I won't be there to protect you." His voice was low, almost a growl, and you could see the worry etched into his features, mingling with the anger. His fists were clenched at his sides, and his breathing was ragged. "I'm fine," you replied, trying to sound reassuring. "It's over now." "Over?!" JJ's voice rose, and he ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. "Dammit Y/N, you don't get it!" He screamed, pulling his hair in frustration. "I was fucking terrified. Did you know how scared I felt, watching the woman I love being held at gunpoint?" His voice broke, and you could see the tears welling up in his eyes, though he tried to blink them away.

You opened your mouth, but nothing seemed to come out. The weight of his words hung in the air, heavy and significant. "What did you just say?" You finally managed to whisper, your heart pounding in your chest. JJ stayed quiet, almost as if processing the words himself. His breathing slowed, and he looked away, his shoulders slumping. The vulnerability in his stance was palpable, and it hit you just how deeply he cared. This was more than just anger; it was fear of losing someone he couldn't bear to lose. "JJ," You coaxed to stop him from overthinking, knowing that his flight or fight mode was kicking in.

JJ's confession hung in the air, the raw emotion in his voice making your heart ache. You could see the fear and love in his eyes, and it made everything else fade away. The room seemed to shrink, and all that mattered was the two of you, standing there, vulnerable and exposed. "I love you, Y/N," He repeated, his voice softer this time, filled with a desperate need for you to understand. He took a hesitant step closer, his eyes searching yours for any sign of rejection. Your breath hitched, the intensity of the moment overwhelming. Without thinking, you closed the distance between you, your hands reaching up to cup his face. "I'm so sorry, JJ," You whispered, your voice trembling.

"I didn't mean to scare you, but I couldn't just stand there and do nothing either." His eyes softened, the anger melting away as he leaned into your touch. "Just promise me you'll be more careful," He murmured, his forehead resting against yours. "I can't lose you, Y/N." He whimpered leaning his forehead against yours. "You won’t lose me, ever, I promise," You replied, your voice barely above a whisper. Without another word, you both closed the distance between one another, your lips meeting in a kiss that was both tender and fervent. It was a kiss that spoke of all the fear, the love, and the relief you both felt. Bodies pressed together, seeking comfort and connection, hearts beating as one.

“And I love you too,” You grinned the second he pulled away giving you both a moment to catch your breaths. “In case that kiss didn’t make it clear enough.” JJ shook his head, only pulling you closer. "What do you say we seal the deal?" JJ grinned suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows. "You're lucky I love you." He didn't even give you a chance to finish his sentence before he kissed you again, wanting to show you just how much he meant it. His hands slid down your back, pulling you even closer, the heat between you growing more intense. The world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you in a moment that promised so much more to come.

Thanks for reading! likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! Feeling generous? Leave a tip!

[illbegottenfaith]

fml (a Manchild by Sabrina Carpenter inspired fic)

you rope theo into going to a party with you and accidentally fall for his juvenile mannerisms (theo nott x ravenclaw!reader)

a/n - decided to polish this up and publish it in honour of the man's best friend announcement!! I know how controversial the title and cover art has been but i have Thoughts about it if anyone wants to hear them/discuss hehe (I rlly need to stop using this as my sabrina sideblog help) also lets pretend u can actually see shit from alllll the way up in the Ravenclaw towers and the 'decent' joke is (quite obviously) plagiarised from tumblr I think, I did not come up with that lmao

tropes/warnings - fluff, comedy, technicallyyy fake dating? but it's not the focus here

word count - 3.7k

taglist - @kandralice @justme989898 @iamheretoread1234 @allie-sturns @hzdhrtss @friedfreyfries @bushnellswife @rose-of-the-grave @thaliashifts @pariahsparadise @babene-e @fratbrochrisgf @user089167

Theo pushed his hair off his clammy forehead for the hundredth time that morning. He was long overdue for a haircut he kept forgetting about except on mornings like these, when his overly long fringe kept falling in his eyes during the laps he ran with the rest of the Quidditch team around the perimeter of the pitch. It was barely 9 am when most students were still enjoying breakfast. It was far too early for him to already be sweating buckets.

Theo slowed to a stop, pushing his hair back once again as he seriously considered ripping it from his skull. He scanned the pitch. It was barely 9 am, and he could hear the usual faint murmur of students having breakfast in the Great Hall. There was a diffused quality to the light of the cloudy day and the grass was still damp with morning dew. It was peaceful. Typical. Calm.

And yet.

Theo looked around, an uneasy feeling in his gut. Something felt...off. He gently rolled out the ankle he had strained last week, starining his ears. It felt fine. It didn't even ache from the humidity of the morning. He watched his teammates jogging along the other side of the field. The pitch was quiet, but no quieter than it usually was. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, the way they did in Quidditch games when he would sense rather than see a Bludger coming his way.

Mattheo jogged past, pausing briefly.

"Ankle?" he asked breathlessly.

Theo shook his head mutely, still thinking hard to the sound of Mattheo's panting as he caught his breath. Just as he gave up on figuring out the strange feeling, he noticed Mattheo frowning at something over his shoulder.

Theo was beginning to hear a set of quick, light footsteps distinct from the rest of the team's sluggish yet relentless footfalls. He turned and immediately got barrelled over by a blur of white and navy blue, knocked flat on his back with a tongue stuck down his throat.

Blinding sunlight rushed in as the figure pulled away. Dazed, Theo was distantly aware of Mattheo gawking at the sight while someone told him off in a waspish tone. He regained his wits just as Mattheo jogged off, sniggering under his breath. Tentatively, he turned his sight to the Ravenclaw girl peering down at him.

"If anyone asks, we were celebrating our 1-month anniversary last night."

Theo shut his eyes briefly, willing himself not to pass out. There was an awful ringing echoing in his skull. Was this what a concussion felt like? And what was that about a one-month -

His eyes popped open despite the searing pain. "Month?"

The girl gave him an impatient look. "Yes. As far as anyone is concerned, we've been dating for the past month."

Theo gaped at you. He had to be hallucinating. How much pain medication did he take last night?

"We have?"

Her lips thinned into a line.

"I can't tell if you're being purposefully dense," she muttered, sitting back on her heels. Theo propped himself up on skinned elbows.

"You, and I," her silhouette repeated, stabbing a finger between the two of you, "one month."

Theo squinted up at her through the sunlight she wasn't blocking. "W-"

"One. Month." she repeated firmly as she stood, brushing imaginary dirt off her pants. She scanned the pitch casually, appraising the rest of the team with a mildly critical look.

"That is all. Enjoy your laps."

Theo watched her walk off back to the castle, befuddled.

After feeding Madam Pomfrey some fib about running laps the wrong way, Theo had his elbows bandaged up. He was barely in time for Ancient Runes and was too restless to pay attention. By the time class finished, all Theo wanted was to tuck into a warm, comforting lunch, even if it was a little early.

He walked into the Great Hall and there you were, like a bad penny, already halfway through a bowl of soup at the Ravenclaw table.

He visibly winced. You had the gall to look cluelessly concerned.

"Merlin, what happened to your elbows?"

Theo just about had an aneurysm.

"You," he forced out through clenched teeth. "You happened."

You looked genuinely surprised.

"Don't tell me you're still upset about this morning?" When Theo remained stony-faced, you rolled your eyes, turning back to your lunch. "God, that was so three hours ago."

Theo stared at you, speechless.

"Don't you think you owe me some kind of explanation?"

You glanced at your watch impatiently. "Fine. I've got 20 minutes before Transfiguration anyway. Sit down."

He didn't. You cleared your throat anyway.

"So, I have this stupid roommate who will not get off my back about bringing someone to this 80s-themed party her cousin's hosting at Hogsmeade this weekend, because she's convinced I'm still hung up on my ex from 5 months ago."

You didn't sound like you were going to be done anytime soon. Theo reluctantly slid into the seat opposite yours.

"Are you still hung up on your - ?"

You nodded, waving a hand carelessly. "Oh, yeah, totally. The pining - it's a whole thing. Don't worry about that. Anyways, she was going at me again last night, and the only way I could get her to shut up was to say that I was bringing someone. So, obviously, she asked who, and - now this part is kind of your fault - and I looked out the window, and there you were, decked out in your Quidditch gear and whatnot, and I thought you were as good of a choice as any. So I said I was bringing you."

Theo blinked at you.

"You told your roommate you're bringing me to a party I'm only just hearing about."

"Mhm."

"And it's my fault," Theo continued tonelessly, trying to make sense of what you were saying, "for going to Quidditch practice...as part of the Quidditch team."

You shrugged. "Yeah, I 'spose. Anyway, she was like, no way, and I was like, way, and I knew she wouldn't believe me if I said we had only just started seeing each other, so I had to say it was, like, our one-month anniversary. But she was still watching me like a hawk, so I had to spend half the night outside of our room. And I think she could still tell I was lying - "

"Still? Are your lies always this elaborate?"

You looked a little embarrassed. "I might have a bit of a problem with...telling the truth, or the whole truth, sometimes." You tucked a lock of hair behind your ear.

"Anyway, I had to get to you before she did, but you both take Ancient Runes together on Thursday mornings, so I had to catch you before then, so..." you gestured vaguely. Theo raised his eyebrows.

"That's it? She's never seen the two of us in the same room, but my word is enough to convince her we've been dating?"

"Oh, please. She hardly sees me. I've got quite a bit on my plate."

Theo eyed your book bag, bursting at the seams with textbooks and parchment.

"I'll say. When do you even find the time to, er, pine after your ex?"

You shot him a withering look. "Whose side are you on, anyway?"

"Right now? The person who didn't tackle me at eight in the morning."

You rolled your eyes. "I can't believe you're still going on about that," you muttered. "It wasn't even eight."

You continued eating your food while Theo mulled over your story. His mind drifted to your face, to the sharp, strong cut of your nose and the plain, straightforward edge to your words. You had a bit of a problem with the truth, there was no denying that, but something about your story didn't seem fabricated or exaggerated. It was a largely unappealing scenario that would only be too easy to refute, which made it all the more convincing.

Theo tilted his head. Huh. Maybe it was the concussion talking, but you were starting to seem a little less insane. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts.

"Why don't you tell your stupid roommate to pi- erm, go away?"

You glared at Theo.

"Stupid Roommate is my best friend. I would kill for her."

It was like he couldn't say anything right. Theo sighed, massaging his temples.

"...okay. What's stopping me from telling her I don't know you?"

You put on a pained look.

"Babe. You can't be saying those things about your one-month girlfriend."

"You're not my - "

"Besides," you continued, finishing up your soup, "we've been holding hands for, like, the past fifteen minutes."

Theo glanced around at the students filing into the Great Hall for lunch, some of whom were eyeing your clasped hands with interest. He yanked his hand away.

"So good luck explaining that to...literally everyone here." You stood, gathering your things. Theo marvelled at the resilience of your book bag when it didn't split open as you pulled it up to your shoulder.

"I'm off for Transfiguration. See you Saturday at 6."

And when you bent to press a kiss to Theo's cheek, he didn't bother leaning away.

Theo was staring into a mirror, hair slick with gel, trying to fix this cowlick that kept falling right in the middle of his forehead. Around him, chaos ensued.

Enzo was studying a retro muggle video game for his Muggle Studies project and, naturally, Mattheo had to screw with him as much as he could. All the while, Blaise was yelling at them to take their scuffle elsewhere, telling them off for crumpling the plastic sheaves of his good binder. Somewhere in the background, there was a knocking sound. Did ankle sprains cause tinnitus?

Empty weekends like these were always rough, but they were especially so when all four of the boys were cooped up together. The air outside was heavy and sticky with the week-long drizzle that refused to let up, making the walk to Hogsmeade downright unbearable.

Theo shook his head, separating his curls. The knocking got louder. It was definitely real, presumably by someone coming to tell them to keep it down. The cowlick fell stubbornly against his forehead once again. From outside the bathroom, there was a violent crash.

That was it. After multiple warnings and 'don't make me come over there's, Theo had finally reached the end of his fuse. He stepped out of the bathroom.

"Oi! Cut it out, all of you. Mattheo, give Enzo his game back. Enzo, go sit in the corner 'til you've calmed down. Blaise, get over yourself and get a new binder."

The thudding on the door increased in volume.

"And somebody get the fucking door!"

Theo retreated back into the bathroom. The noise immediately ceased. He sighed in relief. Finally, some peace and quiet.

There was a soft knock on the bathroom door.

"Theo, someone's here for you."

Theo fiddled with his hair, only half-listening. "Tell them to go away."

"It's a girl."

"Tell her to go away."

"Are you decent?"

Theo looked up at the sound of the striking voice. He had only heard it a couple of times, and never before this week, but it had the kind of piercing quality that made it stand out in a crowd. He glanced at the clock. You were 15 minutes early.

And too impatient to wait for a reply, apparently. The door swung open to reveal you, dressed in frills and ribbons with gigantic hair, carefully shielding your eyes, next to a shit-eating-grin-wearing Mattheo.

"Is he decent?" you asked Mattheo.

"Morally? Debatable. But he has pants on if that's what you're asking."

You dropped your hand. Your eyes swept his outfit. You didn't look too pleased.

"You're not even dressed yet?"

Theo looked down and scanned the very outfit you were eyeing disapprovingly.

"This is what I'm wearing."

He looked up and caught a glimpse of your face.

"Why? What's wrong with it?"

You looked visibly aggrieved by his fashion choice.

"It's so...boring. I said '80s' and you thought black shirt, black jeans?"

"What's wrong with a black shirt, black jeans?"

"Nothing. Unless you're going to an 80s-themed party."

You stepped away from the bathroom's threshold while Theo frowned over what he had thought was a simple, perfectly acceptable outfit.

"This was the best I could come up w - yeah, sure. Go ahead. Go through my clothes. Turn my wardrobe upside down. Go right ahead. It's not like this is my room. Or my clothes. Merlin forbid I claim an inch of this space as m- "

"Are you done?" You asked, extricating yourself from the recesses of Theo's wardrobe. He couldn't tell if your hair looked more or less frizzy. You held out a frilly, powder blue suit Mattheo had bought him as a gag gift for his seventeenth birthday.

"No."

"Just try it on!"

"Absolutely not."

"Come on, please? I probably won't even like the look of it."

"Brilliant. Then what I'm wearing is perfect."

You gave him a look. "But I have to make sure that I won't like it."

Between his roommates and you, Theo's resolve was worn out. Grudgingly, he changed into the suit. If anything, his cowlick made him look even more stupid in this get-up.

"You look so much better," you chirped happily, approvingly examining the patterned insides of the jacket's pockets. "Don't you think?"

Theo narrowed his eyes at your too-innocent smile.

"I think," he said, "you're wasted in Ravenclaw."

"It's just one night, Theo," you continued, like you hadn't heard him. "I don't even have a camera or anything."

"But I do. Smile."

Theo was blinded by a flash from Mattheo's camera from behind you. He scowled at Mattheo, who was too busy pulling out the printed polaroid. He eyed it with satisfaction as it began to develop. "I always knew this day would come," he murmured.

Meanwhile, you doubled your wheedling efforts.

"Please? For me? The girl who knocked you down in front of all of your teammates and won't hesitate to do it again?"

Theo glared at you. "You're not helping your case, you know."

But you must have been doing something right, because five minutes later, he was waving goodbye to his roommates in the powder blue suit. The two of you walked up to the castle's gates into the Muggle car Theo had rented for the evening. As Theo turned the key in the ignition, adjusting his mirrors and seat, you reached over to fix his hair.

"Don't touch my - " Theo swatted your hand away, warily checking his reflection in the rearview mirror. Shockingly, his cowlick was gone. His hair was exactly how he wanted it.

"Long hair suits you. Did you know that?" you said, following his gaze into the mirror, in that assertive, know-it-all tone of yours, like it was a universally agreed-upon fact that Theo looked good with long hair. Grumbling, Theo shifted the gearstick into drive, turning down the road to Hogsmeade.

"Can I try?" you asked for the sixth time, perched on the boot of the Cadillac convertible. Theo pushed his fringe out of his eyes, feeling the back of his neck grow moist.

"I've almost got it," he replied from somewhere underneath the hood for the sixth time.

You rolled your eyes, fanning yourself with a magazine you had found in the backseat. Halfway to Hogsmeade, the car decided to sputter and choke to a stop. What Theo had initially diagnosed as a five-minute problem had grown into a twenty-minute problem and showed no sign of ending.

“I thought you said it was the carburettor,” you called out, already feeling sluggish in the heat of the setting sun.

“I said I think it’s the carburettor.”

You rolled your eyes.

There was a loud clang, a muffled curse, and an alarming hissing sound. Sighing, you abandoned your magazine and hopped off the boot. You came around the hood to see Theo shaking out his hand, like he had been burned, swearing colourfully under his breath.

While he had the sense to leave his jacket in the car, the front of his shirt was splattered with windshield wiper fluid. A rogue curl had escaped and was now sticking to his forehead. His collar had wilted in the heat, and half of his sleeves were probably crumpled beyond help from where they had been folded to his elbow.

And yet, infuriatingly, he still managed to look good. Good in that maddening, ravenous way where you couldn't decide if you wanted to ditch him on the side of the road or climb him like a tree.

Theo tapped at a knob tentatively with his wrench, dropping it when the knob sparked. You had to physically shut your eyes. He was so pathetic, so hot.

“I'm pretty sure I’ve isolated the issue,” Theo was saying, wiping his hands on a cloth. “Definitely a leak of the, erm, braking fluid.”

You fixed Theo with a look. You narrowed his eyes at him.

“You made that up just now.”

“Did not,” he replied, a little too fast.

“Did so.”

Theo frowned, squinting into the hood. “Just five more minutes,” he mumbled, picking up his wrench again.

You muttered something rude under your breath and pushed him out of the way gently, not that he resisted much. You pushed back your hair and studied the interior of the hood.

"See?" came Theo's slightly whiny voice from somewhere cooler. "There's too many fiddly things, it's impossib-"

You pulled out your wand. After a little trial and error, a few whispered spells, the engine gave a healthy sputter and purred back to life.

You stepped back and closed the hood. Theo blinked.

“Huh.”

“Huh,” you repeated mockingly.

You examined your watch and hurried back to the passenger seat. "Now let's get going before it gets too dark."

"Yes, ma'am," Theo said, climbing into the driver's seat.

You flicked his ear in response. You could see the smile biting into his cheek as he checked his mirrors, not noticing that his cowlick was back with a vengeance.

You looked out the windshield, watching the trees go by as you tried to ignore how you were half in love him.

The party was more fun than you expected. And it did feel a little less lonely having someone to drive you there and back, all the while patiently taking the brunt of your teasing. Theo took you back to the castle, walked you up to your common room with surprising stamina (he didn't run all those laps for nothing, then) and bid you goodnight.

And that was the end of that.

Only, you were realising, part of you didn't want it to end. Against your will, everywhere you looked, Theo kept catching your eye - in the corridors, on the staircases, in the Great Hall, on the pitch. It was his fault, really, taking up so much space with all that height. Taking up so much of your mind with all those lazy half-smiles and crinkled eyes.

A couple of mornings later, Theo was jogging laps on the Quidditch pitch again. His grey shirt was soaked in sweat, his fringe falling into his eyes. The early morning air had that familiar crisp edge and the rhythmic murmur of his teammate's footfalls. Theo slowed to a walk, wiping his face with his shirt, when he felt it - that same pricking at the back of his neck. That same unease. He looked in the direction of the Great Hall warily.

“Stopping so soon?” you called out suddenly, from where you had been watching him in the stands.

Theo startled so hard he almost tripped.

“Fuck - how long have you been there?”

"Long enough," you replied languidly, taking in the endearing rosy flush of his cheeks. You waved Mattheo's Potions textbook in the air as Theo walked towards you.

"You can't be doing that to people with already elevated heart rates," he scolded weakly, taking the book you were holding out to him.

You grinned. “Mattheo’s. Try not to get too much sweat on it.”

Theo nodded. "Thanks. I've been needing to level my bed with something."

You swallowed the smile that threatened to break across your face. Merlin forbid he realised you found him funny. You tried to keep your tone light, casual.

“So… what’re you reading these days? Anything interesting?”

Theo looked a little lost. “Like...books?"

You held back an eye roll. “Yeah, I guess.”

"Oh. I've been re-reading Gatsby lately."

You nodded. “Classic. You should tell me about it sometime, over coffee."

Theo’s brow furrowed.

“You've never read The Great Gatsby?"

You gave Theo a dirty look, unable to maintain your polite veneer. "Of course I've read The Great Gatsby. I just wanted to hear your take on it."

Theo stared at you some more. "You want to hear...what I think, about Gatsby?"

"Yeah, sure." It was almost insulting, really, of how disbelieving he appeared of your good, perfectly innocent intentions.

“Uh… okay?” Theo said cautiously.

You stood, partly disappointed, partly peeved. “Great," you said flatly. "Good chat, then.”

You turned away and started walking back to the Great Hall, kicking yourself. How much plainer did you have to make the invitation?

Theo watched you walk off, still a little confused. He jogged back to the pitch, resuming his laps. What was all that about? You wanted to hear what he thought about Gatsby? Not much, especially in comparison to you. He'd hardly have anything to contribute to the conversation that you didn't already know. Why, the two of you would be better off talking about literally anything else.

Theo stopped. The realisation hit him like a ton of bricks.

"WAIT - talk - coffee - yes, Y/N, YE- "

[muwapsturniolo]

Sweet tooth 🍬 C. Sturniolo

"You're right, I do have a sugar problem, and it starts with you."

⟢ nothing but fluff tbh (tiny bit of angst? i think?) !!! kissing and spanking but nothing inherently sexual!!

@bernardsbendystraws for dividers

"How the hell do we make these?"

It was currently 11 PM, and the couple was in the kitchen, getting ready to make a sweet treat - rice krispies to be exact. He watches as the girl moves around the kitchen, her mind set on making the rice krispies.

"Bun come on, I can just doordash you-" He stops talking when she slams the box of fruity pebbles on the counter, a frown on her face. She crosses her arms and stomps her foot, a clear signal that showed she was frustrated.

Chris was all too familiar with this habit of hers, so familiar that he quickly tried to diffuse the situation before she blew up.

"Bun-"

"No! I don't want them door dashed, I want to make them!"

Bun-"

"If you don't want to spend time with me then don't! Just say that you don't want to spend time with me!'

He sighs and pushes himself off the counter, lazily strolling towards her and pulling her closer. " Hey hey hey, calm down yeah? I was kidding, you know I love to spend time with you, don't get mad at me." His thumbs rub soft circles against her hips, attempting to soothe her.

"Well, it doesn't feel like it sometimes...I ask to do something with you and it seems like you complain the whole time, like you'd rather be doing something else. It's frustrating and it hurts my feelings."

He watches the way she looks everywhere but at him, another habit of hers that he's too familiar with. She only tended to do that during a confrontation, the idea of looking at the person she's confronting being too much to handle.

He listens to her concerns, processing her words and where she's coming from before responding.

"And I'm sorry for making you feel that way or making you think like that. Like I said, you know I love spending time with you, I wouldn't trade it for anything. It's clear we have different ideas of spending time with each other, and I haven't been as open to your form of it as I should be. That's not fair to you and I'm seeing that now. So, if you want to make your rice krispies, I'll help."

Her eyes finally find his, her arms uncrossing as she holds his biceps. "You will?" She questions softly, her whole body relaxing. Chris nods, trailing one hand up to her cheeks and caressing her face.

"No complaining?"

"No complaining." He confirms, a smile breaking out on his face as her own smile forms. She stands on her toes, pecking his lips quickly.

"I love you."

"I love you too Bun. Now, let's make these Rice Krispies."

The couple resumed their activities in the kitchen, melting the butter and browning it, pouring the French vanilla-flavored marshmallows into the pot and melting them, before pouring the fruity pebbles in.

"These smell good as fuck," he murmurs to himself as he watches her scoop the sticky mixture into the dish, patting it down with the spatula so it's flat.

" I wish I had white chocolate to drizzle on top, that would make them taste so much better." Chris eyes her as she pops a marshmallow into her mouth, her tenth marshmallow to be exact.

He chuckles and shakes his head, use to her addiction to sweets.

"You have a really bad sweet tooth, you know that?"

"I know Mr, "Oh I need to have about 5 Pepsi's a day" isn't commenting on sugar intake." She looks back at him as she fills the pot with water to soak. He shrugs and pulls her closer, the girl quickly shutting the water off in the process.

He gives her a firm kiss, humming at the sweet sugary flavor left over on her lips from the multiple marshmallows.

"You're right, I do have a sugar problem, and it starts with you."

She squeals and giggles as he lands a firm slap on her ass, the girl quickly moving away and going to put the rice krispies in the fridge.

"What if I started calling you sugar tits?"

"Chris!"

"Alright alright, sugar tits is out the window."

[thebearer]

in your eyes, the man that i could be |carmen berzatto x reader| part two

prompt: after carmen finds out you're staying at pete and sugar's house, he goes to try and talk to you. he's faced with his furious sister and harsh truths instead.

or part two of the devastation fic lol that is based off this ask from the other day <3

contains: angst! angst! this one is very much so more carmen focused bc let's be real... he's the problem in this one lol. still hurt with no comfort but more this one than last one?? mentions to past trauma, family trauma. sugar clears carmen in this one. slight mean carmen still, slight angry carmen still. language. dad!carmen x mom!reader. no resolution but the make up is in the next and final part! still heavy so read at your own discretion! word count- 4.8k+

Fak twisted his hands, nervously watching Carmen pace back and forth furiously. One hand running through his hair, tangled and matted from the continued motion; the other lifting and pulling the cigarette to and from his lips. Fak wasn’t sure how Carmen wasn’t sick yet. He’d never seen him smoke so much, seen anyone smoke so much. 

“Neil, I’m not fuckin’ playin’ anymore, ok? You’re startin’ to really, really fuckin’ piss me off.” Carmen’s jaw ground tight, voice starting to growl with that gravelly warning shake that had Fak flinching. “You better tell me where you put my fuckin’ car keys, alright? I-I’m not sitting here, ok? I’m not gonna sit around wi-with my fuckin’ thumb up my ass like a jagoff while my wife and kid are a-at fuckin’ Sugar and Pete’s!” 

“Carmy,” Fak tried to keep his voice calm and firm, like Sugar and Richie had coached him to, hyping him up before he entered the house. “I can’t give you your keys right now, becaus-” 

“-Oh, fuck you! Fuck you! Who the fuck do you think you are, huh?” Carmen roared, teeth bared and eyes narrowed. 

Fak didn’t think he’d ever say it, but he missed the sad Carmen from before. When he’d been sent to check on Carmen and Richie, to find out where the hell they were before Sydney had a meltdown in the kitchen, only to find a nearly hyperventilating Carmen and an unsure and frantic Richie trying to calm him. Fak had known Carmen a long time, his whole life, really, and never once had he seen him so… so sad. 

That sadness was long gone now. In its wake, an anger, worse than before, than he’d ever seen or could have imagined. Fak had just tried to comfort Carmen, offer up some encouragement that you and Teddy and Anchovy were all ok, taken care of- at Pete and Sugar’s. He didn’t realize how that would flip the switch, how it would infuriate Carmen. 

“I-I’m Fak.” Fak blinked, nervously. “You know me. I’m your friend, Carm, and I-I’m just trying to help you-” 

“-You’re trying to help me? You’re trying to fuckin’ help me by keepin’ me away from my wife?” Carmen’s voice boomed, shaking the walls of the house. 

Even in his loud rage, the house seemed too quiet, too still. There was no baby TV show on, no hum of the diffusers, or Anchovy’s small purrs and chirps. Carmen missed him, missed him jumping on the counters just to piss him off. He missed you defending him, missed how Anchovy would startle and run anytime Teddy would gurgle or whine. 

God, he missed Teddy. He spent the first night in the nursery, sitting in the rocking chair, staring blankly ahead, wishing he had the small screaming bundle to rock to sleep. 

Carmen couldn’t bring himself to go into the bedroom. Not again. Not after he found your ring laying there. He’d scared Richie so badly with his cries that Richie had enforced the ‘Mikey Prevention Plan’, his twisted humor of a way at keeping Carmen from being alone, from hurting himself in his misery. 

“Carm, I-I can’t.” Fak stuttered, looking at the door, begging Richie or anyone, really, to walk through the door. “You know I can’t.” 

“This is fucked up, Neil. You know that? You know how fucked up this is? Keepin’ me from-from Teddy? From my kid?” Carmen took a long drag of the cigarette, smoke blowing out of his nose with his panicked breathing. His hands still shook, everything was still shaky and rattling with uneasiness inside him. 

“Carm, I- Don’t say that.” Fak shook his head, he could feel himself caving. Carmen could too. 

“You’re keepin’ me from her, Fak. You know that? You know you-you’re keepin’ me from my daughter? My baby? Don’t you-you know how fucked up that is?” Carmen shook his head, lips pursing in disgust. “You’re lettin’ Richie boss you around like he always does, an-and you know, you know deep down that this is wrong. Keepin’ me from them is wrong.” 

Fak hesitated, a nervous sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. “Richie said-” 

“-Richie can get fucked. Ric-Richie doesn’t know shit! He doesn’t know shit, you know he doesn’t know shit, a-and you’re lettin’ him tell you what to do? Richie?” Carmen scoffed, throwing his hands out. “The fuck does Richie know, huh? H-He’s divorced, an-an-and barely sees his kid-” 

“-Hey!-” Fak’s eyes widened in shock. “Carmen, you don’t-” 

“-Is that what you want? You want me to end up alone?” Carmen’s eyes are wild, crazed, but he goes still. “Y-You want me to end up like-like Richie? Li-Li-Like that?” 

Fak swallows, both standing in the thick, tension filled silence. “Carmen, I-I can’t.” Fak shook his head slowly. “I don’t… I think you need to, I don’t know, I think you need to calm down before you go see them.” 

“Calm down, you’re tellin’ me to calm down.” Carmen snarled, bitterly scoffing at Fak. “Fuck you. Alright? Fuck you. I will never forgive you for this shit. You hear me? You-You doin’ this to me, keepin’ me from my family. I’ll never fuckin’ forgive you.” 

Fak flinched, Carmen’s words cutting brutally through him with a bitter sting. Carmen stormed off, the front door slamming with a force that sent vibrations through the house. Fak was surprised it didn’t split the wood in two. Walking towards the front window, he saw Carmen storming off, furiously lighting another cigarette, running a hand through his hair, again. Fak assumed he was out of Spirits, that he’d smoked through another pack, walking to the corner store to get more. After thirty minutes, he called Richie, frantic that he’d let Carmen loose. 

“What part of Mikey Prevention Plan don’t you fuckin’ understand?” Richie sneered over the phone, trying to keep his voice low so the new hires didn’t hear. As far as they were concerned, Carmen was on a vacation, only the OGs knew the truth. 

“I-I didn’t mean to! I swear!” Fak’s voice lilted high, a shrill of nerves that had Richie’s eyes pinching in annoyance. “I thought he was going to the corner store to get more cigarettes, an-and then he didn’t come back for a while-” 

“-What’s a while?” Richie muttered, catching Tina’s eye through the glass. She set her rag down quickly, walking towards him. 

“I dunno… Fifteen, thirty minutes?” Fak mumbled. “Maybe closer to an hour now. B-But then I went to look for him, and he wasn’t there, so I asked the guy working and he said he hadn’t seen him, and-and now I’m driving around trying to find him. I-I’m shouting his name out the window and everything!” 

“He’s not a dog, Neil, he won’t-” Richie huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know where he’s at.” 

“You do?” Fak perked up. 

“Yeah, I mean, no, but I-I’m pretty sure I know where he’s at since you fuckin’ told him where they were stayin’.” Richie rolled his eyes bitterly. “Just- Come over here and get me, alright? Let me call Pete- God, you and this fuckin’ kid, got me callin’ Pete. You’re killin’ me Neil Jeff.” 

Richie hung up the phone with a huff, looking up at Tina. “What’s goin’ on? Jeff alright? What’s he doin’?” She pressed. 

“Yeah, Fak-Fak fuckin’ lost him.” Richie rubbed his forehead in exasperation. “But, I think I know where he’s at. Have a pretty good idea, anyways.” 

Tina eyed Richie carefully. “Richie, you know I love that kid, you know I do. But if he’s fuckin’ with Mama,” Tina shook her head, lips pursing in fury. It was no secret how taken she was to you, even before the affectionate nickname that came with the pregnancy. 

“He’s not,” Richie shook his head. “He’s stupid, hot headed, a fuckin’ baby- all that. But… C’mon, T, you and I both know he loves her. He wouldn’t do anything to them. Do somethin’ to himself before that.” 

Tina paused but nodded, face softening. “So, you know where he’s at then? You don’t… You don’t think he’s gonna…” She couldn’t bring herself to say it, looking at the picture of Mikey with Richie, Tina, Ebra, and Marcus only a few months before he passed. Carmen had placed it at the front, a reminder of the legacy that was there before him, of The Beef and his brother. 

“No, I hope not.” Richie muttered, looking at his phone’s screen with dread, Pete’s contact on the screen gleaming back at him nearly mockingly. “I think I know where he is.” He sighed, pressing the button. 

Pete could feel his phone buzzing in his pants, ignoring it as he held the front door in a white knuckled grip. He hadn’t expected to see Carmen there, on his Ring camera, knocking on the door softly, softer than he expected given his manic looking state. 

“H-Hey, Carm,” Pete closed the door as casually as he could, only leaving a sliver open. “What, uh, what’s up, man?” 

“Hey, Pete,” Carmen could barely meet his gaze, suddenly overly aware of how disheveled he must have looked. 

“Uh, what-what brings you by?” Pete stuttered, heart picking up when he heard the soft thump behind him, Anchovy lurking behind his legs curiously. He gripped the door, shuffling his legs together, trying to close it on his frame so Anchovy wouldn’t slip by. 

“C’mon,” Carmen sighed, a tired look in his eye, too exhausted to even be pleading. “You know why I’m here, alright. I-I know they’re here.” 

“W-Who is? Sugar? Yeah, she-she’s off today.” Pete stiffened at the claim, swallowing nervously, trying to play it cool. Anchovy meowed loudly behind him, cringing when he was  given away by the cat. 

“Pete, don’t-” Carmen pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing in slowly, trying to calm the tears that threatened to fall. He could hear Anchovy, hear the sounds of the house- the home. Soft child shows, the hum of the dryer, all the things that made the house feel alive. Carmen would give anything to have his home sound like that again, the silence was beginning to drive him crazy. 

“Where is she?” Carmen looks up, his gaze much harder than before, a frantic look beginning to take over his sadness. 

“I, uh, I-I don’t-” Pete stutters, fingers tapping on the wood of the door anxiously. 

“-Pete, I really don’t want you to fuck with me right now, alright?” Carmen takes a deep breath, trying to swallow back his emotions that were already beginning to climb in his throat again. “I need to- I-I need to see her, Pete.” Carmen couldn’t bring himself to say your name, sure even the first syllable would have him in tears, breaking down on the front porch. 

Another meow, louder than before, came before Pete could answer. The soft scratching of Anchovy’s paws on the door, a demanding meow that Carmen knew all too well. He’d learned to drown it out, or try to. It became nearly a soundtrack to your sex life when you’d first gotten the cat, locking him out of the room so you two could fuck, only for him to yowl and scratch and demand to be let in. Carmen could remember how you’d giggle, pouting at him exaggeratedly to let him in. His heart fell with an ache that was warm yet still made him feel sick. 

Pete looked down at the cat, then back at Carmen, a hesitant grimace on his face. “Carm… You-You know I would,” He started. Carmen’s heart soared with hope, eyes wide, a near adrenaline rush of excitement shooting through his system. “But…You know I can’t.” 

Carmen’s heart crashed, shattered with the hope he’d finally begun to find, to feel again. “What the fuc- Pete, that’s… Pete, c’mon. C’mon. Yo-You gotta let me in. Let me in.” Anger surged through Carmen’s chest. He closed his eyes tight and tried to swallow it down. All he’d been is angry. For weeks now, it had been a never ending cycle of anger and sickness and distraught, all amplified to new heights the second you left. 

Carmen could feel himself spiraling, ears starting to ring again, rushing and roaring flashbacks flooding into his mind. Your face when you left, Teddy’s cries, the critic’s pursed lips, Sydney’s disappointed face when he forgot something again, Tina’s eyes cutting. Carmen turned, shaking his hand lightly, trying to do a breathing exercise he saw on YouTube, years ago when he’d moved to New York. 

His breaths were deep, shaky, but deep enough that it cleared his head, dulled the ringing. His mind wandered back, Richie’s voice ringing in his head. “You wanna get her back? Quit actin’ like a goddam baby. Quit actin’ like this isn’t your own fuckin’ fault. Like you didn’t do this shit to yourself, Cousin. Take some fuckin’ accountability, grow the fuck up, and get your motherfuckin’ shit together, alright? And maybe-maybe you’ll get your family back.” Richie’s voice rang clear through his mind from a few nights ago, when Carmen was especially mean and awful. 

“Hey, uh, you alright?” Pete hesitated, leaning towards Carmen, his grip on the door loosening. 

Carmen took a deep breath, running a hand over his face before he turned back towards Pete, eyes shining with tears that threatened to fall. “Pete, please? Please?” Carmen begged, voice soft, cracking at the end. “Please, jus-just let me see her? L-Let me talk to her? Just- Let me tell her tha-that I’m sorry. Please… I need to tell her I-I’m sorry. Don’t-” 

“-Carmen?” Sugar gaped, her voice coming from behind Pete. She pulled the door open, shocked gaze dropping into furious, jaw setting in a near snarl. “What the fuck are you doing here?” She hissed. 

“Why do you think I’m here, Natalie? Huh?” Carmen snapped in anger, rolling his eyes in annoyance. 

“Oh, you’ve got a lot of fucking nerve showing up here.” Natalie snapped back, pulling the door open and stepping out on the porch. She stood in front of her younger brother, arms crossed in a standoff. 

“Pete, go inside.” Sugar sneered, her gaze not moving from Carmen’s. She felt like they were children again, having a staring contest to see who got the last piece of gum from Donna’s purse, only this time, it was for worse. 

“Nat, I-” 

“-I got it.” Natalie said firmly. Pete didn’t argue with her, simply nodding, shutting the door softly behind them. Her eyes held Carmen’s gaze, both of them intense, furious at the other for other reasons. 

“You should be ashamed of yourself-” 

“-I am-” 

“-Mortified.” Sugar sneered, giving him a disgusted shake of her head. Carmen shifted, biting his own tongue to keep it from lashing out at her. “Do you know what I came home to the other night? You want me to tell you?-” 

“-No, I know-” 

“-No, I’m going to tell you.” Natalie snapped. “I came home after a very long shift because our head chef decided to, oh, I don’t know- disappear and go on a psychotic rampage apparently.” Natalie scoffed sarcastically. 

“And I walk through the door, ready for bed. Maybe a glass of wine, maybe a bath, maybe to finally catch up on my shows with my husband; and you know what I found instead?” Sugar took a step towards Carmen, intimidating him with her harsh glare. “I find my husband taking care of your baby because your wife is sobbing-” 

“-Don’t-” 

“-No, no. I mean, sobbing. A total broken mess on my kitchen table, because she said you,” Sugar jabbed a finger at Carmen. “Decided to come home and scream at her. Not only scream, but say some of the most volatile, disgusting things I’ve ever fucking heard in my life to your wife, the mother of your very much so still a newborn baby.” 

Carmen felt the familiar wave of nausea wash over him, swallowing back spit that pooled in his mouth with a cry that threatened to fall from his chest. He couldn’t bring himself to speak, to look at her gaze anymore. It felt too judgemental, left him feeling too vulnerable and sick of himself under it. 

“So let me ask first; What the fuck is the matter with you?” Natalie sneered. 

“I don’t know.” Carmen’s voice was tight, jaw tighter, fighting a tremble that was threatening to break. “I-I don’t… I don’t fuckin’ know. I-I didn’t- I didn’t mean it-” A single tear fell, slipping out of the corner of his eyes, sliding down his cheek- the final crack in his demeanor. 

Carmen tried to fight it, deep breaths that burned his lungs and nose to control the tears, keep him from breaking here on his sister’s porch, but they wouldn’t stop. Carmen wasn’t sure how he had any tears left, after crying for days on end, how he hadn’t shriveled up his tear ducts. Yet here he was, broken sobs slipping out again. 

Sugar didn’t move. Arms still crossed over her chest, lips still fixed in a hard line, watching Carmen with intensity as he broke down, tears flowing in front of her. She didn’t comfort him, not that he expected her to. She didn’t try to give him words of encouragement, advice on how to right the wrongs like the others did. Instead, she kept a furious gaze on him, unmoved by the tears. 

“Please,” Carmen sniffed hard, running the back of his hand over his nose. “Please, Sugar, please. Ju-Just let me see Teddy. Let me se-ee her. Don’t-Don’t do this to me. Don’t ke-ep my kid away from me-” 

“-Me?” Sugar scoffed, pushing her hand into her chest. “Oh, no. No, no, no, no. Don’t you even start that shit, Carm. I’m not keeping your kid away from you, let’s make that clear.” 

Carmen’s breath hitched when she stepped towards him, toe to toe with him, teeth bared in a grit of anger. “I didn’t take your kid away. You know who did? Hm? You.” Natalie snapped, Carmen flinched at the cruelty of her words. “You did this, Carmen. You did every last bit of this. This is on you. No one else but you.” 

Carmen held in a cry that threatened to break out, face crumbling with tears. He rubbed his hand over his face, trying to soothe the burn and hide his distraught. “And you know something else? I know you don’t remember dad very well, but I do, ok? And lately, you’ve been acting just like him.” Sugar’s tone clipped, leaving a burning sting in Carmen’s chest at her words. 

“Yelling just because shit didn’t go your way? Do you know part of the reason mom’s so fucked up? Why everyone takes her side all the time and babies her? Uncle Jimmy and Uncle Lee? It’s because dad used to berate her, scream at her so badly- say some of the worst shit in the world because he was stressed out, that those guys would feel bad for her.” Sugar ranted. “And I promise you- promise you if I told Uncle Jimmy right now what you said, how I found your wife, he’d agree with me. Maybe even worse.” 

Carmen shifted, his heart squeezing in fear now. Jimmy loved you, always had. He held a special soft spot in his heart for you. Worse was probably right, and truthfully, Carmen would accept it- he deserved it. It wouldn’t be as bad as how he felt right now. 

Natalie held Carmen’s gaze, letting her words sink in. She lifted his hand when he started to talk. “I don’t-I really don’t want to hear it, ok?” Natalie shook her head. “And before you start trying to come up with some excuse-” 

“-I-I’m not-” 

“- I want you to know something. To hear it and really listen to it.” Natalie paused, waiting until his eyes met hers to continue. “I know you’ve been through a lot- We’ve been through a lot. But that doesn’t mean you get to just treat people like shit. That you can act like this and it’s ok.” 

“I know that.” Carmen’s jaw was tight, strangled words croaking out. 

“Then act like it.” Natalie snapped. “It’s not easy, none of this is easy, Carm. I mean… Do you know that every day- every single day, I wake up and something happens that’s shitty or rough, and I think about how easy it would be just to grab a bottle of wine or two. Drink myself unconscious like mom does. Just how easy that would be, how nice it would be just to drown myself out instead of face the issues.” 

“There’s days when MJ or Maggie or-or Pete just drive me fuckin’ nuts, and I want to pull my hair out, or scream, or Pete will do something that just pushes me right over the edge and I just want to rage.” Natalie continued, arms waving dramatically. “I want to throw in the towel, take the easy way out, rage, drink myself silly, scream at all of them until I feel better, but you know what? You know what I don’t do? I don’t do that.” 

Natalie crossed her arms, taking a breath to steady herself. “I don’t do that to them because I know how that feels.” Her voice cracked, just barely, enough to show the emotion that was hiding underneath. “I know how that felt. I know how that made me feel.” 

Carmen could feel his eyes brimming with tears again, too emotional to be embarrassed. Donna’s many red faced, slurred screaming tyrades came back to his mind. How he’d hide, try and stay quiet and invisible to avoid them. Even as he got older. 

“I know how that fucked me up. How it fucked them up. How it fucked you up, an-and Mikey up. I mean- how it…it fucked our whole life up!” Sugar laughed humorlessly, throwing her hands up in mock defeat. “I just… When I think about that, and about how it just ruined all of us. That’s the last thing, the very last thing, I’d ever want to do to my kids, to Pete, t-to anyone, really.” 

Carmen nodded, too overwhelmed with emotions to speak. His throat burned, scratchy and sore from screaming and crying. His chest was tight, constricting his lungs, stealing his breath. He was on the verge of an anxiety attack, maybe something worse, yet, he felt eerily calm in the moment. Still even under the shame and hurt her words brought. He sat on the porch, sure his knees would give out soon, head spinning and dizzy with this damning realization. 

 “You need to make up your mind. Make a decision, right here, right now.” Sugar continued behind him. Though he couldn’t see her, he knew her face was stoic to hide the hurt, hide the emotions. A classic Berzatto deflection trait. “You need to decide what you’re going to do to be better for your family. If you’re going to continue to be a selfish, piece of shit, or if you’re going to change; be better.” 

Carmen’s shoulders shuddered with his next breath, deep but not intentional; like he didn’t even know he did it. Too dazed and deep in thought, staring blankly ahead. “I can tell you,” Sugar stepped towards the door. “It’s not comfortable. It’s not easy. It is so hard some days. You have to fight for it every day, fight to break shit that was drilled into you, fight to recognize that some things you do, you don’t even mean to. It takes a lot of work, but… I’d rather fight every single day to be better, to be kinder and softer and more understanding for my family, than to not have them at all.” 

Carmen couldn’t stop thinking of you. How you were so naturally nurturing and sweet. You’d always been like that. You were loving and gentle freely. You’d always been so patient with him. It almost made him feel insecure, inferior, when he thought of it before, but now, he just wanted to return the favor. 

“You decide what you want to do, and then maybe- maybe you’ll get to see them again.” Sugar turned the door knob, pushing it open. “But today? Not a chance. Go get yourself together before you try and do this again.” Carmen flinched at the door slamming behind her, harder than he thought it would. Still, he didn’t move from his spot on the porch, head in his hands, deep in thought about his future, his past, everything. 

“There he is!” Fak’s voice was muffled through the car window, slowly pulling to a stop in Sugar and Pete’s driveway. 

Carmen looked up slowly, taking a slow, grounding exhale in, just as Richie and Fak climbed out of the car. “Cousin, thank fuckin’- You better be glad he’s here.” Richie glared at Fak. 

“I am!” Fak chirped defensively. 

Carmen stood slowly, turning one last time to look at the front door. He couldn’t see through the small privacy glass on the door, but he swore he could hear you- hear your voice. Soft and hushed, a little cautious mixing with Sugar’s reassuring one. It took everything in him not to turn and bust the door down, run inside and throw himself at your feet, begging for forgiveness. 

He knew that time would come. 

Instead, he walked to the car, sliding in the backseat, ignoring the confused looks Richie and Fak gave each other. “So, uh, did you-” 

“-Don’t ask that.” Richie cut off Fak with a bark of annoyance. “What’s the matter with you?” 

“Nothing! I just- I thought we all wanted to know-” 

“-Hey, Cousin,” Carmen muttered, staring blankly at the house. Richie hummed, turning to Carmen carefully. “What’s, uh… You-You said you had someone for me to talk to?” 

“Yeah,” Richie nodded slowly. “The therapist?” 

Carmen paused, swallowing slowly. “You…You think she’d see me now?” 

“Right now?” Richie lifted a brow. Carmen nodded slowly, still looking past him, eyes glued on the house. He swore he could see a figure move- your figure, peeking through the blinds before ducking back into the shadows. “Yeah, I’m sure she will. I can… I can call her. See what I can do.” 

“Thanks.” Carmen twisted his wedding band gently, the car jolting gently as Fak started to back out. 

Fak turned around, looking from the back window to Carmen with a hesitant grimace. “You ok?” He asked, his voice dropped to a low hush with Richie on the phone beside him. 

“No,” Carmen admitted, shoulders slumping in defeat. “No, I-I’m not, but… I wanna be.” Carmen looked at Fak, eyes glassy with emotion. “I gotta get my shit together. Gotta do better f-for my family.” 

Fak nodded slowly, pulling out onto the road, slowly shifting the gears back into place. The car began to roll, Carmen watching Sugar and Pete’s house disappear in the rearview. His heart tore, ripped right down the middle and split at the seams knowing he was leaving you, Teddy- his family behind. It took everything, every ounce of strength not to turn around, not to run back. It hurt, but he realized, this is what Sugar was talking about. 

So, Carmen went to the other side of town, to the small building where Richie’s therapist was. His counselor he’d started seeing a while back, when he was on his purpose journey. 

It was weird, weirder than Al-Anon. Carmen felt entirely too vulnerable sitting in that chair, having her stare at him and only him, nodding as he told his ‘story’- it felt weird to call it that. He didn’t want it to be his story, his defining qualities. No, Carmen wanted a new story, a better one with you and Teddy and his family. He’d told Dr. Mullins that. 

“I think that’s a great start, Carmen.” She nodded, giving him a soft smile. “So, tell me how you’d do that.” 

Carmen scoffed lightly, looking down at his hands. “I, uh, I don’t really know.” He admitted. “Kinda thought that’s what you were for.” 

“You’re right. I’m here to help you reach that goal, maintain it.” She nodded. “But in order to do that, I need to know a little more.” 

“Like what?” Carmen muttered. “I don’t really remember my dad and all the bad shi-stuff he’d do.” 

“You said you didn’t want that to define you, so let’s not talk about that.” She shook her head softly. “Let’s focus on what you want. What kind of life you’d want to live with your family.” 

Carmen’s knee bounced, taking a shaky breath. “I… I don’t want to lose control.” He admitted. “I don’t want t-to scream, and say shit I don’t mean, and-and to take it out on people who don’t deserve it.” He looked up at her. “I don’t want to do that again.” 

“Good.” Dr. Mullins nodded slowly. “Let’s start there.” 

[teaboot]

do u think physical build is an important part of being security? im 5'5 and think i look very timid, but ive seen some entry level security job listings around me that ive been interested in.

I've only been private security for around five years, so I'm still relatively green compared to my colleagues, but I personally am about 5'3" and I've been doing great!

And again, I'm not incredibly experienced, but if I were to make a hire, I'd be prioritizing a number of things before considering height.

Physically you need to be capable of doing your duties without pain- so if you have chronic pain, foot patrol may not be your bag, but CCTV monitoring might work. If you can't drive, being a site manager may not work, but working door duty somewhere local might be.

Physical presence- in regards to 'looking timid'- is something that you can work on if you want to, but sometimes an unassuming appearance is your advantage.

A "problem demographic" (using HEAVY quotations there) for a lot of places like malls and downtown areas is adult women with trauma, addiction, and mental health issues- they're seen by a lot of clients as "crazy ladies" and treated less like people by the general public, and a good number have very good reason not to trust men ESPECIALLY in uniform, but are more often than not perfectly easy to get along with if you're polite, respectful, and don't come off as a threat or authority figure. Being able to offer menstrual products and having resources around the area you can recommend is good, too.

And if I HAVE to move people out from behind buildings and such, saying "fuck off asshole" like folks imagine is NOT as effective as "Hey, sorry, this area is restricted, but here are some other places that might be okay- I need to do another check in about an hour, so heads up, and the church up the street is doing hot chocolate right now".

Really, if you want to do well in security- at least basic work- I'd say you want to focus on the following:

Wear your uniform and keep it tidy

Show up prepared and on time

Be able to approach strangers and talk to them

Keep a positive, non-agressive attitude, and be willing to give people the benefit of the doubt

Learn deescalation techniques to diffuse conflict

Have a strong handle on your personal emotions and opinions

Kerp calm and rational in an emergency

Learn basic first aid and get certified if you can, it's not technically necessary but I've used that more than I'd like to admit

Keep a strong moral compass

Really, I'd say it boils down to keeping to your sense of ethics, showing up on time, and knowing how to follow orders with nuanced interpretation.

Beyond that, you're golden

[enticingmelanin]

The Reckoning: A Modern Stack x Black Reader Fanfic

The Reckoning || Elias "Stack" Moore x Black Reader (modern au)

Rating: E for Erotic.

Warnings: NSFW, smut, spit swap, and explicit language. No Mary love to be found here, babes. 🤣 18+ Only.

Word Count: 6k+

Summary: All you wanted was to celebrate your friend, but your past wouldn’t let you live in the moment. When old betrayals resurface, will you bury the pain and hold a grudge—or finally face it and allow the reckoning to commence?

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You're enjoying the club atmosphere, letting it sink into your skin. Deep red lights throb through the space like a heartbeat, casting sultry shadows across velvet booths and glass tabletops. Fog hovers over the dancefloor, diffusing the light into something dreamlike. The bass is relentless—low, hypnotic, pulsing in your chest like a second heartbeat. Laughter rings out nearby, glasses clink, bodies move in sync with the music under the seductive pull of strobe lights. For a moment, the energy feels good. Alive. Freeing, even. You haven’t been out like this in a while, and it shows. Your body aches to loosen up, your shoulders to drop, your mind to stop spinning.

Tonight, though, is different. Special because it's Pearline’s birthday. You, Annie, and Sammie had planned every detail to a T—dinner at Marcel’s, one of your favorite spots in Atlanta, complete with warm lighting, shared appetizers, and belly-deep laughter. The food was incredible, the company even better, and the love? Tangible. When gifts were unwrapped and desserts devoured, Pearline had looked around the table and said, “I’m not ready to go home yet.” So, of course, you ended up here—VIP section of a club none of you could name, champagne flowing, the night still young. It was only right that she got what she wanted.

Still, something twisted in your stomach every few minutes. A quiet, persistent knowing that someone else was on their way. Someone you weren’t ready to see.

“Aye, cousins! Over here!” Sammie’s voice cut through the music, loud and sharp as he waved frantically at the entrance to your section. He was grinning, drawing attention from a pair of tall figures stepping into the dim light.

You drained the last sip of your cocktail, the ice clinking as you sat the glass down a little too hard. “That’s my cue to go,” you muttered, already gathering your things.

The protest was immediate from the group. Pearline’s bottom lip jutted out into a pout, arms folded. “Y/N, please stay. You can still have fun.”

“Not with him around I can’t,” you replied quietly, not trusting your voice to do more. Your expression faltered, and the group saw it. You didn’t need to say his name. The ache in your tone said it all.

Just then, the DJ shifted into Glorilla and Meg Thee Stallion’s Wanna Be. The beat hit hard, the crowd exploding in cheers. You should’ve known that song would play tonight. Should’ve known your resolve wouldn’t survive it.

“Oh hell no, now you really can’t leave!” Pearline yelled, tugging your hand like a child in a candy store. “You know this our song, girl! Just one more dance. Pleeeeeaaaaassssse?”

You tilted your head, lips twitching with a sigh. She wasn’t wrong. This track had seen you through makeup applications, glow-ups, and late-night drives screaming the lyrics with your girls. But your heart? It was still tethered to the past, the part of the club where he was now standing, watching. Breathing the same air as you again after seven damn years.

“Go on, y’all,” Annie chimed in, her tone calm, reassuring. “We’ll keep him occupied. Go have fun.”

Sammie nodded, his eyes kind. “We got you.”

“Fine,” you said, dragging the word out like it was being pulled from your soul. “But just this song. Then I’m out.”

It was perfect timing—or maybe fate playing its usual cruel game—because as Pearline led you to the dancefloor, your past and his twin strolled into the section like they owned the place. Of course he wore black. Of course his eyes found yours instantly. But you didn’t give him the satisfaction of a glance back.

You let Pearline pull you into the music, into the red haze and thrumming bass. You danced like your heart wasn’t shaking in your chest. Like your stomach wasn’t tying itself in knots. You moved with your girl, laughing, swaying, twerking, rapping along to every word like you were center stage.

"He don't wanna be saved, don't save him That is not my nigga, don't claim 'em 'Bout 20 missed calls, he faded White boy wasted, Channing Tatum"

You spit the lyrics with more heat than usual, like if you said them loud enough they might actually reign true. You wanted to embody the same cold confidence Meg was preaching. You wanted to be untouched, unbothered, immune. But the truth was, even after all this time, even after all the silence and distance, he still had the power to stir something inside you.

And that was the worst part.

Because deep down, you weren’t mad he was here.

You were mad you still felt something.

Why couldn’t he just let you forget?

The lighting, though dim and sultry, still kissed the golden brown of your skin and cast a low shimmer over your curves. Your dress—cowl-neck silk slip in rich copper—clung to you in all the right places and teased cleavage. Its delicate spaghetti straps showed off your shoulders, and the fabric danced with every movement, catching flashes of red light from the club’s lasers. A thigh-high slit teased with every step, giving just enough to draw attention without begging for it.

The room pulsed with bass and heat, the kind of beat that thumped through your body and into your bloodstream. Between the crimson haze, electric strobes, and the crowd of bodies swaying, grinding, laughing. Some women hyped y’all up, some gave side-eyes laced in envy. Hungry glances followed you, admiration and desire woven into each lingering look. But there was one gaze—hot, heavy, and razor-sharp—that pinned you to the ground.

You felt him before you saw him. That slow burn under your skin. Like being watched by a memory you never quite shook off. You didn’t need to look to know Stack was in a trance, getting an eye full of everything he let go.

The song faded into another anthem, but you were done. Staying any longer felt dangerous, like playing with fire and pretending you wouldn’t get scorched. You needed to get out before it all unraveled.

“Booo. Come on, party pooper,” Pearline teased, dragging you by the hand toward VIP so you could say your goodbyes.

“Bye, love. Get home safe. Don’t forget to text when you do,” Annie said, hugging you tight.

“I will,” you promised, then turned to Smoke as he stepped up.

“Good seein’ you, Y/N,” he said with a casual warm smile, embracing you in a quick side hug.

“It’s good seein’ you too,” you replied, meaning every word. No matter how complicated things got with his brother, you always had a soft spot for Smoke. He was good people. You were genuinely happy he and Annie found their way back to each other. She glowed differently these days.

Sammie pulled you into a tight hug next. “Sure you don’t want me to call you an Uber?”

You laughed and shook your head. “I’m good. That little cocktail barely did a thing. It was givin’ more juice than alcohol.”

Sammie chuckled, voice like the richest whiskey. “Say less.”

Then Pearline wrapped you up, squeezing you like she didn’t want to let go. “Thank you for everything, friend. We gotta do this again.”

“Of course, boo. We’ll definitely run it back. Happy birthday. Love you.”

“Love you too,” she beamed.

As you turned to grab your clutch from the couch, your breath caught—and time stilled. There he was.

Elias “Stack” Moore.

First time in a long time. And damn… he looked even better than memory allowed. Same outfit as his brother without a white top—black tank top stretched over a muscled chest, tailored slacks hugging narrow hips, black dress boots sharp enough to cut glass. But while Smoke kept it minimal, Stack stood out like always. Around his thick wrist were layered Cuban link bracelets in gold and platinum. Diamond studs glinted at each ear, and a heavy rope chain sat bold across his collarbone. A fashion statement. A walking temptation. A problem.

You blinked yourself out of it and grabbed your things with purpose, ready to ghost the moment before it swallowed you whole.

“No hug for me, huh?” His voice, slow and deep with that southern molasses drawl, rolled over you like smoke. It used to soothe you, make your knees weak, whisper your name in the dark while you shook under him. Now, it just pissed you off.

You sucked your teeth and strutted toward the exit, hips swinging with extra intent.

Kiss my ass.

Your heels clacked against the glossy floors as you crossed the final stretch. You pushed open the door and stepped out only to be met by a curtain of pouring rain. Of course. You’d completely forgotten about the storm the Weather Channel app had warned you about. No umbrella. No jacket. Just your dress, your heels, your clutch, and your skin about to be soaked.

Guess I’ll have to make a run for it...

But before you could take that first brave step into the parking lot, a black leather jacket appeared above your head like a shield.

The culprit?

None other than Stack himself... Of course.

“Let me walk you,” he said as your eyes met, the gold caps on his canines catching the glow of the streetlights.

Your brows furrowed in annoyance. “I don’t need your help,” you snapped, the sharpness in your tone slicing clean through the air.

He huffed, jaw tight, frustration flickering in his eyes. “You really wanna drive home soak n’ wet?”

Soak n' wet...

You remembered the days he caused you to be exactly that... and not from rain.

“Oh, now you give a fuck about what I want?” you shot back, your voice thick with venom. The words landed hard, making him visibly flinch.

His expression softened. Some of that pride faded as he took a step closer. “Y/N, please. Just let me walk you to your car and we can talk.”

“Talk about what?” you asked, your voice cracking as heat pooled behind your eyes. “About how you promised me you were gonna stop runnin’ the streets and go to school? How you said you loved me, fucked me ‘til the sun came up, and then disappeared without a word? Or… about how you somehow got wrapped up in Mary again when you got back to Clarksdale?” Your voice broke, each word a dagger. Tears slid down your cheeks. “Mind you, this is after that bitch did everything she could to manipulate you into doin’ her biddin’. And let's not forget how her proudly racist ex almost had you killed.”

His eyes closed. He took a deep breath, chest rising. “Baby, I’m—”

“No,” you cut him off, your voice trembling. “I don’t want your sorries or excuses. And I ain’t your baby… not anymore.” Your last words came out in a whisper, nearly drowned by the sound of your own heartbreak. The sobs were coming fast behind the lump in your throat, but you pushed through, determined to end this with what dignity you had left.

“Do me a favor, Elias. Leave me… the fuck alone. It’s the one thing you’re good at.”

Before he could respond, you turned and bolted into the rain, letting it soak your skin as you ran toward your sleek white Benz coupe.

When you finally slid into the driver’s seat and locked the doors, it all came crashing down. The tears, the ache, the truth you didn’t want to face. Sobs racked your body as you crumbled in your hands. You didn’t want to admit it, but the pain only cut this deep because the love you thought you’d buried was still alive. Still burning. You were still in love with the boy who’d become your first and only love… and the one who shattered your belief in fairytales.

At this point, it felt like God and your ancestors would have to come from the heavens and manually untether the two of you.

After pulling yourself together and carefully maneuvering through the drenched streets, you finally pulled into the garage of your townhome safely. You sighed as the familiar clatter of your keys hitting the gold tray on your entryway console filled your ears.

Home sweet home...

Your nerves slowly began to unravel now that the warmth of your home wrapped around you. The earthy tones, warm lighting, natural textures, and sweet, spicy scents delivered a calming peace to your spirit. You liked going out and having fun, but it was too easy to be a homebody in a space perfectly curated for your soul.

You took off your heels and padded barefoot up the stairs toward the kitchen. You needed something else to soothe the ache, something warm—comforting. You settled on a mug of hot chocolate, extra marshmallows. The creamy scent rose with the misty steam, following you as you climbed the last flight of stairs toward your bedroom. Your feet were thankful for the plush, fluffy beige carpet that welcomed them with every step.

You returned your heels to their rightful spot in your walk-in closet, then made your way into the bathroom. The ceramic mug clacked against the stone countertop of your double sink vanity as you set it down. A soft sigh escaped you as your gaze landed on your reflection. No amount of powder or setting spray could’ve saved your makeup after the night you had. Thankfully, your kinky tresses were still neatly secured in the hip-length goddess braids you’d spent hours getting done.

You quickly bent over and swept the braids into a messy bun atop your head. After a sip of your chocolatey comfort, you washed the day off your face, leaving your skin soft and fresh. The sound of fabric hitting the floor followed as you peeled yourself out of the tight dress. You turned toward your glass shower, ready to summon hot water to your rescue—when the sharp chime of your doorbell rang out, startling you.

Your brows furrowed.

Who the hell...

You grabbed your phone and checked the Ring camera.

Annie?

Relief hit first, but confusion quickly followed. You had no idea why she was at your doorstep. It looked like the rain had eased into a gentle sprinkle, and the porch overhang kept her dry. Still, you didn’t want to keep her waiting. You grabbed your white fluffy robe, tied it around your body, and jetted down the stairs.

The moment you opened the door, you were met with Annie’s signature scowl and the soft, familiar scent of her vanilla-based perfume.

“Didn’t I tell you to text me when you got home?” she asked, one hand on her hip.

Classic Annie, the protective “mom” of the friend group.

A soft laugh slipped from your lips as you covered your mouth. “Sorry, Annie bear,” you replied, lips pulling into a playful pout. Your nickname for her softened her expression just a little. She was as cute and sweet as a teddy bear—but when it came to her people, she turned into a full blown mama grizzly.

“I was gonna call you after I got out the shower.”

“So I could worry ‘bout you bein’ toppled over in a ditch somewhere in the storm?”

“I’m sorryyyy. You know if you called I would’ve answered,” you whined, dragging the last word.

“And you know if you’d called me as soon as you got in, like I asked, I wouldn’t’ve had to pull up,” she said, eyeing you up and down like a disappointed mother.

You nodded, lips pressed together. “Touché… But did you really come all the way here just for a wellness check?”

“Well… yes and no,” she said slowly, her tone hesitant. “There’s someone else that was worried about you too.” She stepped to the side and your heart dropped like a weight in your chest.

There he stood. Stack. Behind him, you spotted Smoke behind the wheel of his black Tahoe.

“Oh, hell no...” you muttered, your stomach twisting into a knot all over again.

“Look,” Annie began gently, trying to read your face. “He told me how upset you left, and that’s what really got me worried. I know he hurt you somethin’ fierce. And you and I both know I understand your pain more than anyone,” she said softly, alluding to Smoke ghosting her the same way. “I’m not sayin’ y’all gotta kiss and make up. I’m not even sayin’ you gotta forgive him, but…” she paused, exhaling. “At least let him apologize and leave nothin’ left unsaid. He owes you that at the very least. And believe it or not… he’s hurtin’ too.”

Your eyes dropped to the hardwood floor as her words sank in. Your chest tightened. Part of you wanted to slam the door in his face. But another part—God help you—still wanted to hear what he had to say.

“He’s got five minutes. That’s it,” you said firmly.

Annie nodded, offering a small smile before she turned and signaled him over. With every step he took toward you, your anxiety curled tighter around your ribs. You folded your arms and tapped your fingers against them, trying to keep it together.

When he finally stood beside Annie, she turned to him, but his dark brown eyes never left your face.

“Now Elias, you’ve got five minutes to say what you need to say, so you betta make it good.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, flashing a subtle smirk before finally glancing at her.

“If he acts a fool, Smoke'll handle it,” she added, only half-joking.

You knew she wasn’t playin’. Smoke had always been the more grounded of the two, stepping into the role of a father figure where their own father had failed miserably.

You gave her a nod. She winked at you, then made her way back to the car. The slam of the car door echoed faintly in the distance.

Your attention shifted back to him.

His eyes flicked behind you, taking in the cozy aesthetic of your home before settling on you again. “Damn, girl,” he said with a lopsided grin. “I see Atlanta’s been good to you.”

His gaze dropped slightly, lingering just a second too long on the curve of your cleavage where your robe had shifted. Your eyes had slipped observing his muscular arms and the mist of rain glistening off his skin. Immediately, you crossed your legs and tightened your grip on the collar, pulling the fabric closed, snapping him out of his daze.

Stay on task.

“Five minutes, Elias,” you reminded him sharply.

He licked his lips and nodded, letting out a sigh. “I—I fucked up.”

“That’s an understatement,” you said, tilting your head as you looked up at him with a raised brow.

His jaw clenched. Hands disappeared into his pockets like he didn’t know what else to do with them. “What you want me to say, hm?” he asked, his deep Southern drawl gravelly with frustration. His eyes pierced through yours, searching, desperate. “That I’m in love with you? That I think 'bout ya eh'ry day?”

You turned your head away, blinking back the tears that had been threatening to fall since he showed up. But he reached out, fingers warm and steady as they gently cupped your chin, guiding you back to face him. You should’ve flinched. Should’ve pushed him away and slammed the door. But the weight of his hand, the way it steadied your trembling—felt too damn familiar, too comforting, to resist.

“Well, I am,” he said softly. “And I do.”

Your breath hitched.

“I just wanted to keep you safe. And that was never gon' be there… And it was neva gon' be with me, not with the man I was back then.” His voice cracked slightly as his thumb brushed along your jaw, slow and aching.

Your heart twisted at the confession.

“I meant what I promised you, I did,” he continued, eyes locked on yours. “But me and Smoke had one last job. One last scam, one last lie, one last robbery... and we’d be free.”

He shook his head, jaw tightening. “But I knew that shit came with consequences. I refused to let that touch you. If anyone ever laid a finger on you…” He paused, eyes darkening. “I’d kill ‘em dead myself.”

You shook your head, tears finally breaking free. “So, you’d kill for me,” you said bitterly, “but you couldn’t just stand by your word?”

He lowered his head, exhaling sharply before tilting his face to the ceiling like the answers might be written there. “Fuck,” he muttered.

When his eyes met yours again, they were glossy with tears. Haunted.

“The job… the money… Mary. All of it was to sabotage what we had. It was easy, and I was good at it. Mary knew that—hell, we grew up in the same house. She knew my mess, enabled it. But you…”

His voice softened.

“You saw me. Really saw me. The good, the bad… the ugly. You saw who I had the power to become. And that scared the shit outta' me, Y/N.”

Tears ran freely down both your faces now.

“I didn’t think I was worthy of your love,” he confessed. “My daddy wasn’t shit. And somewhere along the way, me and Smoke started believin’ we weren’t either. But you—” he paused, breath catching. “You made me want to be better. And I’ve been tryin’. Eh'ry day since.”

His voice cracked as he stepped just a little closer.

“Not just for you, but for me. Because I finally understand—I don’t have to keep payin’ for my father’s sins. I don’t have to repeat that cycle. I’m my own man. I know what I want. And I want you… and the life we always dreamed of havin’ here.”

A smile broke across your face even as your tears flowed, soft and tentative.

“There’s that smile I missed so much,” he whispered with a grin of his own, swiping a hand down his face to dry his tears.

“Boy, hush,” you said with a shaky laugh, nudging his chest. “You can’t just sweet talk me and think I’m gonna forgive you.”

But he had already cracked your armor. You both knew it.

He shook his head, his thumbs tenderly swiping your cheeks. “I ain’t just talkin’. If I gotta' prove it to you eh'ry day for the rest of my life, I will. If you’ll let me.”

You exhaled slowly, heart thudding loud in your chest as you looked into the eyes of the man who’d broken you—and who just might be ready to heal you too.

“If you hurt me again, Elias…” you said firmly, voice steel. “Consider yourself dead to me.”

He chuckled quietly, nodding. “I expect nothin’ less. I’d pick out my casket myself. But I swear to you… I’ll never do that shit again. I only wanna see you happy.”

You bit your lip, trying to hide the smile tugging at the corners. “Tell 'em you’ll see ‘em tomorrow.”

His eyes widened with a brow raised. “You sure?”

“You better go tell ‘em before I change my mind.”

Without another word, he took off down the walkway toward the car. You let out a much needed real, unguarded laugh, the kind you hadn’t felt this deep in awhile.

Smoke gave a quick honk as they pulled away. You waved, and Annie blew a kiss from the window. You caught it in the air, heart a little lighter than before.

As Stack made his way back up to the porch, you stepped aside, letting him in. He closed and locked the door behind him, turning to face you like the lost boy you used to know.

“I love you,” he blurted, shy again now that the moment had caught up to him.

“I love you, too,” you replied without pause.

He stepped closer, tucking a loose braid behind your ear with a gentleness that made your knees weak. “And I’m sorry.”

Your eyes welled up again, that single word hitting like a bomb. You wanted to be okay without hearing it—but hearing it now… brought you peace.

“I know,” you whispered.

His lips curled into a crooked smirk. “You gon' kick me out if I kiss you?”

You giggled, swatting at his chest. “I hope you plan on doin’ more than that. You got a whole lotta makin’ up to do.”

His gaze darkened with desire, voice dropping low. “Indeed I do.”

And just as thunder rolled across the sky and rain came pouring again, his lips captured yours in a kiss that was deep, soft, and long overdue. A moan slipped from your lips as he pulled you tight, your hands cradling his face, your body melting into his.

The storm raged outside.

But inside…

You were finally home... and so was he.

He sucked on your bottom lip in the midst of the kiss, slow and savoring. His fingers worked at the knot of your robe, but you stilled his hands, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. "I was 'bout to take a shower before you got here. Wanna join me?" you whispered against his lips, that mischievous glint dancing in your eyes.

He smirked, eyes already dark with anticipation. "Lead the way, gorgeous."

You grinned, grabbing his hand and leading him up to your room. You put an extra sway in your hips, knowing damn well he was watching. Then, smack! A firm palm landed on your ass, followed by a possessive squeeze.

You gasped, turning over your shoulder. "Elias!"

His rich chuckle echoed through the stairwell. "Don't act like you ain't want it. Walkin’ like that, waggin’ that tail knowin’ I missed it." And truthfully... you couldn’t argue.

In the bathroom, you moved with fluid grace. You lit the jarred candles across the sink, their flickering flames casting golden shadows over your skin. Stack watched you like a man starved, eyes trailing each soft gesture as you flicked the light off, shifting the room’s energy with the warm, amber glow. You grabbed a clean washcloth for him, set it down, and opened the shower door to get the water running—perfectly warm, steam already rising.

You glanced over your shoulder, eyes gleaming with temptation. Your fingers found the knot of your robe again, this time undoing it slowly before letting the fabric fall from your body like silk. Without a word, you stepped into the shower, hips swaying as if daring him to follow.

He didn’t hesitate. You watched as he stripped, his gaze never leaving yours. Every inch of brown skin, every curve of hard-earned muscle made your pulse flutter. And when his boxers dropped—your mouth watered, your center ached. The steam wasn’t the only thing making the air heavy now.

You reached for your African bath net and poured tea tree soap onto it, letting the crisp, herbal scent fill the space. Then, with the damp washcloth in hand, you slowly began smoothing it over his chest and shoulders. He leaned in, catching your lips in a deep, sensual kiss as the two of you bathed one another—washing away regret, pain, silence. Wordlessly sharing the softest, rawest parts of yourselves.

Your kisses drifted from his mouth to his jaw, then down to the faded scars across his chest and arms left by his father. He tilted his head back, biting his lip, breath shallow. His dick pressed hard against your pelvis, and you sighed at the delicious friction. You kissed your way back up, nipped at his ear, then gently sucked on the lobe. A deep groan rumbled in his chest as he dropped his head, planting a soft kiss on your temple.

His grip on your waist tightened as he pulled you under the waterfall stream. Milky suds slipped down your bodies, carrying the past down the drain. Your bun, heavy with water, finally gave way—your braids tumbling down your back. Stack took it as a sign. He turned you gently and pressed you against the cool glass, your back meeting it with a soft gasp. One hand fisted your braids, tugging just enough to tilt your head and expose your neck. A moan slipped from your lips as his mouth found your skin—kissing, then sucking hungrily at the sensitive spot just below your ear.

His hand slid down to grip your thigh, hitching your leg up around his waist. The thick tip of his dick glided between your slick folds, teasing you, making your stomach flutter. "Fuck, I missed you," he breathed against your neck just before slowly easing inside—inch by thick, aching inch.

You gasped, head falling back against the glass as he stretched you open. It had been a while since you let a man touch you… too long, and the last time hadn’t been worth remembering. But this—this was different. Your walls gripped him, molded to him. He cursed low, his mouth falling open as he began to grind into you with slow, deliberate rolls. A small line of drool slipped from the corner of his mouth.

"Baby... mmm, you're droolin'," you muttered through soft moans, breath hitching.

He wiped it away with the back of his hand, blinking like he’d snapped out of a trance. Then his gaze locked on yours—hungry, unashamed.

"Want some?" he asked, voice low and dirty.

Your pussy clenched in response. You nodded, tilting your head back, mouth parted and waiting. Slowly, he let a thin stream of spit drip into your mouth, landing warm on your tongue. You moaned as you swallowed, and he groaned, crashing his lips into yours with a kiss soaked in years of longing.

His thrusts deepened, pace quickening as his hand gripped your ass, angling you just right. Your moans and his groans tangled between kisses until you tore your mouth from his.

"S—Stack," you moaned, voice breathless and trembling.

He lifted you off the slippery tile with ease, hoisting you up by your thighs. Your ass met the fogged-up glass as he began pounding into you, hips snapping with hunger. Your breasts pressed tight to his chest, arms locked around his neck, nails digging into his shoulders.

"Ooooh, shit," you gasped, eyes rolling back.

His lips trailed your chin, kissing sloppily through his grunts as your walls clenched around him. With every thrust, his groin nudged your clit just right, and the soft scrape of his low pubic hair only heightened the sensation. Your eyes fluttered shut, your mouth parting in silent cries as your body trembled with need.

"Mm-mm. Let me see those pretty eyes, baby," he said, voice thick with desire. You blinked them open, brows pinching in pleasure. "There you go," he cooed with a cocky smirk, then rolled his hips deep, hitting your spot with brutal precision. Your breath hitched, lips trembling. Every stroke had your body unraveling.

"Breathe, sweetheart. Let me hear you," he panted, tightening his grip on your thighs. "I know I'm hittin' that spot only I can reach," he growled between groans.

You cried out, high and helpless, your pleasure echoing in the steamy room. He wasn’t wrong—no one ever fucked you like he did. No one worshipped you like this.

"I love you so much. Mmm... And I'm gon' prove it to you eh'ry day," he mumbled against your skin, hips never slowing. You whimpered back an I love you too, your voice barely audible between moans and shallow gasps.

Your body went stiff, toes curling as your climax crept up, relentless and hot.

"Fuck, Elias. Right there," you gasped.

Stack’s brow furrowed as he looked into your soul, his rhythm steady and ruthless. "Mhm. Cum for me, Y/N," he commanded, voice low and deep, and you couldn't fight it. The head of his dick kissed that sweet spot again and again, his thick, veined shaft stroking your walls perfectly.

You trembled in his arms as your orgasm crashed over you. Your cries mixed with his groans as he slowed his strokes and emptied inside you, heat flooding your core. His lips moved over your face, then down to your breasts, planting kisses before teasingly grinding into you again—still hard, still wanting.

"You got another one for me?" he asked, voice husky, before capturing your nipple in his mouth, sucking greedily.

You held the back of his head, biting your bottom lip, eyes still glassy. "Try me and find out," you dared.

His brow arched at your challenge. With effortless strength, he set you down and spun you around. Your chest met the glass this time, nipples pebbling against the cool surface. You whimpered at the contrast. Using his foot, he nudged your legs apart, exposing your dripping pussy to the warm, humid air.

The side of your face rested on the steamy glass, your breath fogging it further as you glanced back at him. Just as your eyes met his, he slid back inside—slow, thick, full. Your eyes fluttered shut again, lips parting as you melted into the moment, savoring the feel of him all over again.

His hands gripped your hips, guiding you back to meet each deliciously slow thrust. From this position, you could feel him deeply—so deep it felt like he was stroking your soul, caressing your stomach from the inside. You whimpered, palms flattening against the fogged-up glass.

“Uunh, that feels so go—”

Stack’s sudden, ruthless plunges cut off your sentence, replacing words with sharp cries of pleasure. Your hand shot back to press against his abs, trying to ease his depth, but he quickly caught both your wrists and pinned them above your head, palms splayed flat on the glass.

“You were doin’ so good, baby,” he teased, his voice low and amused. “Want me to stop?” he asked, slowing his strokes just enough to make you ache for more.

You shook your head fast, panic rising in your chest at the threat of that bliss ending. “N—No. Please... don’t stop,” you breathed, desperation coating your voice.

A smug grin played on his lips. “That’s what I thought.”

He picked up the pace again, his thrusts unrelenting. He watched your face, studied the way it twisted in pleasure, the way your ass rippled against his hips with every impact. The sight had him biting his lip. He pulled your braids to one side and leaned forward, kissing the curve of your back, slow and reverent.

Chills rippled up your spine. Your pussy clenched hard around him, dragging a grunt from his throat. He kissed his way up to your neck, then your cheek, his breath hot against your damp skin while the soft hairs of his beard tickled it.

“I’ll never stop, Y/N,” he groaned, voice thick with promise. “Never stop lovin’ you, never stop showin’ you... and never stop makin’ you cum.”

His words broke you open. Your walls squeezed him tighter, and all you could do was whimper, body teetering on the edge of ecstasy.

“Fuck,” he groaned, snaking his hand around your waist. His fingers found your clit and rubbed tight, fast circles. That was it. Your knees buckled. You came hard, vision blurring, fireworks exploding behind your eyelids as you screamed his name into the steamy shower.

He swallowed your cries in a deep, consuming kiss, your moans mingling with his as his own rhythm faltered. A few more erratic strokes and he was right there with you—his hips pressed flush to yours as he emptied deep inside all over again.

You both slumped against the glass, panting, bodies heavy with the weight of release. He kissed along your shoulder and neck with soft devotion before slowly pulling out. Then he reached for the handheld showerhead, rinsing you both down with gentle care, washing away the evidence of your passion.

You whimpered when he turned to step out, your legs too shaky to move.

He chuckled low. “Come on, baby,” he murmured, turning to you. He scooped you up and carried you out, carefully setting you on the dry part of the counter, away from the flickering candlelight. He toweled himself off first, then turned to you, working the soft towel over your sensitive skin with soothingly.

Just when you started to relax with your eyes closed, your back arched with a gasp—his lips had found your sensitive clit, kissing it gently.

“Baby, pleassse... I can’t,” you whimpered, voice broken and breathless.

He chuckled, placing one last kiss to your puffy folds. “Fine, I’ll behave,” he said, trailing kisses up your stomach, chest, neck—until he found your lips again. His eyes locked with yours. “But I make no promises for the morning.”

You giggled and gave him a soft peck. “You’re a damn menace.”

“I am,” he smirked, grabbing a fresh towel to dry your braids as best he could, “but I’m your menace.”

Once the candles were blown out, he lifted you effortlessly and carried you to the bed. The moment your back met the cool sheets, sleep started pulling at you. You yawned, and a matching one left his lips.

He slid in beside you, arm wrapped tight around your waist, head resting on your chest like it belonged there. Your fingers caressed the waves of his hair while your other hand rubbed slow circles on his back. Your breaths fell into rhythm, soft and steady—a perfect lullaby that pulled you both into a deep slumber.

And when the sun rose…

Elias gave into his craving and devoured you for breakfast.

He was there, just like he promised.

And every morning thereafter.

The End.

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I couldn’t leave Stack Daddy hangin. This is my first fic for him, but definitely not the last. Hope I made the “x reader” babes proud! Drop a comment and let me know what you think. If you want to be tagged in future stuff, just let me know. xoxo

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Taglist:

@slvt4her @wanderingreigns @avoidthings @xjjawsomex @that-one-anxious-mango @wabi-sabi1090 @nubiawrites @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @kianaleani @slutsareteacherstoo @slyy-foxx @dxddykenn @moujg @naughtynolly @wildcardmelaninfreak @pocketsizedpanther @wabi-sabi1090 @styleismyaddiction @novahreign @transparentphantomface @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @babymelaninn @jasmynn05 @notapradagurl7 @starcrossedxwriter @irefusetobeacasualty @bigjh @syko-jpg @akjonthebeat @margepimpson @diamondsinterlude @brownsugarcoffy @shamansha @samiecemonet-blog @nebulamilkyway @browngirldominion @sexysativa605

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

When Roles Collide

Word count: 941

Pairing: max Verstappen x reader, ft. kelly and P

Summary: After expressing concern that Kelly relies too much on Max to care for her daughter, Y/n faces Kelly's anger.

______________________________________________________________

Kelly arrived at the apartment with P in tow, the little girl bounding into Max’s arms as soon as the door opened. You watched as Max smiled, scooping her up effortlessly, his affection for her always evident. But today, you felt a growing sense of frustration. This was the third time this week that Kelly had dropped her off with barely any notice, and as much as you loved P, something about this situation wasn’t right.

Once Max and P had gone off to play, you approached Kelly, who was halfway out the door. You could feel the words building inside of you, and you knew you had to say something before it continued.

"Kelly, can I talk to you for a second?" you asked, your voice calm but firm.

She paused, hand on the door, clearly not expecting this. "Sure, what’s up?"

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your tone even. "Look, I love having P around, and Max is always happy to see her. But I feel like lately, you’ve been relying on him a lot. She’s your daughter, and she needs time with you too. Max can't always be the one stepping in."

Kelly’s expression shifted instantly, her casual demeanor hardening into something defensive. "Excuse me?" she said sharply, her brows knitting together. "I’ve been busy, and P loves spending time with Max. Why do you care all of a sudden?"

You swallowed, taken aback by the sharpness of her response. "It’s not that I care 'all of a sudden.' I just think it’s important that P spends time with you, her mom. Max loves her, but you’re—"

Before you could finish, Kelly cut you off. "You’ve only been in Max’s life for, what, six months? And now you think you get to delegate how I raise my daughter?"

Her words hit like a slap, and you felt your chest tighten. "I’m not trying to delegate anything," you said, keeping your voice steady, though your heart was racing. "I’m just saying that it feels like Max is being put in a position where he’s—"

"Where he’s what? Being a father figure to the daughter he’s helped raise for years?" Kelly’s voice was growing louder, her anger bubbling over. "You don’t get it. You don’t know what it’s been like for me and P. Max has always been there for her, and now you just waltz in and decide you know what’s best?"

The frustration you’d been holding back for so long surged forward. "That’s not what I’m saying, Kelly! I get that Max has been there, and I love that about him. But I’m not trying to replace you or act like I know what’s best. I just think P needs her mom more than you realize."

Kelly crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. "You think you know better than me, huh? After just half a year with Max, now you’re an expert?"

You shook your head, trying to remain calm even though the tension was thickening by the second. "I’m not trying to tell you how to be a mom, Kelly. I just think that you’re depending on Max a little too much, and it’s not fair to him either."

Kelly scoffed, her eyes flashing with irritation. "What’s not fair is you sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong. Max and I have been handling this just fine before you came along."

Max, who must have overheard the raised voices, appeared in the doorway, his eyes darting between you and Kelly. "What’s going on?" he asked, his tone cautious but concerned.

Kelly didn’t hesitate. "Your girlfriend here thinks she knows better about how I should be raising P. Apparently, I’m not doing enough because I let her spend time with you."

Max’s eyes widened, and he glanced at you, clearly surprised. "That’s not what she’s saying, Kelly," he said softly, trying to diffuse the situation. "I think she’s just concerned, that’s all."

"Concerned," Kelly repeated bitterly. "How considerate of her. Well, news flash—this is my daughter we’re talking about, and Max, you’ve been like a second father to her for years. You don’t need anyone else telling you what’s best for her."

The anger in her voice was palpable, and you could see the hurt flashing in Max’s eyes as he tried to mediate. You wanted to defend yourself, to explain that you weren’t trying to come between anyone, but the words were stuck in your throat.

"I think it’s best if we just take a step back for now," Kelly said, turning toward the door. "I don’t need anyone questioning how I handle my daughter. I’ll figure it out on my own."

Before you could respond, she was gone, leaving the tension lingering in the room. Max let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair as he looked at you, unsure of what to say.

You felt a pang of guilt but also the undeniable weight of your frustration. "I wasn’t trying to upset her," you said quietly.

Max nodded, stepping closer. "I know. You’re just looking out for P and for us… but this is complicated." He hesitated, his eyes searching yours. "Kelly’s always been protective, especially when it comes to P. I think she feels like she’s losing control."

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "I just want what’s best for everyone."

Max pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you protectively. "I know. And I appreciate you trying to help. We’ll figure this out. Together."

But as you leaned into him, you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that things had just gotten a lot more complicated.

[solxamber]

Omg, uh sorry if this is filling up your inbox! You can take your time with this anytime! Pls take care of urself if u feel sad (Romantic btw :3)

Savanaclaw and Scarabia with a silly reader who owns a circus and stuff— they act all innocent and stupid and silly, but are actually really good at being mature and responsible and smart (emotionally and intelligently). And, They always have some extremely shocking stories to tell, like that one time where they and Falena are friends and how their family has some history with the al-asims.. oh the list can go on!...

can u see what I see ☹️☹️

Savanaclaw, Scarabia with a Silly but mature! reader

i think i see your vision anon 🫡 Thank you for the request!

also the inbox is open for all requests, there's no need to be sorry!

Leona Kingscholar

Leona was lounging under a tree, as usual, his eyes half-closed as you plopped down beside him. You had that mischievous smile again, and he braced himself for whatever nonsense you were about to spout.

“Leona, did I ever tell you about the time I accidentally declared myself queen of a lost kingdom? Oh yeah, I was leading a parade for my circus when we stumbled upon this hidden city in the desert. They hadn’t seen outsiders in centuries, and for some reason, they thought my outfit meant I was royalty. Long story short, I ruled for a day—had a crown and everything.”

Leona cracked an eye open, staring at you. “You? A queen?”

“Yep. But don’t worry, I abdicated the next morning. Told them it wasn’t for me. Too much responsibility, you know?” You laughed, completely at ease, as if you hadn’t just described one of the most ridiculous situations ever.

Leona groaned. “You’ve gotta be making this stuff up.”

“Nope! 100% true. I even have pictures of the royal llama they gave me as a parting gift.” You winked, leaving Leona wondering whether you were serious or just really good at telling tall tales.

But later that day, a real problem cropped up in Savanaclaw. Some of the younger students had gotten into a fight, and it was escalating fast. Leona, grumbling, was about to step in when you, with a surprisingly firm tone, intervened.

“Hey! Knock it off!” you commanded, standing between the feuding students with a calm but authoritative air. “Fighting’s not going to solve this. You need to talk it out—what’s going on?”

To Leona’s surprise, they actually stopped. You took each of them aside, patiently listening and guiding them to a resolution, diffusing the situation before it could spiral. Once things calmed down, you turned back to Leona with a smile, as if nothing unusual had happened.

“See? All it takes is a bit of patience.”

Leona stared at you, genuinely impressed. “You’re... not as dumb as you act, are you?”

“Only when it’s convenient,” you replied, your grin back in full force. But there was a warmth behind your eyes, a quiet confidence that made Leona’s chest tighten. For once, he didn’t have a sarcastic comeback, just a lingering thought that maybe you were a lot more than you seemed.

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie was used to your wild stories by now, but every time you shared one, it still left him shaking his head in disbelief. Today, you were telling him about one of your most outlandish adventures yet.

“So, Ruggie, did I ever mention the time I accidentally joined a pirate crew? My circus got shipwrecked on this random island, and before I knew it, I was swabbing the deck of a pirate ship. They thought I was this legendary thief, and I just rolled with it. Spent the whole month trying to convince them to switch to legal trade—pretty sure I turned them into a merchant fleet by the end.”

Ruggie almost choked on his snack. “You? A pirate? No way.”

“True story! They even gave me a parrot. Named him Biscuit.” You grinned like this was the most normal thing in the world.

Ruggie shook his head, laughing. “You’re somethin’ else, y’know that?”

But not long after, a real problem popped up. One of the younger students in Scarabia had been short on money, and there was a mix-up with their scholarship. The kid was panicking, unsure how to fix it. While Ruggie was good at hustling, this wasn’t his field of expertise. He figured the situation was about to get messy.

Then you stepped in, calmly talking to the student. “Hey, don’t worry. We’ll figure this out. Let me help.”

You guided the student through the bureaucratic mess, making calls, filling out forms, and working things out with Scarabia’s administration. By the end of it, everything was sorted, and the student left with a grateful smile.

“You handled that like a pro,” Ruggie commented, impressed. He hadn’t expected you to know your way around serious issues like that.

“Sometimes life throws you curveballs, and you’ve gotta handle them with a cool head,” you said with a wink. “I’ve got practice from managing a circus, after all.”

Ruggie chuckled, but the admiration in his eyes was clear. “You’re full of surprises.”

“Good surprises, I hope?”

“The best kind,” Ruggie grinned, feeling his heart skip a beat. You might act goofy, but there was something about you that kept pulling him in.

Jack Howl

Jack was used to your carefree attitude by now, but your stories never failed to catch him off guard. Today, you were regaling him with a tale so absurd he didn’t even know how to respond.

“So, Jack, did I ever tell you about the time I accidentally tamed a dragon? It’s true! I was performing in a mountain village when this dragon showed up, all angry and roaring. Turns out, he had a thorn in his foot. Once I pulled it out, we became best buds. He even gave me a ride back home.”

Jack slowed his jog, staring at you incredulously. “You’re telling me you... tamed a dragon? Just like that?”

“Yep! He was actually really sweet once he wasn’t in pain. Kinda like a giant puppy.” You laughed, completely unfazed by how insane the story sounded.

Jack shook his head, half-impressed, half-baffled. “You’re something else.”

But later, when a real problem cropped up—a couple of first-years lost their way in the forest near campus—your goofy demeanor melted away, replaced by a calm, focused attitude. Jack was ready to run in headfirst, but you stopped him.

“Wait, Jack. If we charge in, we might get lost too. Let’s think this through.”

You took a moment to assess the situation, coming up with a plan that involved splitting up into small, safe search parties. You helped guide the students back, your calm leadership reassuring everyone involved.

Jack was impressed. “You... really know how to handle things when it matters.”

You smiled softly, shrugging. “I guess when you’ve been through enough crazy stuff, you learn how to stay calm.”

Jack couldn’t help but admire you. You might be goofy, but you had a strong sense of responsibility underneath it all. And, more than anything, he liked that you didn’t lose your lightheartedness, even when things got tough.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Jack muttered, a little flustered.

You grinned. “Just doing my best. But thanks, Jack.”

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim was always delighted by your stories, and today, you had another one to tell that had him practically bouncing in excitement.

“So, Kalim, did I ever tell you about the time I accidentally became the head chef for an underwater banquet? We were traveling with the circus near a coastal city, and somehow, I got mistaken for a famous sea chef. Next thing I knew, I was cooking for a bunch of merfolk. It wasn’t too bad, except for the fact that the main course was supposed to be jellyfish. Do you know how hard it is to cook jellyfish?”

Kalim’s eyes went wide with fascination. “No way! What did you do?”

“Well, I just winged it! Turns out, jellyfish isn’t that bad if you deep fry it. The merfolk loved it, though I think one of them might’ve cried because I didn’t use enough seaweed seasoning.” You giggled at the memory, and Kalim burst into laughter beside you.

“That’s amazing! You always have the best stories!” Kalim grinned from ear to ear, completely charmed by your carefree attitude.

But later, as a group of students caused a commotion in Scarabia over some miscommunication regarding event planning, Kalim started to get overwhelmed. The party plans were a mess, and everyone was panicking.

Before Kalim could start spiraling, you placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Kalim, it’s okay. We can fix this.”

You quickly took charge, calmly directing people, assigning tasks, and helping resolve the confusion with remarkable ease. Despite the chaos, you remained collected and responsible, ensuring everything got back on track. By the end of it, the students were thanking you for saving the event.

Kalim watched you in awe, his heart swelling with admiration. “Wow, you’re amazing at this! I didn’t even think about half of the things you just did!”

You smiled, a little sheepishly. “I’ve learned a thing or two from managing my own circus. Keeping things organized is important when you’ve got that many moving parts.”

Kalim beamed, his admiration growing even more. “You’re incredible! I love how you can be so fun and carefree but also super responsible when it matters.”

You laughed. “Well, I can’t have you stressing out, can I?”

Kalim’s heart fluttered as he realized just how much he adored every part of you—the goofy, lighthearted side and the calm, mature side that always seemed to have everything under control.

“I’m lucky to have you around,” he admitted softly, his face turning pink.

You grinned, nudging him playfully. “And I’m lucky to have someone who enjoys my stories. We make a good team.”

Jamil Viper

Jamil wasn’t one to get distracted easily, but you had a way of getting under his skin, especially with the wild stories you told so casually.

“So, Jamil, you know how everyone has a weird family tradition? Mine is... accidentally kidnapping a sultan’s pet tiger. Oh, it wasn’t on purpose, of course! The circus was performing in this palace, and I thought it was part of the act. Turns out, it was the sultan’s favorite tiger. Had to smooth things over with a five-course apology dinner. But hey, I got to keep a gold plate as a souvenir.”

Jamil blinked, his expression somewhere between disbelief and amusement. “You... kidnapped a royal tiger?”

“Yep! Accidentally, though. I gave it back!” you laughed, completely unfazed by how wild the story was. “But I did manage to calm the sultan down. Turns out, I’m pretty good at apologizing.”

Jamil shook his head, exhaling a slow breath. “I don’t know how you manage to stay so calm in situations like that.”

“Well, when you run a circus, you learn to roll with the punches,” you winked.

Later that evening, when a situation arose with a group of students causing chaos in Scarabia, you stepped up before Jamil could even lift a finger.

“Hold on, I’ll talk to them,” you said, stepping forward.

With a calm but firm approach, you quickly diffused the situation, guiding the students to settle down and offering solutions to their grievances. You did it all without raising your voice, just being patient and understanding.

Jamil watched, impressed at how you handled everything so smoothly. Once the students dispersed, he approached you with a newfound respect in his eyes.

“You’re... more capable than you let on,” he admitted, glancing away.

You smiled, not smugly, but warmly. “I just know when it’s time to be serious. Someone’s gotta keep the peace around here.”

Jamil’s heart skipped a beat. Maybe there was more to your lighthearted nature than he initially thought.

Masterlist

[pettysreverie]

Shutting a very (nervous) chatty soap up by letting him give you head under the table of a fairly fancy restaurant?

(oh my fucking gosh!!! my first ask request! >.< sorry it took my so long babes, ya girl has been busy and also just down and out with cramps. Also? I was trying to decide on what was making him nervous...anywho! I hope this lives up to your expectations!!!)

CW: AFAB!Reader, Exhibitionism, Dubcon, I love writing out accents :P, as always if I missed any important warnings pls feel free to let me know (in case you didn't read my intro post, i get heavy handed with exposition. i'm not used to writing short form fanfic T.T have never written a 100 word anything outside of academia...sorry loves)

Okay, so the way I see it, Soap is a chatty motherfucker all the time anyway. Cracking jokes, making conversation, the whole spiel. He's a naturally extroverted guy, so it's not like he can help it...but when he's nervous? Oh, there's absolutely no shutting him up.

But can you blame him for being nervous? He definitely did not think he would he ever manage a date with you, an actress he's recently come to admire.

It started with seeing you in a few small roles here and there and enjoying them. And as you grew in notoriety and landed bigger roles, Johnny found himself seemingly following along—watching each project. Before he had even realized it, he had naturally become a fan boy of yours.

So he was absolutely surprised when, upon returning home from deployment, he had run into you. The poor bastard had nearly passed out.

He thought he had died and gone to heaven when you had actually given him the time of day, letting him chat with you in the queue as you two waited for your respective orders at the cafe.

And when, upon parting, you had accepted his invitation for a date and had given him your number? He really thought he was on cloud fucking nine.

This, all of this, the Scotsman nervously rambles to you as you sit for said date.

He's on edge, which is more than obvious—but you find it endearing. Johnny is just so charming. Even as he trips over his own words and blushes every so often, he manages to make you laugh.

And it's not like you don't understand.

Maybe you don't know exactly what he's feeling right now, but you've been in similar situations. And so, maybe that is why you just cannot help but try to lighten the mood.

"With how much you can talk, it's a wonder if you use that motormouth of yours for anything else."

Okay...even to your own ears, you realize that maybe you shouldn't have said that. You wince, ready to apologize, but Johnny's blue eyes seem to sparkle and the Scotsman smirks at you.

"Aye?"He asks, cocking a brow at you as he leans back in his chair. "Well, ah can promise ye... Ah can show ye be'er then ah can tell ye."

It takes you a moment, but it comes to you that he is not so nervous anymore. A more calm and confident air surrounds him now, his gaze more assured.

A shiver runs down your spine.

You have only just met the man, but you can tell that Johnny is many things. Intelligent. Extroverted. Charming. But how are you supposed to know that he is also a massive eater—that this man loves eating pussy?

How are you supposed to know that yes, he is a military sergeant that has a talent for many things, namely diffusing bombs…but eating pussy is where he truly thrives and shines?

There's just absolutely no way he's going to pass up an opportunity to eat you out. Not even if you two are in a fairly nice restaurant, sitting across from each other on your first date.

So of course it is a surprise that a smirk spreads across his lips, "Ma bad, bonnie. Yer right. Donnae mind if ah do."

And before you can call him off, telling him that you were only joking, the Scotsman has disappeared himself under your table. A feat unto itself given his not so small size, but with the tablecloth draped over the table and the natural humdrum of the restaurant life buzzing all around you, he is provided the perfect cover.

His nimble fingers hitch up your dress, his lips ghosting along your thighs. You can feel his stubble scratching your skin in a way that makes your breath hitch.

"Forgive me for ma ramblin' bonnie. Ah'll make it up tae ye."He murmurs just loud enough for you to hear from beneath the table, pulling a small yelp out of you as he nips the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

You're caught between wanting to convince him to stop, and wanting to see where this goes.

It's not like you're some A-list celebrity. Sure, you're getting bigger roles, but nothing too big just yet. Nothing that would garner you too much unnecessary attention naturally, anyways. You're not at the point, yet, of worrying about tabloids or paparazzi or being sneakily recorded by fans. For now, thankfully.

Still, the prospect of getting kicked out of such a nice restaurant and getting hit with a public indecency charge doesn't sound very nice.

On the other hand...?

On the other hand, you have a super sexy Scottish military sergeant beneath the table and between your legs right this moment. Talk about a wet dream come true...

You snap out of your own thoughts when you feel Johnny pull your panties to the side, his stubble rubbing along your inner thighs as his tongue takes a long, broad stroke up your cunt.

(Did I mention that he loves eating pussy?)

Your hand flies beneath the table, fingers settling within the tresses of his mohawk and tightening as your body jolts. You have to press your lips together, holding back a soft whimper that threatens to fall out at the way he seems to savor having you on his tongue.

And it suddenly strikes you that, actually...this might not a good idea after all.

"W-Wait—"

But Johnny doesn't wait. He doesn't listen.

He presses his face between your thighs, his tongue worshiping your flesh as you try your level best to remain as calm and collected as possible. Only, of course, now is when your waiter decides to come to your table.

"Ah, did the gentleman step out for a moment? Should I wait, or would you like to order for him?"

You freeze.

How the fuck are you supposed to answer that?

This is a first fucking date.

You definitely don't know him well enough to order for him. But to wait? That's not likely either.

"I'll...I'll order—"You press your lips together and tighten your thighs around Johnny's head as he starts sucking on your clit, causing you to full body flinch.

The waiter looks at you, a startled expression coloring his features just as a wave of shame courses through your veins. “Sorry….”You mumble, pinching Johnny beneath the table.

He apologizes with a kiss to your clit.

“I’ll have the chicken pasta, and he’ll have the roasted salmon with the white rice. Please.”You order quickly, trying to sound as polite as possible. More and more, this is seeming to have been a really bad a idea.

"Right, well then I'll have those out for the two of you as soon as I can."

You try to breathe a sigh of relief when the waiter leaves your table, but aren't even afforded the option. Not when Johnny is yanking your panties even further to the side. "Yer a fuckin delight, love."He mutters gravelly from between your thighs.

He sounds almost...feral.

Like an animal.

Another shiver runs down your spine and you shift your hips, pulling back. Your heart is hammering in your chest and with how intense this is getting, you're not sure you can keep a handle on yourself if things continue.

Besides, you're sure that you have more than embarrassed yourself for one evening.

This is only a first date, you can save some room to embarrass yourself more for another time—for another date.

But then Johnny's large hands grip your hips, forcefully pulling you closer to the edge of your seat almost greedily—hungrily. "Donnae run away from me."He says to you, and with him being hidden under the table it is almost an ominous threat of sorts. A deep, raspy voice not asking but commanding you to not move.

Johnny's lips close around your sensitive clit—sucking on it with an unforgiving intensity as he holds you in place. He's determined to make you cum. Right here. Right in this restaurant.

Once again your thighs clamp around his head, but if he's bothered about that then he makes no indication about it. He doesn't even flinch.

You try to say something—anything—but the words are lost on you when his tongue starts flicking your clit.

The sound you let out is just barely muffled by the sound your free hand makes as you accidentally slam it onto the table. A couple sitting at a table near yours looks over, shooting curious inquisitive gazes your way.

"S-Sorry..."You whimper, your thighs trembling and your hips twitching just beneath the table and out of their view.

Thankfully your slumped demeanor and shaky voice lend themselves more to seemingly like a jilted date than a frisky exhibitionist, so they only send you pitying glances and then turn away. Which you appreciate because, the very moment they turn away, you slump over onto the table.

One arm cushions your forehead while other grips Johnny's hair tightly, perhaps too tightly. But you can't be bothered to care. Not when he's slipping one of his finger's into your messy cunt as he continues his dedicated assault.

"F-Fuck,"Quietly falls from your lips, not being able to contain yourself so well anymore. "So good. So fucking good, I—"

The way he switches between sucking on your clit and licking it is making your head spin, and with his finger fucking into you slow but deep it's getting harder and harder to think.

"J-Johnny..."

Your entire body is buzzing at this point. You squeeze your eyes shut, but that's a mistake. Because now all you can focus on is his touch. How he is making you feel. The way his mouth is worshiping your pussy like its his sole reason for breathing.

He slips a second finger inside of you, slowly and gingerly—careful to help you accommodate to the stretch. That delicious fucking stretch of his long yet thick fingers. Nimble and fucking skillful.

Your nails are basically digging into his scalp at this point, but it's either that or you rut into him like the bitch in heat that you currently are.

But if you do that, you two will be found out.

Your cover blown.

Which might just be the Scotsman's desired outcome, given how he ditches the slow and savoring rhythm he'd granted you and instead starts finger fucking you faster now.

Heat pulses in your veins as a familiar tingling sensation begins to rise from inside of you. Your toes begin to curl in your heels and you press your lips together. Hard. If you don't, moans far too loud for propriety's sake will come spilling out.

It is as though your head is swimming—thoughts drifting away as you will yourself to muffle every whimper and mewl that battles against your quivering lips.

You want to warn Johnny. Really, you do.

You want to tell him that you're about to cum.

But how can you?

If you open your mouth, it's over for you. For the both of you.

So, instead, your shaky fingers tap on his forehead as best as they can. And you think, maybe he's gotten the message. Maybe...if his doubled efforts are anything to go by.

Warmth washes over your body and tingles take over your lower limbs, slowly spreading to the rest of your body as he continues to finger fuck you. His mouth is seemingly permanently attached to your cunt, the Scotsman determined to gorge himself on you.

But then his tongue does a thing and his finger curl just right, hitting you deep inside.

It's too much.

Too fucking much.

Your entire body stiffens, stomach muscles clenching as your pussy pulses and clenches around his thrusting fingers and onto his sinful tongue. Your thighs tremble as your legs wrap around his muscular torso—so caught in the throes of passion that you unintentionally trapping him in your hold as you ride out your wave of pleasure.

(I did mention that he loves eating pussy...right?)

Honestly, you're not too sure how you two don't get caught.

You're not too sure how he didn't get caught sneaking under the table and you're not too sure how he doesn't get caught get out from under it now, either. But he doesn't.

Still slumped over the table, you're slowly coming back to your senses.

Johnny has moved to sit beside you and is rubbing your back and shoulders soothingly.

"Ye did so well, bonnie. Am sure naebody suspected a thin'."He praises, his hand rubbing gentle circles into your still trembling thigh.

You don't speak. Don't even pick up your head. You don't trust your voice quite yet. But, of course, now is when your waiter comes back with your food.

You hear the plates land gently on the cloth covered table and then nothing. There's a pregnant pause and you assume that the waiter has left, then there is a throat being cleared.

"Is...uh...is your companion alright, sir?"

"Aye, tha missus is fine."Johnny replies coolly, his hand as gentle and calming as ever. "Just a wee bit under tha weather. We'll actually take this tae go lad. Thank ye."

Once your waiter leaves, you lift your head and Johnny immediately hands you your glass of water and urges you to drink it.

You try to set it aside, but he won't let you—kindly yet firmly redirects the glass back to your hand. And this time, you do finally accept the water and drink a few meaningful sips.

"Good girl,"He murmurs, patting your now calmed knee. "Feelin' be'er?"

"I...well, yes. But..."You're at a loss for words. What are you supposed to say. How are you supposed to continue your date after that? "I just can't believe we did that..."

Johnny nods, a hint of a smirk on his lips. And as his expression shifts you can see a bit of sheen on his face.

Clearly, as you'd still been slumped over, he must have wiped his face with napkin. Not well enough, though. Not when there's remnants still glistening on his chin.

"Whot? Is somethin' on ma face?"He asks, his thumb brushing away your cream from the spot your gaze had zeroed in on.

And you watch in rapt attention as the motherfucker sucks it off of his goddamned finger.

"Well, ah cannae say ah regret it."He replies to you, his smirk becoming larger now. "Besides, ah figured ah only got one shot fer a good impression. Wanted tae make it count."

Your waiter comes back once more, this time with your packaged meals. Before you can even think about the bill, the waiter is sliding Johnny back his card—clearly indicating that the meal has already been paid for in full by the sergeant himself.

Not that he makes a big deal about it.

Not that he makes you feel like you owe him for it.

For any of it, actually.

He stands, grabbing both ornate takeout bags in one hand and extends the other for you to hold. "C'mon bonnie, let's get ye home."

Go home?

While you're busy wondering what he could possibly mean by that, Johnny chuckles and pulls your chair out some before extending his hand out to you once more.

"Amnae pig, bonnie. Real class, ah am. Ah'll drop ye off and let ye rest. Ye can call me when yer ready. Tomorrow. Tha day after. So on. And we can plan our next date then."

His words calm your racing thoughts enough for you to take his hand, walking with him out of the restaurant. Although...well, you certainly make it a point to not look back at the wet spot you've undoubtedly left on the chair.

"You seem confident I'll call you for a second date."You reply, giving him a side eyed glance as you step out into the evening air and he places his coat jacket over your shoulders.

Johnny looks at you and this time his expression is somewhere between a smirk and a smile—his blue eyes gleaming with a charming sense of mischief.

"Am quite confident in ma first impressions, bonnie."

—————————————

.....Is this anything? Lmao, I hope this didn't suck. It's been so long since I've written smut. So long since I've written full smut. Don't jump me! I hope this is what you were hoping for >_< if not, let me know and I can try again!

Also? Any grammar errors are totally between y'all and whatever creator you believe in. I did my best. I didn't proofread this frfr because...well, I never do. Never have. Probs never will. Never did in my wattpad days. Never have in all of my academia days either. With the power of big breasted men with juicy balls, em dashes, and dominant women on my side, it's me against the world! Grammatical errors fear me!!!

BTW! If you also just have any Qs regarding my thought process for this or for any of my blurbs/posts/whatevers you can always send an ask :D as long as you're respectful I am too. I promise I don't bite

[peanutpinet]

Hello I have a request for a sylus x reader female.

Can the request be along the lines of how the reader is sleep deprived from working, and she is scared of thunderstorms and during one night there is a storm and that’s one more day she won’t get sleep. Mephesto sees her being sleepless and reports back to sylus, and sylus arranges Luke and kerian to pick her up and bring her to his house?

You can choose how the rest plays out, but some cuddling and head rubs would also be nice to include:)

Thank you

Anchor - Sylus x Non!Mc Fem Reader

Disclaimer: This work is completely fiction. I do not own the images nor the characters or you (the MC). All images were taken from Pinterest.

A/N: Hi love, thank you for requesting!! This sounds so adorable and as someone who hasn’t been able to sleep well the past few days, I too definitely needed this. Sending hugs to everyone who has been feeling down or tired

Sylus’ POV (tis a first time I’m writing from Sylus’ POV but lessgo)

“I expect the shipments to arrive within the next 24hrs or I’ll ship you in pieces back. Understood, Turner?” I stated, twirling my glass of wine, waiting for Turner to answer me

Once he finally gave a scared nod, I brushed him off and he immediately scrambled out the door. Right as the door was closed and I was left alone in the meeting room, thunderstorm started to erupt following the rainstorm in the N109 zone.

The clock strikes midnight and I can’t help but wonder if she was back at her apartment. The last thing she texted me was she was grabbing dinner with a friend and that was at 7pm.

“Where are you, sweetie?”

Not long, I receive a video from Mephisto. I hooked up the recordings I receive from him onto my computer and there she was under the covers on her bed, seemingly shivering. The rain and thunderstorm were much worse in her area and it made me worried.

Along with her shivering body, Mephisto spotted lots of takeouts, coffees, paperwork sprawled across her desk. Was she overworking herself? Had she even gotten a proper meal and rest?

I quickly dialed a number. “Luke, Kieran”

“Yes boss? Reporting live right now. That Turner guy you told us to spy on is doing his job. He’s getting the new big guns ready to be shipped. They look pretty good boss. Can we have a demo…”

I didn’t let the twins finish their ramble and snapped them back to reality. “Change of plans. I need you two to bring someone to me. I’m going to get the base ready for her arrival”

It only took the twins a few seconds to know who I was talking about because they immediately sounded happy and giddy.

“Right away boss. You got it. Should we bring snacks along the way? We should definitely bring snacks” the twins rambled on again

“Just make sure she’s okay. Don’t ask her anything. Just entertain her in your peculiar ways…” I mentioned and the twins reassured me, turning off the call

Immediately, I prepared the room with some of the plushies she left the last time she stayed over. I took out the extra blanket she once bought then prepared the diffuser with her favorite calming scent before heading to the kitchen and prepared some of her comfort meals.

It only took 20 minutes for the twins to come back as I heard the front door open followed by a soft tired call for my name. “Sylus?”

Hearing her voice sound so tired and broken tugged something in me and I placed the last of the food I made on the dining room before making my way to see her.

When her figure was in my sight, I saw her wearing her oversized sweater and sweatpants followed by a short blanket wrapped around her, making her look smaller than she already is.

I didn’t notice it but my steps got faster and I engulfed her in my arms, allowing her to just slump her whole body on me. “It’s alright sweetie. Take it easy, yeah?” I stroke her smaller back as she let out a sigh

We stayed in this position for a while until I heard her stomach grumbling a bit. “You must be hungry. Let’s get you something to eat yeah? I prepared your favorites. Something light. I promise”

She didn’t complain as I practically carried her to the dining area and set her down onto the chair while I sat next to her.

“You made pumpkin soup for me?” she asked in a small trembling voice

I stroke her hair while I use my evol to bring a tray of freshly baked focaccia into her sight. “And fresh bread for you to dip into your soup. Go on sweetie, have a sip”

She nodded and took a spoonful of soup and drank it. “It taste exactly like the one we drank in that restaurant you brought me”

I smiled as I ripped the fresh bread and dipped it into the soup, feeding it to her. “Perhaps because I may or may not have paid a bit to ask for the recipe. I know you like the soup and it warms you up”

I feed her while also stroking her back but the moment the thunderstorm erupts again, she jumped and clinged to me. I immediately wrapped my arm around her, gently stroking her hair. “It’s okay sweetie. I’m here. You’re safe, yeah? Just lean on me, listen to my heartbeat. You’re okay”

She stayed silent, drawing some circles on my sweater. “It was a rough week” she mumbles but I didn’t cut her off, I kept stroking her hair and let her continue. “I had to work overtime almost everyday. I don’t even remember the last time I had a proper meal”

I stopped my stroking and gently held her cheek, softly making her face me. “Come to me next time you feel overwhelmed. I didn’t have Mephisto watch your every move because I value your privacy. But if this happens again, I may have to have Mephisto watch over you closely next time”

Instead of complaining, she actually chuckled and snuggled further into my chest. “Thank you Sy”

Hearing her thank me made me smile as I hugged her close. “No need to thank me sweetie. I’d do anything for you. I won’t allow you to drown yourself in sorrow alone. When you feel stuck and have nowhere to go, always come to me sweetie. I’ll be your anchor to support you, care for you, love you even when you feel like you don’t deserve it. I’ll remind you” I kissed her temple. “Every day if I have to, sweetie” I kissed her cheeks. “That you deserve everything and more” I softly kissed her jaw. “That you’ll never be alone for as long as I’m here, with you”

I gently held her face and lift them before leaning down to meet her lips, our nose brushing against one another as I softly connect my lips with hers, caressing her cheeks I felt tears streaming down; making me deepen the kiss while wiping her tears before slowly releasing my lips from hers.

“Cry for as long as you want, I would never judge you. But once you’re done crying, I hope you’ll allow me to indulge you and bring a smile to your face again” I softly caressed her cheek with my knuckle but instead she opened my hand and leaned her face into it, making me smile as I pulled her close

A/N: I know this was very short but I hope that it at least brings some comfort to whoever reads this :') wishing everyone good health and take care!! xoxo peanutpinet

[rafecameronssl4t]

Ok ok ok how about thorton!Reader and Rafe but the reader is equally as bad as Rafe and Topper? I’m thinking the golf scene in season one where they jump Pope but the reader happens to be there too and Pope hopes that she’ll help him… but she doesn’t 🫣

Stay off Figure Eight || Rafe Cameron x Thornton!reader

A/n: the title of this acc hurts me. I can’t think of one (give me ideas pls) 😭😭 I usually write Thornton!reader as being a sweetheart and friends with Pope (much to Rafe's dismay) but this was fun!!!! send thru any requests you have :)

Warnings: both reader and rafe r crazy, mention of blood, violence, swearing. if you were uncomfortable watching this scene in the series, do not read as I go into detail about it

Word count: 1,608

MASTERLIST (rafe x thornton!reader au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

"Man, that party was insane!" your brother exclaims, his laugh carrying through the air. Rafe flashes a grin, his arm tightening around your shoulder as the three of you stroll across the grass, searching for a clear spot on the course.

"I mean, my first thought when I did that line was, 'Bro, do we have enough?'" Topper rambles on, clearly thrilled with his first encounter with cocaine. You roll your eyes, growing weary of hearing the same story on repeat.

"It was crazy!" Topper shakes his head in disbelief, as if trying to wrap his mind around the experience. But you’re beyond over it. "It was just a line of coke, Jesus fucking Christ," you mutter under your breath, sliding your sunglasses off and perching them atop your head.

"I know, right?" Rafe adds, chuckling lightly before he steps away from you, lining up his shot. "That was good shit," he remark as he prepares to drive the ball. You casually pop another piece of gum into your mouth, standing beside Topper, who is still basking in his night.

"Hey, you uh… you didn’t tell Sarah, did you?" Topper’s voice drops to a nervous whisper, worry creeping into his tone, his earlier bravado faltering. The mention of Sarah always makes him nervous.

"Are you kidding me, man? The way she runs her mouth? Hell no," Rafe’s response is quick, dismissive, and you can almost hear the relief in Topper’s sigh as he nods. Rafe swings his club, and the sound of the ball slicing through the air is sharp and satisfying.

You let out a low whistle as you all watch it soar, landing close to a group of middle-aged men playing a few holes ahead. "Hey, come on now!" one of them shouts, annoyed by the interruption. You and Topper exchange a glance, both struggling to contain your laughter.

A snort escapes your brother's lips, while you bite down on your gum to suppress a giggle. "Shut up!" Rafe yells back, dismissing them without a second thought, "Geezers!" "They shouldn’t be taking so long anyway," Rafe mutters, shaking his head as he returns to your side, draping his arm over your shoulder again as you chuckle softly. But then, Rafe suddenly tenses, his gaze locked onto something in the distance.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he mutters, his grip tightening on you. "What is it?" you ask, feigning innocence as you follow his line of sight, already sensing the tension brewing. "What?" Topper asks, confused, before he too follows your stares. Rafe’s eyes narrow, a dark intensity brewing within them as he stares at Pope, who remains blissfully unaware of your presence.

Topper glances at you both, sensing the tension that’s quickly building. "I don’t think he’s a member, do you?" you say aloud. "It’s fine, just... just let him go, all right? Let’s go get your ball," Topper suggests, trying to diffuse the situation before it escalates. His voice is calm, but there’s an underlying edge of anxiety.

You scoff, amused by Topper’s attempt at playing peacemaker. "Softening up to the Pogues, are we, Top?" you tease, your tone dripping with mockery. Topper rolls his eyes but doesn’t rise to the bait. "They put a gun to your head, bro," Rafe interjects, his voice hardening as he turns his attention back to Topper.

Your brother remains calm, determined not to escalate things. "That’s fine. It’s fine. Let’s go," he insists, though his voice wavers slightly. You can’t resist needling him further. "Do you still have cocaine in your system right now, or are you being serious? JJ could have easily pulled the trigger on you," you point out, your brow furrowing in disbelief.

Topper avoids your gaze, his lips pressed into a thin line. Rafe’s patience snaps. "Fuck him," he says, his tone final as he spins on his heel and starts marching toward Pope, dragging you along with him. "Hey, Rafe. Rafe! Let’s get your ball, man!" Topper protests, his hand raking through his hair in frustration. "C'mon, Y/n!"

Rafe’s grip tightens around you, his voice low and determined. "I’m gonna show this idiot exactly whose side of the island he’s on," he murmurs against your hair, a proud smirk tugging at his lips. You chuckle, caught up in his confidence as you follow him down the slight hill toward Pope’s path.

"Hey, what’s up, man!" Rafe greets Pope with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, his approach casual but laced with menace. Pope’s face tightens with a mix of fear and anger as he realises he’s outnumbered. "Hey, how much for one of those beers?" Rafe asks, peering into the bags and blocking Pope’s way. You glance over your shoulder, seeing Topper finally catching up.

"They’re not for sale," Pope replies, his voice steady but his eyes darting nervously between Rafe and Topper. You can see the calculation in his mind, weighing his options in the 2 v 1 situation.

"Oh, wait, wait, wait. You can just give us one, then, right?" Rafe suggests, his tone still deceptively friendly as Topper steps up beside him. You stay a few feet back, understanding that this confrontation is theirs to handle.

"Or you can order one, like everybody else," Pope counters, trying to keep his cool. You fight to keep a straight face, impressed by his nerve. Pope attempts to step around Rafe, but Rafe blocks him again, his patience wearing thin.

"Listen. Wait, wait, wait. You’re not listening to me," Rafe says, his voice hardening. "Um… you’ve got so many, bro, and we’ve got nothing." He glances at Topper and then at you, seeking validation. You shrug in mock agreement, playing along with Rafe’s antics.

"Nothin’, man," Topper chimes in, backing Rafe up. Pope holds firm, though. "They’re not even mine. They’re already paid for," he tries to explain, but Rafe isn’t interested in reason.

"Already paid for? What the hell? You probably stole 'em right?" Rafe mutters, grabbing his club and using it to tear open one of Pope’s bags, spilling its contents across the ground. Pope’s eyes widen in disbelief. "What the hell? You owe me for that!" he protests, his voice rising in anger.

Rafe’s chuckle is dark and humorless. "Look, man, I don’t owe you shit, Pogue," he says, stepping closer to Pope, using his height and presence to intimidate. Pope snaps, shoving Rafe back, his anger finally boiling over.

"Buy your own shit!" Pope yells, his face inches from Rafe’s. "Hey, hey, come on, man!" Topper steps in, grabbing Pope by the shoulders, trying to deescalate. "We just want one of these beers! C’mon, just give us one of these—" Topper’s voice is strained as he fights with Pope over the carton.

"You guys are freaking crazy!" Pope shouts, his grip tightening on the beers. The struggle intensifies until Topper, in a burst of frustration, throws Pope to the ground. Pope’s body rolls, stopping just inches from your feet.

"Shit!" Topper curses, surprised by his own actions. You glance down at Pope, who’s groaning in pain at your feet. "Shit, my bad, man," Topper says, though there’s a hint of amusement in his tone. Pope groans before pushing himself up, and before you can react, he launches himself at Rafe, who’s ready for him. Rafe’s club swings down, hitting Pope hard and repeatedly until he falls back to the ground.

"Hey! Rafe, Rafe! Come on, man!" your brother shouts, his voice panicked. "Stay down, bitch!" Rafe yells, his anger boiling over. Topper looks at you, desperation in his eyes, but you remain still, blowing a bubble with your gum, unfazed. "Hey, let’s go! Let’s go, man!" Topper insists, trying to pull Rafe back. Rafe ignores him, his rage blinding him as he lifts the club higher, slamming it down near Pope’s head.

Pope groans, blood trickling from his mouth as he lies on the ground. Rafe crouches down, grabbing Pope’s face, forcing him to look at him. "We don’t want you here. Got that?" Rafe’s voice is low and menacing as he pats Pope’s cheek. "Stay off Figure Eight, Pogue," he warns before straightening up and walking away.

"Top, let’s go!" Rafe calls out, not bothering to check if your brother is following. Topper hesitates, his face a mix of shock and disbelief. You don’t move until Rafe is nearly at your side, and then, to everyone’s surprise, you walk past him, heading toward Pope. Rafe stops, watching you with confusion, and Topper’s brows knit together as they both try to figure out what you’re doing.

"I swear to God, Y/n, if Mom finds out that you’re involved—" Topper begins, but you cut him off sharply. "Oh, shut up!" you snap, crouching down to reach for your favorite beer bottle that had fallen from Pope’s bag. "What the fuck is she doing?" you hear Topper mutter, his disbelief clear as he watches you.

Pope watches you silently, his face bruised and bloody. "This could have been so much easier for you if you had just given them the beer," you sigh, noticing the bottle opener clipped to his belt loop. Pope’s eyes flare with anger, but he’s too hurt to do anything. "Fuck. You," he seethes as you pop the bottle open with a practiced flick.

"Cheers!" you smile, taking a sip before standing up and walking back to Rafe and Topper. They’re both stunned, not sure whether to laugh or be shocked by your coldness. "What? It’s my favourite," you pout playfully. Rafe chuckles, clearly impressed as he pulls you back to his side, while Topper scoffs loudly, shaking his head in disbelief.

[snowysosturn]

Fire & Desire - Matt Sturniolo Part 5

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Finale

Pairing: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Y/n has always clashed with Matt. Despite working for Chris’s clothing brand and being close with Nick, her relationship with Matt has always been tense at best. While being forced to be around each other more, their animosity turns into something deeper. Can they overcome their differences, or will their fiery emotions tear them apart?

Warnings: MDNI, angst, tension, suggestive, arguing

Matt shrugged casually, “Nothing. We just thought there was a delivery at the door.” his voice steady to make it seem convincing.

I felt relief wash over me, thankful for the cover, it would save me having to explain to everyone that my toxic ex just randomly appeared at their house. The calmness in Matt’s response seemed to diffuse the curiosity hanging in the air.

Chris nodded, his suspicion easing, though he didn’t look entirely convinced. “Oh I’m not expecting a delivery just yet anyway.”

Nick interrupted, gesturing toward Nate. “Hey, by the way, since we didn’t really get a chance last time, this is Nate.”

Nate stepped forward, extending a hand with an easy smile. “Nice to meet you, properly this time.”

I shook his hand in return, flashing a polite smile. “Yeah last time was a little rushed.”

“Oh that’s on me!” Nate admitted with a chuckle. “I was half out the door when we met. Hopefully, this time’s better.”

Nate had an effortless charm about him, different from Chris’s boisterous energy, Nick’s sharp wit and Matt’s cold nature.

The group started settling on the couch living room. Nick clapped his hands together, like he had a lightbulb moment. “You know what? We should do a games night tonight. Something fun before you two head off to Vegas. I’ll call Madi, she’s always up for a games night.”

I’d gotten to know Madi pretty well by now, it was a nice feeling to know I'd have another girl around, even if only for a little while. I told myself it could be a good tension breaker, especially with Nate staying under the same roof for the next few days.

“That sounds fun!” Nate chimed in, leaning back against the kitchen counter. “Games are cool and all, but how about we make it interesting? A few drinks maybe?”

Nick grinned. “Now you’re talking!”

Chris chuckled, shaking his head. “Of course, you’d suggest drinking.”

“I’ll go grab the party essentials.” I offered before the conversation could go too far off the rails. “Snacks, drinks, whatever we need. Might as well make myself useful.” I offered since I was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed, maybe a shopping trip would clear my head a bit.

Chris glanced over at me. “You sure? I can go with you if you want.”

I waved him off. “It’s fine don’t worry. You guys can stay here and have a catch up.”

“Alright” Matt muttered, his tone neutral but his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than necessary.

As I grabbed my bag and slipped on my shoes as I ordered an Uber. This could be a fun night, I felt a mix of anticipation and curiosity about how it would all play out.

Once I got to Walmart, I grabbed a shopping cart and started with the priority - spirits.

I picked up a variety of alcohol, vodka, rum, tequila, and even a bottle of apple sourz. I thought it would be a good idea to pick up a crate of beet too, better to have too much than not enough. Next, I searched for the snacks, tossing in bags of pretzels, 2 tubes of Pringles, chocolate, donuts, and a few other random items that caught my eye. 

I wandered into the games aisle, scanning the shelves for something fun but not too complicated. I grabbed 5 Second Rule and Twister and added them to the cart. I debated on picking up Monopoly, but I know Nick refuses to play it with Matt.

As I made my way to the checkout, I felt a little lighter. The morning had been intense, maybe tonight was exactly what I needed.

The day passed in a blur of light tasks and lingering thoughts. Madi arrived and her presence immediately shifted the energy in the house. She had this way of making everything feel easy, and it was a relief to have another girl around for a change.

We set up around the kitchen table, where I laid the drinks and snacks out. Nate slid into the chair next to me, his friendly and easy going demeanor making me feel comfortable despite everything that had happened in recent days. He was effortlessly charming, asking questions about working with Chris and making jokes that had me genuinely laughing.

Chris and Matt stood nearby, chatting quietly. Chris was his usual goofy self, but Matt's mood still felt frosty. He wasn’t ignoring me exactly, but his responses were clipped, his energy distant. So more or less, Matt was acting normal toward me. I tried not to let it bother me. They’d be leaving for Vegas tomorrow, and maybe some space would be good, for both of us.

“I’m keeping it light tonight” Chris said, pouring himself a splash of whiskey on the rocks. “Don’t wanna hit Vegas hungover.”

“Speak for yourself” Nate chimed in with a grin as he stood and walked to the counter, taking a shot of tequila. “This is a warm up for Hawaii.”

Matt chuckled as he shook his head watching Nate take the shot. “I’m good with a few. Got enough chaos waiting for us tomorrow.”

I couldn’t help but think of Chris and Matt navigating the madness of Vegas together. It suited Chris, but Matt? He didn’t seem like the Vegas type. Yet something about imagining him there, relaxed and out of this usual, guarded demeanor, was kinda intriguing.

“Guess that means more for us!” I said, raising my glass to Madi and Nick.

"Alright, enough standing around. Let’s play a game. How about 5 Second Rule? Haven’t played that in ages.” Chris stated, his energy already setting the tone for the night.

Madi cheered in agreement, while Nate gave a nod. "Sounds good, but I’m giving you all a warning, I’m competitive."

“Oh, we know” Chris teased, pulling the game box off the counter and setting it on the kitchen table. "'Mon, everyone grab a seat."

I settled into my chair next to Nate while Matt reluctantly took a spot across from me. Madi next to him with Chris and Nick at each end of the table.

“Alright, rules are simple” Nick said, shuffling the cards. “I’ll read a prompt, and you’ve got five seconds to name three things in the category. If you don’t you lose your turn.”

“Got it” we all replied, almost in unison.

Chris smirked. “Perfect. Let’s see who embarrasses themselves first. I’ll start it off.” He glanced at Madi as he picked up a card. “Name three pizza toppings. Go!”

Madi’s face lit up. “Pepperoni, mushrooms, pineapple!”

Nick slapped the timer just as the last word left her mouth. “Alright, she’s safe. Nate, your turn. Name three sports where you use a ball.”

Nate leaned back, his confidence showing. “Football, basketball, baseball. Easy.”

Nick rolled his eyes as the timer dinged. “Alright, you’re not impressing anyone. Your turn, Y/n.”

I straightened up, bracing myself as Nate read the card this time. “Name three things you’d find in a bathroom.”

“Toothpaste, shampoo, towels” I rattled off quickly, relieved as the timer buzzed right after. “But none of them are mine since I have to keep my things in my room.” I say playfully, my eyes boring into Matt, alluding to the whole bathroom fiasco. He turned away from me rolling his eyes in response.

Chris grinned mischievously as he shuffled the cards, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Alright, how about we make up our own prompts, let’s make this interesting."

Madi raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Interesting how?"

"You’ll see.." Chris said, leaning forward as he glanced at Nate. "Alright, Nate, you’re up. Name three places you’ve made out in that aren’t a bedroom."

Nate chuckled, completely unfazed. "A car, a beach, a supply closet."

Madi gasped dramatically. "A supply closet?!"

"I mean I havent, not.. yet." Nate replied with a shrug as the timer dinged.

Chris cackled and turned to Madi. "Your turn. Name three things you wouldn’t want your parents to find in your room."

Madi’s cheeks flushed, but she grinned. "A vibrator, weed, and.. And uhhhh–" She paused as the timer buzzed, then groaned. "Fuck! That was tough."

"You were doing so well" Chris teased, shaking his head before turning to me.

"Alright, Y/n. Name three reasons someone might get kicked out of a party."

I hesitated for a second before rattling off, "Throwing up, starting a fight, hooking up with the host’s ex!"

Everyone burst into laughter as the timer buzzed.

Matt smirked across the table, his first sign of amusement all night. "Hooking up with the host’s ex? That sounded specific."

I rolled my eyes, ignoring the heat in my cheeks. "It’s just a hypothetical, alright? Your turn, Matt."

Chris scrunched his eyebrows as he thought of a prompt for Matt. "Oh, I’ve got one for you. Name three ways to flirt without talking. "

Matt raised an eyebrow, completely unfazed. "Eye contact, smirking, and-" He paused just long enough for the timer to buzz, then shrugged.

"Come on, you couldn’t think of a third one?" Nick said, laughing.

Matt’s eyes flicked toward me briefly, his smirk lingering. "Maybe I didn’t want to give away all my secrets."

The comment hung in the air for a second, and I quickly looked away, taking a sip of my drink.

"Alright, my turn to stir the pot" Madi announced, turning to look at Chris. "Name three things you’ve lied to a girl about."

Chris groaned but didn’t hesitate. "My age, my job, and.. uh, my feelings."

The table erupted in laughter, and Chris shrugged shamelessly. "What can I say? Gotta keep them guessing."

The game continued, each question more daring and ridiculous than the last, until the room was filled with laughter and empty glasses. It was chaotic, messy, and a little too revealing, but somehow, it was the most fun I’d had in ages.

The vodka lemonade in my hand felt heavier as I swirled it around aimlessly, trying to focus on the game instead of the slight tipsy feeling in my head. Nate was leaning back in his chair, clearly more drunk than anyone else, and grinned mischievously. "Alright, let’s make this more interesting. Truth or dare, spin the bottle style. If you refuse a dare you have to take a shot!"

Madi gasped, laughing as she reached for her drink. "Oh no, this is about to get messyyyyy."

"Messy’s the point" Nate laughed.

“Okayyyy this is my cue to go to bed!” Chris announces as he stands to push his chair in, disappearing downstairs to his room.

Nate rubbed his hands together like a cartoon villain before he spun the bottle, it landing on Nick. “I’ll go with dare to kick this game off properly!” Nick laughed.

“Alright I dare you to down your drink and take a shot straight after, since you’re all for kicking this off the right way!” Nate laughs.

Nick groaned but complied, downing the remainder of his drink and wincing as he followed it with a shot of tequila. "You’re the worst, Nate" he said, coughing slightly, but the group fell in to laughter.

The bottle spun again, this time landing on Matt. His jaw tensed slightly, but he leaned back, looking relaxed. "Dare" he said, his voice calm.

Nick jumped at the opportunity. "I dare you to let someone send a risky text off your phone."

Matt’s eyes narrowed, and he hesitated for a second before shrugging. "Fine, whatever. Who’s doing it?"

Nick’s grin widened as he turned to me. "Y/n."

I blinked, caught off guard. "Me? Are you sure?"

"Oh absolutely" Nick said, sliding Matt’s phone across the table toward me. "You’ve got the perfect touch for this."

Matt gave me a pointed look, his lips twitching slightly in what might’ve been amusement or annoyance. "Don’t screw it up."

I picked up his phone, without a need to unlock it since he handed it over with no code needed. As I was scrolling through his contacts, a message popped up on the screen, from someone called Christina. "Can’t wait to see you again 😉"

I froze for a second, the words glaring at me. Without thinking, I read it out loud. "Oh, looks like you’ve got a message."

Matt’s head snapped up. "From who?"

I tilted the phone slightly, showing the message. "Christina?"

Nate leaned forward, a smirk playing on his lips. "Wait, is that the Christina you met in Vegas? The one from July?"

Matt shrugged nonchalantly, but his expression tightened ever so slightly. "Yeah, that’s her."

Nate let out a low whistle. "She’s gonna be there again this time, isn’t she?"

Matt nodded, his tone casual. "Probably."

I don’t know why, but a wave of jealousy hit me, sharp and unexpected. My grip on his phone tightened for a second before I forced myself to focus on the dare. "Should I send something to her?" I asked, my voice light but edged with something I hoped wasn’t obvious.

Matt raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "If you want to, go ahead."

The room felt suddenly smaller, the playful atmosphere shifting. I could feel Madi watching me, and Nate was clearly enjoying the tension. I hesitated for a moment, debating if I should actually send a message to this Christina or if I should pick someone else.

"Tick tock Y/n! You’ve got to make a move!" Nick teased. 

I forced a smirk, my fingers hovering over the screen.

I quickly typed out a message to Christina, my fingers working faster than my mind. "Hey me too, you might need to get an STD check this time though.'" I laughed to myself before pressing send.

The moment I handed the phone back to Matt, I tried to mask the sudden fluttering in my stomach. I didn’t meet his eyes, avoiding the tension that hung between us like a thick fog. I didn’t know what I was trying to prove or if I was even making sense, but it felt like something had shifted in the air, something I couldn’t undo now.

As I settled back into my seat, the bottle spun again, and everyone’s eyes fell on me. It stopped, right on me.

Nate grinned devilishly, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Alright, Y/n. Truth or dare?"

I groaned, taking a sip of my drink to avoid eye contact. "Dare" I muttered, already regretting it.

Nate leaned back, his grin widening. "Okay, I dare you to spend seven minutes in heaven with me."

I froze.

The room fell silent for a split second, and I could feel all eyes on me, the weight of their gazes too heavy to ignore. Nate’s smirk was a mixture of playfulness and something more serious, something that made my heart race in a way I wasn’t sure I was ready for.

I glanced over at Matt instinctively, only to see his eyes harden, his expression unreadable. A pit formed in my stomach as I quickly turned away, focusing back on Nate.

"Seven minutes?" I repeated, trying to make it sound casual, but my voice betrayed me, thick with uncertainty.

Nate’s eyes were sparkling with excitement. "Yeah, just a harmless bit of fun. No pressure, you can just take the shot."

I swallowed hard. Seven minutes. A small, stupid game. But something told me this wasn’t just about a silly dare. It felt like more, like I was walking on the edge of something I didn’t know if I was ready for.

But, I couldn’t back out now. Not with everyone watching. And definitely not with Matt’s eyes burning a hole in the side of my head.

"Okay" I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Seven minutes, lets go."

Nate and I stood and awkwardly walked toward the tiny supply closet across from Matt’s room, gesturing for me to step inside. The space was cramped, with barely enough room to stand between the washing machine and the wall. I hesitated before following him in, increasingly aware of how quiet the hallway had become. Nick close over the door behind us “Okay I’m setting a timer for you seven minutes now!”

I pulled myself up to sit on the washing machine to try and allow more space. Nate stood in close proximity, leaning against the wall, his broad frame making the already tight space feel even smaller.

He noticed my hesitation immediately and raised his hands in mock surrender. "Relax, Y/n. I’m not gonna do anything you don’t want to do" he said, his voice soft and reassuring.

I nodded. "It’s not that. It’s just-”

Nate chuckled, his grin easy and comforting. "Yeah, I get it. We’re cramped in here like sardines. Not exactly romantic, huh? We can just mess with everyone’s heads when we get out. Pretend something wild happened.”

I appreciated his reassurance, but my mind wasn’t fully there. It kept circling back to that text from Christina, to the girl Matt had brought home just the other night. Why was I bothered by these things?

We went back and forth trying to mess with everyones heads for a few minutes, the tension easing with each playful exchange. Nate had this way of making me forget the discomfort of the situation, his charm and humor cutting through the awkwardness like a lifeline.

But as the seconds ticked by, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of the situation creeping back in. Why had I felt so conflicted when Nate dared me? Why had I instinctively looked at Matt? Why was I holding back? Why was I constantly tiptoeing around Matt’s feelings when he barely seemed to care about mine? The way he acted so indifferent toward me, except for those rare moments of kindness that only confused me more. Maybe I was overthinking, but it felt like I was always waiting for some unspoken approval from him.

But why should I?

I turned back to Nate. His expression was calm, patient, and his smile had a boyish charm that was impossible to deny. He leaned casually against the wall, his hands tucked into his pockets like he wasn’t in a cramped laundry closet playing some silly game.

Maybe I needed to stop worrying so much about Matt, about what he thought or didn’t think. He wasn’t the one in front of me right now.

I took a breath, holding eye contact with Nate, my heart racing in a way that had nothing to do with nerves. He raised an eyebrow in surprise but didn’t move, letting me take the lead.

As I tilted my head toward him, ready to close the distance, Nick’s voice rang out from the other side of the door, loud and teasing.

“Alright, lovebirds! Time’s up!”

I froze mid motion, my face heating up in embarrassment as Nate chuckled softly.

“We’ll I guess thats us!” He said playfully.

I leaned back, unable to meet his eyes as he opened the door. The sudden flood of light felt blinding, and the sound of laughter from the others only added to my growing embarrassment.

As we stepped out, I glanced toward the table and immediately caught Matt’s gaze. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in the way his jaw tightened that sent a bit of confusion through me.

“Have fun in there?” Matt asked, his tone neutral but laced with something sharp beneath the surface.

I wanted to say something snarky, but the words got caught in my throat. Instead, I turned my attention to my drink, needing something to steady myself.

Nate slid back into his seat, clearly amused. “Best seven minutes of my life” he joked, earning a round of laughter from Nick and Madi.

But Matt didn’t laugh. And for some reason, that bothered me more than it should.

Nick suggested switching things up, his voice full of mischief. "How about we switch it up, what about Never have I ever?"

Madi immediately perked up, slapping her hands together. "Ooh, yes! That’s always fun!"

The group agreed, and Nick quickly grabbed a fresh round of drinks, refilling everyone’s glasses to ensure the game could properly escalate. I could already tell this was going to get messy.

We all sat in a circle, Nate to my right and Matt now to my left, the energy in the room buzzing with anticipation. Nate nudged me playfully. "Hope you’re ready to spill some secrets" he teased.

I rolled my eyes, taking a sip of my drink just to brace myself. "I’d watch out too if I were you!" I shot back.

Nick took charge of the first round. He leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying the power of starting the game. “Never have I ever.. kissed someone in this room."

I froze, feeling my face heat up. Nate raised an eyebrow, glancing at me with a smirk, we laughed into eachother knowing we wanted to fuck with everyones heads.

"Someone’s gotta shake things up." Nate laughed.

Madi took the next turn. Never have I ever... hooked up with someone I regretted."

A ripple of tension moved through the group. Nick and Madi both took a sip, Nate chuckling awkwardly.

To my surprise, Matt lifted his glass and drank, his gaze flicking toward me for the briefest second before looking away.

It made me feel strange, but I tried not to deep it, instead, taking another sip of my drink for no reason other than to keep myself occupied.

When it was my turn, I hesitated. Everyone was looking at me expectantly, the pressure to come up with something spicy almost overwhelming.

"Alright. Never have I ever.. led someone on."

The group fell into playful gasps and laughter, but my eyes stayed locked on Matt.

He didn’t flinch. Instead, he picked up his glass and took a slow sip, holding my gaze the entire time. I couldn’t tell if it was a challenge or an admission, but it left me feeling more conflicted than ever.

The tension in the room was thick as ever when it got to Matt’s turn. His face full of mischief. 

"Never have I ever.." he paused for dramatic effect, letting the silence linger just a beat too long, "..had my ex appear at the house I’m staying in, causing a scene."

The words nearly knocked me out. My stomach sank as I stared at him, my drink frozen halfway to my lips. Why the fuck would he say that?

Nick shifted uncomfortably, muttering something under his breath about the game getting too real, but no one really paid him attention.

I felt every set of eyes in the room turn toward me, and heat crept up my neck, both from anger and embarrassment. I didn’t move, didn’t drink, but my hand tightened around the glass in my grip. I felt like everyone was slowly putting the pieces together from this morning.

"What’s the matter, Y/n?" Matt asked, his voice calm but condescending. "Not drinking?"

I finally lowered the glass to the table, meeting his gaze head on. "I’m sorry, are we airing everyone’s dirty laundry now? Or just mine?"

His lips twitched into a smirk, but there was no humor in it. "Just playing the game."

Nate leaned forward, wanting to clear this question. "Alright, let’s not kill the vibe. It’s just a game, right?" He shot Matt a warning look, but Matt didn’t break eye contact with me.

"Right" I said, forcing a smile as I picked up my glass and took a sip. The alcohol burned going down, but it was nothing compared to the fire in my chest.

Madi cleared her throat, clearly trying to cut through the tension. "Okay, let’s move on!" she said, her voice overly chipper. "Um, my turn! Never have I ever.. gone skinny dipping!"

The room tried to recover, laughter breaking out as Nate and Nick both drank, but I barely registered it. My mind was spinning, replaying Matt’s words over and over. Why would he say that? Was he trying to embarrass me? To prove some kind of point? I swallowed the lump in my throat, determined not to let him get to me. If he wanted a reaction, he wasn’t going to get one.

It came back around to my turn, I knew I had an opportunity. I could feel the tension from Matt’s earlier comment still hanging in the air, and I wasn’t about to let him have the last word.  

“Never have I ever.. took a girl home and fucked her multiple times during the night knowing you have a guest in the house who can hear every single bit of it to try and make them feel uncomfortable.”

The room went dead silent.

Every single eye turned to me. Matt’s smirk faltered for the first time all night, his jaw tightening as my words sank in. But I wasn’t backing down. Not after the jab he threw earlier. My gaze stayed locked on Matt, challenging him.

Nick could clearly sense the charged atmosphere but unsure whether to step in. Nate, on the other hand, leaned back in his chair, his hands behind his head as his eyes wide with both amusement and disbelief.

Matt finally broke the silence, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and tilting his head slightly. "Well" he said, his voice smug as ever "if the guest didn’t want to hear anything, maybe they should’ve stayed in their own apartment instead of squatting in mine."

I felt my cheeks flush hot with both anger and embarrassment. "Squatting?" I snapped. "Wow, I didn’t realize letting someone crash because they didn’t have anywhere else to go counted as charity work for you."

Matt shrugged, his gaze burning into me. "Call it what you want. Just saying, the walls go both ways. If you don’t like what you hear, maybe you should get your own place."

"Or maybe" I shot back, "you could show a little respect for the fact that someone else is living here too. But clearly, that’s asking too much."

Nate looked like he wanted to crawl under the table. Madi awkwardly sipped her drink.

"Alright, alright" Nick finally cut in, his hands raised as if to physically push the tension down. "Maybe this game was a bad idea. Let’s just.. take a breather, yeah?"

But I wasn’t done. "No, it’s fine" I said as I stood up, my voice sharp. "Game’s over anyway. Matt’s clearly got all the answers."

I didn’t wait for anyone to respond. I turned on my heel and walked out of the room, my heart pounding as I made my way upstairs.

Behind me, I could hear the muffled sounds of Nick giving out to Matt for how he spoke to me, Madi trying to diffuse the situation. But the only thing I could focus on was the sound of Matt’s voice replaying in my head, over and over again. If Matt wanted a war, he’d just gotten one.

A hot tear streamed down my face as I lay back on my bed. I wasn’t sure where things would take me now, where I could go, how I would get there, if this would affect working with Chris.

But one thing I was sure of was,

I hate Matt Sturniolo.

a/n: when they go low we go LOWER

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