#so of course i don’t care that I look a little silly cause my brain is too busy going:

[truth-01001001-liar]

i.. can’t believe it took me until today to figure out that when the sensory texture problem is upon me i can just ….put ..gloves.. on .. about it?

[stvolanis]

oh nothinggg, just thinking about Spooky x Bimbo! Reader

god, Spooky can’t stand you. always wearing those shorts—the ones that your ass cheeks hang out in. running around with your flimsy tube tops, nipples peeking through. Somehow being mixed into his brothers friend group, but not being involved in their messes. You were kinda just the friend they kept around cause your daddy sells weed to the people in Brentwood, so they got major discounts! but of course they loved you.

god, the amount of times he’s gotten a flash of the thin little hot pink thong straps you wear—or when you bend over to pick up something right in front of him; he thinks you’re doing it on purpose at this point! So he’s puzzled when you stand back up and whip around with an oblivious smile and innocent look in your eyes. He always has to do the thinking for you cause your silly brain can’t really comprehend what’s going on with the freakin roller world money your friends keep blabbering about that spooky wasn’t supposed to know about! Too bad, you already told him when you were mindlessly yapping about your day!

he would totally say something like, “didn’t know I was gettin a free show, baby.” After he walked in on your trying to shimmy off your skin tight, mid thigh dress. You blushed and weakly tried to shove him out of the room, only in your panties and matching bra. But it was like pushing a brick wall, and the way your clothed breasts pressed against him had him going crazy! So he felt like his body acted on its own when he grabbed the flesh of your ass with one hand, and your throat with the other.

He inhaled your scent, muttering a string of profanities in his mother tongue as he kissed the side of your jaw. “Been tempting me too much lately, cariño. M’only a man at the end of the day.” He breathed against you, watching the way your shorter body trembled under his touch. “I have needs. N’ it’s your job to take care of them like I always take care of you, ma.”

so of course as soon as he said that, his hand harshly pulled your bra down, exposing your breasts to him. He pinched one of your nipples, pulling it a little before releasing. Soon, your knees collided with the hard wood beneath you’d, and his cock was slapping against your cheek, leaving a trail of his sticky pre-cum. “S’right, niña. Put that pretty mouth to better use.” He smirked—that fucking smirk. The one that made you week in the knees.

You knew you were done for.

don’t be shy, ask to be a part of the tag list and request things!

TAG LIST: @elvisalltheway101 @epthedream69 @claire-elvisgirl @elvisrealgf @littlehoneyposts @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo @luxuriouslokistan-3 @foxevxid @sapriao @xiyingly @jazminsjaz @likeits2002 @www-interludeshadow-com @khxna @my-fabulousness-has-arrived @hockeyrat @rafeswhorejjsslut @peterpan-neverfails @sunflowerskenz @lemonadygirl @newavenger @bloobewy

[ceilidho]

Hi crazy Johnny with a single mam anon back because im insane and have brainrot and am seriously contemplating writing it bcus i feel compelled by the power of Christ (Johnny’s cock) to write something pervy and nasty and creepy but ultimately sweet but im also just braindumping and sharing bcus not enough johnny content floating around I fear so have to pull up my bootstraps and do it myself (this is so long ceil im so very sorry)

anyways so I think this is sooo much hotter if Johnny is either on a prolonged medical discharge or he’s been forced into retirement for one reason or another (because then can keep an eye on you lol) he and like this has been touched on before but he’s just got. nothing to fucking do. And holy hell he’s going crazy. He needs something to do. So his silly, terribly adjusted brain latches onto the poor single mam next door who DEFINITELY needs his help.

Im a sucker for forced codependency. You, who thinks you’re doing great on your own, versus ‘can’t handle this all on yer own, eh little lass?’ Johnny MacTavish. He’s SO fucking subtle about it. Commenting on how hard it must be to have to raise a baby all your own, and gods love you just look knackered here let me take the bairn for a bit. He comes round and makes little comments about your house being messy (disorganised, but not messy) and immediately starts ‘sympathising’ because you just mustn’t have time to clean up but it’s important to keep hazards out the way of the baby, here he’ll *help*.

Never questions your ability as a mother, god no, just slyly drops suggestions that you’re not coping as well as you thought. And it fucking NAGS at you. And eventually, you start going to Johnny more and more for help. I honestly think he would cause problems in your flat (fixable ones, like fucking up the electrics or messing around with the pipes but stuff he knows he can fix) so you either have to A. Move in with him temporarily or B. Have to ask him to fix them. Eventually just says that your landlords a cunt for letting you live in a shithole and insists you just move in with him permanently. You do (it’s not really up for debate).

He doesn’t use condoms. I’m sorry he just doesn’t, but he will TELL you that he does- especially the first time you have sex. You’re all worried because ‘oh god Johnny I’m not on birth control I just put it off after I had the baby and we didn’t use a condom-‘ and he’s immediately tucking you into his chest and stroking your hair and shushing you ‘divvint be daft lass, course i wrapped it up, stupid thing just broke. Did ye not realise? Must’ve been heat o’ the moment, don’t worry yer little heed about it alright? Johnny’s here.” and kisses you on your hair and lulls you into sleep. Adamantly denies whispering about how pretty you’re gonna look pregnant as if he’s trying to subliminal you into pregnancy. lol.

Will legally adopt your baby. Like he’ll suggest it, straight up. And you’re probably a bit taken aback because it’s only been six months but he is insistent. This is probably the catalyst for his ‘im the biological dad’ delusions. Once he’s down as the father he’s actually losing his mind a little. Can imagine Simon or Gaz popping round to check up on Johnny on their next leave and suddenly he has a family and they’re actually a little concerned because when Gaz makes a comment about the baby’s being cute Johnny’s like ‘Yeah we did a good job, didn’we lass?” and between the two of them there’s just silence because johnny this is not your baby but they can see that slightly deranged look in his eyes. Defo asks about all the heavy details of your pregnancy and labour and the first few months so he can pretend like he was actually there for it and will talk about it as if he were actually there (extra bonus points if Gaz actually pulls you aside in the kitchen and asks about Johnny’s behaviour and tells you to be careful LMAO).

So yeah anyways.

PLEASE WRITE THIS IM BEGGING YOU!!!!!! im screaming at that last bit i need this so bad please......i don't ask for much but i swear to god please write this for me. this idea was designed in a lab to inflict the maximum amount of psychic damage on me. please write this and i will happily beta/edit it for you if you need any help omg

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Study Buddy pt 2

Stepdad!Anakin Skywalker x femme reader

18+ MDNI

Warnings: heavy breeding kink, cheating, stepcest/inappropriate relationships, unprotected PiV, condescending/demeaning tone, manipulation, gaslighting, age-gap, medication/medication alterations, baby trapping, ddlg, innocence/purity kink, praise, reader is over 18

Info: reader acts more innocent/naive than they are, Anakin is just a little bit evil but in a kind of tee-hee he’s so cheeky way, trophy wife? yes please, princess treatment forever

🕊 dead dove do not eat 🕊

“What?” You asked with your head in a confused tilt.

A blank look glazed over your face as you tried to connect the scattered dots. The post-haze of your orgasm was making your brain fuzzy, Anakin’s cock still buried in your puffy pink pussy wasn’t helping keep your train of thought on its track either.

“Wait. No I’m on birth control.” You shook your head and laughed, he must’ve forgotten.

“Oh, silly girl.” He tsk’d, his hands gripping your thighs. With a low and rumbling chuckle he began tracing slow circles around your bellybutton before slipping between your legs, his thumb teasing your swollen clit.

"You're mine now, aren't you?” He asked sweetly, accompanied by a little kiss to your forehead that had your heart fluttering.

��Anything I want you’ll give me… won’t you?”

“Anything?” You parroted back at him, glancing down to his hand between your legs. “It’s only fair, you do get me anything I want.”

“That I do princess.” He grinned. “Anything for my girl.”

Anakin's eyes bore into yours, a heated gaze of possession. He leaned closer, his breath hot against your neck, his lips brushing against your earlobe.

“My princess gets everything she wants… so it’d only be right if you gave me this one thing wouldn’t it?” He asked, kissing the softness beneath your jaw.

You couldn’t argue with that logic. That was a solid deal. One little request of his compared to the lifetime of spoiling he’d given to you… that was a steal. Besides, you’d always wanted to be a mother, it might as well be now shouldn’t it? Anakin loved you, you loved Anakin, and your mom always said- wait.

“But what about-“ You started.

“Shh, no don’t worry about anything else okay?” He silenced you with a kiss.

“I’ll take care of everything. Just like I take care of you princess.”

His lips trailed down your neck, his strong hand massaging the squishy flesh of your waist and rocking you on his half-hard cock.

“You want to be with me don’t you babydoll?” He breathed out.

“Of course I do Ani.” You whispered, unable to think clearly, not that it would matter if you could.

“That's a good girl." He praised, sucking lightly before biting down ever so slightly, drawing out a moan from you. His hand moved lower, massaging and rubbing your ass cheek, squeezing and kneading gently.

“You trust me don’t you sweetheart?”

“Uh-huh.” You nodded, starting to slide up and down his cock as it grew harder inside your cum-coated walls.

“And you know I only do things to make you happy, keep you safe… only ever things that are good for you right?” He asked while pinching and rolling your clit between his thumb and forefinger, the one little movement sending a *zap* straight to your brain.

“I know Ani.” You mumbled, leaning in to kiss him.

He chuckled, smoothing your hair from your pretty face, peppering your soft skin with sweet chaste kisses.

“N’ you trusted your daddy enough to help you with your medicine every night didn’t you?” He asked, slowly moving you both so that you laid flat on your back with your lower half held up by his muscled arms.

“Yeah I did- do I mean.” You nodded, eyes fluttering shut while your bottom lip was trapped between his teeth. The change of position was a heavenly new angle. His massive palms on each ass cheek, keeping your lower half suspended so he could kneel between your legs.

“Yeah you do don’t you pretty girl?" Anakin chuckled, his voice rich and deep.

“Cause you’re alittle forgetful right?” He teased, and you nodded with a giggle.

“So my girl didn’t even notice when I stopped giving her that little pill huh?” He cooed, not giving you time to think before sucking his thumb and covering it in spit to swipe over your hardened nipples.

“N-no I didn’t.” You gasped, eyes rolling back in your head at the dizzying stimulation.

“That’s right baby. Just another reason for you to let me take care of you right sweetheart?” He said, his voice honey smooth.

“Y-yeah Ani.” You nodded. He was right. You could hardly keep up with your own things, let alone remember to do something like taking your medicines. You couldn’t even do your homework by yourself, you needed him, he took care of you.

"That's a good girl." He praised, his hand moving back to support your weight as he began to thrust harder into you, his hips slapping against yours in a rhythmic beat.

"Open your eyes and look at me." His command broke through your haze of pleasure, and you did as he asked.

"Isn’t it nice? Knowing it’s all taken care of for you?" He asked, his breath coming out in short, ragged gasps.

You felt your stomach tighten up, your hands smacking the carpeted floor and searching for something to hold onto. “Y-yeah Ani… I- I think I’m gonna- oh gods.”

“I know baby, I know.” He said, low and soothing as he rocked into you.

“You need me to make you cum don’t you?” He smiled softly. “I will doll, don’t worry. I’ll take care of you in every way. Always.”

“Treat you just like the princess you are m’kay?” He moaned, his forehead resting on yours as you whined and wrapped your legs around his waist, crossing your ankles to rest just above his ass. “Gonna fuck you full alright baby?”

“Gods… please?” You whined, nodding your head. “I want you to… please I want your cum.”

“Damn right you do.” He groaned, a triumphant grin on his lips.

“Gonna make you the prettiest little mommy.” His hips stuttered, resuming his previous quick circling of your clit with his calloused thumb. “that’s it, come on sweetheart I feel it. I know you wanna cum don’t you?”

“Yes!” You cried out, back arching, legs shaking as you squeezed his cock, your pussy fluttering.

"That's it baby girl." Anakin growled, his grip on your hips tightening as he pounded into you harder, faster. "Cum for your daddy."

His cockhead slammed against your G-spot relentlessly, the thick tip brushing against every ridge along the way.

"You're so fucking tight, so goddamn tight." Anakin groaned, his eyes glazed over with lust as he neared his own climax. “Like I’m fuckin’ a vice when you squeeze me like that baby.”

“Fuck. God you’re so fuckin’-“ He cut himself off with a low groan, his hips flush to yours “take my cum baby, damnit”

You felt his cock twitch, leaking hot semen deep inside you, rope after rope painting your walls a creamy white.

Anakin’s breath was shaky as he rocked into you slowly, like he was trying his damndest to massage every bit of his essence into your used and abused cunt.

“You’re so pretty.” He breathed out, looking down at you with a crooked grin. “you know that? All red in the face, panting, cute little fucked out cunt…” He let out a chuckle.

“You feeling okay doll?” He asked, gently swiping some drool from the corner of your mouth with his thumb and bringing it to his mouth to lick off.

“M’ feeling perfect.” You sighed, too exhausted to move.

“Good.” He laughed. “I need you to stay right here okay? Don’t move.”

He slowly slid out, dripping cum and juices onto the floor beneath you. Taking great care in propping up your hips with a few pillows. He slipped his boxers back on and patted your tummy before walking to the kitchen.

“You gotta lay just like that for at least 30 minutes okay? Gotta make sure all that hard work sticks don’t we?” He teased.

You giggled, blissful and giddy in your after-orgasm glow. Anakin came back with a water for you, helping you prop yourself up on your elbow to take a sip.

“Here, you need one of these everyday now okay?” He showed you a large bottle of gummy vitamins. “You go ahead and take one now, I know you’re picky. So let’s see if you like these ones and if not I’ll get you some different ones.” He smiled, popping one of them into your mouth.

They were a bit tangy, but overall not terrible. You gave him a thumbs up and swallowed the rest of the vitamin before letting yourself collapse back onto the floor. Thankful that you were naked and equally thankful Anakin had the forethought to turn on the overhead fan when he’d gotten up.

“Do you need anything doll?” Anakin asked sitting down near your head and picking it up gently to rest on his thigh, carding his fingers through your hair.

“Mmm… no.” You sighed, leaning into his loving touch. One hand of yours reaching above and behind your head to run your fingers along his bicep.

“Alright sweet girl. You just relax okay?” He beamed down at you, pride etched in every line on his handsome face.

He flipped on the Tv, searching through the different channels until he settled in a shared favorite of yours. A true crime drama, The First 48.

“Oh hell yeah this one’s new.” He said setting the remote to the side.

‘Oh that’s nice.’ You thought as you turned your head to watch along with him. ‘They usually only show new episodes at 5:00… 5:00?’ Your eyes flew open.

“Wait…” You thought for a second, looking over at the clock. “Moms gonna be home in like 10 minutes Anakin!”

“Huh, would you look at that.” He said calmly, a tiny smirk curling his top lip as he heard a car door slam shut. “I think she’s home early.”

Tag-List:

@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate

@burnthecheshirewitch@cherrylooney@star611

@tahliac11 @exquisit3corpse @jeldog @arzua10

@bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay

@aliciaasky @naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn

@illiethefairy @bunnylovesani @offthethir/wall

@slutforhayden @ausskywalker @angelsadmired

@slut4starwarssmut @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie

@starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @no1klet @lethargic

@allhailbuckybarnes @shadowhuntyi

@bobtheturmpetman29 @mortalheartache

@fallinlovewithevil @sythethecarrot

@joshfutturmansrighthand @chaoticantihero

@vadersslut @luvvfromme @anakinsbaee

@sweetcheesecakesblog@rga11 @luvskywxlker

@angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled

@graveyard-stray

Let me know if you wanna be added/removed from the tag list

[misc-obeyme]

You know what time it is.

Lesson 33 spoilers, including the hard lesson, here we go!

I am pleased. And I am not pleased.

I had so many great moments with all my faves. Solomon being there for me, Levi being a lil cutie, THIRTEEN DATE, Barbatos giving me lil Ds. What glorious moments. I shall share some screenshots momentarily.

BUT FIRST.

Belphie. What the fuck.

Technically, this is Mammon’s fault. He was the one who was like it’s not wrong to feel upset about it and like yeah he’s right, but Belphie is clearly taking that statement to an EXTREME.

We are dealing with YANDERE BELPHIE, my friends.

If I remember correctly, he was always supposed to be yandere. So now we’re really leaning into that, huh? Like straight up, I am going to keep you here forever because you’ll be happier with me than if you leave. Our boy’s gone a little off the deep end lol. I kinda love it.

Though I was really surprised by his final line of “I don’t want you to see what’s inside my head.” He seemed really concerned about it. Considering all we’ve seen already, it can’t be that bad, right? Then again, I wouldn’t want anyone I know to get inside my head, either. Please stay out, you don’t need to see the horrors, thanks.

Also, we still haven’t made a pact with Levi. Just like we didn’t actually make a pact with Beel. Is it because now they’re not sure they want to have pacts with us because of the whole needing magic to get back to the human world thing? I swear I have a memory of Solomon telling us that we could make pacts with all of the brothers at the same time. But we already have pacts with three of them? So why would we only make pacts with three or four of them at the same time? I’m so confused. Someone please share your thoughts with me on this because I don’t get it???

I really feel like they directly addressed some of the concerns we’ve all been having in this lesson, too. I mean Solomon straight up talks about wondering what the brothers we left behind are doing. Or if time is still going there or if we’ll end up exactly where we left etc etc. HOWEVER all that soup talk makes me think they are just going to mesh it all together. ‘Cause Solomon also said this:

What does that mean? How can the future brothers influence what’s happening in the past? Unless their memories are changing in real time… ugh why did they have to go with time travel shenanigans?? Don’t they know this junk hurts my brain??

Anyway, now it’s time for some of my favorite moments, enough about time travel and feelings and pacts!

Because my favorite sorcerer also said this. And I know there are some questions about his motives and blah blah but I don’t care. I love him. He’ll be all serious, then say something sweet and reassuring, then do something crazy or try to cook again… he’s got so many sides to him lol.

STOP MAKING ME LIKE YOU MEPHISTOPHELES. (Please you were like the last character I was neutral about I can’t afford to get obsessed with anyone else.)

Honestly, I laughed so hard when he said this. Mammon just called him out directly and he LAUGHED. He laughed and was like yeah duh of course, idiots. And look how pleased he is about it, too.

May I bring your attention to my baby Levi? Look at this silly guy. I was so happy I got to hug him. And the group hug was adorable, too. Satan protesting the whole time lol. Lucifer coming in and being like… I regret asking.

I swear sometimes I wanna kiss this guy JUST to watch him blush. It’s so freakin’ cute.

Smitten. I am smitten.

The way she’s like I don’t get why you like these weirdos, but I know they matter to you. Don’t worry, it’s going to work out. How she gets all defensive of MC. Her cute little smile. The way she suggests coming to visit MC in the human world & saying that Solomon can come too?! LIKE. I love her so much.

HE KNOWS.

Listen I was thrilled about this whole part - Barbatos being mysterious and giving me a weird piece of paper and a Little D? Yes forever. But also I think we’ve all suspected him of knowing the truth and this part right here just solidifies that for me. He definitely knows. He knows everything about what’s going on. I don’t think that means he’s Nightbringer or even that he’s working with Nightbringer. He could just know because he’s got access to all of time and what not. But either way, he knows.

Honestly I love Barbatos so much. Just the small parts we had with him were enough to get me in my feels. I also really enjoyed the hard lesson because even if Luke doesn’t know what’s going on, I think Simeon does. And their discussion was interesting.

So I’m gonna leave you with one last Barb moment.

I’m so impatient is it the end of the season yet?? I wanna know how it ends right NOW.

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

I keep picturing this:

(Not yet bf!)John going short of ballistic with genuine worry when you refuse to hold hands.

CoD ML

Okay, obviously this needs context.

So, John tags along with you to the V&A. Now, being a proper gentleman, he first takes you out for coffee and a bite before you slowly make your way to the museum in South Kensington. After all, it’s one of those rare sunny and warm London spring days and you could do with some Vitamin D.

No, not Vitamin Daddy. What was that?

ANYWAY! As soon as you enter, you fall into the habit of wandering about without any regard whatsoever for your companion. It’s not a conscious decision, of course, but sometimes you need to turn your brain off and enjoy art while protected by your personal bubble.

When you’re in the Cast Courts, you feel a hand on your shoulder. It takes every ounce of self-control not to let the scream tickling the back of your throat escape, which would definitely break the amiable peacefulness of the museum.

“There you are! Do you have any bloody idea how worried I was?” John’s lightly panting, eyes wide and pupils dilated with a frenzy that leaves you wondering about the cause of it. “I let you out of my sight for one second and you have me run around the entire museum looking for you.”

“Well, you kinda invited yourself,” you mumble under your breath, masking the way you flinch with a step back.

“Pardon?”

“N-Nothing.”

“Nah, Y/N.” His fingers dig painfully into your cheeks as he grabs your face and forces you to look at him. “You’re a big girl so use your words. Go on. You know how.”

“Y- You wanted to come with. Invited yourself.”

“I guess that’ll have to do for a proper sentence.” He lets go and extends a bear-like hand. “Before you wander off again with that silly little head of yours.”

“No.”

“Hand. Now.”

“No.”

“I wasn’t asking,” John growls, forcefully entwining his fingers with yours. The grip on them is firm, iron-like. Fully aware you won’t be able to escape.

You slowly walk about the space like that for a few moments. Eventually, you find the courage to defy the seething rage you feel emanating from him.

“I… I’m sorry, John.” You’re not afraid of his mood, but it’s rather the guilt that sinks its claws into you which evokes tears in your eyes.

He stops in his tracks, lets go of your hand, and turns around so fast it’s like he’s trying to evade a bullet. Within seconds, he has you wrapped up in his arms, his fingers running through your hair in an effort to console you. “Hey, don’t cry. I’m not mad with you, just a little annoyed you don’t account for me and worried about what might happen when you’re alone. I know you’re a capable girl, Y/N, but I still care about your well-being too.”

The back rubs help soothe the storm of tears welling up inside you, waiting to come thundering out. Nevertheless, the kiss on the top of your head calms it. “How about we grab a coffee, hm? Maybe get something to eat too. My treat.”

He holds you at arm’s length, checking your expression while lovingly wiping the tears rolling down your cheeks away. “Does that sound good?”

You nod. You inhale and exhale deeply, feeling silly for acting like a child at your grown age. “I’m sorry you had to see that. And for me not telling you where I was.”

“Shh, ‘s alright, love.” While normally he wouldn’t allow himself to do it since you’re not official yet and he doesn’t know whether you reciprocate his feelings or not, he kisses your forehead and the tip of your nose. “Let’s go to the café. Don’t let go of my hand.”

And you don’t.

(Might make this imagine into a proper scene for my dad’s best friend!John Price story. It’s in the works, btw! I’m currently gathering inspiration and writing bits like the above here and there, organically creating the tale, so to say.😉)

[captainpulisic]

turned my bed into a sacred oasis - c. pulisic

credit and thank you to my beloved miss belize for helping me with the plot & dialogue. I owe you many orange slices. not technically a sequel to this but I see this being in the same universe word count: 2.6 k gif credits to myself

they’re delicate touches as your fingers trace mindless shapes over his chest. you’re quite content in your current position, head laid on christians shoulder and a leg thrown over his. your bodies were still slightly sweaty, the sheets pooling around both your waists. you get lost tracing the lines of his tattoos, leaving an occasional kiss on his shoulder. he answers by letting out soft hums of approval.

you trace a few hearts and both your initials across his collarbones until you dip a little lower, landing where his actual heart is. feeling the low drum of his heartbeat brings a smile to your face. you flatten your palm and apply light pressure, “your hearts going kinda crazy right now.”

“yeah well in case you forgot, we literally just had sex.” he lets out a breathless laugh. there's a pinch to your bare hip and light kiss to the top of your head. there’s only sincerity when he adds, “and i’m positive my heart is always like that when i’m around you.”

you’re torn between rolling your eyes at his clicheness and kissing him silly for his romanticism. you settle with a soft whisper, “i’ve missed you.”

“missed you more.” he begins to mirror your tender touches, pressing you closer to him. soon enough, you feel one of his hands trail along your lower back while the other catches your moving hand- the sneaky one that had caused his heart to thump faster than usual. automatically, your fingers intertwine and he gives them three gentle squeezes. “and i’m so happy I get to sleep next to you, again.”

“really?” satisfied with your current predicament, you’re too comfortable in christians arms to try to look up at him. you settle with opening one eye and leaving another kiss on his shoulder.

“are you kidding me?” his hand travels to your waist, leaving another squeeze. this earns him another kiss from you. his voice has gotten softer, more timid. “I don’t think i’d be a very good boyfriend if I wasn't happy about that, y/n.” 

you feel yourself drifting to sleep, content to have christian back in your bed- both sexually and literally. snuggling deeper into his side, you don’t notice how stiff he’s gotten. 

you feel him take a deep breath, “I am a good one, right?”

your brain and body are exhausted, so you’re not really processing the conversation. you stifle a yawn and absent-mindedly ask, “a good what?”

there’s a pause before he says- well whispers, “boyfriend.”

you freeze for a moment. that’s all it takes for your mind to wake up and your eyes to fully open. 

“what?” you’re offended on his behalf, immediately sitting up. the cold air nips at you, yet you’re too startled to care. christian whines at the sudden loss of your body warmth, instantly missing your touch. he tries to coax you back into laying down, avoiding your hard stare as his arms try to ease you back into position. much to his dislike, you’re swatting these attempts away and are searching his face for some sort of explanation. you’re baffled, “why would you even ask me that? what?”

he’s looking everywhere in the room but you. 

you scoff, “of course you’re a good boyfriend, you’re an amazing one.” 

“alright, then.” he bites his lip, somberly nodding. he leans back onto the pillow, giving no further explanation.

as confused as ever, you shake his arm. he looks like he clearly doesn’t want to talk about it but you can’t let it go. minutes ago you both were happy and on some sort of love high, and the idea of him going to sleep sad makes you want to die. you won’t allow it, christian deserves to always be happy. you probe, “why did you ask?”

“forget it, it was just me being stupid.” he sighs, self-pityingly shaking his head. he takes another moment before adding, “it’s just stupid.”

“hey, it is not stupid.” you reach over and hold his hands in yours. you start to kiss his knuckles and work your way down to his palms. his shell begins to crack, and he finally meets your eye. another kiss to his wrist, “just help me understand, i’m a little lost.”

he pauses, trying to choose the right words. you leave another kiss on his palm, encouraging him to speak. another sigh, “I just don’t know if i’m doing any of this right, or if i’m doing a good job at it.”

another pause.

he says it all very slowly, carefully choosing his words. “i’ve just never really had anything like this before. i’m not sure i’m being enough for all of the shit included.”

“hmm?” you encourage him to elaborate.

“you know, i’ve never had anything become so serious, with anyone.” it’s a sad smile, yet it doesn’t fail to absolutely shatter your heart. his eyes can’t seem to look directly at you, averting their gaze to the ceiling. the way he’s biting down hard on his lip makes you sure he’ll draw up blood. “i’ve had relationships but nothing official, really. it’s never been able to get as far as we have.”

the atmosphere had gotten very sullen and you’re sure you’re as close to tearing up as he is. hearing these deep, tucked away concerns tugs at your heartstrings and makes you feel horrible that he’d ever even felt any sadness. plus, the way his voice was beginning to shake was not helping. you leave a few more kisses on his wrists, your fingers begin to rub small circles on his palms.

christian continues, “no one thinks it’s worth it, having to put up with this life. i mean, you’ve seen how it is. the scrutiny and rumors and lack of privacy and everyone having an opinion on my life. no one will put up with that, no one will want to.”

“hey,” your frown grows more prominent. you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. you let go of his hands to cup the sides of his face, forcing him to finally look at you. “now who got those stupid thoughts stuck in your head, I have to go beat them up.”

he lets out a soft laugh at this, barely letting the side of his mouth quirk up. it gratifies you, but it’s not enough. you need to see him utterly and completely happy before either of you are allowed to go to sleep. 

neither you nor christian had to answer your question, though. you both knew the answer as soon as you asked it. all he could do was cast his eyes down at the space between the both of you, his lips turning downward, again. he was thinking of her. you didn’t like using her name, it humanized the enemy. yes, anyone who caused christian a fraction of sadness was your enemy for life. and you didn’t know much about her, only that she had been here before you and hurt christian beyond words. she’d used him and left him and left you with the task of picking up the pieces of his heart.

“I thought that what I had with,” you see him hesitate, like a whole new bubble of sadness might be getting caught up in his throat. you offer him a small smile and a tiny nod, pushing him to continue. “what we had was real, that I was finally going to be in a serious, adult relationship but she just left. she told me how it was all too much shit and that no other girl would put up with this life- that none of it was worth it. I guess I took it as me, maybe, not being worth it.” 

“she never deserved you or your big heart, really. she was an idiot because none of what she said is true.” you answer within a heartbeat, moving your hands from his face to his hair. running your fingers through it and lightly scratching at his scalp, you hope it brings him a sort of comfort and dispels those horrible thoughts from his head. reassuring him, “and she doesn't deserve to still make you so sad.”

“I don't get sad over her anymore. being with you makes it clear to me that what I felt with her is nothing compared to what I feel when i’m with you.” he shakes his head, confused at your implications. the last thing he wanted was for you to think it was her he was hung up on. it was her words and dissatisfaction with his lifestyle that had put insecurities in his heart. “I think I just get sad over how she might be right. what if, maybe, she and you deserve something easier, something better?”

“christian, no.” you try to shut down his negative thoughts. “she was wrong and she shouldn’t be so inside your head.”

“but it hasn’t just been her,” he whines, finally letting civility out the window and huffing like a petulant child. mumbling on, “i’ve also had flings- or whatever you want to call them- before, but nothing too serious. none of them have stayed, or even tried to. what if it’s because they all know my life is hectic and complicated, what if they don’t want to deal with it?”

“no,” you repeat, trying to get a word in edgewise.

“it’s true!” he’s on a roll now, spilling out all the fears and self-doubt that he’d tried to bury deep inside himself. “and I get it, I do. i’ve never wanted to put anyone in the position of getting harassed simply for being with me.”

“christian-”

“and I know it’s not just that stuff, I know it’s my fault, too.” cue the self-deprecating eye roll and shaky breath. his sad smile has been ever so present tonight and it’s gut wrenching. he babbles on, “I have to train and travel all the time, I have to be focused on my career. it’s like, i’d never have time to be a good enough boyfriend. I get so scared because what if it’s not enough?”

you try once more, “chris-”

he lets out another frustrated groan, “i’ve never wanted to throw caution to wind this badly, i’ve never wanted something to last as much as I do this. i’m helpless and I can only hope that I am being a good boyfriend because it’s what you deserve.”

me? when had we started talking about me?

all you can do is point to yourself, “what I deserve?” 

“yeah, you!” he scoffs. “you’re the best person I know and you deserve someone who can give you something more normal, something more easy. I know that’ll be hard to get with me.”

you’re able to squeeze in a ‘screw easy’ amongst his ranting.

“i’ve been pretty good at not going too far with anyone, because I know it’ll never work. there’s no point in any of it. with you, I can’t seem to do that. I selfishly want you, and I keep praying that might be enough.” there’s another shaky breath, “but what if she was right? what if it all becomes too much for you? I don’t think i’d ever get over you leaving.”

god, just tear your heart into two. you’re sure it’d hurt less.

“don’t think about her, or of the untrue, idiotic things she said. you’re the one who deserves someone good.” you manage to level your voice, speaking with only love and admiration towards him. yet, all you really want to do is scream and curse her out for all the damage she’d done to this beautiful boy. he deserved everything good in the world and you intended to prove that to him. “loving you and being here, in this bed, with you is the greatest privilege of my life. I must’ve been a holy saint in my past life, who did a lot of charity, for me to deserve you in this life.”

“y/n,” he tries to cut you off this time. you raise your finger to his lips, silencing him. in return, he playfully bites the tip of your finger but nonetheless remains quiet. 

you continue, “I would endure all that ‘shit’ ten times over if it meant I got to come home to you every night. I would go through worse, horrible things if it meant we’d be lying in this bed as you told me about your day. I don’t think there’s anything in this world that would stop me from wanting to be with you. hey, don't give me that look- i’m serious. the only way you’re getting rid of me is if you go into witness protection or something.”

he averts his stare to the ceiling as he becomes a blushing mess. this is too much, he wants to blurt out. your love is so much and I don’t think I deserve it. I don’t want to taint it.

“i’m pretty sure i’m going to love you forever. so, all I ask is you let me and keep letting me until then.” it’s a mere whisper when you add, “please?”

you see him internally struggle for a moment. you worry that your words didn’t get through to him and he’ll continue to stay in his puddle of self doubt. his eyes shift between your own, as if pondering over everything you’d just laid out on him. he cracks a smile before it’s gone all too soon. yet, there's a mischievous spark in his eye, only you could see. 

“y/n, I need you to be honest with me,” he feigns a serious look. raising an eyebrow, those big brown eyes search your face for a moment. after a moment, he squints, “are you just saying these things to get into my pants?”

you snort before you could even try to stop it.

“hey, im serious.” he pouts, still committed to his solemn expression. “you should know that I don’t put out so easily.”

“well I don't think you’re going to like what i’m going to say next,” you trail off. one quick glance and it’s obvious his hair is more disheveled than ever- and that bit of smudged lipstick on the corner of his mouth isn't helping his case. you look down to where the sheets are still pooled around you both. from the corner of your eye, you can easily identify where both of your clothes had been discarded without a second thought. your fingers reach out to tap the various hickeys left on his collarbone, “but I think you do.”

this made him laugh. it was one of those happy, boyish laughs- the contagious kind. therefore, you were quick to join in, ignoring the strong urge to leave a kiss in the crease by his eyes. in the midst of the laughter, christian has gotten the upper hand and managed to ease you back into his arms. as he positions you to lay on top of him, you rest your chin on his chest, eyes shining bright as you peer up at him. 

he smiles at you, his eyes warm and soft as they travel over your face. “being here in this bed, with you, it’s the only place I wanna be, too. just being with you makes everything seem worth it, you make it seem worth it.”

“let’s not dwell, yeah?” your laughter calms and you sigh, letting your fingers trace softly over the ink on his chest. you leave a kiss there, giving him your brightest smile. “we’re together, the last thing we should be is sad.”

rather than responding, he leans down to leave a quick kiss on your lips and nods in agreement. it’s soft and sweet and shy, and as lovely as every kiss he gives you. that night (like every other night), there’s no other place that he'd rather be, than in that bed wrapped up in you.

feedback is greatly appreciated. feeling very iffy abt this one so please be gentle with it.

[whumpsoda]

Small Talk - Nevan & Adrastus

WOHEO Masterlist Just a little more of Nevan and Ad talking together because I love these twos relationship sooo much

cw: hypnosis, captivity, minor negative self talk

———————————————————————

“What’s that?”

“Hm?” Nevan responded, stirring a pot of boiling hot noodles with one hand, the other flipping the page of a worn cookbook.

Adrastus' face was pure curiosity as they stood behind him, carefully watching their thrall work. “What are you humming?”

Nevan stopped his motions for a beat, surprised. He searched his mind for an adequate answer, evidently coming up with squat. “Oh, um… I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“Some… times music just, just pops into my head…” he stumbled, brain heavy with a mixture of their natural hypnotic aura and genuine puzzlement. His brows furrowed, face contorting. He’d never really thought about it, but now that he was it appeared odd.  Where did the music come from…?  “‘N it’s always nice… dunno… dunno where it comes from, though…”

“How silly.” They cooed, ruffling his hair sweetly and scattering his thoughts with their touch. “Silly Nevan. What is silly Nevan making for dinner?”

His expression lit up. “Oh, Master… I’m, I’m preparing some pasta for me and Malak!”

They grinned, tenderly running their fingers through his flowing hair. “How delightful! And it of course smells no short of delicious. No surprise there.”

“Thank you, Master.” Nevan’s face flushed with the warmth of praise, glee stirring inside of his chest. His second master always gave the best of compliments, always beating bubbly joy inside of him.

“You do have wonderful cooking skills, dear. Have you always enjoyed it?”

“Oh, yes, Master. I’ve always loved making my own food so my master doesn’t have to. I get all warm and fuzzy inside when I remember I’m taking off responsibilities of my master.” His eyes glazed over at the flick of a switch, shoulders drooping at the thought of such subservience.

They chuckled, patting his head. “That’s so kind, dear, but I meant before.”

“Be… before what, sir?” He stumbled, brain gradually slowing with confusion once again. He had no idea what they could’ve been referring to, before a familiar mantra floated to mind. “I’ve… I’ve always been Master’s thrall… always… always… Master’s thrall…”

“Nevermind, love, Master was just confusing themself. No need to worry your pretty little head about it.” They were quick to jump in, a honeydew smile drifting his attention back to them. “Say, may I ask what else you like about cooking?”

Easily distracted he was, face draining of difficult thoughts. “Yes, Master! I love everything about it! Most of all, um,  I love seeing Malak get all, all smiley and giggly when he eats something I made, ‘cause then I know it’s good… and I like seeing him all sleepy after he eats ‘cause it means he’s happy… ‘n I like seeing Malak happy…”

“You are just a cutie patootie, aren’t you?” The vampire exclaimed, pinching his cheek like putty, an action that elicited an airy giggle from Nevan. “This meal smells magnificent, by the way. Sometimes I do wish I could eat a full meal prepared by you. Alas, my body is sadly not built for it. I can always take a tad bit, though. It’ll have to be enough.” 

“You’re… I love you Master… You’re so very kind to a meager thrall like me.” He mumbled, melting to a puddle by their lingering touch.

They gave him a caring smile, a smidge saddened by his words. “How could I not want to smother you with my affections, sweet? How in the world could I not?”

Nevan chuckled, accompanied a dopey smile and draped eyelids. “I wanna… smother you in my affection, Master.”

They shook their head with a knowing, but gentle look, cupping his chin. “Of course you do, dear. Thank you for your benevolence.”

———————————————————————

Taglist- @softvampirewhump @iys-cloud @battyfantasy @xx-adam-xx @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @mylifeisonthebookshelf @mis-graves @3-2-whump

If anyone wants to be removed or added to the taglist, please let me know! :)

[wheresarizona]

Is it terrible that I saw this photo and immediately thought "Javi and Cielito would absolutely dress up their bovine children and take Christmas photos"?

Am I wrong?

Holiday Card

summary: You have an idea, not a sexy idea like Javier hoped, but it’s still an idea he’s very much into.

rating: T (This is fluff. No y/n, Soft Javier Peña, mentions of sex, Reader POV and Steve Murphy POV)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

word count: 977

a/n: This can be read as a standalone or as part of the Learning to Live ‘verse. Thanks for the ask! It inspired me because you are one hundred percent correct! They would absolutely have family pictures done with their bovine children. Big thanks to @juletheghoul for looking this over!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Part 1 - Series Masterlist - Masterlist

December 1998

It was the beginning of December, and the yearly holiday cards were beginning to come in from friends and family, some making it onto the fridge, like the lovely festive holiday family portrait the Murphy’s sent, others ending up in the trash, why did your dentist send you one? The cards causing an idea to sprout in your brain.

“Javi?”

He had the checkbook out across the dining room table from you, taking care of paying the bills while you went through the mail, passing him more bills, and making a pile of junk mail to discard, your dentist’s card included.

“Yes, Cielito?” His eyes were stuck on the check he was writing, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

“I have an idea.”

That got his attention, his head coming up to meet your gaze, seeing him visibly perk up, and it made you smile.

“Is it like the last idea you had?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, looking a little excited, the bills suddenly forgotten.

You snorted, your arms now resting on the tabletop.

“The one where I let you use handcuffs, gave you permission to do anything, and you fucking edged me for an hour? Is that what you’re talking about, Javier?” you asked with a smirk.

His throat bobbed, a flush licking up his neck under his mostly unbuttoned dress shirt, his eyes darkening.

“Yeah,” he rasped, nodding, “That one.”

“That was a good idea—”

“It was,” he interrupted. “A fucking fantastic idea.”

A laugh bubbled up your throat.

“But,” you continued, “this idea is not of the sexy variety. It’s more wholesome.”

His shoulders drooped, making you giggle, setting his pen down to scratch at his mustache.

“What’s the idea?” he asked.

“We should have holiday cards made.”

His eyebrows knit together, head tilting slightly.

“Holiday cards?”

“Yeah, you know, us as a couple wishing our friends and family happy holidays through the mail so we don’t have to actually talk to them on the phone.” You made a face thinking about having to listen to your aunt go on another political rant—a card could nip that in the bud.

Javi’s eyes went a little rounder.

“You want me to be on them?”

“Yeah? Of course, silly! We’re a couple, and I love you, plus they’d be so cute. I have another idea about them.”

His face softened.

“Tell me.”

“Oh my god!” Connie exclaimed from the kitchen. “Steve, come here. Now!”

“Uh oh,” Olivia said, glancing at him from her seat beside him at the dining room table, her pencil stopping in the middle of the homework problem they were working on. “You’re in trouble, dad.”

“Am I, squirt?” Steve asked, ruffling her hair and making her giggle. “I better go see what’s got your mom all excited. I’ll be back in a jiffy to finish helping. Why don’t you try working it out on your own, ‘kay kiddo?”

“‘Kay, dad,” she replied, her attention turning to the worksheet in front of her.

Steve got up from the table and quickly made his way to the kitchen, finding Connie holding something.

“What is it, honey?”

She looked at him with a bright smile, an expression of pure delight on her face.

“You’re never going to believe what we just got in the mail,” she said excitedly.

“A check for a million dollars?”

“No,” she shook her head. “Something better.”

His eyebrow quirked.

“What in the world could possibly be better than a million dollars, baby?” he asked as she handed him the card.

It took him a second to register what he was looking at because his brain was having trouble computing the image. He knew logically who that face belonged to, but it didn’t look right. It looked… unnatural, his eyes squinting as he took it in.

“What in God's name…” he mumbled. “This cannot be Javi. He’s smiling—Javi doesn’t smile.”

“That’s him, Steve. That’s Javier Peña with a megawatt smile, holding a pretty woman with two young cows wearing fake antlers. He looks so in love and happy! You have to call him!”

The picture had Javi and his girlfriend wearing red sweaters and jeans, him holding her from behind as they looked at the camera smiling, red and black cows on either side of them with fake antlers on their heads, standing in front of a barn, the words, “Happy holidays from us to you,” typed in a fancy script at the bottom.

Steve knew the cows had to be from Javi’s dad’s ranch, knowing his friend had been living and working there for some time before getting a job with the local sheriff’s office.

“I gotta call Javi,” he said, meeting his wife’s eyes. “I gotta make sure this is really him, and he hasn’t been cloned or some shit.”

“That’s a bit much, but you should call him. Invite them to visit, I’m dying to meet the woman who makes Javi smile like that,” she said, pointing at Javier’s face.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. I wanna meet her, too.” Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “Javier Peña domesticated. Baby, does it feel colder to you?” he asked.

“It was a little chilly today. Why?”

“I’m pretty sure hell froze over, which is the only explanation I can think of for this,” he said, holding up the card.

Connie huffed out a breath.

“I’m really happy for him,” she said. “With all he’s been through, the man deserves a little happiness.”

Steve looked at the picture again.

“Yeah, he does. It’s kinda nice seeing that grumpy asshole smiling for a change. I’m gonna go call him, tell him to visit, that the kids miss him and wanna see their tío Javi.”

“Using the kids as an excuse is playing dirty,” she replied. “You know how much he loves them. He’ll absolutely come—that’s the perfect plan!” She grinned.

Part 1 - Series Masterlist - Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know!

Tagging: @theorganasolo @nicolethered @lola766 @nessamc @vanemando15 @fiscinthirst @melancholyy-hill @hnt-escape @sherala007 @jadesabre83 @rainbeaubrightchild @blub-senpai @pedrohoe04 @theherothesavior @captain-creampuff @javiersjeans @zetasaturno99 @amb11 @lovedbyth3sun @siidereeus @marvelousmermaid @mrszdjarin  @themarcusmoreno @woomen23 @ms-loverman-066 @star-wars-fan-2005 @kissing-stars @chloeinpink @notyourlovemonkey @unofficialavenger90 @fictionismyreality @sheetsof-lennon @damnyoupedro @daddydindjarin @absurdthirst @kirsteng42 @littlemisspascal @athalien @thevoiceinyourheadx @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed @girlofchaos @mswarriorbabe80 @katareyoudrilling @iamskyereads @kulicny @enjoyourlattebitch

[wheredidalltheusersgo]

*grabs Geoff and jangles him around like car keys* I’ve got an au!

So if you don’t care about splatoon in any capacity theres these silly little guys named Callie and Marie, they’re basically pop superstars and also news anchors for turf war for whatever reason. there are these events called splatfests where you’re given a would you rather and you pick a side and then those two sides duke it out over a weekend to see which teams the best. Anyways in the final splatfest the teams were Callie vs Marie and Marie won. Callie got a bit salty and depressed and she got brainwashed by the main antagonists of the game and the plot of the second game is just finding Callie cause Marie went looking for her.

Now that that’s out of the way I can actually explain the au.

So for the ratings ™️ Geoff sets up this segment during the aftermath of would you rather questions where people would call in and vote and they were silly things mostly harmless. Then when his obsession with ratings got worse the questions became more intense (?) (he started pitting contestants against each other to cause drama) so Bridgette got fed up and the last would you rather segment had the two of them pitted against each other. Bridgette wins and Geoff is seemingly okay with this. (He isn’t) and continues on like normal. Next aftermath episode he just doesn’t show up and then he’s declared missing cause no one’s seen him in a hot minute. :3

Turns out while he was sulking Chris is like “hey, you look off, how about you come with me and put these on while your at it” gives him these massive bulky sunglasses and Geoff puts them on cause my guy is this surfer bro frat boy of course he’s gonna put on these sunglasses and then BAM hypnotized!

I’m not entirely sure if I want to set this in the splatoon universe or not so just have a human design for now

The arts kinda old but I still like this design I might update the art if I feel like it but I’ve got so many ideas my brains solution to it is to not work on ANY of them sooo.

Anyways hope you like it :3

BRO????? THIS IS A BANGER AU HOLY SHIT I KNOW PRACTICALLY NOTHING ABOUT SPLATOON, BUT DAYUMMMM!!!!

Geoff is not immune to hypnotism, and Chris knows exactly how to manipulate him. His ego would never lead to anything good, anyways.

[rosethreeart]

Arthur gets some Flashbacks to His Youth™️

Based off of this little convo with apersonwholikeslotus :>

I...Started writing cause this thought consumed my brain for a moment so here have a little snippet of the School of Punk AU of how this scene actually plays out :}

Arthur could hear the sound of his daughter’s pounding feet against the wood of the floor before he even saw her.

“Dad!” Abigail exclaimed, the flooring  beneath rapidly squeaked as eagerly shuffled in place.

Not wanting to lose his place in his book, he halfheartedly paid attention to her as he searched for his bookmark, “Yes, poppet?”

A few more footsteps later, this time muffled by the carpet she had just stepped onto, Arthur could see the silhouette of his daughter in his peripheral. 

Ah, there it was. Cheeky little thing slipped between the couch cushions. 

“Daaaaaad!” His daughter whined.

Sighing as he finished placing the bookmark in its designated slot, he looked up at her.

There she was, standing in the living room in his old punk jacket. It was a red so dark it was almost black, just like his daughter’s long and wildly curly hair. The patches he had sown on it when he was but a teen were still there, although some were fraying at the seams. The leather seemed to be fine, no leather rot in sight, much to his subconscious relief. It fit poorly on her as it was a few sizes too big, almost completely enveloping her arms and hands. 

“What do you think? Pretty cool, innit?” Abigail said as she gave a little twirl, showing it off.

“Yeah…” He said, not fully present in the moment. 

Abigail immediately stopped her little modeling gig, “Something wrong?” she asked.

Arthur blinked a few times in order to force himself to focus,”No. No, nothing is wrong.”

His daughter began to play with one of the small little pieces on the jacket,”Are you sure? I know I’m not really supposed to go up to the attic by myself, and—”

“It’s alright,” He said, cutting her off gently as he stood up. Were his knees always this achy? 

A bittersweet smile graced his lips as he approached his daughter who was staring curiously at him with bright hazel eyes. 

“That was my jacket you know,” He began to say as he adjusted said clothing to better fit the girl, “ Actually, I got it when I was about your age; maybe a little bit older.”

“Am I getting some dad lore?” Abigail said in that blunt manner of hers.

Arthur did a slight double-take, “Pardon?”

“Y’know? Dad lore? Where your dad never really talks about anything from their past until really random moments and it’s always the most bizarre thing you’ve ever heard?” Abigail stated as if she was asking him if he knew what a bird was. 

“No need to get cheeky,” he chided, “but I see your point.”

His eyes’ softened as he watched her nose crinkle and her braces-filled smile widened as she giggled. 

“Do you want it?” He asked her, “I…suppose I have no use for it anymore.”

“Does that make you sad?” Abigail said, tilting her head slightly.

Arthur chuckled, “I suppose the ever creeping march of time can be a bit disheartening, but it can be a wonderful thing too.”

“Are you getting sappy on me?” 

“Oh, very much so,” He said as he pulled his little one into a hug, which she gleefully returned. 

“Are you sure I can have it,” She asked, voice muffled by his sweater.

He caressed her leather coated arm with his thumb. It was odd to feel the leather of it on his skin again. It had been so many years since he had last seen, let alone felt it…

“Of course, darling.” He planted a quick kiss on her head, “Would much rather have you wear it than let it keep collecting dust up there.”

“Be careful with it,” He said a little more sternly than he intended, “it’s old…and important…and valuable…and—”

“I get it,” Abigail groaned, “it’s a frail old man whose seen stuff, just like you.” a smirk appeared on her face in that silly little way it did when she was joking.

“Oi!” He feigned hurt feelings, ”I’m not that old.”

“You’re getting there!”

“Don’t make me take that bloody jacket back.” He replied dryly.

“Nooo!” She laughed.

Arthur watched as Abigail eventually flitted away to show off her jacket to her step-brother. That thing had been there for him in his darkest of times, the weight it carried will always be there with him, even if the jacket no longer was. It was still hard to let that era of his life go, it seemed, however he was very glad that it found a new home with someone that he knew would love it just as dearly as he did. 

[londonspirit]

Ted Lasso Ramblings

DEAR LORD!!! The last Ted Lasso episode was QUITE FUCKING SOMETHING!!!! I mean, they always are (even though this season DOES indeed feel a tad erratic and splintered (in lack for a better word) but I also have faith in them, that they know what they’re doing and give us a wrapped up ending). 

Anyhow... Jamie and Roy!!! WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!!! I am a shipper at heart but I did NOT fucking see this coming!!!!

It was actually THIS that made me even go there, this fucking blurb for next week!!!  Guess too much queerbaiting had damaged my queerdar (is that even a word.. well it’s now)

Roy and Keeley worried about Jamie - and then my brain went on a tangent and ended with an OT3 - i’ve NEVER had an OT3!!!

But this?? I WANT!! BADLY!!!

And as much as I want this, I need to calm down, cause I don’t know whether that will actually happen and I can’t deal with the most perfect show going and breaking my heart over this!!!!

But can you imagine? I mean, Jamie fucking Tartt has come so fucking FAR since S1! I HATED him back then, now I would protect that silly little bean with all I have!!! And so would Roy it seems. (Thank fuck for super talented fic writers, I got my fix there last night already (had to force myself to stop at 4am or I would’ve never slept! I will come back and read them ALL!!!) 

It would make soo much sense! I mean, Jamie doesn’t care who he takes into bed lets into his heart - and we know he still loves Keeley.

But have you seen how he looks at ROY??? That’s not just hero worship there, or looking up to someone who ‘saved’ him. Nah man, that’s adoration, pure and simple!!! (GOD, that smile in the locker room just about killed me! And so NOT get me started at that Uncle Day celebration!!!) 

I’ve read so many fics about Amsterdam I can barely keep fact and fiction straight! Of course I loved their time together but somehow I NEVER thought about it that way. When basically EVERYONE else was having a love fest out there!!!

GAAAH!!! Im REALLY trying to not get too hyped about this to not be disappointed but god, do I have hopes!!!

They would make such a wonderful throuple!!! *sighs happily*

But as always, wait and see!!! Two more episodes to go, two more Wednesday to wait for and hope for!!!

Until then I’ll be reading, screaming at the BFF while hoping that the one show that usually always manages to still surprise me will pull off the most incredible twist I did NOT see coming!

FINGERS CROSSED!!!

[littlewinter1917]

Groupie Love

Chapter Three ✿ Break Through

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Series Masterlist

Series Summary: Your best friend’s band has been taking off, ever since you’ve both started uni. But when you come back from a semester abroad, you find yourself confronted with both: Your lingering feelings for your best friend Eddie, and unexpected ones for their new drummer, Billy; someone you also have quite the past with…

Words: 7.3k

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader, Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

Chapter Summary: You’re still mulling over the events of last night’s concert, when Eddie calls with some very exciting news. But things are hardly all rosy as your tensions with Billy keep rising, and so does the need to confront him about it.

Chapter Warnings: More tensions, secret mutual pining and some angst. The usual swearing and teasing. Some more confused and hurt feelings. Slightly suggestive stuff and very, very brief hints of Billy's past abuse.

A/N: I'm so sorry about getting this chapter out just now! Things have been a bit stressful lately, but with my semester break in full swing, I should be able to write a bit more frequently!

Previous Chapter

“Well, look who’s finally decided to join us from beyond the sleeping grave.” Robin observes teasingly, once she notices you making your way into the kitchen, steps lazy and still traced with sleep. 

You try to think of some kind of cheeky reply, but you come up completely empty, safe for a small, acknowledging grumble.

You’ve been in better moods before, that’s for sure. 

But then again, considering you barely slept last night, it’s bound to be reflected in your current emotional state. 

And that one’s a mess. 

After the events of last night’s concert, you had gone back home again with your cheerful friends, but no matter how much you tried to stay present and participate in their usual banter, your mind would keep drifting off.

To Billy.

Because of course it would.

The way he looked with those two women curled up on his lap has etched itself into your brain, and that’s where it’s been lingering ever since. Your mind even had the audacity to play that moment back, over again and again; and somehow it never became any less painful. 

Though you’re not sure why it felt like such a punch to the gut in the first place. It’s not like you have any right to feel, well, whatever it is you’re currently feeling. 

It’s not quite jealousy, you think, but it’s still unpleasant. A sick feeling in the depths of your stomach that keeps bubbling up in the confines of your chest with an intensity that threatens to almost swallow you whole.

Last night you went through the worst of it, now it’s just a bitter afterthought, but you’d be lying if you said that the whole situation didn’t keep you up all night.

Because never in a million years did you think you’d see him again.

Never in a million fucking years.

And you feel silly that his mere presence managed to bring all of these memories and feelings back up, the happy and hopeful ones, as well as all the pain he’s caused you.

He on the other hand, doesn’t seem to remember, or maybe he just doesn’t care. And you wish you could say the same. That you don’t care what his reasoning was, when he promised to keep in touch and then never delivered.

Not even once. 

But to your dismay, you do care. 

Like a lot.

A lot more than you should. 

And so, there’s still an intense bitterness surrounding yours and Billy’s past, one that stains your heart and the insides of your chest with a heavy, unpleasant, and almost acidic feeling.

A feeling that burned itself deep into your soul.

A feeling, that made you turn over and over restlessly in your bed last night. Staring at the ceiling, blinking away hot, angry tears as you tried to find a sensible reason for everything that happened.

Because despite everything, despite all the hurt that that Californian boy caused you, there’s still a silly, tiny little part within you, holding out hope that this is all some kind of big misunderstanding.

That maybe Jonathan was right, and you got it all wrong or something.

It's wishful thinking, really.

Actually, it’s more wishing than it is thinking. 

Wishing that there’s an understandable reason for Billy’s absence of letters, calls, and replies.

A reason that doesn’t involve the hurtful narrative of ‘he simply didn’t want you around anymore.’ 

A reason that’s not the bitter narrative of how he might have been secretly relieved that you left; or how he might’ve found a better replacement in someone else after you were gone, and he just didn’t need you in his life anymore.

Discarding you and your shared friendship aside for the love and care of another. 

And the problem isn’t that he probably made new friends in your absence. No, you would have been quite happy about that, actually.

The issue lies in the fact that he just abandoned you. He could have made new friends and still kept in contact. Hell, you managed to do the same; befriending Chrissy and Eddie rather quickly but spending most of your nights during the first few months glued to your desk to write to him. 

To Billy. 

Telling him how much you missed him. How much you missed his bubbly laugh and bright smile, his teasing words, and cheeky remarks.

How you missed the little things, like the shared moments of you two lying on the pink, fluffy carpet in your bedroom together, listening to the latest Queen record that you kept stealing from your parents. And you couldn’t stop your fingers from tracing his face, trying to count his countless freckles.

You used to have the patience of an angel back then, and Billy never really had any patience at all, so trying to get him to keep still was a challenge. He would groan and complain about wanting to do something more fun, like startling seabirds at the docks, maybe, or racing you to the beach on your bikes; but he would still comply.

He would try his very best to stop fidgeting as you leaned over him, tiny, inked-stained fingers tracing his sun-kissed skin, eyebrows furrowed in an act of deep concentration, tongue poking out between your lips, as you tried your hardest not to lose count or accidentally count a freckle twice or something.

Yet despite your best efforts, you would always get distracted and fail somewhere along the traces of his tanned skin, but that never stopped you from trying over and over again; and Billy would let you.

He would gaze up at you, blue eyes wide and mesmerized by how gentle your touch could be.

A touch that would always stand in such stark contrast to that of his father with such an intensity, that he’s held on to that memory for years like a fucking lifeline when things got tough.

A memory he still goes back to even now.

But you didn’t know of its significance then, and you certainly do not know about it now. 

No. Instead, you found your mind mulling over all the possible reasons for why Billy just ghosted you, and why you’re haunted by the lingering feelings of resentment and hurt even now, with so many years past. 

You want to hate him, you think. But you hate yourself even more for still caring so much and for craving answers even after all this time. 

Why can’t you just let it go?

Let it go and move on like Billy so obviously did. 

But he’s also not the one hurting, you think. 

You are. 

But did he not miss you at all?  

Not even a little bit?

Not even enough to write you a single, fucking letter?

You feel yourself getting choked up again, in the middle of your shared kitchen space, and it’s Chrissy’s touch that pulls you back to reality as she engulfs you in a big hug. 

The troubles of last night must have been still etched on your face, clear to witness for your closest friends. 

If you look only half as exhausted as you currently feel, you’re quite the sight to see, you’re sure of that. 

“Rough night?” Heather summarizes with knowing eyes, and you just muster a faint nod. 

“Not the best one.”

Your dry reply has Robin stifling a small chuckle, before she makes her way around the kitchen counter, joining Chrissy in the hug, and naturally Heather joins in too. 

You find yourself melting into the warm embrace of your friends, as Chrissy gently strokes your shoulder. 

“Is this still about Billy?” She questions, although you suspect she already knows the answer.

Everyone in this room probably does.

Nevertheless, you find yourself nodding, albeit reluctantly, because it somehow still feels so silly to admit. 

It’s just some guy, for fucks sake. 

A guy you barely know anymore. 

And yet, he sure has your heart and mind in quite the headlock at the moment.

“Did you talk to him last night at all?” Heather questions carefully, “Jonathan mentioned something along those lines in passing to me, when I was looking for you.” 

“No, I didn’t,” you admit, voice quiet. “I had planned on it, actually but then-“ 

Your mind drifts off back to last night’s memory of him being, well, otherwise occupied, once more, before stating, “I guess, I just didn’t.” 

“Why not?” Chrissy’s voice is soft, but it seems clear to her that this wouldn’t be something you’d set your mind to and then just forget. 

“Uh, he just seemed a bit busy and-“ 

“Oh yeah, right! He was totally making out with those two girls at once, wasn’t he. God, I swear the idiot does that at almost every other concert.” Robin chimes in, and Chrissy frowns. 

“What?” 

“Oh, you know Chris. He’s all lady’s man and rockstar vibes. I mean, It’s not like he had any troubles getting girls before he started to join the band, but now, well, let’s just put it that way: He definitely enjoys his growing popularity and the offer of a no-strings-attached kind of a night.” 

The frown on Chrissy’s face only deepens at Robin’s words.

“Was that what you witnessed, too?” She directs her question back at you.

“Yeah,” you mumble, eyes suddenly trained on your bare feet, and the cold stone tiles of your shared kitchen floor. Your fingers can’t help but play with the hem of the oversized sweater that currently engulfs your body like a big, soft hug.

It’s Eddie’s, and you had thrown it on last night, after your 500th restless turn in your bed, unable to sleep and keep your thoughts from racing.

It proved itself to be the only thing that managed to calm you somewhat down. The gentle smell of him still lingering faintly on the dark fabric; and you can still smell traces of it, even now.

“And what happened then?”

“Nothing. I just didn’t really see or talk to him for the rest of the night after that. I mean, what else am I going to do? Walk up to him while he’s feeling up two girls and be like, ‘hey, you really hurt my feelings over 10 years ago. Care to explain’?”

The quiet huff that leaves your lips is bitter, but you follow it up with a simple shrug of your shoulders, trying to shake the lingering hurtful feelings off.

“It’s whatever. I’ll be over it in no time.”

But your friends look rather unconvinced, and you can’t blame them. You hardly believe the words coming out of your mouth either.

“I hate to point this out, but you’re going to see him a lot now.” Heather states, “I think getting some kind of closure would probably be beneficial for you both, really.”  

“Yeah, well, I tried talking to him and-" 

"Okay but maybe a setting that’s not the after show of a concert would be more fitting.” Robin points out, and to your dismay, she might be right.

“Okay, fine. I’ll try talking to him again, but-“

There’s a sudden and unpleasant thought that pushes itself into the forefront of your mind.

“What if he doesn’t want to talk to me?” You whisper.

Because in all honesty, Billy really didn’t give you the impression that he was particularly keen on talking to you last night, and you feel already hurt enough. You don’t need any fancy add-ons to that.

“Well, if he gives you any shit, we’re giving him shit right back!” Heather states determined, and while you appreciate your friends enthusiastic support, you hardly think that’s going to help with the potential hurt that another confrontation might ultimately cause.

But you suppose that not confronting him would possibly have the same outcome, too. Either way, it’s going to sting, but at least you’ll have some closure, if you did talk to him about it. 

So, it’s decided then, in your mind, that you’re going to give it another chance, and confront Billy, given that the moment’s right.

But god knows when that’s going to be, and there’s a part within you that hopes that the answer to that will be never. 

“Uh, not to be insensitive,” Robin suddenly chimes up, “But we were kind of in the midst of our breakfast preparations earlier, and, uh, maybe we can talk and finish those pancakes at the same time?” She offers, eyes both apologetic and hopeful. 

“Fuck, pancakes do sound nice.” You admit with a smile, and it doesn’t take long for you four to get back into the tasks at hand.

As usual, it’s pure chaos adorned with lots of laughter and little quips.

Heather keeps stealing from the pile of strawberries you’re cutting, and Chrissy and Robin are in avid disagreement about whether they should be doing the pancake measurements by heart, or strictly with the guidance of your pink kitchen scale.

And for the moment, neither Eddie nor Billy cross your still confused mind. 

When Billy steps foot through the front door of his shared apartment with Eddie, Steve and Argyle, the sun is already up in the sky, and he feels like absolute shit.

Probably looks like it too, he thinks.

He spend the first few early morning hours in the bed of two girls whose names he barely remembers. They did manage to distract him from certain things for a while. But once everything and everyone was done and satisfied, those thoughts and feelings kept coming back, and he just had to get out of there quickly. 

But instead of driving home like he usually would, he found himself drifting without any real destination at all. It’s just him, his Camaro, some unknown road, and the deafening music blaring from his speakers. Driving like that normally helps him sort out his thoughts and feelings, but not this time around.

No, no matter how many turns he took, how much distance he tried to bring between himself and the city, and ultimately you too, there you still were, clinging to the forefront of his mind. Consuming him in ways, he didn’t even know were possible.

And he hated it. 

He felt pathetic for the way you seemed to occupy his heart and mind, and try as he might to get you out of there, he just couldn’t.

Couldn’t stop thinking about you and Eddie, or the way you looked at him wide-eyed, with almost something like hurt written over the pretty features when you caught him with the two women on his lap.

But it must have been the shitty lighting deceiving him because there's just no way that you actually still care about him in any kind of capacity. Not after the things you did, and the way you moved on so clearly without a single, second thought.

Billy decided then and there to just keep driving, until the sun started coming up, and he made his way back home again, reluctantly. 

Home. 

A silly word for the place he currently resides in, but it probably is the most home he ever felt since California and losing his mom and, well, you.

He would never admit it out loud, but the roommate trio of Steve, Eddie and Argyle has been slowly growing on him.

They’re chaotic and they’re dumb and sometimes more than a little bit irritating, but they’re also not half as bad as he’s been initially expecting. 

And there’ve been quite a few times where he’s found himself joking around with them, completely at ease, carefree, and without any real hostility or bite.

Billy enjoys those moments quite a bit, and a lot more than he might lead on. Because despite all the chaos, that place is a lot calmer than his family home.

And even when some disagreements do arise, they’re resolved in constructive ways, and not just by yelling, throwing things or swinging punches. 

He still finds himself flinching occasionally when Steve calls his name rather loudly from the kitchen, scolding Billy lightly for forgetting to take care of his dirty dishes or leaving empty beer cans flying around again.

But it’s never more than a “Dude, seriously, we talked about this…” And maybe an annoyed glare or something along those lines. It certainly is nothing like it’s been with his dad.

And Billy finally has a place and the space to breathe, and to do things without the kind of repercussions that leave his skin littered with blue and violet outlines or scars, and to him that’s everything.

So, yeah, he quite likes the apartment he now gets to call home, even if those words still feel foreign on his lips.

Even when Argyle’s repeated Pass the Dutchie song has been going on his last nerve, or worse, Steve’s Olivia Newton-John and Cyndi Lauper record collection.

He and Eddie actually tried to hide them once. But for some reason, despite their best efforts, Steve still managed to find them effortlessly and managed to play them twice as loud, just to annoy the two obvious culprits for their dumb prank. 

And while Billy was lying on his bed, rolling his eyes in displeasure at the sound of Cyndi Lauper’s raspy voice, twirling one of his drumsticks around absentmindedly, he found himself softly humming along to All through the night. 

It’s not something he would ever tell anyone, but in the small confines of his bedroom, a space that’s so utterly his now, without the shadow and threat of his father looming over his shoulder, he feels safe enough to just be. 

And sometimes that means humming along to a Cyndi Lauper song you normally swear you hate. 

“I don’t think that’s how the song goes. It’s more of a, oh, hey Billy!”

He’s greeted by Jonathan and Steve, who are sitting in their open kitchen, noticing his presence quickly when he makes his way through the entrance, and Billy silently curses the layout of the apartment once again. 

Slipping away unnoticed into his bedroom is hard enough with at least 3 constant presences around most of the time, but with the way the apartment is set up, it’s even more of a struggle, and he hates it.

“Wait, why are you guys up already?” He questions with a grumble, and both Jonathan and Steve give him confused looks, before Steve states, “Uh, buddy it’s like almost 11, why shouldn’t we be up? And where are you even coming from exactly? Because you kind of look like shit and-“

“Why don’t you come sit down and have something to eat?” Jonathan interrupts his friend quickly, patting the funky barstool next to him.

At the sight of the baked goods sitting on the kitchen island, Billy’s initial intention of making a straight beeline to his bedroom wavers, and he nods his head with a shrug. 

Fuck it, why not. 

“Jonathan was nice enough to pick a few things up from that new bakery two blocks down.” Steve explains, voice a lot brighter than Billy currently feels, even at the prospect of a nice breakfast right there in front of him.

The two boys keep talking, while Billy munches down on some doughnuts. He’s hardly listening or paying attention at all, so he doesn’t notice the occasional side glances Jonathan throws his way, or the slightly concerned look swimming in his eyes. 

“Have you been out all night?” He questions once Billy seems to have finished his fourth or fifth doughnut. 

“Yeah,” Billy mutters, while whipping some powdered sugar from the corner of his mouth.

“You’re telling me you’ve been with last night's babes the whole time?” Steve adds, wide eyes searching Billy’s, and voice a little impressed. 

“What?”

Billy’s been slurping down some of the coffee Jonathan offered him, too, and he needs a moment to realize what Steve’s talking about. 

For a brief moment, he thinks about lying.

He could just say, ‘yeah, sure,’ and that would probably be the end of that. But for some reason that doesn’t feel right. Not when he’s been gradually and ever so slowly making friends with those guys.

So, he just shakes his head, mumbling a quick and quiet, “No.”

“Huh, so where have you been exactly?” Steve keeps questioning, curiosity clear in his voice, and with another sigh, Billy mutters, eyes averted, “Just driving.”

If the answer surprises Steve, his face doesn’t show it. Instead, he just nods his head, seemingly understanding. 

“Ah, I see.” He simply states, and he’s about to ask another follow-up question when the ringing of the phone startles all three of them. 

“Oh, I’ll get that!” Steve chirps, before swiftly getting up and hurrying into the hallway, where their shared phone resides.

Things are silent for a moment after that, and Billy’s about to say a small ‘Thank you’ to Jonathan, but the usually quiet boy beats him to it.

“Have you talked to her?” He questions, and Billy’s so surprised, he feels like he needs to steady himself, gripping the edge of the island counter slightly.

“What?” He barks, because if Jonathan is talking about who he thinks he is, he definitely needs to back off.

But Jonathan says your name like it’s nothing.

Like it doesn’t have the weight of the world added to it.

Like its significance isn’t so heavy, it renders Billy’s tongue completely immobile and speechless. 

Jonathan’s hazel eyes are now transfixed on Billy, and he finds himself gulping hard. 

Why does it seem like that guy knows something he himself doesn’t?

“What are you talking about, Byler?” He huffs, but the anger in his voice isn’t really anger. It’s irritation and confusion, and, while Billy would never admit it, it’s also fear. 

Because the last thing he wants is for the other guys to find out is how hungover he still is over you. 

They’re going to think he’s pathetic, and that’s so not how he wants to be perceived. The fact that he’s still hurt by the things you did over a fucking century ago, is definitely not something he wants to share with the group, or anyone for that matter. 

“I think you heard me just right, Hargrove.”

Jonathan’s voice is eerily calm. Or maybe it’s not eerily, Billy thinks. Maybe Jonathan always talks like that, but it still makes the small seed of unease in the pit of his stomach grow into something bigger.

Because there’s an implication that Jonathan’s making, like he should be talking to you.

Like there’s something of significance to discuss, something unspoken that needs to be addressed; and he hates it, not just because it’s probably true, but because Jonathan of all people seem to know about it, and it makes Billy question what exactly you’ve been telling your friends about him.

Or why you would talk to them about him in the first place, really.

It just doesn’t make any sense in his mind.

He’s no one to you. You made that quite clear, didn’t you?

But instead of bringing any of his irritations up, he decides to play dumb. 

“Why would I be talking to her?” He questions, and Jonathan just gives him a disbelieving huff.

“Why wouldn’t you want to talk to her? You used to be best friends from what I’ve gathered.”

“Yes, well, we were best friends, ages ago. But I hardly know her now and-“ 

“Okay, but wouldn’t you want to get to know her again? Wouldn’t you want to catch up with her, find out how she’s been, what she’s been up to, anything?”

Jonathan interrupts him, and there’s something in his hazel eyes now that makes parts of Billy’s mind pause and spin at the same time, because there’s something earnest and almost urgent in them. 

“What has she been telling you?” Billy finds himself whispering. 

Oh god, he thinks, maybe you actually really hate him. Maybe you’ve been thinking he was weak and annoying from the start. Maybe after making new, and much cooler friends you’ve been resenting him for all the trauma he’s been dumping on you when you two were younger.

You were always taking care of him then, and maybe having new and somewhat more normal friends made you realize just how much of a drag your friendship with Billy really had been.

Billy hates to think how you might resent him so much now, that you actually want him out of your group of friends as soon as possible.

And it leads him to think that you might have been telling Jonathan some really ugly shit about him, in the hopes of trying to turn each of your closest friends against him.

It would be a complete 180 of your character for sure, but then again, he doesn’t really know you anymore, so- 

“I think it’s best if you just talked to her about it yourself.” Jonathan states, pulling Billy back from his spinning and racing thoughts. 

“Yeah, well I think this situation is entirely none of your business and I don’t know what she told you but-“

The bitterness that Billy’s been trying to hold back is now finally slipping through, but before he can finish his sentence, he’s disrupted by Steve’s sudden appearance and even more by his fucking yelling. 

“Guys! Guys! You’re not going to believe this.” He exclaims, voice overflowing with excitement, and Billy and Jonathan just look at him dumbfounded because they need at least a little bit more informing in order to figure out what the hell Steve’s talking about. 

“You’re not going to believe who just called us! I swear to god and every entity in the universe, this might be the best day of my life!”

“Steve, Steve, slow down! Who called?” Jonathan asks, trying to keep up with his friend.

“Mike! Mike called, can you believe it and-“

“Wait, Mike, the Wheeler kid?” Billy inquires utterly confused. 

“What? No, of course not the Wheeler kid!” Steve huffs, almost offended. 

“No, it’s Mike Milcher! You know the Mike Milcher.”

When his two friends just keep looking at him, completely clueless, Steve can’t help but sigh.

“You know, Mike Milcher from Capitol Records?”

This time both of the boys heads perk up. 

“What?” Billy asks, disbelief written all over his sun-kissed features. 

“Why would-“Billy doesn’t even dare to finish that sentence because there’s no way. 

No fucking way.

“Yes!” Steve squeals, already suspecting where Billy might be going with this.

“They want to sign us to a FUCKING RECORD LABEL!”

There’s a displeased huff coming from the hallway at Steve’s outburst, and the brunette tries to lower his voice at least slightly.

“They want to sign us to a fucking record label.” He whispers, as if there was any chance that Jonathan and Billy missed those words the first time around. 

“Eddie’s still on the phone with Mike, I think. Or maybe he’s already calling the girls because Robin obviously also needs to know, but, yeah, they actually want to meet us and-“

“Harrington,” Billy whispers, with a slight edge to his voice, “Is this some kind of dumb prank? Because I swear to god if it is I’ll-“

“It’s not a prank.” Steve reassures quickly, hands held up in a placid gesture. 

“I promise it’s not. This isn’t something I’d joke about, certainly not like that! Besides-“

“We should really be getting ready.”

Eddie’s voice suddenly cuts through the kitchen space, and the smile that’s on his face is so bright and earnest that all previous doubts are surrendering in Billy’s mind.

Fuck, there’s no way.

“Are you-“

“For real? Yeah, Hargrove, I sure am! Mike Milcher wants to fucking sign us for Capital Records. He apparently saw our performance last night and now he wants to meet us and talk!”

The excitement in the room is almost tangible, and Billy has to stifle the urge to jump off his bar stool and join Steve in the little excited dance, that the brunette is currently performing enthusiastically. 

God, this is an absolute dream come true for everyone. Even Jonathan is beyond excited, and he’s not even part of the band. 

“Where’s Argyle? Because we definitely need to tell him too!”

That’s true, especially since he’s the unofficial fifth member of the group, playing the keyboard occasionally.

It’s not often, but some of Steve’s songs (derogatory) have a more typical 80s sound. And while both Eddie and Billy had been adamantly against the incorporation of any kind of synths at first, both of them had to fold eventually; and that’s where Argyle comes in, with a helping hand. Or two. 

“Isn’t he down by the botanical garden again?” Steve suggests, and that assessment makes sense for everybody, so they decide to go and try to pick him up first, before meeting up with you and the rest of the girls. 

“Geez, you really look like shit, Hargrove.” Eddie points out with a playful shove, while they’re all putting on their shoes in the hallway. “Did those girls really keep you up all night?”

Billy just grumbles something unintelligible in return, but the dark-haired metalhead isn’t done with his teasing yet.

“Shit, isn’t this the same stuff you’ve been wearing yesterday?”

“Since when are you part of the fucking fashion police, Munson.” Billy bites back, though there’s hardly any venom in his words, and Jonathan and Steve just roll their eyes at their usual banter.

Even in a one-of-a-kind situation like this, they still manage to push each other’s buttons, albeit rather jokingly. 

You’re the first one to notice the boys stepping into the small café you all agreed to meet at.

You can’t quite refrain yourself from jumping off from your current seat, at the sight of Eddie, and running up to him excitedly.

Each and every one of the girls has been buzzing with anticipation and joy, ever since Eddie delivered the incredible news barely half an hour ago via telephone.

Robin’s especially antsy, but that was to be expected. She’s been playing with the strings of her hooded jacket nervously, tugging on one end, and then on the other one repeatedly.

But that’s hardly on your mind when you jump up into Eddie’s arms, hugging him tightly. 

You’ve already told him over the phone how excited you were for him and his band, but you repeat those words over and over again, while you hold your best friend as close as you possibly can. 

“I’m so, so happy for you, Eds!” You mumble against the nape of his neck. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, voice a little emotional, but it’s quickly followed up by the more somber statement, “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, though. We haven’t even talked or signed any contracts yet.” 

“Yes, but you will be!”

Your current excitement is hard to curb. Especially considering that you’ve seen Eddie be so passionate about music from a young age. Last night’s concert had already been a dream come true, but this right now carries an even bigger significance. 

“Either way, I’m so proud of you!” 

Eddie feels himself smiling against your shoulder at your earnest words. and he can practically feel the blush creeping up his cheeks at your continuous praises. 

Celebrations are definitely in order, that much is clear, and when the lot of you make their way back to your current spot in the café, there are a lot of hugs and congratulations and excited yelps and squeals.

Steve’s even planning some elaborate party for one of the upcoming nights, something that Eddie can’t help but scoff at.

They haven’t even talked in person to the guy from the record label yet. And while that Mike Mlicher had seemed quite adamant about his interest, Eddie doesn’t want to get his hopes up too much. Things can still change, and even the greatest plans can fall through, so he really tries to be careful with the amount of joy he currently lets himself feel and show.

The only person whose emotions seem to be at least a little bit dulled too, are Billy’s. It doesn’t really surprise Eddie, and he’s glad that there’s at least one more person around, that still has both feet planted securely on the grounds of reality, unlike everyone else, who’s chatting excitedly about the latest developments. 

“You’re also having your doubts?” He questions, looking at Billy, brown eyes big, and understanding. 

“What?” 

Billy’s been so caught up in his own little thought carousel, he didn’t even notice Eddie eyeing him for the last few minutes, and he certainly doesn’t know what that guy’s talking about. 

“You’re the only other one, who isn’t up and arms about the exciting news. It’s hard to believe it’s true, isn’t it? Almost too good to be true. I think I’ll only really believe it once I have it black on white.” 

Oh, he’s talking about the contract thing. Yeah, sure, that’s a little bit difficult to wrap one’s mind around. But that’s not what’s currently on Billy’s; No, what’s actually on his mind is sitting a few seats across from him, eyes and smile bright, and voice beyond cheery. 

Of course, he considers the record company’s offer as quite exciting, and Eddie isn’t wrong either; Billy also feels like he needs to curb his joyous feelings, because things can always go south, and he isn’t a stranger to broken promises.

No, he thinks, glancing over at you once more, watching the laughing lines crinkle around your eyes in unfiltered glee, as you playfully slap Chrissy’s shoulder; No, he certainly isn’t a stranger to that at all.

Eddie watches Billy’s face fall, for no apparent reason, or at least none that he can think of, and there’s a small voice inside him that’s growing slightly concerned.

The hushed question of, “Are you okay?” falls from his lips before he can even think too much about it.

It takes Billy a moment to realize that Eddie’s gentle words were directed towards him, and he tries to brush him off quickly.

“Yeah, yeah, Munson. Don’t worry about it. It’s just been a long day, okay?” 

“But it’s not even lunch time yet.” Eddie observes, slightly confused, until he suddenly remembers something.

“Right, you were with those two ladies all night, weren’t you?”

But instead of a boastful smile, all that Billy’s lips can muster is a little sigh, and an almost displeased frown.

“Yeah, something like that.” 

“Wait, so you weren’t with those ladies then?” 

“Does it matter, Munson?” 

That answer surprises Eddie. He was sure Billy would have at least something crude to say about his last-night-activities.

“Uh, I guess not. But isn’t the whole ladies-thing like, part of your personality by now?” 

This time, it’s Billy’s turn to be stumped. 

It kind of is a part of him, isn’t it?

Maybe not a part of his personality, he thinks, but certainly part of his brand.

But as of late, he’s been secretly disliking that whole reputation. It’s his own fucking fault, though, and he knows it.

He used to boast about getting laid quite a lot when he was younger. Maybe because he deemed those things more significant then, or maybe because he valued the respect he got from it quite a bit more.

It certainly seemed like a win-win-win situation back then.

Getting desired, and sought out and after by women, getting the approving clap on his back by his so-called friends, both real and metaphorically speaking, and getting the ultimate confidence boost because of it all.

But lately that whole appeal has been fading.

There’s been a steadily growing voice inside of him, that’s been a bit more critical about those habits and the underlying motivations behind it, and truth be told, they’re hardly healthy.

It’s an unpleasant confrontation, to think about the fact that he’s been using sex as a way to distract himself from feeling inadequate, worthless, or empty, rather than as the fun pass-time-activity that it’s supposed to be.

Instead, it just serves him as both, a quick distraction, and a fill for something he’s been craving all his life: The simple feeling of being desired and wanted.

And people want him, because he has a reputation; because he can serve as a handsome distraction from a boring marriage; because being able to say that you’ve been with him, is somehow newsworthy material.

And being wanted like that, even if it’s short-lived, even if it’s shallow, even if it’s selfish, and for all the wrong reasons, well, at least he’s being wanted at all.

But he’s never been wanted for who he is, only ever for who he’s being perceived as, and lately that hurts. 

So, he’s been trying to slow that tendency down; get a hold of it; stop it.

But old habits sure die hard, and whenever he finds himself in emotional turmoil - which unfortunately is rather often - it’s easy to slip right back into it for a night; and maybe the next one, and the next one, and the next one right after that, too.

But he sure as hell can’t tell any of that to Munson, now, can he?

Instead, he simply shrugs his shoulders and tries to play it off.

Eddie, however, has the unfortunate ability to pick up on people’s discomfort, and Billy’s performance is hardly convincing, yet he lets it slide for now.

If Billy wants to talk about whatever is currently troubling his mind, he’ll seek Eddie out himself.

When there’s one thing he’s learned about Billy so far, it’s that pestering him about opening up rarely works.

But that doesn’t stop Eddie from wanting to help and cheer up his rather new, and still somewhat closed-off friend.

So, when he notices Billy’s repeated looks in your direction, an idea forms in his head. That guy probably wants to talk to you, he thinks, but the current seating distance between you two makes it too difficult.

Eddie’s here to help, though, and without any warnings, he calls your name loud and quickly, while gesturing his hand in a come here motion.

The look you give him turns from a bright-eyed smile to one of slight confusion. Especially once he scoots out of his current seat next to Billy, and offers that one to you instead. 

“Thought you guys might wanna talk.”

There’s no malicious undertones in his voice. No teasing traces, or hints at the fact that he might know anything about your current tensions. 

God bless, Chrissy thinks to herself, as she watches the interaction play out, and Eddie makes his way cheerfully towards her.

“Didn’t even need God to swap our places.” He jokes once you pass him. The pained smile you give him might have concerned him in a different scenario, but right now he just takes it as some lingering awkwardness you probably still harbor towards Billy.

The two of you sure have a lot of catching up to do, he thinks.

Come to think of it, he certainly does as well. Because you still haven’t really told him all that much about your relations to that guy, and Billy’s certainly been dead silent about you too; but now that he’s sitting down next to Chrissy, that’s not going to be a problem for much longer. She can fill him in on the scoops of everything that he missed last night. 

“So, Chrissy,” he starts, as he leans over to the pretty blonde, who’s still trying to steal quick glances from you and Billy. “How exactly do those two idiots know each other again?” 

This has to be hell, you think, as you slide onto the seat next to Billy.

When you said you would consider talking to him once the moment’s right, this was not the moment you imagined.

“Uh, hey,” you mumble, eyes suddenly a lot more interested in the swirly pattern of the cushions, and Billy’s swift answer is something you can only interpret as a brief acknowledging grunt, and then that’s it. 

Great. 

“Uhm, congratulations about the record deal. I mean, I know you haven’t signed anything yet, but that’s still quite exciting.” 

“Yeah.” 

So far, you haven’t even looked at him once, eyes instead trained on where you’re currently twirling one of your rings nervously around a finger.

There’s no words you can think of saying, and you don’t have the strength to glance up at the man in question either.

If you did though, you would’ve seen that Billy’s also looking anywhere but you; the loose fray strings of his jean-jacket suddenly the focal point of his universe. 

You two just sit there quietly, letting the awkward silence consume you, as you both try to think of anything to say, that doesn’t end with an accusatory ‘Why did you leave me.’ 

Or abandon me, or hurt me, or forget me – just like that. 

Was it easy at all?

Did I ever cross your mind?

Thoughts are plenty, but words aren’t.

At least none that you can muster saying out loud.

And so, silence it is.

With the current busyness of the table, that doesn’t really seem to stand out, and you even manage to drown out your bitter thoughts with Argyle's contagious laughter in the background for a short moment or two; Until the lingering silence between you and Billy grows so increasingly heavy, that the weight of it becomes almost unbearable on both of your minds.

Somehow there’s a topic change at the table, as Eddie voices his small, lingering doubts about the exciting offer, and everyone tries to ease his worries quickly and with much determination. 

“Why would that Milcher guy be so adamant about wanting to sign you, and then not follow through, that wouldn’t make any sense, now would it?” You offer softly, and Billy just scoffs. 

“Wouldn’t you be an expert on that.”

He mumbles with a bitter huff, voice loud enough for you to hear, but quiet enough to not draw anyone else’s attention. 

What? 

You feel your stomach hover in freefall, before dropping down quickly. 

What is that guy even talking about, you think, but you’re too stumped to say anything.

Too stumped by the realization that he’s apparently angry with you. 

You, for whatever reason.

And isn’t that rather bold coming from him of all people; like he has a leg to stand on after the way he hurt you.

Feeling anger bubble up inside of you too, now; you’re about to give that asshole a piece of your mind, because you’re not letting him get away with taunting you like that, that’s for sure.

But before you get the chance to even open your mouth, and let years of anger and resentment tumble out from between your lips, Steve suddenly calls out:

“Ah, shit! It’s almost 1:30! We really should be leaving, like, right now.”

There’s an on slew of, oh fuck’s and hurry up, guys! and good luck wishes, before you watch your five friends make their way hastily towards the exit.

You silently hope that they’ll make it to the meeting in time, without being late, yet you’re also still agitated from that weird interaction with Billy, mere minutes ago.

And as your eyes follow your friends, rushing quickly through the door, Billy is the only one to turn around one last time.

And for a brief second, you see the silently simmering anger in your eyes be reflected in his, as your gaze finds his in the crowded space of the small café. 

It feels like déjà vu, you think, thoughts drifting back to last night’s interaction.

Only that this time around you don’t feel sick to your stomach.

Instead, there’s an untamed anger swirling around in the confines of your chest now.

One, you feel quite determined and justified to release the next time you cross paths with a certain Californian guy. 

Oh, he’s definitely getting a piece of your mind when you see him again. 

Next Chapter

_______________

And that’s it! If you made it this far, thank you!! 

I know this chapter has been quite Billy-heavy, but I promise Eddie is also going to have his time to shine! Probably not the next chapter, though, because Billy and the reader will be finally having their much needed talk then!

Also, in terms of my uploading schedule, I want to give a small heads-up. I know I said that I’ll try to keep a weekly schedule, but that’s currently not really sustainable for me, unfortunately. I’m obviously still writing for this story, but there’s not going to be a super consistent schedule for it. 

[safetycar-restart]

Shels I can’t stop thinking about domming Daniel with Lewis because Lewis would DEFINITELY be able to manhandle Daniel and throw him around like a rag doll… maybe it’s not even planned- you’re scening with lil subby baby Danny and Lewis is domming him with you, you climb onto the bed whilst Lewis is making out with Daniel, Lewis then decides- to save time because Dan is already verging on the edge of subspace where coordination becomes impossible- decides to pick Daniel up and just throw him onto the bed….. and Dan’s brain just completely malfunctions because wow that was just……. Of course you and Lewis notice his reaction and when you asked him if he liked that, he flushes red but nods eagerly. Safe to say manhandling is something you incorporate regularly, whether it’s holding him down, pushing him around, or straight up throwing him like a sack of potatoes…

Also, when Dan realised that both you and Lewis can pick him up without too much struggle (albeit Lewis slightly more than you….) he’s never walking anywhere again… all he has to do is flash those puppy dog eyes at either of you and raise his arms, and suddenly he’s being carried around like the princess he is -🐬

Ok I swear I answered this yesterday? But sometimes tumblr does this fun thing where it mistakes the post button for the delete button but doesn’t inform me of this so I wrote this and it simply floated into the atmosphere.

So uh... round two! Because this ask is so fucking good it’s worthy of me rewriting my answer. I went into SO much background detail cause I’m kinda obsessed so the rewrite is now an essay. Have fun.

I think it might start with you and Lewis together? And Daniel is just.... absolutely obsessed with you both. You’re the most attractive couple he’s ever seen. And he’s determined to get at least one threesome.

So naturally his plan is to be utterly insufferable for as long as need be until one of you backs him up against a wall and kisses him breathless.

You and Lewis had talked about it, because Daniel was anything but subtle. And you both agreed that yeah, yeah a threesome with Daniel is not an opportunity either of you can pass up.

So that’s how it starts. Daniel is kinda just a fuck buddy that gets welcomed into your bed whenever he wants (which is to say, every race weekend that he sees you’re at the track with Lewis, he will magically turn up at your hotel room with two packs of condoms and neither you nor Lewis ever find out how he knows the hotel room).

People tend to assume that Daniel is dominant, and maybe that’s true for his other sexual partners. But with you and Lewis, that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Daniel would like one thing and one thing only: to be absolutely wrecked. He would like to be a pretty fuck toy and have no thoughts whatsoever. You and Lewis are already a power couple, someone needs to be the pretty arm Candy who gets fucked every night and Daniel is more than happy to fulfil that role.

To be honest I don’t think the d/s aspect would be very intricate, at least not at first. Daniel would like to be fucked silly, he would like to not have to think, he would like to be allowed to fall into subspace and know he’s going to be looked after afterwards.

He had spent enough time with you and Lewis when he was trying to get in your pants to know that you and Lewis would take good care of him. That’s all he really wants.

So manhandling? Incredible. He loses his little mind the first time.

Sometimes, I think Daniel wants to be fucked so badly thst he loses all coordination and common sense, just bends himself over the nearest surface, shakes his little ass to try and prove his point.

You’re more than happy to grab the strap and fuck him wherever. Lewis, however, is more of a traditionalist in that sense. He wants to fuck Daniel on the bed. And only the bed.

Which leads to many times where you’ve found them making out in the hallways on the way to the bedroom, because Daniel got impatient and wanted a kiss now.

One time, you’re watching them attempt to get to the bedroom without tripping over each other, you’re on the bed, watching as they stumble down the passage when Lewis seems to get too impatient and just.... picks Daniel up and carries him to the bed.

He throws Daniel onto the bed, right into your arms and you can see how shocked Daniel is.

You ask him if he’s okay, scared that Lewis might have overstepped. But Daniel just nods and smiles, clearly very happy with the situation.

And then it just... becomes a thing.

You and Lewis manhandle Daniel all the time, just moving around all the time and Daniel couldn’t be happier. He is truly living his best, horny life.

[softiem]

you used to paint his skies (pt. 2)

pairing: Bokuto Koutarou x GN!Reader

overview: The one in which Bokuto is still swearing up and down that he loves you, but the nagging feeling in your chest is too strong to ignore.

word count: ~4.3k

content warnings: mentions of cheating, swearing, MSBY!Bokuto, mildly suggestive scene at the end (no nsfw), our baby Bokuto kind of loses it at the end, don’t let the fluffy interludes deceive you again

notes: I’M SO SORRY FOR LITERALLY BEING DEAD FOR 6 MONTHS,,, Here’s the second part to “you used to paint his skies” :D (I think this is better than part one — at least I hope so). Some people asked to be tagged for this second part, so those will be below. Thank you for reading, darlings ʕ ´•̥̥̥ ᴥ•̥̥̥`ʔ <333

part one.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

“Baby?”

Faint sniffles came from Bokuto, whose head was currently nestled on your lap, the two of you strewn across the sofa. His arms were wrapped tight around your waist, as if he were afraid that holding you any looser would cause you to disappear from his arms. His voice was quiet, meek — nothing like the loud, boisterous ball of energy you’d grown to adore, to cherish.

To fall in love with.

Now, here the both of you were, a pile of cracked and fragmented pieces of the love you once shared, desperately grasping at whatever you could salvage from the mess.

You hummed a response.

“Are we gonna be okay?” Bokuto turned his head, his eyes staring up at you — wide, teary, and filled with a broken sense of hope.

In an attempt to avoid breaking down a third time, you cleared your throat. You still couldn’t look down at him, into his eyes that seemed to praise your very existence, even after the pain you caused.

“Please.” His voice cracked.

“Let’s not talk about that right now, Kou-Bokuto.”

He bit his lip roughly, enough to bite into the skin and draw a slight trace of blood. Choking on a weak sob, he nestled his head into your stomach once more. He couldn’t stop you from calling him that name anymore; he’d lost that privilege.

What could he have been asking for? For you to simply just call him your Koutarou again? For you not to leave him and stay in his arms? For you to kiss him and wipe those tears running from his pretty eyes as you tell him you’ll love him forever, no matter what?

Quite honestly, Bokuto didn’t know what he was asking of you; he didn’t know what he wanted from you.

The only thing running through his mind was the fact that he’d just ruined the best thing to ever happen to him.

You.

You, the love of his life. He knew you like the back of his hand.

He knew how, despite your small tendency to be romantically constipated, you tried your best to love him — even to the point of using stupidly cheesy pet names for each other.

– – – – –

“Please, baby!” Bokuto had your hands tightly grasped in his. “I swear, if you do this for me, I won’t ever ask you for anything else for the rest of my life — okay, that’s a lie because I really want ice cream after this, but you know what I mean!”

“Kou.” You drew in a breath. “I’m saying yes to the ice cream later, but those are the cheesiest pet names I have ever heard of.”

You saw the way Bokuto visibly deflated as he heard your soft rejection of his idea.

For the rest of the night (after stopping by the store and getting yourselves two tubs of ice cream, of course), the two of you sat cuddled up on the sofa half-paying attention to whatever B-list movie was recommended to you. Occasionally, you would hear Bokuto let out a deep sigh, most likely to try and guilt trip you into doing what he asked of you earlier.

Turning your head to face him, you grinned at the little pout on his lips as his eyes bore holes into the TV screen.

“Hey, Kou.”

Nothing. His attention stayed glued to the TV. The only sign that showed he’d heard you was the deepening of his pout.

“Koutaro, pretty boy. I’m talking to you,” you giggled.

Still nothing. You racked your brain for all of the possible ways this could end — every one of them resulted in the same thing.

Sighing, you brought up a finger to poke at his cheek. “Hey, dovey.”

If Bokuto were a dog, his ears would have stood straight up and his tail would have started wagging as he whipped his head around to look at you.

“Say that again,” he demanded, his eyes wide and sparkling and the corner of his lips twitching, just barely restraining a smile.

When you didn’t reply, his fingers prodded at your side — a promise to tickle you if you didn’t humour him right now.

“Say it again! Who am I?”

“You’re my dovey.”

“And who are you?”

You struggled to fight the urge to curl up into yourself as you answered him, “I’m your lovey.”

“And what are we together?” Bokuto brought his face closer to yours, his eyes going back and forth between your eyes and lips.

“We’re lovey dovey.” You completed it with a pair of awkward jazz hands.

With that, Bokuto’s face split into a blinding smile as his laughter rang through the living room. He brought you tight into his arms and buried his face into the crook of your neck.

“Yes! I knew you could do it, lovey!” Your cheeks grew warm as you were subjected to his rain of kisses on your face. 

Pulling him in for one last kiss to your lips, you whispered, “I love you so much, Kou.”

– – – – –

He knew how he was always the first thing on your mind; you’d put him as your first priority without fail, no matter how busy you were, even when he hadn’t put you as his.

– – – – –

Bokuto stared up at the crisp, white ceiling — hospitals were never a fun place to be in. He was broken from his thoughts when the door to his room burst open, revealing you in your ever-ethereal work clothes rushing toward him.

“Babe! Are you alright?” Stopping at the side of his bed, you brought his hand up to place a kiss on his knuckles.

Bokuto let out a light laugh as he intertwined his fingers with yours. “Yeah, it’s just a sprained ankle. Nothing to worry about, honey.”

“What do you mean ‘nothing to worry about’? Your coach said that you’d have to be out for two weeks!”

“That’s not too much! It’s not like I’ll be missing the whole season, angel.”

“But, Kou, you also have to–”

Bokuto stopped your worried rambling as he pulled you down, giving you a soft kiss on your lips and cheeks. He gave you a smile.

“Stop worrying, baby! Everything will be fine because I have the cutest, smartest, and kindest nurse to help me recover, right?”

“And who’s that?” You sent him a teasing look as your hands shuffled through your pockets looking for your phone.

“You, silly!” He paused before staring up at you in concern. “You are going to take care of me, right, baby?”

“I don’t know about that, Kou. Work has been hectic lately.” You pulled out your phone.

“But I’m injured! And I’m your boyfriend too! You can’t just leave your injured boyfriend alone to fend for himself! Baby!” Walking away from his bed, you exited the hospital room, tapping away on your phone.

A few minutes passed before you returned, seeing Bokuto sulking in the hospital bed, a familiar pout on his lips.

Your eyes softened as you gave him a smile. “Guess who just got two weeks off?”

– – – – –

The foundation of your relationship was built upon the fact that the two of you knew each other like no other; you loved each other like no other.

So how had everything culminated into such a mess?

“Bokuto.” You felt the way his body stiffened as you called his name.

“Yes,” he hesitated, “honey?”

“Do you remember what I told you a couple years ago? About what I thought of love?”

Feeling a prickling sensation in his nose, Bokuto squeezed his eyes shut, forcing out a few tears that had collected on his eyelashes.

His voice came out hoarse and weak as he whispered, “I could never forget.”

– – – – –

The sky was enveloped in a cloak of darkness, but not even the onslaught of exhaustion could prevent the two of you from leaning back on the picnic blanket to stare up at the shimmering stars.

“Baby?” Bokuto turned his head to where you lay beside him. You hummed in response, half of your attention taken by the stars.

“What do you think about love?”

You raised an eyebrow, rolling onto your side to fully look at your boyfriend.

The moonlight casted harsh shadows on his face, but the way he looked at you — eyes sparkling with curiosity and the corners of his lips curled into a light smile — softened the darkness surrounding the two of you.

“Where did that question come from?” You raised a hand to lightly trace over the curves and slopes of his face; your thumb caressed his cheek as he leaned into your touch.

“Answer my question first, and then I’ll tell you.” His eyes turned into little crescent moons as he smiled at you. “Deal?”

You pretended to think about it for a few seconds. “Hm, three kisses please,” you said, wiggling three of your fingers.

Bokuto laughed, indulging you with a kiss to both of your cheeks and a final kiss to your lips.

“Okay, okay,” you giggled. “You asked me what I think about love?”

He nodded.

“Well,” you sighed, turning back to face the midnight sky above you, “I think that love is like the sky — the sun, to be specific. It’s always changing, and everything is so unpredictable about it. There’s so much potential for destruction in what the sky holds. But, there’s always one constant. Do you know what it is, Kou?” You looked at him.

“What is it, angel?” His golden eyes glimmered, as if they were holding stars themselves.

Adjusting your position on the picnic blanket (you curled closer into Bokuto, who wrapped an arm around your shoulders), you continued, “It’s the sun. No matter how much it rains or snows or whatever weather catastrophe is happening, the sun is always going to be there. Sure, you can have multiple suns like those Star Wars planets, but…” you trailed off, looking into his eyes. “... I think I’m happy with my one sunshine.”

Bokuto, ever the romantic, pulled you into a nearly-bone-crushing hug as he laughed into your shoulder. After peppering kisses to your neck and jaw, he pulled away to look at you. He sported the brightest smile, but something sparkled behind those eyes of his.

“Baby?”

“Yeah?”

“I think you’re getting cheesier than me.”

You groaned, leaning away from him, “Shut up, Kou!”

He giggled before placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Now let’s get home before these mosquitoes eat us alive, honey.”

“And then you’ll tell me where you got that question from?”

“Of course, honey! I never break a deal!”

– – – – –

How could he forget what you said? Every word you’ve ever spoken to him, he’s grasped onto like a lifeline, as if they would be your last. He was so close to bursting — so close to pulling himself off of your lap, looking into your pretty eyes, grasping your shoulders, and yelling at you, screaming at you, asking why you would think he could ever forget anything about you. How dare you think he could ever forget anything about you?

But he couldn’t do that. Not to you. Not anymore.

He didn’t realise that you’d gone silent — his world had gone silent — until your sniffles broke his reverie. His arms tightened around your waist as his head nuzzled into your stomach once again; it was a broken act of comfort.

“Honey,” the edges of his voice cracked as he called out for you. “Talk to me. Please. Don’t… don’t stay quiet.”

Being met with another bout of silence was almost excruciating. Bokuto was struggling to keep himself together, to keep his head above the water before he drowned in his thoughts of losing you.

He launched himself up from your lap, grabbing your face with shaky hands. He had tears running down his face once again. His face was blotchy, and his hair was a mess. He was a mess.

“Please, lovey,” he whispered. If you stayed silent just one minute longer, he’d collapse. He was sure of it. Fighting the urge to just sit himself in your lap, pull you tight against him, and beg you not to leave, Bokuto settled with caressing the skin under your shirt.

Finally, you broke the silence.

“I forgot to tell you one thing that night.” You moved your hand from where it was resting in his hair back to your side; he tensed at the loss of your touch.

He swallowed, his anxiety began to pile up once again. “What’d you forget, baby?”

“Even though the sun” — your voice cracked — “is a constant, sometimes it can be too much. Burn too bright and dry up everything underneath the sky. Sometimes...” you paused to take a deep breath, trying to swallow back the lump that was growing in your throat. “Sometimes the sun can do even worse harm than anything the sky could do.”

Bokuto could feel the gradual increase of his heartbeat. He shook his head, his fingers involuntarily digging into your skin. No, no, you didn’t mean that. You couldn’t mean that. If you did he… he didn’t know what he would do.

“I’m sorry, Bokuto,” you murmured, “I can’t stay here any longer.”

You tried to pry yourself out of his grip, but he wouldn’t relent. His arms were shaking as he pulled you even closer into him. He was whispering something to himself.

“Bokuto, I’m being serious.” You tried to keep your voice stable but failed miserably — it all came out shaky, your tone uneven. “Let me go.”

His whispers grew louder until you could finally understand what he was saying.

“No, no. This isn’t real. I love you. I love you. No, don’t leave. Please don’t leave. I love you.”

You called his name. Once, twice, thrice. As you called for him, his whispers grew to full-blown cries.

“Bokuto!”

“I’M SORRY DON’T LEAVE ME!”

But the only thing your eyes chose to focus on was the trail of red and purple leading down his neck.

You felt a prickling sensation behind your eyes, a feeling that had grown familiar to you in the past few hours.

Bokuto caught the wandering of your eyes down his neck, a faraway mist muddled the irises he loved gazing into; he realised what you were staring at, forcing down a choked sob. He clenched his jaw, violently cursing himself for making you feel like you weren’t enough, like you weren’t the one keeping him standing straight.

Like you weren’t his sun, moon, stars, and whatever else you filled the fucking sky with.

He gently moved your head, trying to get you to look back into his eyes and away from the bruised mistake that marred his skin. His thoughts only filled with one thing — “Come back to me, baby.”

Waves of relief crashed against him once you met his eyes.

“Baby– Angel– I’m so– I don’t– Please–” Bokuto struggled to keep his thoughts straight. Not when you stared at him with an iciness that pierced his heart every time he looked back into your eyes, hoping to find even the smallest trace of love left for him.

He let out a rough sigh, frustrated with his inability to speak through the racing of his heart. His hands, still cupping your face, lightly squeezed your cheeks to ground himself. He looked back to you, his eyes swimming with even more tears, trying to send a message to you that he couldn’t put into words.

You looked away from him, focusing on the ticking clock on the wall as you gnawed your lip. A question had been running through your mind ever since he cracked into your resolve to leave and pulled you to the sofa, laying his head in your lap.

Your eyes turned back to him.

“Can you tell me something, Bokuto?”

“Yes, yes, baby, of course. I’ll do anything you want.” He eagerly nodded, a small spark of hope sparkled within him.

“Why’d you lie?”

He felt as though you just dumped him into one of Atsumu’s god-awful ice baths.

“What’re you saying, angel?” His eyebrows furrowed. “I’ve never lied to you.”

“Earlier,” you croaked. “I asked you earlier how long you’ve been” — you couldn’t say that word; it’d hurt too much — “messing around.”

A glint of recognition passed his eyes.

Continuing, you forced your voice out, even though it grew weaker the more you tried to hide your pain, “You said that it was just this once. That wasn’t the whole truth, was it?”

Fuck. Bokuto took his hands away from your face, opting to grasp one of your hands in his. He gave your knuckles a kiss before looking back at you, his eyes teeming with unadulterated guilt and desperation.

“I-I knew them before this ever happened. We met at one of the team parties, but you weren’t there because you were at work.” He saw a glimpse of darkness shadow over your face, and his heartbeat picked up again (not that it ever really settled). “But we never did anything! Not until last night, at least.” His voice grew quiet at the end.

“And never once did it occur to you to tell them that you were taken?”

Bokuto’s lips started trembling — no doubt he’d begin crying again. He looked down, trying to avoid your glare, but his grip on your hand never loosened.

“Please, baby. I’m so sorry,” he choked out, “I’m so fucking sorry. I fucked up in the worst way possible. But I promise you, I never did anything with them before. We just talked at that one party. I promise you that. I promise, honey.”

The look in your eyes became even colder, even more distant; something akin to hatred was present as well. No, this couldn’t be happening. His worst nightmare was coming true. You’d finally learned the truth and were going to leave him. You might have called him your sunshine that one night two years ago, but, to him, you were his oxygen — without you, he was truly nothing. Just a corpse of a man, not worth wasting a breath on.

He was losing you. Again.

“I’m leaving, Bokuto.” You roughly pulled your hand from his grasp, ignoring his cries for you to please stop, to listen for just a minute longer. “Don’t you dare try to look for me.”

Bokuto whimpered, following you to where you were trying to pick up your bags in your haste of anger. Once again, he tugged at the straps, trying to steal them away from you, but his arms grew weak at the scowl pointed his way.

His breath quickened, and his heart raced. He was panicking, grasping at straws to have to rethink your choice and stay with him so he could apologise for the rest of both of your lives. He’d spend the remainder of eternity begging for your forgiveness if only you’d just stay with him.

But he couldn’t say a word. Not with his blinded panic, and definitely not with the terrible, agonising look you were giving him as you stared back at him.

Was this how you felt when he’d walked out on you last night? Hopeless. Defenseless. As if you weren’t even worth a grain of sand underneath the other’s shoe.

“Lovey, I’m sorry!” Bokuto cried out one more time, hoping that he’d reach out to whatever small piece of love you still held for him. “I said I’m sorry! Please just forgive me, don’t leave me. Please! I’m begging you! Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it a million times over. Just, please,” he quieted to a whisper, just barely reaching your ears, “stay with me, and we can get through this together.”

His face crumpled as he heard your responding scoff.

“There’s no more ‘together’ for us, Bokuto.”

Your words stung — well, they stung as much as a gunshot or a knife to the heart would sting. He pressed on, desperate to get you to hear him out.

“I’m your sunshine, right? Your dovey. Your babe. Your pretty boy. Your Koutarou. Right?” He gripped onto the hem of his shirt, balling his hands into fists. “No matter what you call me, I’m yours. And I always will be. Even if you leave me right now, I’ll never stop looking for you. You know why?”

You stayed silent.

“Because I am just as much your sun as you are mine.”

His words echoed in your mind — that twisted, gnawing feeling came back in your gut. You knew that if you stayed for one more minute, it’d be over for you, and you’d go running back into his arms that always held you so tightly. Into his arms that smelt like home. Into his arms that made you feel like you were on top of the world as long as he was by your side. Into his arms that held onto another once the two of you reached a rough patch.

You made your decision.

“Koutarou…” His head snapped up to look at you, his eyes wide and glittering with a false sense of hope. “I’m sorry. I have to leave.”

There was another feeling growing within Bokuto. It was ugly, festering in the deepest parts of his mind — coming from a place that refused to acknowledge his faults. This feeling, it blamed

you. Why would you hurt him like this? How could you hurt him like this? You said he was your sunshine, your dovey, your Koutarou! How cruel could you be to lead him on, calling him ‘Koutarou’ again? You said you loved him!

“Don’t leave me!” He raised his voice. This feeling was taking over him, and it was angry. “If you leave, I’ll-I’ll…” His voice trailed off as he tried to regain control of himself.

Your brows furrowed. He still had the energy to yell, huh?

“You’ll what?” You took a step toward him. He looked away from you, trying to avoid your burning gaze. “Tell me, Koutarou. What will you do if I leave?”

He shook his head; you knew what that meant — “I won’t say it.”

“You’ll go back to them, won’t you?” you scoffed. “Have fun, Koutarou.”

Adjusting the straps of your bags, you gave him one last glare before moving toward the door once more.

That feeling came back in Bokuto’s mind, and it was stronger than ever. Pounding against the walls he built up, it roared, telling him to make you regret hurting him, make you think twice about leaving him. Bokuto was panicking, his will to beg you to stay was growing weaker as the feeling inside him became increasingly angry at you for causing him so much pain.

He knew he’d regret the next words he’d say to you, but that realisation came a second too late.

“I’ll never forgive you!”

You froze. Turning back around to face him, your eyes narrowed. “What?”

“If you leave me, I’ll never forgive you!”

His eyes were burning into you, a raging fire behind them.

“You’ll never forgive me?” you spat.

As quickly as the fire grew, it was extinguished as Bokuto’s expression morphed into one of shock.

“Wait, baby, I didn’t mean it! I promi–”

Dropping your bags by the door, you strided toward his figure. Pushing him against the wall, you pulled him in by the collar, melding his lips with yours.

The kiss was rough, angry, desperate — an amalgamation of everything you’ve felt in the past few hours going back and forth with Bokuto.

You pushed yourself into the space between his legs as he finally recovered from his shock and tried to match your tempo, his hands pulling you close into his body. Your teeth clashed together, and you had half the mind to bite his tongue in your mouth, but you held back.

Raking your fingers through his hair, you pulled his head back, ignoring his small, pained whine. The offensive mess of red and purple blotches still covered the expanse of his neck. A scowl grew on your face.

Bokuto yelped as he felt your lips latch onto his neck, sucking your own bruises over the ones already existing from his escapade. You were rough, unrelenting in your nearly-primal way of claiming him.

Trying to ignore your satisfaction from hearing his whimpers of your name, you pulled away, looking at your series of marks covering the ones from his other lover. The two of you were left panting — him trying to meet your eyes and you trying to avoid looking at him at all costs.

Leaning into his ear, you placed a gentle bite on his lobe. He tensed ever-so-slightly.

“You’ll never forgive me if I leave?” you hummed.

His hands that were under your shirt, roaming across your back, froze.

“B-Baby, wait, I didn’t–” He tried to plead with you until your next words completely shattered what was left of his broken, battered heart.

“I think I can live with that.”

You quickly backed away from him, evading his attempts to grab at your waist to stop you from leaving, and picked up your bags by the door. Looking back at him one last time, you nearly broke your facade.

After all he’s done, you still loved your Koutarou — no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise — and seeing him on his knees, sobbing, begging you not to leave for the umpteenth time, your will was wearing thin.

“Goodbye, Koutarou.”

The slam of the front door echoed across the remnants of his shattered heart and all he had the strength to do was cry. Pulling at the strands of his hair, he sobbed, begging into the air, weeping with no one to listen to him.

Without you, his world had no sky; everything was bathed in the shadow of your absence.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

tags: @katelyns-stuff @random-fandom-girl-24

[rafescoke]

Brother’s Best Friend ; Rafe Cameron

masterlist

Request: heyy I’ve recently found your account and I just felt in love with the way you write and with your works so I was wondering if you could write a fic where the reader is Kelce’s sister, she’s sitting alone at home and suddenly she hears a doorbell ringing, she comes to open the door and that’s Rafe and she says something like “Kelce’s not home” or smth like that and Rafe answers “I actually came to see you” or smth like that. It can be smut or fluff or whatever I don’t really care. Sorry if this is chaotic but I just want the reader to be black and I have bad ideas lmao 😭 sending love ❤️❤️

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Fooling around with your best friend's sister is not a good sign, especially when it involves something more than skinny dipping and drinking alcohol together.

Warnings: Slight smut, mentions of drinking, slight angst, teasing Rafe Cameron

A/N: I'm so close to 700 followers wtf y'all are truly amazing ily! I'm finishing all requests in my inbox for the new few days; thank you to those who put their trust in me to write their ideas <33

(Y/N) could never deny the attraction she felt towards a certain brunette boy with that charming smile.

The feeling evolved for the first time when he came over to her house to see Kelce. He was so polite to her; giving her a turn on passing the ball and scolding Kelce and Topper for not wanting to give her a chance at playing basketball in the swimming pool.

But she was only 8 back then, and she regarded the feeling as nothing more than a silly crush.

Rafe Cameron changed when he entered high school. (Y/N) couldn't explain what was wrong, but he was not her Rafe anymore. He didn't hold the door for her, scold Kelce for making fun of her or do anything that used to make her heart soar.

Her thoughts were disrupted when a fresh blue towel hit her squarely on the face, causing her to yelp in shock.

"Do you wanna come down to the lake with us?"

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, pulling the towel to her side, and closed her magazine with a snap. Her eyes fell back to the three guys, lingering on the tallest one a little bit too long.

She cleared her throat, "No, I'm tired."

Kelce shrugged, walking towards the entrance of their home from the swimming pool. He didn't feel like having (Y/N) around anyways, because that would mean he would have to protect her from his friends.

Kelce loved his friends, of course, but he also knew the other side of them that uses girls like Kleenex tissue only to throw them away again.

"On a second thought-" (Y/N) said, stopping the three boys from entering the big house. "I think I'll go."

"You sure?" Kelce asked. God. Now he would have to play the big-brother stimulator for the whole night.

The night sky was dark, and the only light came from the moonlight up above and sometimes from the flashlight of each other's phone. Boozes laid messily on the wooden deck and their clothes were discarded all over the place.

Not one person was sober, and they were all laughing to a joke by Topper.

"Okay, okay, last one-" Topper said excitedly. He shivered, and (Y/N) thought about it as a response towards the cold lake water or the excited nerves of sharing another stupid joke. "Why did the chicken cross the road?"

"Easy. To get to the other side," Rafe answered proudly. A beer drop slid down from his lips to his chin, and (Y/N) felt a strong desire to lick it.

"Wrong."

"Okay, fine, I don't know."

Topper smiled widely, and (Y/N) could see this joke coming from a few miles away. "To get to the loser's house. Knock knock."

Rafe pulled a face, his eyebrows raised. "Who's there?"

"The chicken."

Kelce and Topper's laugh filled the silence around them, and (Y/N) found herself slightly smiling at the joke. Rafe groaned, finally understanding the joke and being angry at himself for willingly taking the bait.

"Okay, okay. The joke's over."

Kelce laughed again before taking a full swig of another beer bottle. He stared at the sky, and let out a loud huff.

"Wish we can go up there."

"Me too, man," Topper agreed. He joined Kelce by staring up at the dark sky, both clearly high out of their minds.

"Do you want to?"

(Y/N) looked to her side, not noticing Rafe who had moved from his previous position near Topper to beside her. She quirked her head to one side, her face questioning.

"Go up to the sky," he explained. He watched as she looked up to the sky, her mouth slightly parting. Her chest heaved peacefully, and her wet body donning the lilac bikini never looked so beautiful and perfect.

"Nah. I'm too scared."

"Even when I'll go with you?" he smiled. (Y/N) rolled her eyes, though her heart was soaring brightly; she would never feel scared anymore if he were to be around her all the time.

"Yeah. Even when you’ll go with me. Besides, it's not possible."

"Let people enjoy things," he said, and he was so close to her now because she could smell the coffee mint from his breath. Her heart was beating wildly, though this would be the ten-thousandth time he did this to her.

It never failed to leave her completely breathless.

"You're drooling," he whispered, and used his thumb to wipe her wet lips from the beer. Her breath hitched, and she couldn't utter any words back. She was too mesmerised with the whole situation.

His fingers stopped at her chin, looking into her eyes, and he was petrified too. He leaned in, but before anything could happen, (Y/N) moved away. He cleared his throat, and swam back to the deck.

‘I’m drunk’ was repeated by him all the way to the the place he threw his clothes off, shaking his head at the thought that he was so close to kissing her. He looked back to her direction in the lake, still staring at him. He focused back on the ties of his shorts, and made his way back to the Kelce’s house.

He ignored his best friends calls.

. . .

(Y/N) never really liked school, but she loved the after-activity that she got herself in.

Like cheerleading.

She used to think of the sport as something quirky, but in truth, once she was accepted into the school’s cheerleading team, she had never been more into a sport than before.

She walked down the field to the other side of the track where the other girls were waiting for her. Her training skirt flew slightly from the wind, and she was trying to hold them down all while carrying the water bottle and a duffle bag.

She exchanged a few greetings with her other friends, putting down her duffle bag and her water bottle. The sun was scorching hot, and all she felt like was eating ice cream inside of their boat whilst streaming down the lake, but the last time she had ditched cheer practice, it hadn’t ended well.

“Uh-oh,” someone exclaimed behind her. “Big bro is coming.”

(Y/N) looked up to the field, and sure enough Kelce was running towards her in his jersey. (Y/N) sighed, not knowing what she did now that could earn her a lecture from Kelce.

“Hey, I’m bringing a girl home after practice,” he said. “Would you mind getting a ride with someone else?”

She groaned, “Fuck, Kelce, no. You can tell your new scandal to fuck off because I am not getting an Uber to walk back to home.”

“Look, please? You can ask your friends to give you a ride, right? It’s important,” he begged. His eyes were scanning her friends now, obviously trying to find someone who could help his sister, and when he found one, his smile quirked upwards. “Yo, Sarah! Can you drive (Y/N) home after practice?”

Sarah walked towards them, her blonde hair up in a ponytail. She slung her arms around (Y/N)’s shoulders, noting the exasperated expression on her face, and gave Kelce a glare.

“You should let her drive a car if you’re going to bring a girl home after school,” she said. Kelce groaned, knowing the amount of shit he will be getting from the people around him, but he was truly trying to make it right for this new girl.

“Look, I’ll buy y’all anything for a week. Food? Sure. Clothes? Sure.”

Sarah clapped her hands, seemingly excited, and forced (Y/N) to say yes. She wouldn’t mind driving (Y/N) home, because she wanted to catch up with her about some gossip too.

“Fine. But I’m driving my own car tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” was all he said before he jogged down to the soccer team.

That evening was hell to (Y/N). She couldn’t get the formation right, the sun was getting hotter and hotter, her hair was sticking out weirdly, and worst of all, she couldn’t stop thinking about yesterday’s event.

He was so, so close to her.

“(Y/N), come on! What’s gotten into you? The top part, again!” The coach yelled, slapping her hands against her lap. There were sweat forming on her forehead, and she was obviously hot and bothered from this whole situation.

But sport was sport. The coach wasn’t going to let today’s training to waste, and she intended for the new number to work.

(Y/N) muttered a soft ‘sorry’ before going back to her position, her heart still thumping at the thought. The cheer started, and her mouth was saying the words, but her brain was somewhere else.

The two guys by her side picked her up by her calf, and she felt the wind gushing out from beside her ears. She was high up in the sky now, throwing one arm upwards and balancing herself on one leg, and it was finally time now, to twirl into the two boys’ arms, but she wasn’t ready. Her mouth didn’t utter any words from the cheer, too focused on the step, and before she could jump back into their arms, she felt herself slipping.

“(Y/N)!” The coach yelled, running towards her by the track. Sarah and the other teammates were surrounding her now, watching as she groaned on the ground painfully, holding onto her arms.

“Okay, I take that as the end of today’s training,” the coach said, sighing. “(Y/N), are you okay? Can you walk?”

(Y/N) held her thumbs up, because she had worse injury than this before. Hell, the boxing fight she used to have with Kelce in their childhood was more painful. She sat up from the track, feeling the heat of the ground burning on her bottoms, and stretched her fingers. The pain coursed through her veins at the feeling, but kinda liked it.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” Sarah said, helping her up. She groaned when she finally stood on her two feet, feeling so painful all she wanted to do was lay back on the track, but she knew she had to go home.

She allowed Sarah helping her limp towards a black Mercedes, her eyes closed the whole time.

Okay, scratch the fight with Kelce. This one was more painful than ever.

“Can I stay at your house?” She blurted when Sarah drove out of the school gate. “I don’t feel like listening to my mom’s lecture about my leg.”

Sarah glanced at her from the rearview mirror, watching as she spread her leg out the whole backseat. The ice bag someone had gotten her was pressed against her calf, and she was sweating from the heat and trying to contain the pain.

“Yes, of course, that would be better,” Sarah said. She had other plans that evening, but helping (Y/N) overstepped all of them.

“So what’s up with you and John B?”

Sarah turned to look at her fully on her face, furrowing her eyebrows. “What do you know about John B?”

(Y/N) laughed, “The light’s green.” Just on cue, the car behind them horned at Sarah, and she quickly pushed on the pedal.

“How do you know about John B?” Sarah asked, biting her lips. If (Y/N) could find out, she couldn’t imagine what would Rafe do if he finds out.

“God, don’t be worried. I’m not going to tell anyone about this, okay? Just relax. I think it’s cute.”

Sarah’s worried expression softened, “You think so?”

“Yeah. At least you got to be with whoever you want. Some people can’t have that.”

Like her. Kelce would kill her and dump her body in the ocean for the sharks if he ever finds out how much she likes Rafe.

“You’ll find the one soon. How about that guy in your maths class?” The car turned to the right, nearing the destination.

“No. I’m not looking for anyone.”

There’s only one, but Sarah won’t like the answer.

The time was 8.23p.m. now, and (Y/N) had been in Sarah’s room for a total of 3 hours. After catching up on new gossips, watched a movie, did her English essay, she felt extremely dehydrated.

Sarah was sleeping peacefully beside her, being so tired after the practice and school, and (Y/N) didn’t feel like waking her up. She have been to The Camerons household, but that was only for Sarah’s birthday party a few years back.

She sighed, getting up from the bed to find the kitchen. The house was like a maze, and she wished they had some kind of a map to browse through.

Alas, she found the kitchen, her muscles screaming from all the wrong turns she took before. She knew where the plastic cups and plates were situated, having to help Sarah get them during her birthday party, so she didn’t have any trouble getting some.

She drank the cold water quickly, feeling the liquid sloshing down her throat. The feeling was so, so good that she wished she could go through it again.

“I do not know where your sister is, Kelce,” a voice sighed not far from the kitchen. “I told you you shouldn’t bring that girl home and just drive (Y/N) home yourself.”

The voice, unmistakably Rafe, was getting nearer and nearer. (Y/N)’s eyes widened, trying to find an empty space to hide in, but there were none. She panicked, still looking for a way out that she didn’t notice the tall figure behind her.

“Oh. Found you.”

His hair was dishevelled and wet, his chest heaving and he was shirtless.

What a nice way to bump onto each other.

“Take a picture,” he started, shutting his phone off and placing them in his shorts. “It’ll last longer that way.”

Now we’re talking about the new Rafe.

(Y/N) scoffed, pushing him away and making a disgusted face at his sweat sticking on her arms. “I’m here for Sarah.”

“Why? Did she die or something?”

God. He really is insufferable.

She made to push him away to return to Sarah’s room, only for him to grab her by her waist.

“Move.” Her tone was stern, but her stomach was flipping wildly. She tried to not look so bothered, but failed miserably.

Rafe seemed to notice her behaviour because he didn’t let go of her. “Come on, where’s the fun in that?”

She was on the same level as his neck now, and he could still smell his expensive cologne even after he swam in the swimming pool. She sighed, placing her hands against his chest.

“Move.”

Rafe laughed, putting his hands up in defeat, and went to grab the same glass she was drinking from. He refilled the glass and downed the content, and (Y/N) had to look away from the innocent move.

Maybe he was just saving water by not using a different cup.

“Do you need help to return to Sarah’s room or something?”

“No, I’m fine,” she refused, and made sure he could see her fake annoyed expression before she returned to the hall she came from. But there were 2 halls now, and she completely forgot which one she had been before.

“Really?” Rafe stood beside her, and she looked up to his amused face. “Because you’re in the wrong hall. It’s the other exit of the kitchen, darling.”

. . .

Why couldn’t she not see his face every single day?

It was truly troubling her, to see that boy everyday, because she couldn’t think properly every time.

The lights from the stadium blared widely, and the deafening screaming coming from both teams’ supporters rang throughout the whole field. (Y/N) was sure the whole island could hear them too.

Two things happened earlier than evening. Number one, her skirt wasn’t completely dried after being sent off to the laundry for a week, and her hair wasn’t just cooperating.

So here she was; in a shorter uniform skirt, her hair hung up into a ponytail with lots of hairspray. She wished for nothing but to be all cuddled up with her blanket in her room.

“You’re okay?” Sarah asked. She fixed (Y/N)’s lips gently, getting the lipstick and lipliner even, and gave her a kiss on the cheeks. “Don’t worry about the skirt. It looks normal.”

For a little girl.

(Y/N) sighed and involuntarily pulled down the hem of her skirt. Ten minutes from the game now, and she was nervous she would flash everyone on the school compound.

In the locker room, Rafe was sitting right next to Kelce as his best friend prayed for a win tonight. He was never that religious, and he didn’t feel the need to mutter a prayer to anyone. But tonight, he listened intently to whatever Kelce was saying because he needed to win this cup more than anything in the world.

“You’re okay?” The coach asked, patting him on the shoulder.

“Yeah. Just nervous.”

“Don’t be, you’re the Star Player. Right?”

The Star Player.

Rafe gave him a smile, and went back to his praying.

When he first entered the field to meet the rival team, his eyes couldn’t help but scanned the bleachers to find his dad. Ward wasn’t there, but Rose and Wheezie were cheering for him.

Of course.

He sighed, and went straight to the middle of the field. It’s funny how everyone was there to support him, Rafe, the Star Player, the jock, the whatever else people were saying about him.

He just wanted Ward to see him.

“Come on, man, it’s fine,” Topper said, patting his back. “He’ll come later.”

Even his friends could see how miserable he was feeling.

The first match of the game went smoothly; he scored a try goal, everyone was cheering loudly, but it was just then that one of the opponents came knocking Rafe by his side.

Rafe fell to the ground with a loud thud, earning so many gasps from the stand.

“What the fuck?!” Topper pushed whoever responsible for his fall, and the sound of a whistle rang throughout the air. “He pushed him for nothing! You saw it, fuck!”

Rafe groaned on the ground, clutching onto his arms, and he tried to spread his fingers, but couldn’t. His other teammates were surrounding him now, trying to get a good look of him, all while Topper and Kelce and another friend of his went off to the referee.

Rafe put his other hand up, trying to sit up. “I’m fine, I’m fine! Move!”

The other members scattered away, sighing in relief when Rafe came back to his legs. The referee, still getting yelled at by Topper, shook his head at something he said, and before anyone could process what happened, Topper tackled the opponent who had pushed Rafe down to the ground.

Kelce pulled Topper away after a few long seconds, telling him to stop. But one thing about Topper is that he just won’t stop.

“Stupid fuck!” He yelled, throwing another punch.

“Topper, stop, they’re going to throw you off the field!” Kelce yelled. Finally, he separated them away after the opponent’s friend pulled his injured friend away.

The referee, expectedly, pulled a red card to Topper, earning a groan coming from their coach and the stand. Rafe cursed, knowing that Topper’s one of their strongest member. He watched as Topper tried to argue with the referee, but it was no use.

“It’s okay,” Kelce said, patting his back as he made his way back to the bench. “Relax, bro, okay?” Topper calmed down after the coach said something to him, but Rafe could clearly see the distress written on his face.

“You’re okay?” Kelce asked, pointing to his arms.

Rafe could move his muscles now though he could feel the sharp pain from doing so. But he was too content on winning this game.

(Y/N) watched as the second match unfold, her teeth biting into her lips in fear. She didn’t feel like having the next week full of gloomy students and disappointed teachers, so she wanted the cup as much as everyone else.

Rafe was fast, throwing the ball smoothly back and forth with Kelce and his other friends, but it was apparent that the Star Player wasn’t feeling like himself.

It might be the arm, or the fact that Ward Cameron was too busy with his work to see his son playing.

37 minutes had passed, and the other team was leading. They only had 3 minutes left, and with the team being so drained out and their captain with a broken arm, it was clear who was winning.

The whistle blared through the field again, noting the end of the match. As the other team supporters cheered happily the other side of the stands muttered silently to each other about the game.

(Y/N) watched as Rafe yelled something at his teammates angrily before storming off to the locker room. He winced in pain, holding his arm for support, and ignored every calls from his friends as he made his way to the empty room.

Looking around quickly, she muttered a ‘be right back’ to Sarah, and quickly followed Rafe into the locker room. She wanted to see if he was okay, and if he needed help with his arm.

In truth, she just wanted to be there for him.

“Hey,” she slowly said, and Rafe’s head perked up to see her before he looked down to the ground again.

“What do you want?”

She felt a struck of pain across her heart at his tone, but decided against it. “Are you okay?”

“Fine. You’re not supposed to be here.”

“I was just trying to see if you need anything,” she said, and when his eyes finally looked up to her again, she unconsciously pulled her skirt down again.

“Yeah? I don’t need anything. Go!”

“Wow, you’re a dick,” she scoffed, and before Rafe could mutter anything back, she exited the locker room and straight to the cheer team. She felt a mixture of anger and embarrassment all at once, because God, Rafe Cameron did not just yell at her for trying to be nice.

She should’ve known better than to be ‘nice’ to him. He wasn’t the same 8 year old she met 10 years ago.

. . .

A week had passed from the game, and everything went back to normal.

Except for one person.

Rafe didn’t come to school the next Monday, not that (Y/N) wanted to see him after getting yelled at, but she couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

He didn’t just broke his arm; his father also chose not to attend his game.

It was finally Friday, and (Y/N) was too happy to stay home and continue watching Love Island. Life is better when you are focused on someone else’s relationship other than yours.

She was rolling in her bed, casually smiling at the cheesy joke made by one of the contestant, and before she could hear the reply towards the joke, the doorbell blared throughout the house.

(Y/N) groaned, thinking how Kelce must’ve forgotten his keys again, and waited a few more minutes so that he would just leave her alone and go to that stupid prick, Rafe Cameron’s house.

But the doorbell rang again, and she had no choice but to open the door. She was all alone in the big house, having both her parents still working and her maids having the day off.

But when she opened the door, the boy standing before her was the last person she wanted to see.

“Hi,” Rafe said.

“Kelce’s not here,” she mumbled, and pushed the door close. Rafe’s quickly put his hands to block the door from closing, and (Y/N) pulled away after deciding not to crush his other only working hands.

“What?” She asked, in the same tone that he had given her in the locker room. She felt good when his eyebrows were raised.

“I’m here for you.”

“Why? Did I die or something?” Bingo.

“God, you’re impossible,” Rafe sighed. “Can I talk to you? Just us two?”

(Y/N) sighed, wanting to get this done, and opened the door wider to grant him into her home. (Y/N) closed the door and pressed her back against it, crossing her arms.

“Okay. Talk.”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” He said. “I was just so angry with everything. I was pushed and Topper received a red card because of me—”

“You didn’t do anything, Rafe.”

“Yeah, but he was just trying to protect me. And, and I was just so mad at myself because I couldn’t play properly like I usually play. I’m so sorry for yelling at you. I didn’t mean it.”

(Y/N) sighed, “It’s okay. I’m over it.”

“Really?” He stepped closer, and this time, (Y/N) allowed him. “Thank you so much!”

He pulled her into a crushing hug, and before she could put her mind into it, he lifted her up and spin her around.

“Okay, okay, now you’re just pushing it,” she groaned, hitting him on his chest. “Put me down, Rafe, I swear to god.”

Rafe put her down, his face shining happily. They were close again, like that time in the lake, and (Y/N) didn’t feel like pushing him away again.

Because maybe, that 8 year old him was somewhere in there.

“Uh—” he looked away, scratching the back of his head. “Do you wanna. . . watch Netflix?”

(Y/N) cleared her throat, “I was watching Love Island. Wanna watch with me?”

Rafe nodded, anything to get closer with this girl, and followed her upstairs to her room. The first time he entered her room was 9 years ago, and it was only because Topper and Kelce had pranked him into thinking that her room was the gaming room.

“What are you doing?” The girl before him yelled, and before he could explain how he was lied to, she threw a pink hairbrush at him. He groaned from the pain, rubbing his head.

“I’m sorry, I thought this was the gaming room!”

“Out!” She yelled, and he quickly obliged.

Her room was still pink, but it was now filled with so many books, clothes and makeups instead of the dollhouse and toys he saw a few years ago.

“Is this the pink hairbrush you threw at me?” He laughed, holding the pink tool. (Y/N) snatched the hairbrush, embarrassed, and quickly stuffed them into the drawers.

He placed himself beside her on her bed, watching her as she resumed the video. He focused on the show, trying to find at least something interesting from the show, but there was nothing.

2 episodes later, he was too into the show that he pressed on the stop button before they could continue on the next episode.

“I wish they would just communicate,” he said. “Like the whole show’s pointless. They didn’t try to talk to each other about their problems.”

“Yeah, that’s what makes the show interesting, Rafe,” she said as if that was a fact, “And besides, if they communicate, everyone will win the show.”

“Then that’s just good. A win-win situation.”

“You don’t get it,” she groaned, looking into his face. “There’s no use in fighting with you about this.”

She pressed on the resume button again, and instantly, Rafe pressed on the stop button.

“Rafe, I will—”

“You still haven’t apologised for throwing the hairbrush at me.”

She widened her eyes, “That was 9 years ago.”

“And?”

“Fine,” she placed her laptop aside, and turned to fully look him in the face. “Sorry.”

“Not sincere enough.”

She groaned, “Rafe, I am terribly sorry for throwing my pink hairbrush at you. I am so sorry that it hit your face and be the reason why you’re still holding vengeance at someone.”

“I’m not talking about that kind of sorry.”

“Fuck, you’re annoying,” she said. “I’m not going to bow down to you or anything.”

“Just a kiss.”

She looked at him back, her heart stopping at his words. “No.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because you’re Rafe?”

“Rafe? Okay, fine. I’m not Rafe. I’m Rafael.”

“Okay, it’s still a no. You’re Kelce’s best friend.”

“Didn’t you kiss Topper last year?”

“That was a dare—” she sighed. “And it didn’t mean anything.”

“Exactly. This won’t mean anything. This is just a sorry.”

It would mean everything to her to place her lips against his.

“This is sexual harassment.”

“Not if you want it too,” he said, and leaned closer to her. “And you do want it, right? I can see it in your eyes.”

She didn’t know why God would put her and Rafe in this damn position over and over again, because it wasn’t helping her to get over him.

She looked down to his lips, and how it was so inviting, and she wanted more than anything to kiss him, to finally give herself to him, but she was afraid.

“Rafe—”

“Shut up,” he cut her off, and pressed himself against her. Their kiss was slow and passionate, none like neither (Y/N) or Rafe had experienced before. Her hands found themselves wrapping around Rafe’s neck, pulling him closer.

He pulled away, grinning. “I thought you didn’t want this.”

“Shut up.” She rolled her eyes, and pulled him in for another kiss again.

He pushed her down onto the bed gently, still kissing her, and his hands were roaming down her body. She was so, so perfect and every time he saw her, he would have to look away to stop the unwanted thoughts forming in his head.

During the game last Friday, he had to pinch himself from staring at her legs in that goddamn skirt for too long.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he whispered, and she hummed in response before pushing him over so she could take control. She sat on top of him, grinning widely. She was in heaven; seeing him all worked up under her with his chest heaving.

“You would be surprised at the amount of times I imagined myself on top of you like this,” she said, placing her hands flat on top of his chest.

Rafe grinned back, trying to contain his feelings. “Yeah? Wanna show what else you’ve been imagining?”

She leaned closer, making sure to brush her bottom against him and hearing his soft groans. She placed a soft kiss against his cheek, and whispered into his ear.

“Would rather have you show what you’ve been dreaming of me.”

Rafe licked his lips, loving this side of her, and he wanted more than anything to make her his. She looked so innocent sitting there on top of him, smiling and biting her lips.

Before he could touch her in ways he never did to a girl before, a voice rang from outside the room.

“(Y/N)? Have you seen Rafe? I saw his car outside,” the voice said. After a few seconds of silence, he sighed. “You’re okay? I’m coming in, okay?”

“No, no, wait!” (Y/N) shouted, scrambling from her position on top of Rafe as he quickly pulled her up, but it was too late.

Kelce saw them in the midst of trying to get away, with his sister’s leg on one side of his best friend and his best friend’s hands still around his sister’s waist.

“What. The. Fuck.”

-

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