#specifically i’m worried about work when it gets really hot this summer.. i might see if i can find some light trousers or something

[fingertipsmp3]

Nearly done sorting my clothes out lads!!!!

[sun-bleached-flies0]

scene from wlw summer romance w.i.p

This is not edited by the way. Just giving you the warning now.

On a day where there was a strong breeze and only Dillon and Max were down by the water, Layla and I took the paddleboard out onto the water and headed toward the island. She asked me a random question as we were getting closer. I was paddling this time, her on her back. 

“What do you like?” Layla asked. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Sorry, I guess that wasn’t specific. I mean, what do you like in romance?” 

“I still don’t understand, I said.” 

Layla laughed to herself. “My mouth and brain don’t want to work properly today. Give me a minute.” 

I did, and by the time she was ready to speak I had gotten us to the island. The paddleboard was secured in between the rocks, and I helped Layla up. 

“I don’t want to do anything wrong, so how about you tell me what you don’t like your partners doing in romantic relationships?” 

“Oh,” is the first thing I responded with. I hadn’t been in a relationship before, something she already knew. Now I had to be given a minute. 

We sat on our rock, overlooking the lake and seeing our house in the distance. “This might seem obvious, but I don’t like being told what to eat, or being told to eat in general.” 

Layla’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Same! I never understood how people don’t get annoyed when their partner is like ‘When was the last time you ate meh meh meh’.” 

“Yeah. I understand sometimes it’s like a concern if the person is feeling dizzy, but that’s coupled with other questions. ‘Do you need to eat something? Do you need water? Do you need to lie down?’ Those kinds of questions, you know?” 

“Totally,” she nodded in agreement. I felt very pleased we were having this conversation. “I never understood how in movies, and it’s always a woman and a man, how the guy will be so serious when he’s like ‘you need to eat you need to eat’ when I’m sitting there and I’m like ‘bitch! You don’t know what I want! Let me tell you so you can help me!” 

I fell into a small fit of laughter with her, lying on my back. I remembered to put on extra sunscreen, so I wasn’t worried about being burned on my stomach. 

“What else do you not like?” Layla asked. 

I looked up at the sky as I spoke. “Hmm. My partners assuming that I like things. I don’t mind being asked questions. Sometimes I think it’s hot.” I couldn’t help but blush after admitting that last part. 

“That makes sense. Wow, you and I are more alike than I thought.” 

“You wondered about these things before?” I asked, curious and not accusatory. That would have been hypocritical of me because of course I was thinking about her too. 

“Yep. You make it more obvious though.” 

Subscribed

A wave of embarrassment went over me. “Really?” 

“I see your stares. All those looks you gave me during dinner. Even when I first saw you, I knew something was up. You kind of looked like a scared rabbit if I’m being honest.” 

“Don’t tell me these things!” I whined, but Layla was laughing. I ended up laughing with her. “Okay, yes. I have a staring problem. Can it be your turn now?” 

“With what I don’t like?” Layla asked. I nodded ‘yes’. “Hmm. I’d say surprises. I don’t like them ‘cause they can mean change. Like a change of plans in my day. I need to know when parties or things like that are going to happen so I can prepare.” 

“I’m like that too. It takes me a while to get used to change.” 

Suddenly, Layla sat up and scooted herself closer to me. I turned to her, and now we were directly across from each other. She was directly across from me. She reached out her right hand, taking my chin and brought my lips to hers. She kissed me hard, and I accepted it. 

“God, it’s like you were made for me,” Layla whispered against my lips. 

“I like to think that I was,” I said in return, grinning at her. 

We stayed on that island for a little while longer, talking about nothing until it was time for lunch. I could see Mom standing at the end of the diving board, waving her arms as a way to signal us back to the house. 

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

Middle Back Pain

Fandom: The Amazing Spider-Man (Andrew Garfield TASM)

Pairing: TASM! Peter Parker x Reader

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff​​ aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long​

Rating: M - No sex, but adult themes are discussed and mentioned in brief. This isn’t smut. It’s soft hurt/comfort.

Warnings: Lil’ bit angsty because Peter has trauma (tm), mentions of sex, mentions the possibility of children but never specificed whether biological or adopted so nice and open there, Peter is getting an achy back, 

Summary: Peter always looks after you when you’re not feeling your best, but he’s not so great at accepting it in return. His middle back pain has become more frequent and your worried, you take the issue into your own two hands. 

Notes: Um, I love my boy. Thanks and goodnight. 

“Ah, Jesus…” 

“Pete?” You come out of the bedroom at the sound of his groaning, he’s leaning against the back of the couch with one hand, still in his Spidey suit except for the mask, which is on the couch. His other hand is pressed back against the middle of his back, as he bends and stretches in an attempt to work out a crick that keeps coming back. His notorious middle back pain. He’s only in his twenties, but his back pain has been getting worse and more persistent. Until this point you’ve let him get on with it, helping him stretch and massaging his back when you can. But, you know he probably needs to see a professional about it. “Hey, baby…I’m okay, really.” He waves you off, head tilted back as he gasps at the twinge in his back. You close the gap between you, taking his face in your hands and brushing your fingers across his cheeks in an effort to soothe his discomfort. He leans into you like you’re a fresh breeze on a boiling hot summer day. It worries you, a lot, how much Peter hurts sometimes. In these normal ways particularly. A cut you can see, it’ll heal and it’ll be gone, but the persistence of his back ache has you worried because you have no idea if it's more serious than just an ache.  

“Is it your back again?”

“Yeah, I must have over done the whole swinging thing today…Ah..” Your hands glide down from his face over his shoulders to press over his own on his back, pushing his own hands out of the way, you feel for the tension in the middle of his back. Tight like stone rather than muscle, so hard you almost feel the pain yourself. 

“Peter, sweetheart…” You start to rub little circles into the muscle, watch as the smallest bit of relief fills Peter’s face, his brows softening, his face slacking. But, you know it’d be better if you got him to lie down on your bed and had a proper go at tackling it. He needs a wash too, he’s clearly been thrown about tonight, face covered in dirt and suit covered in it too. He looks like he’s been up a chimney. 

“Oh nooo, you never call me that unless i’m not gonna like it…” Your hands still as he looks down at you. You have that look on your face, the one Peter knows means that you’re about to tell him to do something that he might not want to do. Always because you care about him, always because you worry. 

“Have you considered that maybe, just putting the idea out there, maybe your bad back isn’t from the swinging…but from all the falling and crashing into cars and buildings that you do?”

“What? I don’t…baby, I don’t fall and crash into things that much I mean…” Okay, so maybe he fell through a couple of buildings today and last week…and the week before that and before that…but, his back is a temporary issue, Peter’s sure of it. It’s not serious, he’s still fit enough to carry you in his arms, toss you over his shoulder, and make love to you like the youthful twenty-six year old that he is. He’s not incapable, he’s fine. He’s fine and he’s not getting old. 

You can see him getting his back up, all defensive, as he pulls away from your hands. He’s never liked admitting he needs help or that there’s a problem, always needing to be capable, in fear of people leaving, abandoning him. You’re not going to run away because his back hurts, but you know deep down he’s scared you might, he’s scared you might not need him or want him anymore. He’s scared that when he starts needing your help, you’ll leave because it’s too much effort. It’s silly because you never would. You love him and his rickety back. You love looking after him and making him feel loved. But you also know that he still needs to learn that, to move past the trauma of being abandoned at his Aunt and Uncle’s house. The trauma of being the kid no one really liked much in school. The trauma of two of the people he loved most dying and leaving him alone. You see a lot of your own fears in Peter, it’s why you never run away from it, because you understand that something as small as admitting his back is a problem might seem like a bigger issue entirely. He’s always the capable one, always the one everyone needs to solve his problems, if he can’t do that? You know he wonders if people will stick around. 

“Last week you crashed through the grocery store, then fell on a taxi and got thrown through a bus…a bus, Peter….Just, you’re not getting younger and…” You reach for him as he pulls away, knowing he wants you to follow. He wants you to persist, to prove to him you’re not fed up with him. So you grab his hands and interlock your fingers together, holding him close and squeeze his hands a couple of times. 

Peter lets you draw near, stepping into his space. “Baby, are you calling me old?! Do you…are you going to find yourself a younger man, is that it?” It’s said as a joke on his end, but…it’s not really. You’re not that far apart in age, but he feels older and he feels like he’s not as good at loving you anymore. Maybe he’s too much like hard work now…the truth is he's not sure what he would do if you didn’t love him anymore. He loves you so much, so deeply that he can’t imagine a life without you next to him. When he thinks of the future, he sees you and him with rings on your left hands, maybe there’s a couple of kids involved or…or maybe you just get a pet. But, you’re always part of that plan, no one else. The thought of you leaving…it hurts. 

For you, he’s never going to be too much like hard work to love. Loving him feels easy, is easy, even when things get rocky or bumpy. There’s never been a moment when you’ve felt that feeling slip, where it’s disappeared, not even for a second. 

“Peter, I love my older man,” You say as if he’s ten years your senior and not just a year older. As if he’s in his forties and not his twenties. “But, I'm serious. Maybe you should see an actual chiropractor, just so it doesn't get worse. I will love you till the end, but I want you to look after yourself. I’m good, but I’m not a licensed chiropractor, baby.” You wrap your arms around his neck pulling him in for a tight embrace, one you know he needs. 

You’re so warm, so soft, so you. You smell like your favourite perfume and that hair mask you put on when you’re treating yourself. You mold your body against his, so tight there’s barely any gaps between you and he doesn’t mind even when his back twinges a little at the embrace. He’s just happy to hear those words. That you love him, that you’re not stopping. That this is just you making sure he’s okay, not anything else. He loves you, God, Peter loves you. He never thought he’d love again after Gwen and he hopes he never has to love another person again. Just you.  

“Yeah, honey, sure, how am I gonna explain why my back hurts? Oh, yeah, so I'm Spider-Man…and a giant gorilla threw me through a building last week and my back hasn’t been the same since?” Despite the sarcasm, he’s smiling at you, hands slipping into the back pockets of your jeans as he pulls you closer. He can be the most difficult man on earth. 

You roll your eyes at him, always so defiant whenever you suggest professional attention, all in the name of his secret as if lying isn’t an option. It’s not like he told you the truth about all those bruises when you first became friends. You’re beginning to suspect your boyfriend just really doesn’t like seeing doctors or medical professionals. “American football? Rugby? Gymnastics? Maybe you’re an acrobat at a circus? You can’t keep avoiding help, Peter!” You supply some pretty plausible excuses, if you do say so yourself.

“Baby, sweetheart, love of my life, pain in my ass.” he pinches your ass as he says it and you poke him in the stomach and Peter pulls back just a little with a laugh and then a gasp of pain, before his smile drops into something softer as he presses his forehead to yours. “I’m fine. Really. Your back rubs always help and it’s not like you don’t get back ache too. We’re both getting old, two cute old people, together with our achy bones and our little zimmer frames. ”

You try to resist the smile that brings out of you, but it’s impossible. He’s so cute that despite your attempts at stopping it all that happens is your smile comes out scrunched up. “Stop being cute, Pete.” You look away for a moment, composing yourself, before returning to the seriousness at hand. He hates that he can never get you off topic, you’re like a dog with a bone sometimes. Distraction doesn’t work. You’re too smart for that. Your attempt at not smiling is cute though. You’re cute all the time, he thinks. “I just worry…I’m not the one falling on top of cars from a great height.”

“I know you worry. I love you for that, but it’s okay…I’m okay, baby.” He pulls you closer, hands still in your back pockets like you’re in high school and kisses you. It’s sweet and familiar, the way his lips press against your own and his tongue traces your bottom lip lazily. He’s so familiar at this point you’d be able to pick his kiss out from a line up, the way he tastes, the way he always pushes as close to you as he can get, the press of his nose into your cheek, dimpling your skin. Even the way his hands move to grip your hips, firm and secure. You couldn’t mistake Peter Parker’s kiss for anyone else's.

He loves kissing you. You’re a sweet kisser even in the throes of passion, you kiss him like you love him (which you do). You’re gentle with him and constantly drawing him closer, like he’ll never be close enough. He kisses you because loves to, but…there’s a part of him that hopes it’ll distract you from your worry about him. That you’ll let it go. He knows that’s a fool’s errand though. You’ve never let anything go in your entire life, especially not when it comes to caring about him and how he’s doing. Even when he thinks you’ve let it go, you’ve just put it aside for a moment to bring up again later. You’re stubborn like that, it can be a pain, but…he loves it about you too.   

You pull back first and he follows your lips pushing forward and you push him back by the shoulders. He blinks at you with a pout, hands tightening on your hips to drag you back towards him, your next words stop his attempt at kissing you again. A great distraction you know he’s trying to employ. You know all his tricks by now, whether he realises that or not. 

“You hurt anywhere else?” You take the time to look him over, noticing a couple of scratches and a few holes in his suit, easy patches, but the skin underneath is scabbed over and angry. You can’t see anything major, but with Peter it’s hard to tell sometimes. 

“No, not really. Couple of bruises, a couple of scratches, nothing major. I’m fine, I promise, baby.” He can see you cataloguing his body, what might be wrong with him, you have it down to a fine art, often knowing the answer before you ask the question. He knows better than to lie to you or hide anything major, if he did…he knows you’d be angry, he knows it wouldn’t end well, and Peter values your relationship too much to risk it because he’s worried you’ll know about some broken bones or cuts.

You pull back from him, grabbing his hands as you go to remove them from your hips. Peter groans at you, “Babe?” You just smile and lock your fingers together, tugging him towards the bathroom as you go. 

“C’mon, we’re getting you a bath and one of my world famous massages.” He stumbles after you, only now realising just how tired he actually is after a whole day of work and an evening of patrolling the city. His feet ache as you pull him after you. 

“You’re treating me to the whole works tonight, huh? Is it a special occasion? Did I do something?” You sit him on the lid of the toilet when you make it to the bathroom, running your hands through his messy brown strands, trying to tame them for a moment. His deep big brown eyes seem to glitter when he looks up at you like that, a warm flush to his cheeks as he leans into your touch like a cat seeking warm sunlight on a windowsill. 

“Only being your handsome-” you cut yourself off to lean down and press a kiss to the tip of his nose, “funny-” the apple of his cheek, “wonderful-” that spot between his brows that he furrows so much “sweet self.” He’s bright red in the face, even the tips of his ears are warm and you giggle at it, adorable as he can be before pulling yourself away to run him a bath. 

He’s not as fussy as you when it comes to his baths, but you know he needs a nice warm one right now, to help get him clean and limber him up a bit before you have a go at unknotting some of that tension in his back. It’s not an uncommon ritual, but Peter tends to shy away from you caring for him, especially if he could be caring for you instead. He often prefers to give than take, it’s a similar situation in the bedroom too. Always the giver and rarely a willing receiver. 

He watches you as you run the bath for him, sitting on the edge of the tub, running your hand through the water to make sure it’s not too cold or too hot. He can imagine you doing it for your future kids, a small child sitting where he is, waiting for bath time as you check if it's safe for them to go in. He can see you bringing out rubber ducks and bath toys, making up silly scenes for them, can see and almost feel the tender way you’d smooth the top of their hair and press a kiss to it. God, he wants that with you. A family. He wants it so badly he can feel his chest ache with a yearning inside him. 

“What’ya thinking about, Tiger?” 

“Mmm?” Peter shakes his head and refocuses on you, you’re watching him with soft eyes, but scanning his head now as if looking for a bruise or a bump. You push his hair back from his forehead and use it as a pretence, he can feel you searching his head for a bump or cut, any indication that his spacing out isn’t just him being Peter.

“You, you’re thinking hard over here…or are you just concussed?” He shakes his head, no he’s fine. Not a single knock to the noggin’. You seem content when you don’t find any indication of a bump. “What were you thinking about, baby?” 

“Just you…”

“Just me?” You feel warmth run through you, a little smiling tugging at the corners of your mouth as Peter watches you. There’s a little guarded look behind his eyes as he continues, like he’s worried he’s going to say the wrong thing. 

“And maybe…” You reach for his hand and squeeze, just enough to remind him who he’s talking to. You’ve seen him covered in blood, barely standing. Nothing he could say would make you run away. “You can tell me, Pete, have I run off yet?”  He shakes his head no. No. You’ve been here the whole time, staunchly loyal and so very, very wonderful to him. Even with nightmares and traumas and worries. Even with villains and robbers. “I just…I was thinking about h-how I'd..I'd like to have a family with you one day.”

He gets twitchy when you don’t respond immediately. You’ve pulled back a bit, a look of surprise on your face, those eyebrows of yours so high up he’s worried he’s given you a heart attack. His shoulders drop in relief when that look turns into a soft grin, your teeth showing from between your lips, eyes glittering. 

“Really? You want kids? With me?” You’ve thought about it. Yeah, of course you’ve thought about it, but Peter…you’d always thought he’d be reluctant, worried about the safety of a family and his double life. You’d let the hope sit in the back of your mind and tried not to dwell on it too much. 

“Yeah, if…if you want that…someday…” 

“If you play your cards right, Parker, yeah, I'd like that.” You’re both grinning at each other like idiots, even as you turn the taps off to the bath and pull him to his feet.

Peter struggles out of the suit today, more so than usual. His back twinging and screaming at him as he tries to shuck it off. Your hands help pull the top half over his shoulders and head, even as every muscle yells at him to stop moving. He struggles to bend, so you help him roll the bottoms off along with the shoes. You’re careful with him, taking your time. When he’s finally free of the suit it’s a relief and you urge him into the tub as you remove your own clothes.

He scoots forward, a hard feat with his long legs, as you step in behind him, wrapping your hips around his from behind. 

“You can lean back, baby. Let me take care of you, okay?”

He doesn’t really have much energy to argue as you pull him back against your chest gently. Your hands brushing back his hair and roaming over his shoulders. He can’t help but sigh loudly, the water is warm and it soothes some of that ache in his back. Your hands are gentle as you grab the bar of soap off the side and run it over his skin. 

Peter loves taking care of you, but sometimes, he has to admit that it’s nice to be taken care of too. 

You’re gentle with each cut and bruise as you run soapy hands over his body. Dirt and dry blood washed away into the water, like worries drifting away from his mind. You take extra care with his hair, pushing his legs forward and leaning him back gently, mindful of his backache as you cup water to pour over his hair. You take your time lathering and massaging the shampoo into his locks, and it’s impossible for him to keep his eyes open as your nails drag across his scalp and down to the base of skull, working at a couple of knots there. 

You don’t need to spend ten minutes washing his hair, carding your fingers through brown strands and massaging against his scalp, you both know that, but you do it anyway because you know he loves it. Peter melts whenever you touch his hair, it’s the same for you too, something so intimate and tender about it all. He doesn’t always let you take care of him, so you make the most of the opportunity while you can. 

He feels practically boneless by the time he’s fully clean and the water has run cold, other than that awful sharp tension in his back that hasn’t gone away, only dulled slightly by the warmth of the water. 

Peter doesn’t want to move, to get out of the water, but you force him out anyway and dry him off with a towel. He’d normally insist he can dry himself, but he feels heavy and you smile softly at him when he lets you do this sort of thing. 

He follows you to your shared bed, hand being tugged by yours , urging him forward despite his heavy steps until you encourage him to lie down on the bed on his front. He falls more than anything. Letting gravity force him face first onto the bed, before you urge him to scoot up higher so his legs don’t dangle off the end. Ridiculously long as they are. 

He hears the click of your knuckles as you crack your fingers, feels the weight of you as you straddle his hips and sit down gently on his thighs. It’s vulnerable like this, his body bare, his face hidden in your pillow that smells like your shampoo, his back turned to you. His trust in you is implicit, he doesn’t doubt you have his best interests at heart, that you love him or that he’s safe with you. 

You take a moment to admire his back. The strong muscles carved from every swing through the city, every punch thrown. He has beauty marks and freckles dotted over his skin like constellations of stars and you reach out a finger tip and trace a few, smirking at the shiver that runs through his back at the light touch. 

“Someone’s sensitive,” You tease him, as you lean forward breathing warm air across the back of his neck, before placing a delicate kiss at the base of his skull.

His voice is muffled in the pillow, “Not funny, m’too tired for that, baby.” 

“I know, tiger…I know.” You have no intention of having sex with Peter tonight. He’s far too tired and you’re far too concerned about his back to suggest any rigorous activity. No matter how handsome he is. 

Every touch from that moment on is innocent and meaningful. There are no more teases or light strokes as you make your way down his back, searching for every tight spot and point of pain in need of your attention. 

His shoulders are tense, rock solid underneath your hands and you're careful not to hurt him, but apply a bit more pressure there than his upper back. Peter groans and preens under your hands, sounds of relief more than anything else and you feel pride when you feel his body relax underneath you bit by bit, muscles unwinding and unfurling. 

His mid and lower back are a mess of tight knots of muscle and tension, worse than you’ve ever felt it before. It worries you, but you know you just need to persist with bugging him about it, know that all you can do for now is put your less skilled hands to the task of easing his discomfort. Until he accepts defeat and visits a professional. 

He’s always loved you, but it’s moments like this where his heart feels so full of affection for you and how you take care of him, moments like this where the thought of marrying you is so strong and overwhelming that he has to bite his tongue, lest he ask the question without the fanfare you deserve. 

“Fuck, you have magic hands, baby.” He feels more relaxed than he’s ever been. The ache in his back subdued by your hands, he doesn’t ever want to move. 

“I know, you say that everytime, webhead.” You’re careful as you make your way off of him and pull the covers back from underneath him, with very little help from Peter himself. He’s rather boneless, only having enough energy to roll onto his back and kick his feet under the covers. 

You’re quick to join him, curling up to his side and resting your head in the crook of his neck. He smells like soap and shampoo, clean, fresh. His skin is warm beneath your cheek, his arm is heavy and comforting as it wraps around your waist and pulls you tighter into him, your legs twisting and locking together. The weight of you against him, the feel of your lips pressing a kiss to his skin, is a massive comfort. 

“Thank you for taking care of me.” He mumbles it into the top of your head, a kiss pressed against your hair in those last moments before the two of you fall asleep. 

“I’ll always take care of you, Pete. That’s my job.” It’s a promise, he knows it, but as always it’s heavy and too meaningful for him not to make a joke about. Even as he wants to find some meaningful words to say in return.  

“I thought you were a teacher?”

“Shut up and go to sleep…” You roll your eyes at him and gently bite the skin of his shoulder, small and playful, a nip more than anything and he chuckles at you in the dark. 

“Night, baby. Love you.”

“Love you too, old man.” You squeal out one last noise in the dark of your room as Peter pinches the bare skin on your side, letting the silence envelope you in the same way the darkness does. 

Maybe he’s getting a little achy, maybe he needs a little more tender love and care, but you love Peter Parker and you’re happy to return the favour.

[gyusfavlibra]

THIS IS MY WORK! PLEASE DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ON OTHER SITES/APPS!!!!

Warnings: +18, smut, fingering, hand job, sex in bathroom, language, jealousy, fighting, arguing.

Y/n and Sarah sat quietly on Kie's bed as they waited for Kiara to stop degrading the lavender dress she wore while standing in her large mirror. Mrs. Carrera coming through the door to make sure the girls were all dressed. "This is disgusting."

"I know it's just horrible."

"I'm asking you guys to just relax and go to a fun party."

"I look like a bourgeoisie pig."

"I think you look beautiful," y/n said while shrugging at Kie. She just gave a smile back to her, still hating the look no matter what compliments were given.

"Will you please not worry about socioeconomic injustice for one night?"

"Mom, people not three miles from her have no power, no running water, and we're going to Midsummers."

"That's so tone deaf."

"Y/n," the mother scolded at her niece. "Do you know how hard we had to work to get into the Island club?"

"Yeah, mom. How could I forget? You had to grovel for, like, ten years--"

"Twelve years, and we also had to cough up a huge chunk of dough-"

"To keep up with the Joneses-"

"No, so you had the same experiences that I had as a child."

"But weren't parents as teens out, like partying, getting drunk, making out in the backseats of their cars at drive in movies," the cousin listed while putting her things in its bag. "Getting pregnant."

"That doesn't sound fun," Sarah added.

"Do you girls even know what the Island club is?"

"A factory farm."

"For debutantes," Y/n raised her eyebrows.

"It's a nice place, with nice people where you can do fun stuff."

"With out-of-touch rich people, while the island sinks slowly into the ocean."

"Water filling the poor's destructive lungs while the wealthy ones get away on million dollar boats."

Sarah sat quietly laughing on the comfy blanketed mattress. Mr. Cerrera sighed, saying one last thing before walking out. "Okay, I want you to put on your party face, girls, if you want to live."

"Did your mom just threaten to kill us?"

"Maybe. I think so," she nods as she turned around to the duo, fixing the flower crown that sat on her cousin's head. "You nervous to see Rafe."

"Why did you have to bring that up?"

"I was curious. I know it's only been two days, but-"

"Hey, he broke up with me. So if he wants to talk, that's in his duty. Not mine. I did nothing wrong."

Sarah got off the bed, swinging on it's pole. "Except flirt with JJ, or so he says."

"I was not...flirting with JJ. He has a crush on Kiara. I'd never."

"But Rafe doesn't know that."

°°°°

*flashback*

"What if she doesn't like it?"

"She'll love it. She's hippie."

Y/n and JJ sat on John B's porch, smoking a blunt. The girl was trying to help him do something nice for Kiara so JJ could ask her out without feeling weird. He's liked her for the longest and he was finally ready to tell her how she feels.

"Alright, now practice what you're gonna say."

Just as Y/n finished saying the statement, her own boyfriend, Rafe Cameron showed up. Standing behind them listening in.

"Okay, uh, hey I have to tell you something...uh important," the blonde began speaking, using hand gestures because of his nerves. "I really really like you. Like not like friends like, but I have feelings, uhm, strong feelings for you. Because you're like super hot, andnyou're like a really cool chick. So I was wondering if maybe you'd wanna...go out with me."

"Yes, t-"

"What the hell!"

The manly unknown voice shocked them both, their figures jumping at the sound because they thought they were alone.

"Rafe, what're you doing here?"

Y/n asked confusedly as she stood from the steps. The Kook just scoffed and walked back out. Ignoring her question. She shared a glance with JJ before going to follow after him.

"Hey! Where you going? What's wrong?"

"A pogue!? Y/n, seriously?!"

"What're you talking about?"

"You're cheating on me with a pogue?" He shouted. Y/n scrunched her eyebrows, looking at the unnecessary upset individual.

"What do you mean cheating? I'm not cheating on you. We were just talking."

"Bullshit. That's bullshit! I heard it all."

"Rafe, it's not like that. Jj was just-"

"I should've known better. I should've known," he fumed. His right foot swung to kick the dirt near his truck that he was so very close to getting into.

"Known what?"

"I should've never trusted a pogue. I knew something like this was gonna happen. You were just gonna throw me away like Sarah did, Topper. Right? Huh?"

"You sound ridiculous. I was never throwing you away. I was helping him out."

"Yeah, while you're at it. Might as well help sleep with him too."

Y/n scoffed, taking a step back from the angered boy who's brain had just functioned what he said. Part of him regretted it very much. But the other part thought you deserved it because of his cheating accusation.

He opened his vehicle door. Stepping one foot inside. "We're done."

The girl just laughed with held tears reaching for the openess. She turned around to head back inside as Rafe just drove off.

°°°°

"Hey, no tearing up today. Go to this stupid thing and show him that his little cheating accusation act didn't hurt you at all. You're stronger than that."

"Thanks, Kie."

The girls finished up their last minute touches. That includes sweeping their dresses with roller for no hair, any makeup redos, or hair finishes. The ride to the country club was quiet. Well, y/n was quiet.

This would be her first time seeing Rafe since their break up a three days ago. They've been doing everything in their mighty to avoid each other. And it definitely worked. But like her friend told her, she wasn't gonna get worked up. Letting Rafe see her weak was like telling him he was right about everything. But he wasn't.

"Jesus, Kook land."

"I forgot how packed this thing is every year."

"Well, let's go. I gotta walk out with my family."

The Cameron family walked out with their heads high and the Kook crowd cheered for each one. Y/n kept her eyes gazed to Kiara since they were in the middle of a conversation. Not caring if that family came in or not. That excludes Sarah.

Rafe watched from his spot by his dad, as they exited to outside. Breath hitched when he saw Y/n and her dress. It was a dark toned red, had tulle, and a revealing  chest opening.

A red flower crown on her head, complimenting her beautiful down hair. She looked amazing and hot to Rafe. He had to clear his throat before excusing himself.

"Hey," the red dresses girl heard from beside her as a hand landed on her lower back. She removed it before her eyes retracted to theirs. Kie just pursed her lips before leaving to hangout with Sarah. Y/n internally screaming that she left her there.

"What do you want?"

"Uh, you look nice."

"Okay. Thanks. You don't too. What do you want?"

"Nothing. Just saying hi."

"Bye."

"Wait, wait, wait. Why are you mad at me? Shouldn't I be the mad one here?"

"Why?"

"Because of what you did," he said with furrowed eyebrows. Y/n shrugged.

"I didn't do anything."

"Do- do you not remember what happened on the cut three days ago? The fight."

"You slut shaming me and accusing me of cheating with JJ. That? Yeah, I remember that."

"Accused? I heard you."

"Heard what exactly?"

"JJ, was telling you he liked you and thought you were a cool hippie chick, which you are not. You're not hippie. And then he asked you out and you said yes. As soon as I walked in."

Y/n stared at him blankly. Before bursting out laughing. A few guests behind them staring with a look that showed they weren't used to loud talkers or laugher. "Oh my god. You thought? Jesus that's absolutely hilarious."

"What is?"

"That you think- you think that JJ was confessing feelings to me. Whew that's rich."

"I heard it, Y/n."

"He wasn't confessing anything to me you shit head. He was practicing for when he asked out Kiara."

Rafe was confused. Majorly. Inside and out. "But she-"

"He likes Kiara. And she's my cousin. You think I'd really hurt anyone like that? How low of me do you think? Have fun at this party."

Y/n walked off to go look for her disappeared friends. Not wanting to spend another second in a spot with someone who was so rude over something he knew nothing about. Just assumed. Never asked.

As she walked down the corridors of the porch that many people stood on drinking, a hand grabbed her shoulder, turning her around. Her eyes fixated on the blonde in a black tux and a bow tie.

"Holy shit, JJ. You scared me. What're you doing here?" She asked as she hugged him.

"Well, Sarah somehow convinced her dad to let me in tonight to hangout with Kie."

"Have you seen her?"

"I was just looking for her myself. C'mon. She's probably inside."

She grabbed his hand. Pulling him inside. They found Kie just minutes later with Pope. He was working the grill with his dad. Sarah was getting raided by Topper about their own stupid shit. Y/n decided to go get herself a drink and maybe find someone to dance with.

The straw rested on her lips as she stood against the porch railing. Gazing over all the people who say around laughing, probably bragging about their money, summer vacations, their older kids getting into a good college. Typical kook things.

Her eyes focused on a specific couple talking off to the side. Her eyes burning a whole in the back of Rafe's head as he tried to flirt up a storm with some Kook she didn't know whatsoever.

Her body was fuming. Was Rafe really gonna sit in front of her and flirt with a whole other girl that isn't her. Just a few days after their breakup. It's like he's trying to play victim. And she's had it.

"Hey, Sancho. Lassie."

The brunette Rafe was talking up a storm to laughed. "I'm sorry who are you?"

"Oh, you gonna introduce me to your side piece here?"

"Would you stop? We're just talking."

"Talking? Yeah, okay," Y/n laughed. The girl just looked at her dazed. "Hi, I'm his girlfriend. Y/n. And you, yeah you're excused."

Rafe was truly enjoying this scene. Internally rooting for Y/n. He wasn't gonna object to that fact that she called herself his girlfriend. Because now that he knew the truth, it changed his perspective.

"Who do you think you are?"

"I already told you. Wh- can you not hear correctly?"

"He said he was single so, why-"

"He lied. So, you can go away now- Rafe. Let's go. We need to talk."

"What're you his mother now?" The rando questioned. Y/n turned to her and gripped her face.

"If you wanna keep these teeth, then I suggest you stop talking. Go find somebody else's boyfriend to mack on."

She dragged Rafe by his hand into the upstairs private bathroom. Locking the door behind her. "What're you doing?"

"Just having a friendly conversation. There a problem?"

"You were flirting, Rafe. That was flirting," she paced. Hand against her for head.

"Like you're any better. You lied to me."

"I've never lied about anything."

"You said JJ liked Kiara."

"Yeah. He does."

"Then why is he holding your hand, hugging you, and leaving inside with you instead of the girl he supposedly likes," Rafe argued. Gripping onto the large counter.

"Rafe, I grabbed his hand and brought him inside to find Kiara. And I hugged him because I was happy for my friend. God, Rafe how many times do I have to tell you that I am not cheating on you."

"It's kind of hard to believe that shit when I keep seeing things with my own eyes."

"Then stop assuming and come ask me. Jesus, do you not trust me or something. Because I trust you. Anytime I hear that you're at a party doing lines with hot blonde's next to you, I brush it off because I know you'd never. Why can't you just do that for me."

Rafe stood from his seat. Pinching the bridge of nose. The guilty conscience grazed through his mind as he listened to her words. He had issues with trust and with others, but he knew it wasn't a reason to take it out on the only person who's loved him for him.

"I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry. You're right. I should trust you. Just like you trust me. I'll work on it. I promise."

"Don't promise me that. Just show me that you love me just as much."

The words clicked. He did love her. And he cared about her. More than anyone in this world. And he wanted to show her. In the most physical way possible.

"C'mere."

"Why?"

"Just c'mere," he repeated as he grabbed her by her waist, pulling her closer to him. She stumbled, but Rafe's grip kept her in place. He moved his face closer to hers, lips almost touching as they grazed against each other.

He used the hand placed on her waist to grip the fabric of her dress. Pulling it upwards. Her breath hitched as he hand snaked under the red tulle and right onto her now soaking core. His pointy finger swept across the waistband of her panties.

Y/n wasn't expecting this as the outcome from their miniature argument but she wasn't complaining. And neither was Rafe.

He pushed her underwear down as much as he could from their position, before going back to her walls and making circular motions. Rafe finally closer the space, kissing her lips practically roughly as he continued rubbing her.

He kept a firm hand on her waist to make sure she had a gripping support if he legs gave out, which they indeed will. The motions stopped as Y/n pulled her lips away from his. Rafe stared at her daring eyes, questioning if she wanted his to continue.

"Put them inside me," she whispered. The Cameron smirked before obliging to her demand. He stuck to fingers into her wet cunt. A soft moan escaped her lips as he did so. Pumping them in and out of her. Y/n rubbed her hand against the erection in his dress pants.

"You like that, yeah?"

She nodded as the locked her lips. Not being able to speak because knowing if she did, she let out a loud moan and even at this club would hear.

She unbuckled his pants, putting her handninside to grip his penis and pump it as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. The hand he held to her waist was now gripped on her neck, gently. Y/n clenched around his fingers. Feeling her high come close. "Dont stop."

Rafe began pumping faster just as Y/n did so. The teens were so horny that they were both already reaching their extent. Rafe's shaft twitched in her hand. "I'm cumming."

"Do it for me."

That's all it took for Y/n to finish. And Rafe too. His liquids filling her hands as they both let out moans due to their intense actions. In one swift motion, Rafe snaked a hand around Y/n's waist turning then so she was against the counter. Her pulled the straps of her dress of her shoulders, leaving kisses as he did so before connecting his lips to hers.

Her pulled his tuxedo jacket off him. Snapping the bowtie off as well. Y/n moaned at the tluchnof his hands on her breast. Massaging them in his hands over the fabric of her strapless bra.

Y/n unbuttoned the spots on his shirt before pulling it off his shoulders and onto the floor. Rafe stop his gripping motions and pulled down his pants and boxers. He sat her up on the counter. Her bare ass connecting to the coldness of the marble designed setting.

Rafe rubbed his tip against her fold once or twice before pushing himself into her. Not giving a warning, but Y/n loved the suddeness. Y/n let a moan into his next as he began thrusting his hips. The girl gripping her black painted nails into his back.

Rafe's eyes rolled to the back of his head. Enjoying the feelings of Y/n's cunt wrapped around him.

"You like that?"

"Yes, god yes."

Y/n sat up, wrapping her arms around his neck. Each moan and huff she exposed in his earn make his whole body shiver. Rafe let out a grunt before answering. She clenched her walls around his dick. The dirty blonde groaned slamming into her body. "Do it again."

She did so. Clenching around around the boy as he slammed into her again. This time, hitting the spot that made her whole body go insane. "Tell me I'm yours."

"You're mine."

A moan escaped her lips after he said what she had wanted. Her hand smacked down onto the edge of the sinks counter. Grilling onto it for dear life. "Tell me it again."

The feeling of her finishing was fastly approaching. As well as for Rafe. The moans she let out made his go over the edge as he fucked her hard. "Tell me, Rafe."

"You're fucking mine, ah-"

Each of them let out a loud moan as they finished. Covering each others mouths. There shouldn't be anyone upstairs but for precautions they covered either way.

Rafe's head fell forward onto her chest. Taking large breaths as y/n did too. "Shit, y/n."

The Cameron pulled out of her. Helping her get redressed and cleaned just after he did himself.

"You're still on the pill right?" He asked as he zipped his pants.

"Yeah. It's fine," she smiled up at his 6'4 figure. Rafe reached down to kiss her passionately.

"I love you, Y/n."

"I love you, too."

[mypoisonedvine]

The Summer Before College | Marcus Moreno x reader

summary: just because you got some good scholarships doesn't mean you couldn’t use some extra cash.  luckily, babysitting for a family friend has been a steady side gig for you.  rule number one of babysitting: don't let your wandering eye rest for too long on the hot single dad.  

word count: 4.7k

warnings: smut (dub con elements? but she’s into it lol don’t worry), age gap (he’s 40-something, reader’s 18/19), loss of virginity, pussy spanking (like, once), lots of petnames and ‘good girl’s, not a dark fic but kinda pushing it, not explicitly dad's best friend trope but it has that energy and I've decided that he is in fact friends with the reader's dad

a/n: this has basically nothing to do with the movie.  he’s just a hot dad.  don’t overthink it.

You knew the walk to the Moreno's by now: down two blocks from your house, take a right at San Vicente, a left on Birch, a few houses down and you're there.  With your full backpack weighing on your shoulders it felt longer than usual, but you made it anyways and knocked on the front door. 

"It's open!" a voice called from inside, and you turned the knob and swung the door open.

You almost regretted wearing your tiniest jean shorts, from the way Mr. Moreno did a double take when you walked in.  But hey, it was the middle of summer and he would never look at you like that— you were just his daughter's babysitter, ever since you were sixteen; he was probably just surprised to see that you were wearing something other than your school uniform.  Maybe some part of you wished he would look at you like that… 

Missy called your name, tearing you from your thoughts, jumping up when she saw you and beaming as she rushed to give you a hug.  "Hey!" you greeted in return.  

“Thanks again for doing this,” Mr. Moreno nodded in your general direction, apparently already dressed for whatever it was he had to do, slipping on his jacket from where it hung on a hook by the door.  "She's already had dinner, so just homework and bedtime," he explained to you as you nodded dutifully.

"Bedtime?  Dad, I'm not a little kid anymore," Missy rolled her eyes.

"Okay, you're a big kid and you need to be asleep by 10.  It's a school night."

She huffed but didn't protest, and you joined her on the couch because she wanted to show you some drawings she’d done earlier that day.  "Bye, Dad!" Missy waved when he left, and he turned back quickly to blow a kiss in her direction.

Once you helped her finish her homework (frankly, you didn't have to do that much— she's a smart kid), the two of you enjoyed some video games before you finally got her to start getting ready for bed.

It was cute how confident Missy was that she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep, only for her to be snoring within five minutes of her head hitting the pillow.  You were envious of how easily she could sleep; you could kill an hour just tossing and turning and readjusting your blanket.  But that wasn’t going to be your problem tonight: you weren’t going to sleep yet, until the man of the house returned, meaning all you had to do was wait.

Even in summer, having already graduated, you had plenty of work to do while you waited for Mr. Moreno.  Knowing what classes you had in the fall, you bought your textbooks a bit early and planned on reading them all before the semester began.  You’d already gotten through Philosophy Through the Ages and now you continued from where you left off in the middle of Introductory Physics.  

What surprised you was that you had time to finish that one, too.  You had anticipated that Mr. Moreno would be back before you made it to the module on fluid dynamics, but you reached the index at a quarter past midnight and he was still gone.  You shrugged and picked up the next one— A Book of Luminous Things: An International Anthology of Poetry— hoping he was alright and that he’d be back soon.

You had to make yourself some coffee when 1 a.m. rolled around; tired, anxious, and distracted, you realized this was probably not the best state to be attempting to study in, but you didn’t feel like you had a choice.  You didn’t want to fall asleep here, you’d promised to watch Missy and you couldn’t exactly do that while asleep… plus, he would probably be back any minute now.  Sure, you’d been saying that to yourself for nearly an hour and a half now, but it was more true than ever.

It was another hour and a half, though, until his car pulled into the driveway and he pushed through the front door, prompting you to set aside your textbook.

“Good evening,” you greeted, standing up.  He looked a little disheveled— but it worked for him, with that curly hair all messed up in just the right way.  Maybe it was just that it was late or that it was the rare time you saw him without Missy around, but there was a darkness about him now, not sinister so much as just purely intimidating.  It was like you hadn’t really taken him seriously before, and now you were appreciating that you should have.

“She’s asleep?” he assumed, glancing over to the hallway which his daughter’s bedroom was positioned at the end of before slipping his jacket off and hanging it by the door.

“It’s half past two, so… I really hope so,” you chuckled.

“Shit, is it that late already?” he groaned, glancing at his watch.

“Did you not notice?”

“I.. got carried away.”

You didn’t want to know what he’d been out so late for.  It was none of your business, and you figured you were better off without any secrets to keep— you’d never been so good at keeping secrets, even your own.

“Been studying this whole time?” he noticed as he glanced at the textbooks on the couch, grinning a little.  It sort of felt like he was mocking you, and it made your cheeks warm as you nodded.  “What a good girl.”

That made a cold tingle crawl up your spine.  Sure, other students had called you that before, and plenty of your teachers, but when he said it, like that… it felt entirely new.  “I try,” you managed to respond eventually.

“You’ll do well in college, I bet.”

“You think so?” you beamed.

“Yeah,” he nodded confidently.  There was something comforting about the way he smiled at you; yet, there was something predatory about the way his eyes glanced down your body and back up slowly.

As you turned and bent over to pick up your textbooks off the couch, you could tell that he had stepped closer; you could just barely hear the soft noise of his footsteps on his carpet, just barely feel the warmth of him behind you, just barely pick up on the slow, thoughtful breath he took in and out through his nose.

Standing back up slowly, you felt him do it again, right against your neck.

“M-Mr. Moreno,” you stammered, shivering when his hands gripped you on either arm.  Not a tight grip, per se, but one that made his strength obvious.

“You don’t have to call me that,” he breathed.  “Not when we’re alone.”

Not that you really had any plan on how to respond to that, but if you had, it would've been forgotten as his lips brushed over your neck, leaving teasing kisses in a trail over your pulse.

"Wait—" you blurted out instinctively when his hands moved to your waist, cut off by your own shaky sigh and suppressed moan.  “What if she wakes up?” you questioned anxiously, glancing down the hallway and hoping you wouldn’t find Missy there, watching her dad feeling you up— and you letting him, not just that but enjoying it.  Of course, the hallway was deserted, but you couldn’t feel certain it would stay that way.

“She won’t,” he assured.  “Not if you can be a good girl and stay quiet.”

You made a little whimpering noise as you wondered if you could.  You didn’t know how, really; you were good at being quiet when you were alone, but being alone had never felt like this.  Forbidden, sexy, terrifyingly wonderful… nothing had ever felt like this.

“Do you want me to stop?” he purred, sounding like he already knew the answer.

“No,” you answered a little too quickly, “please… please don’t stop.”

“Yeah, I thought so,” he grinned.  “Tell me what you do want.”

“I want…” you sighed and started over again, willing yourself to speak your thoughts aloud even though they made a pit of guilt sink in your stomach.  "I want you to make me feel good."

You knew it was a sort of childish way of putting it, even before he laughed at your statement, but you weren't sure what else to say.  "Yeah?  I can do that," he decided.  "But I can make you feel good in so many ways…" he trailed off as his right hand slipped lower and lower, finally landing between your legs as you gasped.  Two fingers slid over the crotch of your shorts, and somehow he managed to bump against something that made electricity shoot up your spine and your hips buck into his touch of their own accord.  You felt his smile widen as his teeth grazed against the sensitive skin of your neck.  "You'll have to be more specific," he finally finished.  "How do you want me to make you feel good?"

"Inside me," you whined, "I want you inside me."

There was a sudden shift as it seemed like the control he had over you suddenly did not extend to himself; he growled a bit and pulled you into him, and you could feel the hard shape of his cock, through his trousers and your shorts.  You could feel it pressed just above your ass and it made you squirm against his embrace.  "Feel what you do to me?" he grunted, and you nodded quickly.  "Good."

He spun you around quickly, pulling you close to him and burning right through you with those brown eyes darker than ever, but just as you thought he might kiss you, he spoke instead.

“My bedroom’s upstairs,” he informed you quietly.

You just nodded, following him as he pulled you along through the house, up the stairs and past the door to the master bedroom of the house.

Now that you hadn’t seen it coming, of course, was when he chose to grab you and kiss you suddenly.  It was rough and passionate and nothing like you could've imagined; you were certain you'd never been kissed like this, like he needed to kiss you more than he needed anything.  

Your arms slipped around his neck as he pushed you back against the wall, lifting your legs to wrap around his waist as he kicked the door shut behind the two of you.  Little moans were muffled by the kiss— and it took you a minute to realize they were yours.  You didn’t even sound like yourself; probably because you’d never felt like this before, and therefore had never had any reason to sound like this.

You could feel his cock between your legs, though unfortunately not in the way you wanted.  Still, it drove you wild to have him so close like this, to try to imagine how the thick shape you were feeling would ever fit inside you.

His hands were so strong and thick that you worried they’d stretch out your tank top just by reaching under it— well, that is you would have worried about that if you could think about anything else but his hands reaching under your tank top.  He didn’t even waste his time touching you over your bra, instead making quick work of the clasps with one hand before coming back to grope one breast in his palm, then the other.  Just that was enough to make you run your fingers into his hair, but a little pinch to your raised nipple made your fists tighten and pull— you didn’t mean to, and you were just about to feel bad about it until he growled a little.  It seemed like a growl of approval, considering he pinched your nipples harder to make you do it again.  

“Feels good?” he asked with annoying (yet arousing) confidence.

“S-so good,” you slurred, stumbling over your words as you tried to think as clearly as possible through the thick haze of pleasure clouding your mind. 

As he guided you to set your legs down and unhook your arms from around his neck, you felt a bit like a doll being posed; when he pulled your top over your head and your bra from your arms, you felt like a doll being undressed.  You sort of didn’t mind it; you were happy to let him take the lead, confident he knew at least 100% more about this than you did. 

He knelt down before you as he roughly pulled at your tight jean shorts, his knuckles nearly bruising your hips as he stripped you.  Your underwear were not the pair you would’ve worn if you had known somebody was going to see them, just a plain dark blue color that made you feel so drab as he came face-to-face with them.  He didn’t seem to mind much, grinning up at you as he slipped his fingers under them and pulled them down, too.  Your face was so hot and yet your legs were breaking out into goosebumps simultaneously, and a shiver rolled up your body when he growled at the sight of your body laid bare for him.  Before you could even process it, he stood up and grabbed you, tossing you back onto the bed and spreading your legs.

“Fuck, what a pretty little pussy,” he praised with a smile that made you feel a little light-headed, swirling a few fingers over your swollen button until pulling them back to spank you there— it wasn’t even that hard, but you yelped and jolted and he laughed darkly.  “So sensitive,” he purred, his words walking a fine line between a compliment and a taunt, “so wet.”

Another finger slipping down to your entrance proved him right, your arousal plentiful as his touch glided through your folds.  

Suddenly overcome with a moment of bravery, you sat up and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, making him smile down at you.  “Let me help you,” he offered as he worked the buttons instead, freeing you to try to open his belt.  “Look at you, acting so desperate…”

At this point, you weren’t even offended by that; you wanted him so bad that you didn’t have the energy to be embarrassed by it anymore.  

He slipped the shirt off of his shoulders just as you finished opening the belt.  He pushed your hands away, and now you could see the muscles in his arms flexing as he held you down by your wrists.  “You’re getting ahead of yourself, señorita,” he purred.

Why did feeling powerless to him turn you on so much?  There was no real fear to it— you knew and trusted him, you would never have developed your misguided crush on him if you didn’t— and yet there was a strong edge of uncertainty as he kissed your neck and moved down your chest, between your breasts before he stopped to kiss those, too.

“Oh god,” you breathed, and he smiled against your skin before sitting up and staring down at you.  It wasn’t apparent if it was distant streetlights or the moonlight shining in through the window, but either way it cast a cold blue light into the room that reflected as a glimmer in his eyes. 

“Not gonna make you wait any longer,” he promised in a low voice, reaching down to push his unbuttoned belt and trousers to his thighs— those thick, muscular thighs that made your lip catch between your teeth.

Your breath caught, too, but in your lungs this time as his cock was exposed: thick, swollen, veiny… it looked picturesque, if thoroughly intimidating.  You couldn’t figure out if you wanted to move towards it or sheepishly crawl away.

"Why do you look scared?" he asked, his voice so much deeper than you remembered it from before, even if there was genuine concern somewhere in his tone.

"Is it gonna hurt?" you asked instead of answering.

"Baby…" he sighed huskily, "are you a virgin?"

You bit your lip and looked away, irritated that you hadn't managed to hide your fear enough to keep your secret.  

He sighed, your silence apparently answer enough.  

"Do you not want to, anymore?" you asked anxiously, afraid you had completely killed the mood.  Part of the reason it'd taken you this long to lose it was specifically because people seemed intimidated by the idea of being your first.

"No, no, I— no," he asserted sternly.  "I just need to… change my approach, slightly.”

He leaned down a bit, hovering over you as he trailed his hand up your leg, rubbing the inside of your thigh before finally drawing circles over your aching clit with his thumb, causing you to shiver and moan quietly.

“And, to answer your question, it won’t hurt.  Not if I get you good and ready for me,” he explained, pushing just one finger into you— and even that small of a stimulation made your eyes flutter shut, with his fingers being so much thicker and stronger than yours.

The second made your fists clench around the satin-y sheets beneath you.  You didn’t dare open your eyes, knowing you’d find him staring down at you and you weren’t ready for that, weren’t ready to see his reaction to your body in such a vulnerable state.  You could hear his reaction, though, with the rough groans and satisfied sighs he let out as he pumped his fingers into you.

When three fingers filled you, your eyes shot open.  “Fuck!” you yelped.

He smiled but slowed down, apparently taking some pity on you— but not enough to stop him from pressing down harder on your clit.

Just when you figured he’d warmed you up enough and he’d fuck you like he promised, he slid lower and the bed and bent down, adding his tongue into the mix with his fingers.  It was… overwhelming, and hot, not just psychologically but literally: it was physically hot, as in temperature.  How was his mouth so warm against you, and his fingers so warm inside you?

When he latched his lips around your clit and sucked on it, you saw stars.  Energy gathered in your gut and burned so bright that you thought you might explode.  Really, it was more like an implosion as the coil inside you snapped and your thighs accidentally clamped down on his hand.  It didn’t faze him though, it didn’t even slow him down as he moaned a little against you and curled his fingers even harder.  You didn’t remember reaching down to grab his head, you just felt his hair between your fingers as you pulled it roughly, gasping his name.

When he did stop, sitting up and wiping his face with the back of his hand, you just looked back up at him as you caught your breath.  He laughed, and you realized you were gawking unintentionally.

“I’m guessing you’ve never come like that before?” he ventured.  You didn’t know if ‘like that’ meant from oral or just so suddenly and intensely, but it was true either way so you nodded.

When he reached down to grip his cock with the same hand still wet with your slick, you held your breath without realizing it.  “Please put it in me,” you whimpered.

“I will,” he assured as he guided the head of it through your slick folds, stopping to tease your clit as you jolted from the contact on the sensitive nerves.  Something surreal and indescribable tingled under your skin— you could hardly believe that this was happening, let alone with him, with Mr. Moreno.  Or, Marcus.  You were on a first-name basis by now, surely.

He pushed forward in one smooth, slow stroke until he was all the way inside you, his body filling yours to the brim as you quivered from the sensation of being stretched so wide.  

“Am I hurting you?” he asked roughly.

“...almost,” you answered hesitantly, unsure how to describe the sensations you were feeling; not exactly pain, but not not pain.  The favorite pain you’d ever felt in your life, easily.

He chuckled as he gripped your hips a little tighter.  "I'm gonna move now," he announced.  You nodded your approval, sighing shakily as he pulled his hips back and you felt the intoxicating friction of his cock against your walls.  

"Ffffuck," you whimpered, gasping when he slammed his hips forward again.  Your eyes rolled back in your head when he pushed as deep into you as he could with each thrust, still measured but not exactly gentle as he set a pace faster than you’d prepared for.  But it was good, god it was so fucking good you weren’t sure what to do with yourself.  "Marcus," you sighed, barely recognizing your own voice when it was heavy with need and arousal like this.

He grinned when he heard his name cross your lips, grinding his hips against yours for emphasis until you were forced to arch your back.  "You like it rough, don't ya, honey?"

You nodded, confident that you liked it however he was doing it.

"Fuck, I knew it.  Knew as soon as I saw you."

Before you could wonder what he meant by that, he was already moving fast enough to make your head spin.  You had never had anything so deep inside you before, and when he pushed your legs up and back against your chest, you had no choice but to scream with pleasure.

Just before you reached the peak of it though, his hand clamped down over your mouth to muffle the sound.  "Gotta be quiet," he reminded you through his teeth before relaxing his hand a bit so you could still be heard somewhat

"I can't," you whined, "Marcus, please, I can't stay quiet—"

"You have to."

"Feels too good," you whimpered your excuse.  "F-fuck, slow down, I won't be able to stop it—"

He cut you off with a kiss, slow yet dominating, and your moans were muffled by his lips.  You still sounded so loud in your own head, but at least your cries weren't echoing against the walls of his room anymore.

What was echoing were the sounds of skin slapping on skin as he pounded into you, roughly finding every delicate spot within you and making the backs of your thighs sore as his hips slammed into them.  It forced your hands to grip at his muscular shoulders and your nails to dig into the skin there.  You hoped there would be little half-moon shaped marks there tomorrow, maybe one would even scar so he'd have your mark on his body forever; after all, he'd carved a permanent space in your body by taking your virginity.  Even if you couldn't dream of being as special to him as he was to you, you liked the idea of giving him something that he couldn't give back.

That energy was building again, different from before but no less powerful and persistent.  "I'm gonna— fuck, I'm gonna come, I'm so close," you whispered.

“Yeah?  Go ahead," he encouraged.  "I wanna see you fall apart just for me, wanna feel you come around my cock."

You hadn't realized he'd be able to feel it, and the idea of that was so filthily beautiful that it pushed you over the edge, your whole body tensing up in sudden waves of pleasure so intense that it made your eyes water.

Through the static filling your ears, you heard his low, husky voice encouraging you: "Good girl, just like that, don't fucking stop."

You'd always been powerless to his voice, but this was another level.  It was as if your body understood and met his demands, continuing to ride the peak of your sensation so long as he growled in your ear just right.  

It was much too tender, the way he brushed the stray hair away from your face, the way he kissed your slack mouth again, the way he held you tighter and mumbled more praises to you.  It was more romantic than it had any right to be, and you had to bite back the words of affection threatening to spill out of your mouth.

I love you, you wanted to tell him, I've loved you for years, but it was beyond inappropriate.  You didn't want to play the role of the innocent virgin who thinks sex means being in love and lets herself catch feelings for the older man who is just taking what he wants and, at best, doing her a favor so she doesn't have to go off to college and get her cherry popped there.  Maybe that was accurate, but that wasn't who you wanted to be.  

You wanted to be sexy, and mature, and in control.  You wanted to play a new rule, one that still felt foreign and yet closer than ever.  So you wrapped your legs around his hips and held him deeper in you, smiling with a little growl of your own.

"I want you to come inside me," you informed him with a purr, loving the little moment of shock that passed over his face before he groaned, fucking you a little faster and more erratically.

"Fuck, really?" he rasped.

You bit your lip as you looked up at him through half-lidded eyes and nodded.

"You're on the pill?"

Another nod, this one finished off with a shiver as you wondered how much more of this your body could take.

He grinned and picked up the pace again, his moans getting a little louder with each movement.  "Fuck, I'm gonna come— gonna fill up your tight little pussy, is that what you want?"

You nodded feverishly, already close to the edge again as you imagined what it would be like to have his come in you for the rest of the night.  Was he going to make you walk home with it leaking out from between your legs?  Why did that idea make your inner muscles involuntarily tighten around him?

With a string of curses and a grip on your thigh tight enough to bruise, he reached his own peak and you felt his cock flex and pulse inside you, a new warmth filling your gut from the inside out.  

It's hard to say how long the two of you stayed like that, since you were busy basking in the afterglow (and, less enjoyably, worrying about the consequences that tomorrow morning would bring).

When he pulled out and collapsed beside you, you wondered if you should get up and get dressed.

"Stay here tonight," he instructed you, as if somehow a response to your internal thought.  "Your folks won't freak out if you're out all night, right?"

"I'll just tell them I slept over at your place," you shrugged.  With a confused look from him, you clarified: "on the couch."

"Right," he nodded as he wrapped you in his arms and pulled you closer, letting you rest your head in the crook of his neck.  In this way and in so many others, it was how you expected (and hoped) losing your virginity would go: someone you trust and who cares about you, with enough attention on you that you didn't feel much pain, plus cuddling afterwards.  But, in even more ways, it was unlike what you'd ever thought possible: it felt incredible and you came so hard that your ears were still kind of ringing, you didn't use a condom or even think to mention it, and finally— and most absurdly— it was with Marcus fucking Moreno.

Frankly, considering his performance earlier, "fucking" very well could be his middle name.

"You should sit for me again next week," he suggested quietly.

"Do you have somewhere to go?"

"No," he grinned, "but I'll be sure to come back real late, after she's gone to bed, so I can show you all the other ways I can make you feel good."

"H-how many ways are there?!"

He just laughed, pulling you closer and placing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.  “Oh, sweetheart… so smart, but so innocent.  We can fix that.”

You weren’t sure entirely which of those two things he intended on fixing.

[five-rivers]

Beltane

Written for Ectober 2021 Day 1: Trick vs Treat. This is part of the Exhumed series.

.

Danny Fenton walked into the precinct. As often happened when he did this, all attention slowly turned to him. “Hi, Detective Patterson. Have you ever heard of Beltane?”

Patterson took a long swig of coffee through the plastic stir straw, because she felt the need to be at least a little drugged before dealing with whatever this was, and then said, “Is this the kind of thing the whole precinct needs to know about, or is it more specific to me?”

“Mm, not specific to you, but I’m not sure if everyone needs to know about it, yet.”

Despite only select members of the Amity Park police force knowing Danny Fenton had another identity, he’d become a sort of ‘ghost liaison’ for the precinct. Better him than the adult Fentons, who tended to break things even (especially) when they were being careful.

“Actually,” continued Danny, “you might have already noticed some things about it. I mean, it’s seasonal, and Mom and Dad were detecting ectoenergy and ghost activity spikes for events like this before they got the portal up and running. Although, the portal was supposed to stabilize and reduce those spikes… I guess reducing one isn’t bad?”

“Okay,” said Patterson. “I don’t really know what you’re talking about. Do you want me to go find Collins?”

“Oh, that might be a good idea.”

“Great,” said Patterson. She turned her head to shout across the room. “McGee. Go find Collins.”

“Still the new guy?” asked Danny, sympathetically.

“It isn’t like we’re a popular posting,” said Patterson, “and, thanks to the ghosts, we don’t really need new people.”

Danny nodded placidly. “I know. But it must be hard for him, don’t you think?”

.

McGee had done his job. He’d discovered the corruption in the Amity Park Police Department and plumbed its depths. The problem was that he could never, ever, report it. Even if they didn’t have a perfectly good cause for it all, what they were ‘hiding’ (and they were only barely doing that) was so ridiculous that McGee had thought he’d gone crazy at first.

Ghosts.

The whole of Amity Park was haunted. Just like it said in those touristy brochures at the front of the local diners.

He stuck his head into the break room. “Collins, Patterson and Fenton want you,” he said.

“In the normal room?” Collins asked, shoving a sugary monstrosity of a donut into his mouth.

“I have no idea. She didn’t say.”

“Normal room then. Great job, McGee.”

McGee rolled his eyes. Great job, he said. As if he’d done anything.

God. What would Halloween be like?

.

“So, it’s like, reverse Halloween?” asked Patterson.

“Well, not exactly,” said Danny. He patted Daisy, the department mascot slash corpse sniffing dog who had followed them into the small interview room, gently on the head. “Actually, there are more similarities than differences. Basically, like Halloween, we’re going to get a spike in ectoenergy. Maybe even some ectoplasmic storms. More portals. That kind of thing.” He shrugged. “Most holidays and seasonal divisions have them, you know.”

“So… we’re getting Halloween round two?” asked Collins.

“What do you bet that this is what gets McGee to snap?”

“He’s been here since December,” said Collins. “I think he’s too stubborn to leave.”

“Is he still spying?” asked Danny.

“No,” said Patterson, waving a hand. “He gave up on that, after a while. But there’s a new office bet about whether or not he’ll stay stay, or if he’ll decide to quit. We’re not allowed to join in because we know him too well.”

“Mm,” said Danny.

“I don’t actually know if I feel like I know him that well,” said Collins.

“Well,” said Danny, “it shouldn’t be as extreme as Halloween. Since, I mean, there aren’t as many religious holidays directly associated with death and stuff happening on or around May first. So. Yeah. But the thing is, there are some traditional, er, activities. Spirited activities.”

Collins suppressed a groan, and was glad that Captain Jones wasn’t available today. He and Danny could sling puns at each other for obscenely long periods of time.

“I’ve never noticed ghosts doing anything on May Day,” said Patterson.

“This is only the third year anyone’s even acknowledged that ghosts exist,” said Danny, “so I’m not really all that surprised. But the reason that I came to talk to you guys is that some of the ghosts want to do Beltane stuff. Like the fire blessings. Also, I’ve been told that some of the trees in town are secretly ghost trees, and if we don’t want to deal with another tree army, we need to do some stuff to appease them.”

“Secret ghost trees.”

“My source is very reliable,” said Danny. “Also, while I say ‘we don’t want to deal with it,’ I think we all know who’d be dealing with most of it.”

“You would,” said Patterson.

“Got it in one. Like, I can convince most of the ghosts to either do their Beltane stuff in the Ghost Zone, or somewhere out of the way. They’ll be disappointed, but I can do it. The ghost tree thing, though…”

“Can’t we just, I don’t know,” said Collins, “get rid of the ghost trees?”

“Well, they aren’t really evil ghost trees. Or even really ghost trees. They’re more… ghosts that live in trees?”

“What, like dryads?” asked Collins, raising his eyebrows.

“That’s what I said, but they’re different species, apparently.”

“Okay,” said Patterson, “so. Appeasing the trees. How many trees are we talking about here, and how are we going to appease them?”

.

“Okay, so, this is definitely a whole precinct kind of thing,” said Patterson.

“And possibly an ‘all civil servants’ type of thing,” added Collins. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Where are we going to get the funding for this?”

“Oh, don’t worry about money,” said Danny. “I’ll just blackmail Vlad, and if that doesn’t work, I can get Mom and Dad to pay for it.”

“What,” said Collins.

“I think this might be a bit beyond your parents’ budget,” said Patterson, “but knock yourself out as far as Masters goes.”

“Well, I guess if it is,” he allowed, dubiously, “I could get the cults to pitch in?”

.

“This is nice,” said Danny. The sky was a bit overcast, which was a shame, but the hundreds of bright flowers and cheerful music more than made up for that.

The May Day celebration was, in Danny’s opinion, a success. At least, this half of it was turning out to be. He’d have to wait and see how the Spirit Bonfires went tonight before he could really make a judgement.

He’d only had to blackmail Vlad a little, too. It turned out that the ‘ruthless businessman’ in Vlad was ludicrously easy to manipulate, and once Danny brought up how a celebration like this one could revitalize local businesses and bring in tourism, he’d caved.

Although, that might have been the threat of an angry tree army. Vlad had definitely come off worse for wear in the last one, on all fronts.

Then, publically putting the Phantom Stamp of Approval (and Necessity Given The Potential Angry Tree Army) on the event had gotten buy-in from his fans and (sigh) the cults. The cults were, in fact, very enthusiastic about their new Holy Day. Danny had made a map of all the places they’d set up booths, and was studiously avoiding them.

Sam and Tucker were doing a walkthrough of that area, now, to check for problems and unadorned thorn trees. They’d arranged to meet up soon.

So, Amity Park was decked out in ribbons and flowers. All of the schools had gotten Maypoles and the day off of classes. Several bands, both human and ghostly, were playing in different parts of town.

It was chaotic, but great.

Danny briefly cut into the street to dodge a pair of college-age men play-fighting with tree branches (a genuinely important tradition symbolizing the battle between winter and summer), then walked through a wall to avoid two ghosts doing the same thing.

Finally, he reached Madame Babazita’s table.

“Hi,” he said, “three readings, please.”

“Three?” she asked. “Just for you?”

“My friends should get here before mine’s done,” said Danny. Was he channeling some predictive powers? Maybe. Holidays did make his powers weird.

.

“I have no idea what your reading is saying,” said Madame Babazita, after fifteen full minutes. “The cards simply aren’t speaking to me today. Also,” she held up an Uno card, “I’m not sure how this even got here.”

“That’s okay,” said Danny, “I just wanted to make sure it was the same as last time.”

.

“Hey! Phantom!” called Ember across the crowd of ghosts that had gathered in the cemetery. Most of them were fire or nature themed. “You’re in for a treat!”

Danny, who had been examining the flowers left on his grave, looked up. “I am?”

Ember draped her arm around Danny’s shoulder. She’d been a lot more friendly with him since the corpse incident. “Sure are.” She stepped up onto the surface of his memorial, pulling him up behind her. Danny shook off a brief chill and looked around.

Ghosts were streaming into the cemetery from various directions, bringing armfuls of flowers with them. Danny could see two, huge bonfire piles of flowers growing near the cemetery gates.

“Are there going to be cows?” asked Danny, who was still fuzzy on the details of the ghostly side of the celebrations.

“I don’t know,” said Ember. “When I’ve seen this done in the GZ there are. Here? Who knows. Maybe we’ll just walk through.”

Danny nodded, unworried. Beltane sure was an interesting holiday.

The last armful of flowers was placed, and every flower in the cemetery caught on fire at once. Including the ones on Danny’s grave. Danny yelped, jumping into flight. As an ice core ghost, he vastly preferred cold to heat.

This went without saying, but fire was very hot.

Ember grabbed his foot, and he almost kicked her. “You knew that was going to happen,” he accused.

“Sure did, babypop,” said Ember, grinning. “Come on, don’t you want to pass through the bonfires?”

Danny eyed the very large bonfires on either side of the cemetery gates. They were lit up with sparks like fireworks, shifting like flowers blooming and withering and blooming again. They were beautiful and impressive, and Danny felt like melting just by looking at them.

“I don’t know…” He wanted to, but… melting…

“Well, if you want to go out the other way and be horribly unlucky for the next year…”

Danny narrowed his eyes. “Is that another trick?” he asked.

Ember’s grin grew wider, and she took off towards the gates. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Danny sighed and followed her.

.

“Unbelievable,” said McGee. “Absolutely unbelievable.” He gave the elderly cultist a boost into the wagon.

“I know, right?” said Patterson. “All this property damage and a low-key kidnapping,” she gestured to the hapless late night partier who had called the police when the cult got too insistent about their message, “and they didn’t even have the good drugs?” She shook her head. “Not that we ever arrest anyone just for drugs in this town.”

“I did not just hear you say that,” muttered McGee.

“We’ll make an Amity Parker out of you yet,” said Collins, heartily, slamming the back door of the wagon. He thumbed the button on his radio. “Any other disturbances?” he asked.

“No, you’re good to come back,” said the dispatcher.

“What I don’t get,” said McGee, leaning against a nearby wall in a moment of weakness, “is why we aren’t breaking up whatever cult thing is happening in the cemetery.” They’d seen it quite clearly on their way here.

“Because those are ghosts,” said Patterson.

McGee took a deep breath. “The ghosts are having some kind of ritual in the cemetery, and you aren’t worried.”

“Not really, no.”

“I hate it here,” said McGee.

“Do you, though?” asked Collins, sounding genuinely interested in the answer.

McGee opened his mouth to snap back that, yes, he did. But…

Hm. Huh.

Collins patted him on the back.

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 128: Snake

"Woah," Harry said, jumping between Draco and the 35 foot Antipodean Opaleye that was rearing up her head preparing to protect her young. He let out a stream of parsletongue as he held out a hand to calm her.

And Draco watched with fascination, as he always did, at the way the dragon seemed to understand the other man even though Harry couldn't understand them.

"Show off," he teased when the dragon turned and made her way back to her nest.

Harry rolled his eyes, "Maybe don't go traipsing over to her newborn hatchlings."

"I can't help it," Draco said, craning his neck to get another peek, "They're just so cute."

The other man shook his head but Draco knew that he agreed, in the weeks to come Harry would spend more time cooing over the babies than Draco did just the way he did every time they came here for hatching season. "We should head back," Harry said, "the sun's on it's way back down."

"We still haven't seen dad, though," Draco said, searching the horizon once more for the smaller, faster Opaleye that ought to be coming back with food.

Harry sighed, "I know," he said as he started packing his bag, hissing a quick warning at Zephyr who was sunbathing on the rock next to his bag and holding out a hand for her to slither into.

"It's not enough that you have the giant snakes," he said, nodding at the dragons, "you have to bring the miniature one, too?" Draco asked as the rainbow boa slipped up Harry arm to drape around his neck.

"You know how she gets when we leave her behind in the tent," he said as he slipped the bag over his shoulders, "and she's hardly miniature," he added as they started the climb back down to where they'd pitched their tent.

(Read more below the cut)

"I'm worried about the muggle farmers," Draco said as he looked out over the rolling farm land, not far from here, where unsuspecting sheep and cows were grazing.

Harry nodded, "I know but that's why we're here, if they see anything we'll wipe their memories."

"We had to do it half a dozen times last year," he complained.

"It's not the dragons' fault that those stupid sheep are such easy prey."

Draco steadied Harry as a rock slipped out from under him, "You were supposed to talk to them."

"I did!" he protested. "Bill thinks that I can just tell them anything but they only understand like half of what I say."

"I know," Draco replied as they made it back to their camp and headed into the tent to clean up.

"Besides," Harry added, "He knows he's got to find food and the pickings are slim. Otherwise we wouldn't be this far north."

Draco collapsed into one of the cushioned chairs that they always brought with them and Zephyr slid down Harry's body and made her way over to Draco instead, curling around his neck. "Gentle," he chastised her as she wrapped tighter.

Harry glanced up from where he was unpacking their bag and hissed at her and she loosened her grip around his neck. "You're doing better with that," he commented.

He rolled his eyes as she bumped her head against his chin, "You know, oddly enough, when you suggested we get a pet I wasn't imagining that we'd get a five foot long rainbow boa that likes to try to strangle me."

"She's not trying to strangle you," Harry said as he went to see what they had in the pantry to make up for dinner, "She's just cold."

He hummed noncommittally, "I was imagining a crup," he added.

"But she's a delight," Harry said, "And they were going to kill her."

Draco sighed, "I know. And she is usually nice."

"And our flat is tiny," the other man added as he huffed a laugh, "I think it's sandwiches for dinner," Harry said.

"Alright."

Harry made up sandwiches and put some crisps on their plates, carrying one over to Draco. "You know what might work for keeping the dragons from getting after Muggle sheep?"

"What?" Draco asked through a bite of sandwich.

"If we had a wizarding sheep farm closer to here. Then they'd raise the sheep specifically for hatching season, let the dragons hunt the sheep and then go on their merry way."

"Right," Draco said, agreeing that it would make everything easier and cause a lot less hassle with trying to obliterate people. "That's a good idea but who in their right mind would want to live on a sheep farm?"

Harry shrugged, "Well whoever it was would have lots of room for a crup or a dog."

Draco paused, sandwich halfway to his mouth, "You can't be serious."

When Harry didn't say anything Draco continued.

"You want us to come and live in the middle of nowhere?" he asked. "To raise sheep?" he added incredulously.

"No," Harry said, "No, of course not. You're right-"

"Harry, I-"

He shook his head, "Forget it. Forget I said anything, yeah?"

"Wait," Draco said. "Just," he shook his head and Zephyr reached toward Harry, her neck stretching out a good seven inches until Harry held out his arm for her to wrap around. "I need a second to get my head around it."

Harry stroked his fingers over her smooth head and waited patiently.

"So, in this scenario we'd live here year round?"

He nodded, "But it would be easy to get a port key license."

"And we'd live in what?"

A soft, wistful expression slipped across Harry's face. "A cozy little cottage with a fireplace that Zephyr can curl up near and where we can warm up after a morning outside feeding the goats and the sheep. The bathroom would have a big claw foot tub big enough for two. And we'd have a cozy afghan that Molly knit for us to drape over the back of the couch. You'd wear cozy cable knit jumpers and wellies from the beginning of autumn through the spring."

"What else?"

Harry gave him a little smile, "We'd shear the sheep ourselves in the spring and learn how to convert it into yarn so Molly can make you more jumpers and make us more afghans."

"Is that all?" he asked.

His partner shook his head, "I'd learn to make stew and shepherds pie, all of the hot comfort dishes around here. And in the summer we'd grow a garden with vegetables and fruits." His toe brushed over Draco's as he continued, "You'd wear one of those giant sunhats to keep yourself from burning. Maybe we'd get some chickens, too."

"It sounds sort of nice when you put it that way," he confessed.

"Doesn't it?"

He thought for a long moment, "Then lets do it."

"Really?" Harry asked, perking up at the possible yes.

"Yeah," Draco answered, smiling at him, heart warming in his chest at the smile on Harry's face. "Why not? If we're terrible at it, we can always quit."

"Do you mean it?"

"Yes."

Harry sprung up from his chair and moved to straddle Draco's lap, pressing his lips to Draco's. "You're the best."

"I know," he replied with a laugh as he leaned up to meet Harry's kiss. "What have we got to lose?"

And the truth was that they had nothing to lose and everything to gain. They lived out the rest of their days tending sheep, and chickens, and dragons, and any other creature that wandered in.

It was nothing like Draco had expected when he was young and it was infinitely better.

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

Day 127: Fake Dating | Day 129: Pangea

[sohin-ace]

Josuke & Okuyasu - Magazine

Inspired by that one fanart I can't use because I can't find the artist.

Enjoy~

'Boys will be boys'.

We don't count the times this excuse was used to justify the hormone-driven and often stupid decisions or behaviors of male teenagers.

This applies to our two protagonists, Josuke and Okuyasu who just happened to be at that age where boys were curious about their own selves but most importantly of course, curious about the opposite sex.

They couldn't really be blamed, sexuality was a normal part of a teenager's life after all. Which may or may not imply them oogling questionable things here and there or watching specific videos, for instance.

Josuke and Okuyasu decided to feast their eyes as a part of their numerous 'bro dates' as they called them, and made it a regular thing.

Of course, they made these moments very secret. Only them could know what sinful things they were doing after school. They trusted no one else than each other and nobody should ever know about their activities.

They especially couldn't let a girl know about their shenanigans. Oh no, that would be an absolute disaster if they were to be caught red-handed by a girl from their school. They would have to carry the heavy title of 'disgusting perverts', stamped right on their foreheads for the rest of their highschool years, if not their life.

One day as they got out of school, they decided to check out the X-rated section of a local konbini, section placed strategically in the far corner of the shop, and opened some nice porn magazine for their needy eyes. As one does.

"Yoooo Josuke check this out!" Okuyasu exclaimed to his friend while pointing to one of the pages, already blushing madly and coughing up an impressed chuckle.

"Oh my god!!" Josuke whisper-yelled to his friend, trying to not catch people's attention. "That's hot! You think those boobs are real?"

They kept on drooling over pictures of sexy women in bikinis or underwear and posing suggestively for 10 more solid minutes, completely forgetting about their surroundings.

They weren't really worried about getting caught as the section they were in was pretty far away from the entrance of the store and nobody really passed by this corner of the shop anyways.

As they were in their own little fantasy world, they didn't notice a certain H/C haired female coming up behind them.

"Hey isn't that the red head girl from last time?" Josuke commented as he pointed at a certain picture.

"The one who was licking a cherry? Yeah I think so." Replied his tan best friend who started chuckling.

"Who even licks cherries like that?"

"I don't know but she can lick my cherry if you know what I'm sayin'~"

They both snorted obnoxiously and stupidly to themselves until they suddenly heard a very familiar someone right behind them.

"Hey guys! What's up!"

The boys jumped, screaming high pitched 'Eeeks' and 'Uwahs' at the sound of your sweet voice startling them into the worst heart attack they'd ever experience, threatening to cut their short lives even shorter.

Josuke nearly dropped the lewd magazine from his clammy hands and they both turned around abruptly, sweating bullets as they desperately and clumsily hid the piece of dirty evidence behind their backs.

'Oh no. God, everything but not this...' They both thought in unison, as if connected.

The last thing they could have ever expected or wanted, was seeing YOU, of all people, here out of all places and now, out of all times. They really had the worst luck. Suddenly, getting struck by thunder seemed appealing.

"O-o-oh hey Y/N-chan..." Okuyasu stuttered shakily, still sweating profusely.

"What uh... Ahem... What are you doing... here...?" Josuke continued clearing his tight throat and eyeing his best friend with rising anxiety.

The boys were silently communicating, trying to come up with anything, any excuse to either hide their shameful crime from you, or make you leave as soon as possible. They had to work their so-called 'bro-telepathy' like they never did before.

"I was passing by to get some strawberry milk, but then I recognized your hair in the distance! I'm so glad to see you!" You smiled angelically at them while showing them your little pink carton of strawberry milk like it was some prize.

You were beaming so brightly at them, they almost had to squint at your radiating light and beauty. Oh no this was bad, they were both striked by you like an arrow right through their heart.

'She.... SHE'S TOO CUTE FOR THIS WORLD!' They both screamed in their heads.

You, in particular, should never know about what they were doing. EVER. You were way too pure and too innocent for this. Who knows what your reaction would be if you discovered their lewd secrets? Would you judge them? Be disgusted by them? Never talk to them ever again? They couldn't possibly risk that.

Sadly, they were not as glad to see you here as you were to see them. You eventually asked them the oh-so-dreaded question that they wished you'd never ask.

"So, what were you boys doing? Reading manga?" You leaned over to the side slightly trying to see what they were hiding behind their backs and they both panicked.

Obviously you didn't notice the big 'R18' sign over all three of your heads and surely, you couldn't know what this part of the store was since you probably never checked it in your entire life.

In an amazingly coordinated moment, Josuke swiftly handed the magazine to Okuyasu while walking towards you, passing in front of the Jobro, the action completely hidden from your sight.

Josuke came in front of you and grabbed your shoulders, smiling big and trying to act as natural as he could.

"Aah um yes! Manga! Actually there's this one manga I wanted to show you, good thing you're here!" The pompadour-haired haafu was still obviously in utter panick, even if he tried his best to play it cool.

As Josuke was trying to deflect your attention from their guilty pleasure, Okuyasu took this advantage to turn around and scurriedly hide the magazine back in it's original shelf.

You were confused at their shady behavior and furrowed your eyebrows a little bit. You noticed Josuke was sweating and panting slightly, but your eyes traveled to Okuyasu fumbling with the magazines behind and you tried to make out what he was doing.

But Josuke wouldn't let you discover their evil plan for anything in the world, and so, he cupped both your cheeks in his large hands earning a gasp from you as he almost squished them, and turned your head back to face him.

He leaned down to your height and your eyes widened, puzzled by his spontaneous actions.

"Y/N Look at me! Look at my eyes!" He stared at you with a serious expression and you blushed at his sudden bold act and how close he was.

"J-jojo...?" You yelped as your heart was beating fast in your chest.

You were so confused as to what the hell was going on and why they were acting so weird. You knew the two could be up to some truly bizarre adventures sometimes, but that was just so strange.

Whatever they were trying to distract you from, it was working. His face was so close to yours, and his big hands were so warm, you subconsciously put your small ones over his wrists in response, face now red with blood and adrenaline.

You were beyond puzzled at everything that was happening, but you were so lost in Josuke's ocean blue eyes, you completely forgot about what Okuyasu was hiding so clumsily.

Speak of the devil, the tan male suddenly came up to you both, and Josuke released you from his grasp as his best friend made a surprisingly genius offer.

"Ohh Y/N, you didn't pay for that milk yet, right? Good, it's my treat then! Josuke, let's get some too! I'm thirsty."

The scar-faced boy casually wrapped a large arm around your shoulders and swiflty turned you around in his strong hold, effectively dragging you away from the adult section of the store, and barely letting you any time to even glance at the overly sexual display around you.

"Eh? What about that manga you wanted to show me?" You looked back at Josuke, regaining your composure slowly.

"Oh that? Never mind, it's not important anyway- Hey Okuyasu, do you want banana flavor or chocolate?" The fourth Jojo quickly changed the subject as he opened the fridge doors and picked up some drinks.

"You guys are acting so weird today..." You loved the boys, and they usually brought you into their messes, that wasn't anything new, but sometimes you really couldn't understand them. "I'll go wait in line while you guys make up your minds."

You gently patted Okuyasu's chest who almost forgot to let you go and you walked away towards the cash register.

When you were finally out of earshot, they both stared at each other, thinking of how they just dodged a bullet so big, it might as well just have been an atomic bomb.

"D-dude... That was so clutch man...." Josuke sighed, still swallowing his stress out and his best friend only shut his eyes and cringed before grabbing his drink.

"Just shut up, let's not talk about it..."

"Aaahh!!" Okuyasu let out a loud sigh of delight as he sipped his banana milk. "Man, that hit the spot."

"Yeah! Nothing better than some fresh milk in the summer. Great idea Y/N."

You three walked out of the store and headed back home, enjoying your drinks. You giggled at their over-the-top reaction and handed them your own carton.

"You guys want to try strawberry flavor?"

"Oohh~" Okuyasu gushed before smirking and taking the item from your hands. "An indirect kiss from my little Y/N! Lucky~"

Josuke gasped and snatched the drink as well, snickering when he was done. "Can't say no when she's the one who proposed huehue!"

"Well you both drank from the same straw, so technically you two kissed too!" You laughed at their priceless shocked facial expressions.

"WHAT?!"

"Naah dude, no homo, no homo." Josuke patted his friend's back, reassuring him with the holy expression famous for saving countless men from potential homosexuality.

Okuyasu sighed in relief. "Yeah, no homo! Still in the bro zone, bro."

You snorted at their questionable reasoning and kept on walking when you suddenly saw two familiar faces coming towards you.

"Oh! It's Koichi and Yukako!" You waved and smiled at the couple who approached you.

"Oh hey guys, what are you doing?" The short male greeted with a smile.

"Oh nothing much, I bumped into them in the konbini." You sheepishly answered and Yukako quirked an eyebrow at the two suspicious looking males next to you.

"Really?" She feigned, still staring at them. "What were they doing without you I wonder..."

"I don't know, reading manga I think? I'm not sure, they wouldn't tell me." You tried to look between her and them and they seemed to glare at the girl as hard as she did them.

"Huh?" She scoffed and shifted her weight on one leg." I bet you guys were reading porn again. Y/N I can't believe your patience around those guys."

"HUUUHHH???" Koichi yelled in pure surprise at the revelation and you three widened your eyes.

"YOU FREAKIN- OH MY GOD SHUT UP!" Okuyasu gasped and screamed at the girl who was smirking in victory.

"W-what?" You stuttered and looked at the two visibly stressed boys. "Po-... I don't- ... What??"

"Y/N DON'T LISTEN TO HER SHE'S LYING!" Josuke guiltily tried to reason as you covered your mouth in shock.

"Well it's the truth, right? Did I hit a sensitive subject, perhaps?" The brunette chuckled cutely, infuriating your friends even more.

"YOU'RE DEAD!!!"

Josuke sprinted towards Yukako who easily hoisted her awe-struck boyfriend over her shoulder and ran for dear life, having no regrets whatsoever.

An old one. A very old fic, it hurts to read it. I'm going to go ahead and post some old stuff I wrote just to get them out of my drafts. I hope they'll be enough for my beautiful gangsters.

[atlabeth]

fever - sokka x reader

this has been sitting in my drafts half finished for 3 weeks so i thot it was prime time i actually finished it

this is kinda based off the song w dua lipa and angele so you can listen to that if you want

summary: sokka's convinced there's a mystery illness keeping you from focusing, but somehow he's completely oblivious that the only 'sick' you are is lovesick, and he's the reason you can't focus.

a/n: i have never written a sickfic. but this is like. a fake sick fic. its an idiots in love fic. i mean this is coming from mr "is he taller than me? is he better looking?" himself so. it makes sense. as usual, this is not proofread bc im a lazy mf

also im sorry for being vague with the calc but i was NOT about to do math during summer who do you think i am? ??

wc: 1.7k

warning(s): mentions of being sick and 🤢calculus 🤮 but otherwise tooth rotting fluff

-

How could the smartest man you knew be so, so incredibly stupid?

You thought that you were being obvious, so obviously that you were sure he knew. It was embarrassing how obvious you were.

You had met Sokka in your calculus class at the start of the new semester after you ended up sitting next to each other, and it wasn’t a stretch to say that you were immediately smitten. With eyes like the ocean and a face that had to have been crafted by the gods, you were almost too distracted to respond when he asked you for a pencil. But when he winked at you after giving his thanks, it only solidified what you had already suspected: you had known this man for all of five minutes, and you already had a crush on him.

Little did you know, it was going to turn into the most infuriating crush you had ever experienced.

You and Sokka became fast friends even though calculus was the only class you had together. Unfortunately, it was also something that you completely sucked at. Bad news, it was required for your major. Good news, Sokka was some sort of genius and offered to tutor you — Wednesdays in the library turned into a weekly occasion, and served as an opening for your calculus skills, your feelings for Sokka, and your exasperation to all grow stronger.

You normally weren’t someone to beat around the bush. If you started to like someone, you told them and dealt with whatever happened after, but something about Sokka just kept you from spilling your feelings outright. You knew that if he didn’t feel the same way, your relationship likely wouldn’t change, but there was still that tiny voice that said it’s better to stay like this in case things do go wrong — and this was the first time you listened to that voice. You simply valued your friendship too much.

But that didn’t mean you were going to be completely quiet about it — you hoped that if you did enough, he would be able to realize you liked him and do the whole process for you. A bit of a dim hope, but crushes make people do stupid things.

Things like bringing an extra coffee to every session, laughing at all his jokes (even the bad ones), sitting a little closer to him than usual, not dropping out of this wretched class so you could spend time together (it might’ve been required, but you still counted it). He didn’t make a point to object to anything, so you knew you weren’t making him uncomfortable — but you had concluded after nearly a whole semester of working and studying together that he was the most oblivious person in all of Ba Sing Se. He could teach you all kinds of formulas, but had no idea that you liked him. Grand.

Today was arguably the most important session out of any of them, seeing as your next class was the final, so it was only fitting that Sokka unknowingly made himself more interesting than any material you could’ve been working with. His arms were going to be the death of both you and your calc grade. You swore that the heat rushing to your cheeks was actually emanating off of you.

“Hey, Y/N!” Sokka grinned as he saw you and raised a hand in greeting, a sentiment you would’ve returned had it not been for the coffee cups in your hands. You settled for mirroring his grin and settled down in the seat across from him. You slid his coffee cup over, set your own down, then shrugged your bag off all before taking a seat.

“You ready to study ‘till your eyes bleed?” he asked, prompting a nervous laugh from you.

“You jest, but my eyes might actually start bleeding depending on how long we go,” you sighed. “There’s a reason I got an extra shot of espresso today.”

“Come on — by now you should know that you have nothing to worry about! I am the best teacher there is, and you got me all to yourself.”

Your eyes widened momentarily and you coughed, purposefully averting your gaze to give yourself some time to recover. Okay, he was going to make it really hard to focus today. “Let’s just get into it.”

He nodded and flipped open his notebook, beginning to talk as he rifled through his bag for a few extra things. “Okay, we’re just gonna start with going over the basics, then we’ll work our way up. There’s a couple practice problems on that page, so you can go ahead and answer those as a warmup.

You slid the notebook over in front of you and after approximately five seconds of looking at the first problem, found yourself studying Sokka rather than the material. Who could blame you? In the battle of cute tutor boy versus calculus, he was going to win every time.

He turned around and you immediately averted your eyes once again, trying to appear extremely involved, but you found that your mind was empty on anything to do with math. “Hey, uh— how do you do this first one? I’m totally blanking here.”

“We use limits in everything — this is actually something you’re really good at!” He studied you intensely and frowned. “Are you okay? Like, you’re not sick or anything, are you? You seem kinda out of it.”

You choked out a laugh and shook your head. “No, no — I’m fine. I guess I’m just a little tired.” As if to demonstrate your lie, you took a sip from your coffee and cringed internally. Love had turned you into an idiot.

He seemed to buy it as he nodded and picked up the pencil, scribbling a couple of notes as he explained the first problem to you. “Does that make sense?” You nodded and he handed the pencil back to you. “Okay — the other ones follow the same kind of process. It should be easy enough.”

You managed to get a little further in the second problem, but your lovestruck mind would not stop focusing back on Sokka every time you tried to do, well, anything. Curse him and his perfect arms, and eyes, and hairstyle, and everything.

You shook your head and set the pencil down once more, letting loose a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” Yes, you did. “I just can’t focus at all.” Because of you. You picked up your cup once more and took a sip, hoping it would do something to get you back into the math state of mind.

Sokka frowned once more as he put the back of his hand against your forehead. “God, you’re hot.” You nearly choked on your coffee as your eyes practically bulged out of their sockets — he had to know what he was doing by now — how could he not? “Like, you’re completely burning up. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, I swear— I just…” you set your cup down on the table and heaved a sigh that was a touch more exasperated than necessary. “Are you telling me you seriously haven’t noticed? Like, not a single thing this whole year?”

“I’ve noticed a lot of things this year,” he chuckled. “It’s kind of our whole job, so you’re gonna have to be a lot more specific.”

You finally couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Sokka, I’m not— I’m not sick! Haven’t you noticed that I’m only ever flustered, or running into things, or forgetting info, or— or just a complete idiot when I’m around you? I like you, like, a lot, and I have for an embarrassingly long time! The reason I can’t focus is because I am hopelessly attracted to you in every single way.”

His brows creased for a moment and you clamped your mouth shut, worried that you had just ruined everything. It was only after a pause that felt like a century that he finally responded, the hint of a smirk on his lips.

“Well, why didn’t you just say something?”

You stared at him, eyes wide and lips slightly parted in pure surprise before the annoyance set in. You set your jaw as your brows furrowed and you hit him lightly on the side of his arm with the back of your palm. “You can’t be serious! You— you’ve gotta be messing with me by now. I really can’t believe that you can be that smart but this oblivious!”

He finally let the grin play across his lips in full force and he shrugged nonchalantly. “I mean, I don’t know how you don’t expect me to mess with you when you scrunch up your face all cute like that every time you get mad. Besides, I started liking you after that fifth class; I offered to help you out so I could spend more time with you! I didn’t realize you felt the same way. I kinda just enjoyed the free coffee and getting to look at you all the time.”

“I can’t believe you!” you cried as you hit his other arm. “You’re telling me that I had to deal with this- this mental turmoil about whether you liked me back, while you were just enjoying the free eye candy and coffee the whole time?”

“You have nothing to worry about! I enjoyed the company far more than the coffee,” he joked, a certain twinkle in his eye. “But, you are probably out a couple twenties after all of that. So, what do you say about this Saturday, the cafe by the shoe store? My treat.”

“Damn right it’s your treat,” you shot back, though you couldn’t stop the smile forming on your face. “You owe me a lot — you have to make up for those coffees and all the emotional distress you caused.”

“Oh, I think I’ll have plenty of time to make up for lost time. After all, we do have a lot of coffee dates to get through.” And when he winked at you just like that first day, you remembered just how impossible it was to be angry at Sokka. “But first, we kinda have to get through this study date. The final’s still happening tomorrow.”

You responded with a raised brow. “This is a study date?”

Sokka shrugged and grinned. “They’ve all been study dates. You just didn’t know it.”

-

idiots in love idiots in love idiots In LOVe

perm tag list: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77

atla: @marianne1806

[potatoes-is-are-food]

Demon Shit

Okay so this is based very heavily off a dream I had so reader is a little more specific than usual so keep in mine “you” are small in this. There is also gonna be a part 2 because the dream didn’t end here! Anyways thank you guys for 300+ followers I really appreciate you!!

| NSFW

 “Here, put this in the circle,” the witch said, eyeing you like she still didn’t trust you despite the fact you’d been helping her with this ritual for two days already. You did as instructed, placing the jar of roots in the chalk circle on the ground.

“Okay, now you wait here, stand here,” she moved you into the circle,“and I’ll be right outside. Whatever you do, don’t talk to it. Just wait for me.” She stared you down intensely before leaving the room, shutting the door behind her and leaving you in the dark with only a few candles flickering around the room to provide light.

You waited for a while, trying not to fidget and feeling very uncomfortable in the dress she’d had you wear. It was a thin material meant for a summer day, and the cold aura of the room chilled you to the bone, making you shiver and shuffle your bare feet. 

Suddenly the air started to shift, and you felt a warm breeze despite there being no doors or windows open in the room. Several candles blew out, leaving you in almost complete darkness. Fear gripped your chest, your heart thumping hard in your ribcage.

Something was breathing in front of you. Right in front of you. Tentatively, you reached a hand out in front of your face. Only a few centimeters away you made contact with ...skin. You flinched, immediately bringing your hands to your chest and wringing them together nervously.

The door creaked open slowly, and your new “friend” stepped back in, letting the light from the hallway flood into the small room.

“Good, good. Now just stay there. Don’t talk to him. Just stand there and I’ll be right back, I have to get the last piece. Don’t talk to him.” She pointed a bony finger at you, jerking it forward a little for her last sentence. You nodded, still a little too shaken to speak just yet. With a nod, she was gone, leaving the door open this time to give you some light.

Nervously your eyes darted to the floor and slowly started to work up the creature’s form. It was supposed to be a demon for her to bargain with, a horrifying mass of ungodly limbs and dread. But it looked like a man. His skin was discolored in patches that were stapled to what looked like normal skin.

When you reached his face your breath caught in your throat. He was handsome, even with the weird skin and staples. His cyan eyes drew you in, without realizing it you were leaning against him slightly, your chest touching his as you tried to look more closely into those hypnotic eyes.

His warmth was just shocking enough to snap you out of it, and you leaned back off your toes, not even realizing you’d been standing on them. You looked at his blank expression and gently brought a hand up to it, grazing a single finger against his warm cheek.

You circled around him, taking in the sight of his naked body. You’d been too scared before, but with him so still he scared you much less. His muscles were rigid when you touched them, as though he were constantly flexing. Your eyes trailed the staples on his chest before venturing lower.

His flaccid cock hung heavily against him, and with a slightly more flustered disposition you turned your attention to his thighs, stroking along his skin. As you rounded to see his backside your hand trailed along his hip, following the discolored skin around as you looked over his back’s taught muscles and the curve of his ass.

When you reached his front again, you gave his cheek a light poke. No response. You felt like he could see you, though. The thought made you nervous. The woman had told you to only wear the ritual dress, and it was just a thin white dress that went a little past your knees and made you look deceptively innocent. 

Warmth radiating your cheeks, you poked at him some more. His shoulder, bicep, face again. Nothing. You waved a hand in front of his eyes.

“Can you even talk?” You mused, blinking up at his blank face.

His eyes locked onto you. The woman’s voice telling you not to talk to him flashed through your mind followed by a string of curses.

“Of course I can talk, little mouse,” the sound of his voice made your heart feel like it would leap out of your throat and run away. You wanted to scream but felt it die before it even reached your chest. You stared up at him with wide eyes, tears already starting to form.

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing would come out. The demon’s eyes moved up and down your form, his forked tongue sweeping over his lip. You trembled, feeling your head getting lighter and lighter.

“You must be the sacrifice,” he shrugged, scooping you into his arms just as your knees buckled. “You’re no virgin, but I don’t care. You’re mine now, y/n,” He brought you close and his long tongue licked a strip up your neck, making you gasp.

“H-how-” you stared up at him, shaking violently.

“Demon shit. Don’t worry about it,” he stepped out of the circle and suddenly everything aside from him was cold again, making you shiver and curl against his chest. He chuckled and rolled his shoulders a bit, clothing appearing over his body.

You were so busy staring you didn’t notice the figure staring in the doorway until the witch screamed. She fell back, trying to crawl away as the demon calmly stepped towards her.

“I told you not to talk to it you fucking idiot!” She screeched, kicking and trying to back up further as she hit the wall. You felt the hand under your knees flex and her neck snapped, her body falling limply to the floor, face still twisted in fear.

You wanted to scream. Try to run or at least struggle, but you were rooted to the spot. No sound would come.

“Dumb hag,” he spit, the fluid hitting her skirt and immediately setting her corpse on fire. Walking down the hall and out the door, he looked down at your scared expression.

“Should’ve known better than to use a dumb little thing like you for a sacrifice,” his tongue flicked over your cheek, “You didn’t even know you were being sacrificed, huh? Just a sweet little lamb too stupid to know it’s being prepared for the slaughter,” Your face burned at his words and you stared at your hands, not wanting to make eye contact with him while your face was hot and you had tears and his spit on your cheeks.

“Hey,” he called, and you looked up at him without thinking, immediately feeling lost and drowsy in his stare, “Sleep,” he commanded, and your body went limp against him as his order overtook your exhausted body.

When your eyes finally fluttered open you just saw hazy light, like a rainy day. You squinted and sat up, blinking a few times as everything came into focus. You were facing an open window, sheer curtains blowing slightly in the breeze. The sky was overcast, and there didn’t seem to be anything outside for a long ways.

Looking around the room you noticed you were on a plush bed in a nicely furnished room. Everything looked really old, though. Like it hadn’t been touched for decades before now yet without the dust that would accompany that. You stretched and stood, heading for one of the two doors. The first lead to a bathroom, so you closed it and headed for the other one, only to find it locked.

You awkwardly paced around for a minute, debating if you’d break a leg if you jumped out the window from this height.

“Um... Mr. Demon?” You called against the door that wouldn’t open. You chewed on your lip anxiously, waiting for a response. You didn’t get one. You paced for another minute, shivering when the breeze picked up and deciding to close the window and get warm under the blankets on the large bed.

You drifted off for a second, rolling over to get more comfortable and coming face to face with the demon. A startled yelp escaped your lips before you could stop it, and he laughed softly and ruffled your hair a bit.

“W-where am I?” You asked, sliding back away from him a little.

“A house,” he answered smugly, giving you a bored expression. You frowned at him. “Don’t worry about it, doll. You’re safe. If I were gonna hurt you or eat you I’d have done it by now,” his tongue dragged slowly over his bottom lip, “although I’m debating that second thing,”

You felt all the blood in your body rush into your face and you pulled the blankets tighter against you. The corner of his mouth dragged up as he closed the distance between you, slinging an arm over your huddled form.

“You heard me earlier, little sacrifice, you’re mine. The ritual might have gotten fucked up, but you were still sacrificed to me. You couldn’t escape me if you wanted to, and I know you don’t,” his face came closer and closer until his lips were almost touching, “I can feel what you’re feeling. I know you’re scared and confused, but that’s not all,” his lips barely brushed yours as he spoke, “you’re aroused.”

Your mouth fell open before you could stop it, silently begging for his kiss and leaning into his surprisingly gentle touches as he coaxed you closer. His warm hands trailed along your soft body underneath him, palming at your breasts and thighs and any other available flesh. His long, forked tongue twisted around yours and flicked all along the insides of your mouth as you moaned against him.

“So docile, so sweet,” he muttered, trailing his lips down past your jaw and planting scalding kisses to your neck and collar bone. He tugged gently at the neckline of your dress, leaning back a bit to toy with it for a second.

“That bitch really tried to fuck you over,” he laughed, “You wouldn’t have stood a chance in this,” he gathered the flimsy material in both fists and ripped it apart easily, exposing your skin to the cool air and making you gasp. He yanked the fabric away, flinging it to some forgotten corner of the room before pouncing on you again, groping directly at your skin now as you writhed under him.

“Dabi,” he said, lips hovering against the skin of your breast. You held onto his shoulders in an attempt to ground yourself as he started to lick and suckle at your skin.

“What?” You gasped, feeling his sharp teeth nip at you.

“My name. Scream it,” his body snaked down yours until he was lying with his face resting on your upper thigh, centimeters from your core. His hands rubbed soothingly along your thighs and hips as he kissed along your skin, inching closer to your cunt and teasing you with his unnaturally hot breath.

“Please,” you trembled, reaching out for his hand, which he let you hold, intertwining your fingers together.

“Please what?” He teased, giving you a toothy grin so you could see his sharp fangs.

“Please, Dabi,” you said softly, nervously starting to squirm under his predatory gaze. He gave your thigh another short kiss,

“Good girl,” he didn’t waste time, immediately latching onto your drooling cunt and lapping at your clit, using his forked tongue to squeeze and toy with your sensitive nub.

You arched your back, but his hand that wasn’t your stress ball forced you back down onto the bed as he worked his tongue expertly along every spot that made you scream. It hadn’t even been two minutes when you came undone on his mouth, calling his name loudly and gripping his hand as tight as you could. His mouth didn’t move, and he coaxed orgasm after orgasm out of you for what felt like hours.

You called his name, cried, tried to pull his hair, but you came again and again as he overstimulated you so much your orgasms started blending together. When he finally pulled away, you were twitching and unable to form words as he crawled up over you, kissing and licking the tears from your face.

“Good girl,” he cooed, letting you cling to him, “good little sacrifice,” he smirked as he said “sacrifice,” reminding you of your place as his possession.

Once your shaky breathing had mostly calmed down, he kissed you deeply, and you only just noticed his appearing clothes act was also a disappearing one. Your hands gripped his shoulders, moving along his bare chest and feeling more staples there. Your mouth welcomed his tongue, and you sighed pleasantly against his lips at the intrusion, feeling his wet muscle slide along the insides of your cheek and lap at your tongue.

His warm hands groped your breasts gently at first, kneading them for a bit before pinching your nipples hard and making you squeak against him. You felt his teeth as he smirked against your lips, his hands slipping under your body and flipping you onto your stomach with ease. He pulled you up by your hips, forcing your ass up as his other hand pushed your head down into the pillows, making you whimper softly.

He let his hips rest against the curve of your ass, and you felt something heavy and hot settle between your cheeks. Too heavy. Too hot. You started to squirm a little, and suddenly a harsh slap came down on your soft skin, making you cry out.

“Be good and take it,” he lined himself up with your soaked entrance, pushing forward slowly, “that’s it, little mouse,” he groaned, bottoming out and gently rocking his hips a few times. The sting was minimal from how wet you were, but you’d never felt so full.

Suddenly he pulled out nearly all the way and slammed back in with force that had you seeing stars and made your eyes roll back into your head. His fingers gently tangled in your hair before gripping roughly and yanking back as he pounded into your tight heat. He pulled your back to his chest, biting and sucking at your neck as he abused your pussy, one hand holding your hips in a bruising grip and the other holding you to him with your hair.

You gripped at any part of him you could reach, trying to hold on as he used you thoroughly, feeling him hitting your cervix as he snapped his hips against you. The hand on your hip slid forward to toy with your puffy clit, making you whine as he built your orgasm back up.

He sank his teeth deep into the skin of your neck as you came on his cock, blood dripping down your chest as you cried out, clenching as he slid his hand into yours in an attempt at comfort as he marked you, hips still rocking against you and dragging himself against your spasming walls. Tears spilled down your face, dripping and mixing with the blood flowing along your body as you felt yourself getting close again already.

“Gonna be hot, little sacrifice,” he groaned huskily in your ear, hips slapping against you faster. It already felt too hot inside you, the thought of how hot his cum would be had you reeling, getting closer to your own end.

He leaned forward with you, pressing you into the mattress as he rested on top of you, rutting into you harder and harder. You felt him throb inside you before streams of inhumanly hot cum flooded your walls, the feeling combined with his ministrations to your clit had you following suit, creaming around him with a sob as he slowed to a stop, pressed tightly against you to release everything he had inside. It was so hot, and there was so much of it, the sticky feeling of it sloshing around inside and spilling around your thighs and cunt had your eyes rolling back into your head as you came again. Or maybe it extended the last one, you couldn’t really tell anymore.

You completely collapsed under him, going limp as you panted, covered in sweat, tears, cum, and blood. There were spots in your vision and you lost consciousness for a few seconds, groaning softly at even the thought of moving your broken body.

“Come on, sweetness,” Dabi’s hands gently peeled you up, letting your unmoving form rest against him as he took you up into his arms, heading into the bathroom. Everything was pretty fuzzy but you ended up settled against him in a warm bath as he gently scrubbed his trail of destruction off your skin. His softness after being so rough with you had your head spinning, making you cling to him as your only source of comfort.

“Mmmm, so sweet,” he said against your hair, running his fingers through the wet tresses. “All mine now, little sacrifice,” he ran his thumb gently over the bite he’d given you, making you wince. “The ritual getting messed up had me a little nervous, there. I had to bite you like that within twelve hours to keep you,” you turned to look at him with wide eyes and he smirked down at you.

“What do you mean?” You asked softly, still staying close to him if only so he’d stay gentle.

“If the ritual doesn’t finish, the sacrifice is void. But if I can stake my claim on it before twelve hours pass I can keep it anyway. I think it’s supposed to give you a fair shot at escape,” he shrugged, “not like that would’ve happened either way,” he gave you a wink, making blood rush into your face.

“And you,” he continued, “dumb, sweet little thing, are definitely something I want to keep.” He gave the underside of your chin a tap, and you leaned up to him so he could kiss you.

After a while, he got you both out, opening the locked door out of the room and settling you into a bed in a different room of the old house, sliding in beside you and letting you cling to him as you’d been doing for several hours now. He’d made pants appear on him at some point, but you were still naked, shivering against him as he brought you to his chest.

“What happens now?” you asked, snuggled against his warmth.

“Now, you sleep for a few hours. Then we get out of this pocket dimension and summon a friend of mine. You’ll get to help with that.” 

“Why? What are you gonna do?” 

“Demon shit. Now go to sleep.” He planted a soft kiss on your forehead, and you closed your eyes obediently, almost immediately falling asleep.

@soup-forthesoul @vermeilies @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love @shigraki

[runtedfiction]

nicer

day 1: facade @zelinkweek2021

ao3

* * *

Years later, when Link faces the castle’s crumbling walls, he thinks about the Princess.

* * *

The day King Rhoam announces this year’s Harvest Festival is also the day his subjects know they're doomed. Officially, it’s supposed to be a normal holiday. Unofficially, the language in the announcement—“the last celebration before the fight against Calamity Ganon”, “the last time the palace will be open to Castletown until the fight is over”—convinces everyone that they’re partying in the face of the apocalypse.

“They have no faith in me,” Zelda says, putting down her pen. “Ganon is brewing deep beneath the castle. Everyone knows it. Everyone knows I can’t stop it. This is their last chance to let loose before all hell breaks loose.”

Impa frowns and hands her the final page of raw Guardian data to clean. “You're too hard on yourself. You still have time.”

“I just have Mount Lanayru next week.” She focuses on the Silent Princess above her desk. It's wilting. “Do you think I’ll be wise enough? Maybe Hylia will smite me right then and there for being an idiot.”

“Princess!”

“I know, I know.”

* * *

They wrap up that afternoon’s study, an incredibly useful session in quantifying the powers of the Guardians, to get ready for the ball.

Zelda’s dress is her signature blue, but a bit more fluid and feminine than the one she normally wears. Made for dancing and a summer night.

“Collarbones,” Impa notes, and Zelda laughs. “A little off the shoulder as well! And the subtle constellation pattern in the tulle--how stunning!”

“Don’t act as if you didn’t design it.”

“Guilty.”

Impa’s dress, an even deeper blue, is similarly gorgeous. It’s long sleeved, form fitting, and silky.

“Impa, I just want to say—” Zelda pauses, looking at their reflections in the mirror. When will they ever look this nice again? “Thank you for being my friend.”

Impa' smiles. “Of course. And Princess—if I may.”

“Yes?”

“With all your talk of the world ending, of doom coming.” Her voice gets small. “Do you think it would be worth telling him?”

Zelda stiffens. She thinks of him somewhere in the castle, dressed in his best uniform, walking to find her.

She lies. “No.”

Three quiet, efficient raps sound against her door. Zelda’s heart lurches.

* * *

In the hot, overcrowded ballroom, she can’t stop wondering if he thinks she looks pretty.

There are important people here she needs to talk to: researchers from the Royal Ancient Tech Lab, religious leaders, captains of industry, and so on. She finds her father and tries to reach some common ground on the one night they aren’t preparing for Evil Incarnate. (She fails.) She should find the court poet and give him the dance he’s been writing about for the past month.

But all she wants is for Link to look at her.

He’s indeed in his best uniform. His gloves and boots are blindingly white; his collar sits high and stiff against his neck. He’s uncommonly handsome, and the uniform emphasizes it. When someone pulls him in to dance (technically he should be keeping watch, but that someone really insists), she hates the jealousy that blooms in her chest and takes the hand of the poet. When she twirls, when she makes conversation, when she curtsies--she tries to see it all from Link’s perspective, if he can even find her in the crowd.

“Princess, are you feeling alright?”

“Oh.”

The poet looks at her in the way that a puppy looks at its master. The neediness satisfies and repulses her.

“Yes,” she says, smiling quickly. “Thank you for asking. How are you?”

“Wonderful. I was sitting in the courtyard the other day and...”

It’s easy to tune him out and appear to be interested with the right amount of “mhmm” and “oh?” and eye contact. But every time he twirls her around, she tries to spot the top of a Royal Guard cap in the crowd.

She knows she’s being stupid. Even in the incredibly unlikely scenario where Link’s interested, what could they do? Given that her powers aren’t working, there’s only a sixty percent chance they’ll get through the Calamity. She thinks back to what Impa said earlier. Something about letting him know in the face of impending doom.

(Maybe it doesn’t make sense to do something that would possibly be useless, a tiny voice in the back of her head says. But on the flip side, it’s also possible that nothing will matter soon, so why not tell him?)

She scowls and lets the poet dip her far too low for common courtesy.

* * *

Link is definitely lost in the crowd now. The next song requires that they rotate between multiple partners, and she can’t spot him anywhere. There’s no way that he’d be looking at her anyway, because why would he? He’s the chosen one, kind and strong and handsome and blessed. She’s the failed reincarnation, mean and headstrong and cursed.

If (when) the world ends, it’ll be on her.

Zelda admits to herself, swaying in the arms of someone else who doesn’t matter, that because the world has an uncomfortably high probability of ending, it follows that maybe, possibly, probably it makes sense for her to say something.

A sense of urgency unfurls in the pit of her stomach. Where is he?

* * *

She tries to find him. She doesn’t know what she’d do--ask for a dance? Strike up a conversation? Maybe it's the heat getting to her, but it worries her that she's lost him. She walks the length of the ballroom and comes up with nothing.

There’s no way she could summon him, but…

She grabs a glass of water and walks out the ballroom to the nearest balcony.

Except in this very specific circumstance, it’s infuriating how easy it is for him to find her. Even when she doesn't want to be found, even when she’s actively running away (and nearly dying in the process), there he is. The knowledge that he’s almost always aware of her presence burns.

“Hello,” she says after a respectable amount of time.

He steps out behind her. Unfortunately, the moonlight’s softness makes him look angelic. “Hi.”

Zelda very rarely has no plan. She’s the one always bossing him around, deciding where they’ll go next and how they’ll get there and what they’ll do. She’s at a loss for words right now.

“Ah--hm.” A cooling night breeze passes by. “Are you--are you enjoying the festival?”

“Yes?” He looks confused. And hot, her unhelpful brain adds. Very hot. “Are you?”

“Yes. It’s quite warm inside, but I enjoy the music and the dancing.”

“The band is nice.”

She agrees and scrambles to find another conversation topic. Damn it. Still no plan. Think, think.

“Uh--” he starts the same time she asks, “Are you ready for Mount Lanayru next week?”

He nods, and she hates how she made the conversation about work. But he looks more confident now--talking about work is easier than trying to have whatever kind of conversation she had in mind. “Yeah. I read about the region and it seems relatively safe. We might see Naydra too.”

“That would be incredible,” she says. “I’d love to capture it on the Slate.”

He nods again. A silence passes (a horribly awkward one that eats at her) before she asks: “What were you going to say before I interrupted you?”

“Oh yes.” Link clears his throat, and the fact that he looks a bit nervous sends her heart pounding. Can he tell what her subconscious is trying to do? “I’ve been meaning to ask (oh God, oh God, what has he been meaning to ask)--are you avoiding me?”

She blinks. “What?”

He won’t make eye contact with her. Triforce of courage, my ass. “Are you avoiding me?”

“No?” She’s stunned. Avoiding? All she’s been doing for the past week is pining!

“But, I feel like.” He pauses to look at her briefly. Again, his nerves kick off her own. “Ever since we got back from the desert, you haven’t really talked to me.”

She needs to think. A week ago, what happened?

They were at the Kara Kara Bazaar, and she nearly died because she intentionally (stupidly) lost him. She relives the feeling of it now--the panic that came with facing certain death when she realized it wasn’t Link following her, but the Yiga, then the shock when he appeared out of thin air wielding the sword. His back, so strong and sure. His concern as he helped her get up afterwards.

How once she could process what happened, something kicked in her chest, and everything was so obvious so suddenly.

Then getting back from the desert, what did she do? She wrote a diary entry, spent a sleepless night deciding she had feelings for him that she didn’t want to name, and tried as hard as possible to conceal them. The pining was unbearable, and--oh. Looking at him made her face burn, so she turned away. She never knew what to say around him, so she chose to say nothing at all.

Perhaps she approached her yearning by offsetting it with its opposite.

They really haven’t spoken. Zelda shakes her head, and mentally kicks herself. How can someone like you back if you don’t even talk to them? “I promise, I’m not trying to avoid you.”

He furrows his brow a little. Cute. Unfair. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Ok. If you do--if you ever need more space, let me know.” He smiles a little. “I do have to follow you, but I can do it farther away or something.”

She smiles back. Please always follow me. “Thanks. No need.”

“Alright,” he says. He glances at her arms.“Do you want to go back inside? It’s a bit cold. You’re getting goosebumps.”

She didn’t even notice. An idea is forming in her mind, bright and hot and something that needs to rush out right now or she’s going to overthink it to death.

“Going back inside sounds good. When we do, would you--would you like to dance with me?”

The question leaves so quickly that she’s not too sure if he understood it. She holds her breath; she might throw up.

“Sure,” he says, and the disappointment that she expected to punch her gut doesn’t come; a flood of something wonderful washes over her instead. Sure is yes, her mind sings. “How about I find you before the last song? I’ve been doing a bad job of keeping watch.”

“Sure,” she echoes. Hopefully her excitement isn’t too obvious when she turns back and nearly runs into the ballroom.

* * *

When the band announces the last song of the night, Zelda lets go of the poet and steps back immediately.

“My Princess,” he says, and the normal repulsion she would feel turns into joy when she spots a navy blue cap making its way through the crowd. “I would be honored to have your final dance, if you would have me.”

“Another time,” she says, already turning to pick up her skirt and mosey her way through the last group of people separating her from a flash of sandy blonde hair. “Thank you though!”

She doesn’t wait for the poet’s response because the crowd is gone and Link is right in front of her, handsome and smiling slightly. Her heart is at a million miles a minute when she drops her skirt and steps forward to place her hand in his.

This isn’t like her. He must think she’s acting so strange. Either that, or it’s obvious just from looking at her what she’s thinking. It’s a frenzied array of thoughts, ranging from the obvious (handsome, handsome, smells so good?, handsome, kind eyes) and the embarrassing (The smallest, least repressed part of me has dreamed about this all week.)

The music starts and swells and she’s still dreaming. His hand on her back is firm. Thanks to the design of the dress, she can feel his glove pressing into her. She wonders if he can feel the heat of her skin.

“How are you doing?” he asks when they fall into a rhythm, and she smiles too fast, idiot, calm down.

“Great, how are you?”

“Good,” he says, and they spin. He smiles back. “Good to know you’re not avoiding me.”

“Of course not.” Stupid, you avoided him!

He dips her a perfectly appropriate amount.

She feels brave. It’s the adrenaline getting to her, because the rational part of her can’t stop (giddily) telling her that she’s dumb when she asks, “Why would you think that I'd avoid you?”

“Hm.” He looks away to consider the question. The tips of his eyelashes catch the chandelier light. “I thought that maybe last week was a bit too much.”

She thinks about how warm his hand was when he helped her get up after saving her life. “It wasn’t.”

“It’s ok if it was.”

“No, no, you’re too kind.”

Link clears his throat. “So you’re not avoiding me because I kept trying to follow you through the bazaar when you clearly didn’t want me to?”

She laughs. “No, it’s also incredibly stupid that I tried to lose you. Besides, what would’ve happened if you hadn’t?”

Link clears his throat.

She chooses to change the subject by asking an easy “What did you make for dinner tonight?” in an attempt to soak up the final minutes she has in his arms. He starts talking about mushroom risotto, and she can’t stop smiling.

* * *

At the end of the night, when he escorts her to her room, it’s late enough that silence is acceptable.

She’s decided that she needs to do something, but she doesn’t know what. A hug would be different, but too strange. I like you is simple, but too plain. Thinking about you makes my heart soft is embarrassing. I know I’ve been an incorrigible bitch but now my walls are down and I like you is too honest.

She turns around when they reach her doors.

“Tonight was fun,” she says.

He smiles. Zelda knows romance books don’t lie when her heart jumps at the sight of it. “It was.”

This is the moment. She takes a deep breath as quietly as she can. She has that nauseous feeling again. If nothing matters, tell him. Everyone knows the apocalypse is coming.

“Hey, listen,” he says right when she opens her mouth. He pauses to look at her. If she thought he looked nervous earlier when he asked her if she was avoiding him, it’s nothing compared to now. He does a visible gulp, and—

“I think I have feelings for you.”

She blinks. What?

“And I understand if you don’t feel the same way,” he continues, tense and fast, looking right at her, “especially in light of everything going on right now. But I just had to put that out there.”

What?!

She closes her eyes--what is happening right now--and when she opens them he’s still there. This isn’t a dream.

Holy fuck. “Really?”

He nods. “Really.”

“Huh,” she says. He beat her to it. “Huh.”

“Huh?”

She laughs. He beat her to it, and now all she has to do is the easiest thing in the world.

“I think I have feelings for you too,” she says. It’s so dark now she can’t see the blue of his eyes, but she can imagine it easily.

He’s surprised. “Really?”

“Really. In fact, I was meaning to tell you just now.”

“Really?”

She laughs. “Really.”

She smiles and takes his hand. He stiffens at first, then relaxes as she threads her fingers through his.

“Oh, actually, here, let me—” He lets go. Disappointment hits her briefly before she sees that he’s taking off his glove. Some of his scars are alabaster in the moonlight. He has so many.

(She wants to kiss all of them.)

His hand is warm and rough and lovely when he slips it back into hers.

“This feels nicer,” he says, and his voice is almost shy.

There are a million things she wants to say--what are we going to do if I end the world, what are we going to do if you save the world, how long have you known for, Hylia is going to smite both of us for being fools--but she settles on squeezing his hand instead. He squeezes back.

“Yes,” she agrees. Very gently, she cups his cheek with her other hand and leans in. He’s closed his eyes already. “Much nicer.”

[script-nef]

An actual break | Gojou Satoru

Category: fluff

2.6k words; Beach date [4/6]

← Previous chapter | Masterlist

You haven’t been to the beach in months. So a car trip for hours, where you can blank out and peer out of the window to enjoy the wonderful and ever-changing scenery is amazing. Dipping your feet in the water or eating from food vendors or enjoying the warm summer sun on your skin. Perhaps getting a tan if the weather is perfect. This would all be perfectly enjoyable and possible.

If it wasn’t for work.

“[Surname]-san, why are you coming with us? You said you can’t fight.” Itadori calls from the backseat, nestled not-so-comfortably between Fushiguro and Kugisaki. 

Wouldn’t it be better if Kugisaki is in the middle since she’s the smallest and the skinniest? The thought drifts into your head but you soon understand why. As soon as the words leave his mouth it’s met with a firm and resounding slap on the arm. Itadori’s yelp of pain is silenced under her hiss of “God, you’re so tactless! Now move over, it’s getting cramped with all of the bags.” Ah, she didn’t want to sit in the middle. And what bags? I didn’t bring any.

They keep their banter up and a quick glance to both Gojou and Fushiguro indicates that they have no intention of stopping it. Gojou is actually humming through the bickering. Why do I have to be the adult? He’s like, 5 years older than me. That’s literally what he said as the reason to drive instead of you. 

“It’s fine, Kugisaki-san. I’m coming along because there’s been a lot of cursed spirit activity around here and I need to see if something abnormal is happening. I’m not going to get in the way of the fight so you don’t need to worry.” You send Itadori a smile through the back mirror which he responds with a quick nod, then a confused look.

“Isn’t that Gojou-sensei’s responsibilities?” The mentioned adult laughs and smoothly makes a right turn. You want to slap him.

“Normally, yes, but he insists on being insufferable.” You turn to face them, leaning onto the seat with a scowl. “The report he made was nearly illegible and last time something like this happened, and I had to sit down with him for 3 hours to complete it. Even then, he was going off topic half the time and trying to distract me. Itadori-kun, Kugisaki-san, listen to me. If he doesn’t do his work, you have to practically force him.”

“Doesn’t work.” Fushiguro comments while looking out the window. Gojou has the audacity to laugh again.

“We had a great time! You were laughing your head off by the time we were done.” A light tug on your shirt makes you sit back properly. The scowl stays in place.

“I missed dinner! And I missed the last episode of Haikyuu thanks to that!”

“Fine, fine. I’ll take it up by buying you dinner, okay?” He must be kidding if that makes up for missing your favourite anime. Kuroo came and went thanks to him. The car comes to an abrupt stop just as you’re about to complain again. “We have arrived!”

Salt wafts in the air as the sea twinkles underneath the afternoon sun. It’s hot today, and humid enough to make your clothes stick to your skin, which is gross. Sunny and warm means a swim will be ideal, but you have to take care of the whole recurring curses thing first. Previous reports have said that they were all mid-level, so hopefully Gojou’s students won’t have that much of a problem taking care of them. That also means they, including you as well, might have the opportunity to relax for the rest of the day. 

The actual spot is somewhere in the nearby forest, filled thick with trees and so large that even if someone went missing it would take ages to search. An ideal hunting place since a lot of people visit there. Numbers dropped quite a bit after the fifth person “went missing”. 

The first task is to cover the place with a curtain. Since the place is so large and not encompassing the entire place was deemed too risky, large amounts of cursed energy is required. Hence Gojou’s efforts right now.

“[Name]-san.” Kugisaki calls you. “Are you coming in with us?” Her voice is tentative, like she doesn’t want to offend you. It’s kind of funny because she shows more respect for you than her actual teacher for some reason. Gojou complained about it before. She doesn’t know the extent, or more accurately the lack of, your powers and has a right to be worried. All she knows is that you can’t fight. 

“Ah, I am coming in, but I’ll stay far away from the fight. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“And I’ll be right by her side!” Gojou snaps into thin air, linking his arm with yours.  “Your personal bodyguard! But I’m sure you guys can handle this one.” Still humming a tune, he sends them along their way with a reassuring smile. You smile at Kugisaki and wish her good luck. Shooting Gojou a suspicious glare, she runs ahead to the two boys and starts whispering. They look back at the two of you and get into what seems to be an argument. A bad thing to do right before a possibly life-threatening mission.

You watch the group disappear deeper into the woods, fear gripping at your heart. This is actually the first time in the field after years of being tucked away in an office. Ken-chan specifically requested it due to your unique cursed energy situation. Apparently that was the first time he asked for a favour to the principle and he never asked for anything again. They can handle themselves, you’re sure, but Itadori already had a close call.

“Worried?” Gojou, on the other hand, sounds like he has no concerns in the world. Maybe that’s a testament to how much he trusts his students. It doesn’t alleviate your agitation. “It’s fine, we can just take a break here and if trouble comes, they can take care of it themselves.” You stare at him incredulously. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! I’ll step in if something goes wrong. You’re all in safe hands.”

There is no one better than him in terms of fighting with cursed energy. How on earth someone like this gets imbued with endless power, you’ll never know. Sighing, you take a seat on a fallen log. The moss on them tickles your fingers. It feels nice, something to distract you from your brain being its usual bastard and thinking the worst case scenario. Gojou plops himself down right next to you. 

“We can go see them if you’re that worried, mother hen.” Nudging his leg shuts him up. Closing your eyes, you concentrate on reaching out for their cursed energy. Eight signals flicker from where they went, three blazing stronger than the others. One of them is nearly blinding. Sukuna is on a completely different level. If there’s that much of a difference in energy, they’ll finish soon and come back to have fun for the rest of the day. God knows they need it.

Your eyes flit open and come face to face with Gojou’s blindfold. It causes you to fall backwards and you brace for impact with a little yelp. But Gojou’s arm surrounds your abdomen, lifting you into the air and onto your feet. Heartbeats thud in your ears thanks to the sudden adrenaline boost.

“Did I scare you?” His laugh is cheeky. “I’m bored… Wanna play 20 questions?” As usual, his train of thought is impossible to even attempt to follow. A window of hundreds of tabs wrestling to be the first all the time is probably what the inside of his mind looks like.

“Sure, why not.”

Fushiguro, Itadori and Kugisaki all perk up when they receive the news of a day off to enjoy the beach. Since it’s closed off to the civilians, it’ll be like a private party. Something to keep their mind off of another mission that’s bound to come soon.

While they run off to the beach, you go to talk to the park rangers for the paperwork. Gojou asks if you want company but someone needs to supervise the children. The process takes barely 10 minutes anyway.

When you come back to the beach, the trio is screaming in the sea while trying to fight each other. Even Fushiguro is laughing. Childlike innocence is beautiful and long overdue. Two huge parasols and towels are laid out nearby where they’re playing. Gojou is out of his usual attire and in a swimming trunk. His blindfold is still on. Is this what was in the bags?

Now that you look more closely at the students, they’re all in swimwear as well. Looks like you’re the only one that didn’t get a memo. 

“Heya! Done?”  

“No thanks to you, Mr The-Whole-Reason-I’m-Here-In-The-First-Place.” He laughs at the nickname. 

“You should change.”

“I didn’t bring a swimsuit. Nobody told me and I was just thinking of dipping my feet.”

“Nobara brought you one. It’s in the bag labelled ‘If you look inside I’m going to kill you.’” Laughter comes out at the absurdity.

“Why did Kugisaki—”

“Because she wants you to relax. Now come on! Let’s have fun!” he pushes you excitedly towards the car. It’s really weird how someone your senior has more energy than you and his three students combined. Sighing, you trek back and find the bag. It really is labelled that, in caps. Kugisaki is a good kid. 

There’s a bathroom nearby for you to change in. The wind is still pretty strong when you walk out but you’re saved thanks to the school jacket. There’s also a pair of flip-flops. Ken-chan must have helped since they all fit perfectly. 

Itadori is being half-drowned when you come back. Fushiguro and Kugisaki are merciless when it comes to fighting. Gojou smiles as you walk into his line of sight. Scooting over to let you into the shade, he lies back onto the towel and stretches his legs out into the sun with a slight groan. You stay sitting up, watching the three children absentmindedly. 

Sunlight tickles your feet. The sea breeze stops it from being too hot but it’s slowly getting stuffier under the jacket. Quickly discarding it, Gojou catches your eyes while you fold it up.

It’s impossible to tell if he’s awake or sleeping thanks to his signature blindfold, but this is the most relaxed you’ve seen him in years; hands folded behind his head and muscles completely loose. Small scars dot his body, probably gained from fights which he deemed insignificant enough to bother Shouko with or heal himself. In a way, it’s a reminder for all the battles he’s survived. Pretty easily too, you’re guessing. There’s a deep one on his stomach and your hand moves towards it for some reason.

Long fingers intercept your hand just before it touches the scratched skin, entwining themselves to you. One end of Gojou’s lips quirks up. 

“I’m going to be embarrassed if you keep looking at my body, you know.” You immediately attempt to rip your hand back but he’s got you locked tight. He’s not even using Infinity. Heat threatens to explode your face because he’s been awake all this time and you’re going to die from shame. “If you wanted to touch me then you could have just asked.” Your fingers graze against the skin on his stomach for a split second but he loosens his grip and you will be damned if you don’t take that chance. 

Gojou cackles, enjoying your flustered state, and he’s halfway to suffocation because he’s laughing too much. His instincts still allow him to move out of the way for your punch. Doesn’t stop him from laughing though. Even his students, who were screaming and playing like they didn’t have a care in the world, are looking at the two of you. God, where’s a hole for me to die in right now?

Eventually, his laughter dies off. He’s still chuckling though. His teeth glint in the light as he gives you a wide smile. A sense of foreboding washes over you. 

“Up we go!”

“What?” Two arms hook under your knees and back, lifting you effortlessly into the air. Your body bounces in his arms every time he takes a step closer to the sea.

“Wait Gojou, wait wait wait wait!” 

“Gojou-sensei wai—” 

The water is freezing. 

“Gojou Satoru, I’m going to kill you!”

“That’s admirable! I’m sure you can do it!” Fushiguro snickers as you swipe an arm at Gojou, who moves away effortlessly again. Hair is plastered to your face and this rage is not going to subside unless you rip the blindfold off his smirking face and dunk his head into the water. But he keeps dodging you, just barely, as if to taunt you further.

Exhaustion sets in quickly since moving around in water is a lot harder and anger eats away at your stamina. Just as you’re about to give up, Gojou’s face is slapped with a wave of water. Everyone looks to Kugisaki. She has the biggest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Pfft.” Fushiguro’s laughter breaks the silence. Itadori snickers at Gojou’s drooping hair. Soon everyone’s laughing. Then Gojou whips water that hits all three of them straight in the chest with a resounding smack. They immediately retaliate with a wave that you get caught up in. 

It somehow turns into a students vs adults fight. Delighted laughter echoes in the air as everyone yells and shrieks when assaulted with icy water. There’s an unspoken rule to not use cursed energy, which is why your side is being pushed back. There’s no beating three excited kids when they’re on a holiday high. 

Backtracking a bit to get away from the constant surges of water, you don’t realise you’re going deeper and deeper into the sea. A rock shifts underneath your feet and you’re plunged into the cold grips of the sea, not even given enough time to call for help. Panic overtakes your senses as you squeeze your eyes shut, hands scrambling for something to hold onto. 

“[Name]!” Warmth engulfs you as Gojou lifts you out of the murky depth, worry and dread weaved into his voice. You blink rapidly as he gently brushes the hair off your face, and you see his eyes without the blindfolds for the first time. “Look at me, are you alright?”

They’re… indescribably beautiful. It’s the purest and translucent blue you’ve seen in your life, able to beat the colour of the ocean or the sky on its clearest days. It could compete with even the most exquisite sapphire locked up in a vault underground. And they’re clouded with concern and fear because of you.

“[Surname]-san!” Bringing yourself up by hugging Gojou’s neck, you see the trio wading through the water to you, dread clear on their faces. Itadori reaches you and rapidly asks if you’re fine and that he can’t possibly describe how sorry he is. It looks like he’ll dig his head into the ocean floor if you ask him to do it. Like he’s waiting for you to reprimand him.

But all that comes out is laughter, bright and childlike. They all look at you like you’re crazy. You have no idea why you’re laughing either. Maybe you’ve finally gone insane.

But being in Gojou’s arms, seeing his and Itadori’s face relax, brings you so much happiness. Tightening your arms around Gojou’s neck, you rest your head on top of his as he calms them down. 

Maybe it’s the adrenaline from nearly drowning, maybe it’s something else, but your heart thumps rapidly into your ribcage, probably loud enough for him to feel.

Next chapter →

[janiedean]

... the tyrion/sansa hairdresser/mortician au no one was expecting but happened

well @meri-vaahtoaa I TOLD YOU IT WAS GONNA HAPPEN TODAY AND IT HAPPENED, have a for now untitled tyrion/sansa mortician/hairdresser au inspired by this post with bonus guest star jeyne p. u___u don't look for angst, also extremely background mentioned jb plus jaime & bronn being themselves in the backstory, have fun u__u

This fucking teaches me to be drunk around both my brother and Bronn, Tyrion thinks for the umpteenth time as he keeps on walking - he needs a damned salon and he needs it now but he also had to get out of the neighborhood because like hell he’s going to risk running into anyone who knows his father. That’s the… least thing he needs, honestly, as if his life choices aren’t already something he has to fight for every other moment and he can’t fucking wait to be out of the house, which should be soon -

If he doesn’t get thrown out of his internship because of his horrible drunk choices.

Why did they have drinks together, why did they have drunk bets, why did he bet with Jaime that he would dye his hair bright blue if he stopped beating around the bush and confessed to the bartender that he’s been into her since they started coming to that specific place for drinks because he chickened out of it for months, except -

Except Jaime went and did it and it turned out that she actually had been looking back and Tyrion hadn’t been wrong in that assessment, but then he had to do it and he actually went and used a do it yourself dye and -

Well.

He honestly can’t go and start his apprenticeship with blue hair that’s also… well, not even professionally dyed, and considering the arguments that it created the least thing he needs is going somewhere he’d be recognized.

So, he’s plenty out of the neighborhood, but he hasn’t found someplace that felt… well, not extra fancy. The second-least thing he needs is extra fancy shops where people would send looks his way that he could absolutely do without.

Also, it’s fucking hot. Why did he do that in the middle of summer again? And why couldn’t he have bet something more reasonable - right, it was Bronn’s idea and they were drunk. Fuck.

He walks a bit more, wondering if maybe he should sit down and check on Google Maps if he’s ended up in the only area of the city that doesn’t have any, and then he sees one on the other side of the road - fine, he stopped because he wondered who names a hair salon Beauty and the Beast, but it costs nothing to have a look from the outside, right?

He crosses the street and walks up to the door.

First thing, the pricing list outside it looks… well, it’s not cheap, but it’s certainly not the ridiculous fares they ask where his sister goes to have her hair done, which is exceedingly good since he doesn’t want to spend a salary’s worth of an average office employee to get that blue crap out of his hair. He looks through the glass door - there is just one woman inside getting her hair done, which is also good because the least people around the shorter the wait, it certainly does look clean and while the pastel aesthetic is maybe a bit too much for his tastes - everything is a pastel shade, from the light yellow on the floor to the pale pink and violet of the chairs and the powder blue of the walls… well, beggars can’t be choosers when it comes to it, and the woman on the chair is chatting amicably with the chestnut-haired girl doing her hair and doesn’t look like she hates being there or like she chose the wrong shop.

Also, it’s two PM and he knows this is going to take long. He can hardly afford to fuck around much longer.

He pushes the door open and walks into the shop.

“Welcome!” The chestnut-haired girl says, giving him a nice smile. “Sorry if I don’t come over, but if you sit for a minute my colleague will be back from her coffee break shortly.”

“Sure,” he says, “no hurry,” and he goes sitting on one of the pale violet chairs on the side - they’re comfortable, at least, and he considers taking out the book he brought with to pass the time, but then -

“Hello and welcome! Can I get you a glass of water” Someone else chirps from his side, and right, he did hear the door open -

Oh.

“Hi,” he blurts, staring into a pair of lovely blue eyes belonging to supposedly the other girl working here - she has long auburn hair styled in a french braid and is wearing a blue summer dress that pairs with her eyes perfectly and she’s smiling down at him as if she’s not horrified by his horrid dye-job, or by his presence in the first place, which is his general experience in this kind of shops, so - that’s good, at least. “And uh, thanks,” he says, realizing he is thirsty.

“Be right back! Sorry, I was taking my break but we have no appointments today, so I’ll be on your case very soon.”

She goes to the corner of the room and grabs a glass of water from a dispenser, then brings it to him - shit, he needed it.

“So, what can I do for you?”

“Er,” he says, “I dyed that hair for a bet but I was called for an internship yesterday, and I start on Monday, so… I need a removal. If it’s possible.”

The girl leans closer, taking a good look at his hair.

“Hm,” she says, “it might take a while, but I think it’s possible. It’s not a very good dye job, if I can say so.”

He snorts. “Oh, you can. Please, I did it and I have regretted it every moment since.”

“Well,” she nods, “you’re lucky that most likely no one will show up for anything complicated today then. Jeyne, can you handle other customers in case?”

“Sure,” the chestnut-haired girl replies. “As if I don’t know you’ll have the time of your life.”

She rolls her eyes, then goes to a wardrobe in the corner and finds him a towel, tucks it around his neck and lowers a chair near the small sinks at the bottom of the shop so he can sit on it - he does, feeling extremely thankful that it’s extremely comfortable leather, and he can hear her tutting about bad dyes under her breath as she washes his hair once, twice, thrice, and her fingers feel really good on his scalp but he’s not going to think about that now.

“Just for the record,” she asks as she rinses it, “do you just want the dye to go away or do you want a cut, too?”

“Hell,” he says, “I need to look presentable. I suppose the cut can’t hurt.”

“Will do,” she chirps again, “and by the way, never use that kind of dye again. Not with hair this nice.”

Tyrion would have toppled off the chair if his head wasn’t thrown too far back for it to happen.

“I have nice hair now?”

“You can feel it,” she replies, “under all this… this,” she says, shaking her head.

“I know,” he says, “bad choices.”

“Extremely,” she goes on, rinsing. “But don’t you worry. I’ll have it fixed.”

“Really,” chestnut-haired girl says, “Sansa is a pro with that kind of thing. You’re in good hands.”

Oh. So her name is Sansa. It’s pretty, he thinks.

“Well,” he says, “I can’t wait to see how you manage it. I’m Tyrion, by the way. Figures you should know if I know yours?”

“Oh, absolutely,” she goes on, and gives his hair a last rinse. “Right, can you move forward?” He does and she dries his hair with the towel, then goes to find a mantel that somehow he doesn’t drown in. “Please,” she says, “on whichever free chair you prefer.”

He picks an empty one two spots away from Jeyne and the other woman and lowers it so he can sit down, and then Sansa raises it up again until his still sadly blue head is at the right height.

“Hm,” she says, grabbing a lock and feeling it between her fingers, “from what I see here you’re a natural blonde?”

“Sort of,” he shrugs. He is - his hair isn’t as golden as his siblings’, but it definitely is on that shade. Not that he ever bothered to look into it. “Wait,” he says, fishing into his pocket, and then he grabs his phone and shows her a picture Bronn took of him and Jaime during Tyrion’s latest birthday party which is about the only one of his he’s kept there where you can see his actual color very well. She takes it, squints, zooms on his head, then nods and hands him back the phone.

“Well,” she says, “we’re going to have to use a color remover to take out the blue pigment, then apply some more pigment to allow for the proteins in the hair to adhere to it. Then… yeah, possibly mix a few different types of toners to reach the goal of your natural hair color, and it’s going to take a while, but we should get there. Nothing that terrible.”

“Er,” he blurts, “how much chemistry did you have to study to get there?”

She smiles a bit wider.

“Yeah, I know, but some people don’t like if we talk like that. It makes it sound complicated, I’m told.”

“Not at all,” he says, waiting as Jeyne, who has finished the other woman’s hair, goes to the back room to presumably get Sansa at least the color remover, “not like it’s not… sort of my thing, too,” he says, and then he bites his own tongue - why did he ever do that, now she’s going to decide he’s a creep or something -

“Really,” she says as Jeyne comes back and hands her the remover, “do lean your head back. And what it is that you do?”

He takes a deep breath and tells her.

—

“Oh, so you’re a mortician?” Sansa says happily as she keeps on applying the remover to his hair, her fingers pressing along his scalp as she rubs it in. To her credit, she doesn’t sound like she thinks it’s creepy.

“Well, apprentice,” he shrugs, “but yeah, working on it. And starting an internship soon. Where I can’t… look like this. But yes. Just going through my degree - I had a final a couple days ago. Fuck, it was so embarrassing.”

“Did they judge your hair?”

“Called it apocalyptic, but I aced it.”

“Nice. What was it about?”

“Embalming, mostly,” he sighs. “All the chemistry about formadelhyde I had to learn.”

“Fun fact,” Sansa grins, “do you know they use it in clothing?”

… He somehow had not known that.

“What? Really? They forgot to cover that part.”

“Well,” Sansa says, “I used to crash fashion school lessons, my brother’s boyfriend snuck me in. I learned a lot. I think it’s because of the preserving qualities, though I’m sure it wasn’t… all of it.”

“I mean,” Tyrion blurts, “it’s a preservative but it’s also a disinfectant. Destroys bacteria and their food supply, and it’s a dehydrator, there’s a reason why we use it that much.”

“Hm,” Sansa nods, starting to put aluminium stripes on his hair - fuck, he looks ridiculous like this, “one wonders why you don’t just use alcohol then? Because I thought it was kind of carcinogen.”

Well, she did listen to those lessons for sure.

“It’s cheaper,” Tyrion sighs, “a lot cheaper. It cuts costs. Guess I’ll resign myself to the cancer risk.”

She snorts. “Please,” she says, keeping on placing those stripes carefully, “I’m pretty sure that’s exaggerating a bit. There, they should rest for half an hour. I have to place a few calls now but if you want to read while I’m at it feel free to, just don’t move your head around too much.”

“Roger that,” Tyrion nods, and settles back in the chair.

He has a feeling it’s going to be long, but at least she’s very good company. Jeyne looks about to say something but then another woman comes in the shop and she goes to greet her, and Tyrion goes back to his Chinese sci-fi book that he’s really enjoying and hopes that at the end of it he doesn’t have to shave his head because that dye was that bad.

—

Half an hour later, after washing away the remover, Sansa has moved on to applying the first round of pigment to his hair - the blue did go out, but it still looks…. well. Bad. He can see it just looking at it in the mirror.

“So, she says, “is your internship at a funeral home?”

“Yes,” he replies, “it’s during the last six months of the degree, then you write your thesis and you get your license, and honestly, it’s a nice funeral home. I hope they hire me for good. Anyway, it makes sense. We need to have… experiences with, uh, cases, you know, uh -“

“You can say bodies,” Sansa grins brightly, “it’s fine. I know what you do in funeral homes.”

“Oh, thank God,” he blurts. “I’m sorry, uh, people tend to get queasy when I mention them. The bodies, I mean.”

“That sounds nonsensical,” Sansa shrugs, “what do people think happens when they die? Anyway, you can absolutely say that. Hm, here we go, I think these can stay. Another… yeah. Half-hour, forty-five minutes? Get yourself comfortable. I’ll go mix those toners meanwhile.”

Oh. Right. The toners. Fuck, he can’t wait for this entire dye business to be over. Honestly, he hasn’t done that when he was fifteen, he should have stuck with it.

He grabs his book back and starts reading it again, except that he finds himself wishing he could chat with Sansa some more and he needs to get that thought out of his head right now, no reason to set himself up for failure.

He reads on.

—

Later, she’s washed his hair again and she’s still mixing the toners.

“Yeah,” she says, “I think this need a bit more work, but I’m curious. Is there anything you don’t like about your school? Because you sounded really excited before.”

Did I, Tyrion thinks, but then again… he almost never talks about it to anyone except Jaime or Bronn because everyone else thinks it’s morbid, and somehow this girl who owns a wholly pastel shop actually seems to enjoy discussing the topic, so why the hell not?

“I mean,” he says, “I think we should do autopsies.”

“Oh, you don’t? I’d have expected it.”

“Eh,” he shrugs, “me too, and I think we should for, you know, completion and so on, but we don’t, so I guess I’ll read up on it.”

“But,” she says, “hypothetically,” and she’s kind of smiling slyly, what, “let’s say that someone wakes up while embalming them. What do you do then?”

“I mean,” Tyrion replies, slowly, “I think there’s a pretty huge difference between a living body and a dead one?”

“Sansa, please,” Jeyne says as she combs through the hair of the other woman, who looks… a tiny bit disturbed, but neither Jeyne nor Sansa are, so… who cares. right?, “never mind that you need a bit more toner, but I think there’s a thing named rigor mortis that’d make it pretty fucking obvious.”

“That,” Tyrion replies, “also if one gets stuck in a fridge for a few days I think you’d be dead anyway. Not to be, you know, morbid.”

Sansa mixes a bit more toner and smiles wider. Right. She was so fucking with him. “I mean, you did pump them full of carcinogen just before, right?”

“Right,” he laughs as she tells him to lean back and starts applying the toner to his poor roots, “we did, technically.”

“Just stay still,” she goes on, “it’ll be another hour, I think. Then I can cut.”

Well, he decides, at least this entire process is being not overtly miserable.

He leans back and lets her apply the toner and then cover it with the aluminium stripes all over again.

—

“So,” she says later while Jeyne is going through the third client of the day and he’s sitting on the chair again after his hair was thoroughly rinsed and washed for the umpteenth time — he lost count, honestly, but now it does look like his usual shade, sort of, he thinks, “can I ask what was this infamous bet about? Also, I can see your hair is naturally wavy — should I just trim the edges? Because I can see you cut it yourself and it’s not bad but you kind of hacked at them.”

“Er, yes,” he says, “sounds good. Wait, naturally wavy?”

“It is,” she says, “I can recognize it.”

“I, uh,” he coughs, “I don’t think I ever had it long enough to notice?”

“It’s the exact same as your brother’s,” she shrugs, “just a bit darker, but again, this should tide you over for a while. I mean, by the time it wears off whatever travesty you did to your hair in the first place should be fixed and it’ll be as before and no one will notice.”

“Then - I guess you can trim only and I’ll see,” he says, his throat suddenly feeling dry. No one ever compared him to Jaime in that sense without making it… well. About how he’s not the person with the good looks in the family, so this entire thing is just - weird. “Anyway, uh, you can ask about the bet. I mean, it’s just embarrassing.”

“I’m listening,” she says, cutting the edges of his hair slowly, and surely she puts a lot more thought it in than he does while cutting it, but then again… it’s her job and he learned because he didn’t want his father’s barber to go near his head.

“Er, so,” he clears his throat again, trying to figure out how to tell her the sanitized version of it while sparing her from all the family ugliness, “I was out drinking with the brother and the best friend at the same bar we’ve been going to for months because they have good drinks and the brother absolutely had a crush on the bartender, except that he came from a, uh, toxic relationship, let’s put it like that, and I thought he wasn’t going to fess up ever, so - we were drunk and it came out and I said of course I’d dye my hair that horrid color if he fessed up to her and like, I thought he never would but he actually went and did it and — yeah. I mean, glad for him that it went well but not my greatest moment.”

“Aw,” Sansa replies, keeping on trimming, “I like a nice love story. I imagine he doesn’t share our interest in formadelhyde.”

Why does his heart beat a tiny bit faster when she says our interest?

“No,” Tyrion shakes his head, “he’s more into nerding over Middle Ages weapons, but at least he didn’t tell me Six Feet Under was boring, so.”

“I loved that show,” she replies, “who’d say it’s boring?”

“It’s my favorite,” he shrugs a bit as she puts away the scissors. “And a lot of people, but it seems like you have good taste.”

She nods as she grabs some lotion that she supposedly has to pass into his hair before drying it. “And what about you?”

“Sorry?”

“Well, he had a nice love story going into port, so what about you?”

“Er,” he hopes he’s not blushing, fuck, he’s usually not — he doesn’t fluster, fucking hell, “I — really am not looking. My family kind of… fucked up the only serious relationship I had going for me and most people get put off at the whole I want to be a mortician thing, so.”

“What kind of family fucks up relationships for other people?”

“The kind we come from,” he sighs, “but at least he’s out of that circus and I’ll be the moment I graduate.”

“Nice,” Sansa nods, “now just hold on a moment and I’m drying it.”

He nods — she grabs an hair dryer and starts blowing it and yes, he can see she got the exact shade right now that it’s not wet anymore, and — well, of course it’s her job to make it look good but the more she proceeds the nicer it looks, and now he can vaguely see what she meant when she talked about natural curls, and also… it feels fluffier? Lighter? He has no fucking clue, but the moment she’s finished — well.

“Fuck,” he admits, “I don’t think my hair ever looked this nice in my entire life.”

She grins. “I know how to do my job. Another moment.” She sprays some more lotion on her hands and runs it through his hair again. “This was just for a bit of nutriment, but there you are. You know, if you treat it a bit more nicely you might not need it me to make it look good.”

“Yeah, well, and what if I’d like to come back here instead?” He blurts, not knowing what the fuck he’s aiming for, but then she grins back a bit wider.

“I always like making new clients,” she replies, “especially when they’re cute and they don’t only want to talk about the gossip in magazines. That gets boring after a while.”

Wait, did she call him cute?

“Tell you what,” she keeps on as she takes the mantel off him and waits for him to get off the chair and follow her to the counter, “let’s say I don’t give all new clients a ten percent discount but I do give it to the ones I like.”

What the fuck —

“So, here you go.”

She hands him a receipt… with a fifteen per cent discount. “But you have to promise me you won’t use that crap dye anymore. That’s probably more cancer-inducing than formaldehyde could ever be.”

He has to laugh at that.

“Fair,” he says, “I won’t. Maybe I’ll come back before my last final. It’s two weeks from now,” he says, slowly, “I might want to look good for it. As much as it goes, anyway.”

“Oh, I’ll make you look incredible, don’t you worry.” She takes his card, swipes it, hands him the POS. He’s sure he doesn’t let it drop just out of sheer force of will. The payment goes through, she gives him his receipt and he pockets it, his hand still sweating —

“I’ll see you to the door,” she goes on, and she follows him out.

“So, Tyrion,” she grins again, “see you in two weeks?”

“Oh,” he replies, “absolutely.”

“And let me know how the internship thing works out. I like to know what’s up with the clients I like,” she winks, and then she leans down and kisses his cheek before going back into the shop.

Tyrion just stands there dumbfounded and only takes a few steps from the shop, and he didn’t mean to eavesdrop but he hears Jeyne the moment he starts walking away and —

“Sansa, I know you said you’d be forward after that asshole Harry, but I never saw you being that obvious. You really liked our mortician or what?”

“So what?” Sansa replies, and Tyrion thinks he’ll faint. “No point in playing hard to get and all. When he comes back I’m absolutely asking him out for coffee or something. I did like him.”

“Good for you,” Jeyne replies, “he seems nice and you deserve a nice guy. Even if that dye was a really crap choice on his part.”

“Oh, if I have a say in it no bad dye is ever coming near that hair. It was so nice,” she replies, and at that point he leaves because he really shouldn’t be doing this and he will faint, but —

But he smiles to himself all the way home.

He thinks he’s never looked forward to a final that much, and if she does really ask him out for coffee, no way he’s being an idiot and saying no.

And if he’ll brush up on cool embalming facts before then, well, you can’t blame him, right?

End.

[kittifersgarden]

Healing

Pairing: Todoroki Enji x F Reader

Word Count: 4082

Warnings: PURE FLUFF, talk of redemption and Endeavor’s mistakes, there’s a slight panic attack from him too.

A/N: Some comfort for divorced!Enji. I wanted some smoot but it just stayed on an awkward courting which I’m okay with. Maybe a part 2? For now it’s just hurt/comfort pretty much. Fanart in banner was made for me but tried to make it as non-specific as I could.

Focusing on the warmth radiating from the pot in your hands helped calm your nervously racing thoughts as you made the trek from your car to the door of the large traditional style Japanese house before you. Even though you had a pretty solid scapegoat if things went south, you couldn’t help the thundering pulse in your ears deafening you from the birds chirping around you. 

It was actually a much larger bird that had “pushed” you to be there in the first place…

“Ready for some morning tea? Endeavor-San got kicked out of his own building after his sidekicks threatened to all walk out!”

The coffee mug headed to your lips stopped abruptly in shock from Hawks’ oddly playfully made statement. “W-what?!”

“Yeah, he has a hell of a cold but kept trying to deny it and they weren’t having that.”

Rolling your eyes, thinking something far more sinister had happened instead of… wait. “Enji’s sick?” 

“Yeah. It’s a shame too. Fuyumi-San lives so far away now and has her work and all so he’s at home... all alone.” He dragged out the last part rather dramatically with a heavy sigh. “Probably unable to even cook for himself…”

“Hawks.” You groaned softly, placing the mug down next to the phone on the counter where the overgrown bird’s voice came from. 

“Whaaaaat? I’m just keeping you up on the news.” You could basically hear the grin on his lips as his voice turned to pure saccharine to play up the false innocence.

Mumbling out a curse, you looked down at the phone with a heated glare. “If he’s mad, I’m blaming you!”

And while Hawks had laughed and said he’d take the blame, you couldn’t deny what really urged you on was the thought of Japan’s Number One Hero sick and alone. 

Todoroki Enji frequently visited your family’s restaurant for quite some time, telling your father that he enjoyed the traditional food and the quiet atmosphere that the other customers respected. After your parents retired and you had taken over, Enji’s visits didn’t decrease and often complimented you on how well you handled the reigns. 

Over the past six months things started to change between the two of you and you definitely noticed. It started when he came in right before closing and bought the most expensive sake there. After a few drinks he admitted to you that he just purchased his family a new home and they would all be moving into it except for him. He had told you he hoped it was for their own good and the sad smile that accompanied that statement made your chest hurt.

More nights like that came where he stayed drinking and talking as you quietly listened. He told you about the divorce he gave Rei, how obtaining his lifelong dream was nothing like he expected it, and how he felt like his whole life was spent in a haze that he was jerked violently out of. It was all heartbreaking really for all parties involved, though it really sounded that they were all on a road to healing. A long and no doubt hard road but it was still a good start nonetheless. 

It was around that time that Hawks started visiting your restaurant when Enji’s office told the winged hero where he could find their boss. The two of you struck up a quick and easy friendship after that and once again you noticed a change in Enji. For some reason though, no matter how very attractive the blonde was, you found yourself mentally cursing him when he interrupted the peaceful moments you and Enji shared on a now daily basis. Maybe it was because you didn’t like how observant the birdman or how he was quick to mention how good you seemed to be for Enji during this difficult time in his life. 

Which all lead to Hawks calling to give you the news on Enji’s condition right away. He knew you’d take the bait and take it you sure did. 

Exhaling slowly, you reached the door and shuffled the bag hanging from your wrist to hit the doorbell with your elbow. While it wasn’t public knowledge where the Number One Hero lived, there were a few times you had to call a cab for him after he drank just a bit too much and he easily gave up his home address. You hoped he wouldn’t be angry that you used the knowledge to show up now. 

“Coming!”

The deep growl from behind the door caused your heart to crash into your ribs like a bowling ball would strike pins. You shouldn’t have been so nervous; you knew him! He insisted you called him just “Enji” instead of “Todoroki-San” or “Endeavor”! Even though you knew this was an entirely different setting with him than what you were used to, you didn’t realize it would be this much.

All thoughts were gone when the door opened before you and your breath caught in your throat. 

Oh hell. 

There stood Todoroki Enji wearing a thin dark blue robe, his usually spiked hair was half down and pieces stuck to his lightly sweat sheened forehead. His usually bright turquoise eyes lacked that fierce light though they opened in surprise as he looked down at you. 

Muttering your name in a bemused and dreamy tone which sent a shiver right down your spine, he cleared his throat with a brief cough smothered into his arm. “What are you doing here?”

“I, um… okayu.” So lost taking in the sight before you, your own breathless words escaped without meaning to before you were able to snap yourself or of it. “I mean, I heard you were sick and brought okayu.” Holding up the pot with a smile, you still felt your nerves on edge as he continued to stare at you in shock. “E… Enji?”

Endeavor, meanwhile, was trying to wake up from this too real fever dream. He had been dozing on the couch while watching the afternoon news when he heard the doorbell, but he never would have expected to see you standing there! Your words slowly sank in and he placed a hand on the side of his face. This was really happening?

“‘m sorry. I, uh… but you shouldn’t be here.” The hurt look that crossed your features had him quick to continue. “N-no, I mean that I’m sick and you really shouldn’t be around.”

Visible relief has your shoulders relaxing as you scoffed gently. “Oh please, I’m not worried about that.” 

A quiet laugh easily fell from his lips. “No, you wouldn’t. Well if you’re sure, come on in.” 

Moving from the doorway to let you pass, Enji still couldn’t fully fathom what was happening. This beautiful woman he saw on a pretty regular basis was at his home with a pot of rice porridge. He only saw you in the restaurant wearing a kimono and your hair done up to keep up with the traditional setting the restaurant had. Seeing you in a pair of shorts and light shirt fitting for the hot summer day with your hair in what he assumed was your more comfortable style was shocking to him as well. 

Leading you to the kitchen, he kept glancing over at you as he still tried to process everything. “How did you find out?”

“A large bird told me.” Your lightly laughed reply was met with a deep groan from him. Of course Hawks found out. “I think Burnin’ told him.” You thoughtfully added while placing the pot on top of the kitchen counter. “Those two do seem pretty close.”

“Oh god.” Enji sighed deeply. “I wouldn’t even want to know.” The rustling of the bag that had hung from your wrist and ended on the counter caught his attention. “What’s that?”

“Oh um… I wasn’t sure what you had so…” you smiled down at the bag before pulling items out. “Tissues, some medicine… I wasn’t sure what exactly was wrong so I just picked up a general one. Some of those cooling head strips and throat spray. Oh! And some kuzumochi.” 

Your gaze stayed on the items in the bag as you spoke, though his never left you. How long had it been since anyone besides Fuyumi had taken care of him? Not even his own mother…

“You didn’t-.” He started but stopped as his hand went to run through his lifeless hair. “This is…” What could he even say?

You decided to take pity on him and pushed down the lingering nervousness you felt. “Have you eaten today?” The very uncharacteristic look of guilt he made when his head bowed and eyes shifted was far more suited for a puppy dog. “Well you shouldn’t take medicine on an empty stomach so why don’t you get comfortable and I’ll set everything up for you?”

“Y-yeah….” This time his reply came out weak because he was stunned at your change. Not just that but what you brought… it was all so thoughtful. “I set up in the living room to watch the news. I’ll be in there.” 

The smile and nod you gave him set him in motion though it started to feel like he was trudging through mud. His idea of “set up” was just bringing out a pillow and light sheet to the oversized couch. The half empty box of tissues he found had been dangerously dwindling already and the medicine he found had expired a month ago; all of it adding up to put him into a depressed state rather quickly. Having you show up was definitely a breath of fresh air. Still something in him wickedly teased that this all might still be a fever dream...

“I brought some movies too. You told me you didn’t have any streaming services but remember you mentioning a BluRay player.” Your voice trailed in from the kitchen as he settled back into the little nest he made. “Damn, actually I left those in the car.”  The clanking of dishes and the closing of cabinets as you acquainted yourself with the kitchen was indelibly soothing to him as he nestled into the couch. 

Please don’t wake up from this fever dream…

“Enji?” A cold hand fell into his head and jolted him from the sleep he started to slip into. Seeing the very worried look on your face made him frown. “You’re burning up!”

“I always am, angel.” His deep voice tumbled out with a chuckle and he wasn’t quite sure why your face turned about as red as he was sure his was. “Don’t worry. That’s just what happens to us fire users.” He groaned when he sat up, seeing the tray you made him sitting on the table. 

“O-oh…” 

Your voice was shaken like it had been when you first arrived and he was about to ask what was wrong before he felt a burning pressure build up behind his eyes. Cursing softly, he quickly grabbed up the remaining tissues to catch two violently monstrous sneezes. 

“Damn.” The playful laugh that left you made him chuckle before saving his breath to blow his nose. 

“Ugh. Exactly.” Sniffing hard, he threw the tissues into the small garbage can he moved by the couch for such use. “Sorry about your ears.”

He felt the couch shift next to him as you sat with the tray in hand. “Nah. After fifteen years of knowing you, I’m pretty used to them. Here.”

Handing him a bowl of the okayu, he smiled when he noticed the ginger honey topping. He ordered this dish from your restaurant a few times but since the last time was so long so the fact you remembered... “Thank you.” Sitting up better, he took a hold of the spoon in a large hand as the smile stayed on his lips. “Fifteen years, huh? I remember the first time I found the place was by complete accident.” He paused to take a bite of the porridge, humming approval in his throat. “Really good.”

While you were still quite shocked at what he had called you, you thanked him quietly before listening as he began to reminisce. 

“The billboard charts were announced that day so I was mad at the world. Heh. Like always. Shoutou was just a newborn and things were getting really tense here so I didn’t want to come home just yet.” He paused to take another bite, chewing thoughtfully a moment before swallowing. “That’s when a girl no more than a teenager came running down the street and nearly right into me. She stopped to apologize before rushing off to an older couple behind me telling them the man left his wallet in the restaurant.”

Your eyes widened as you listened, gripping harder onto the cup of cold water you grabbed off the tray for him. 

“It was just such a nice little scene that brought me out of the dark thoughts that were plaguing me so I asked the girl when she headed back where she worked.” He stopped to let out a rumbling laugh. “It was strange that she didn’t even seem to recognize me though I was already pretty popular by then. Normally I’d be irritated by such a dumb thing, as I was at everything back then, but at that moment I actually liked not being Endeavor and followed her to this incredible building. It was so peaceful and I just felt calm for the first time in… I can’t even remember how long.” 

When he paused to take another bite, you placed a hand on his hot arm to grab his attention, silently offering him the water. He thanked you and took a long sip before placing it on the table. 

“This seemingly hidden little oasis which brought a stillness to me was owned by a quirkless couple and employed their quirkless daughter. I still think that’s the reason I felt so calm, it was just all so… pure.”

When he passed for another bite, you tried to gulp down air as the surge of emotions rushed through you. With a thundering pulse, you started down at your hands resting in your lap and let his deep voice rumble through you. 

“Fifteen years. If I knew then what I know now…” sadness pulled down his features which were oddly cheerful when recalling the memory, making your hand move back to rest back on his thick arm. 

“Isn’t fifteen years better than never?” You asked gently, giving him a smile when his eyes finally landed back on you. 

He returned your smile with his own. “You were always too wise beyond your years.” That made you laugh softly, and still he nodded. “You’re right, of course. But all that damage I caused during that time…”

“Uh, Enji.” Clearing your throat, you thought he was being a little too open now. “You can take the medicine now.” Grateful to have a distraction and hopefully something to knock him out, you started to reach for the tray but a large heated hand grabbed your arm to stop you. It wasn’t a rough action, actually he handled you like a piece of fine china, it was only enough to bring your attention back to him. 

His fever flushed face searched yours a moment before taking a slow breath. “I’ve done terrible things, angel. Bringing Rei into a quirk marriage and having children only to create a legacy stronger than All Might. I never thought about their feelings or even my own besides the fact that I just had to pass the Number One.”

“Enji-“

“When I did pass him, I felt so empty and I wondered why. Why did I push my kids away and force Shouto so hard with intense training at such a young age? Why did I let such a thing consume my entire life?”

“Enji!”

“I’m a monster, angel! I’ve hurt so many people and I have no idea how to fix it, not for myself but for them. Removing myself from their lives was a good start but I don’t know what to do now. And I like you. Oh god, I really do. I don’t think I actually enjoy talking to anyone other than you. And I think maybe I can be happy because that idiot bird tells me he thinks we’d be good together but I don’t deserve that happiness. I’ve caused so much pain that I’d need lifetimes to fix it before I deserve to be happy! But what if that just hurts you?! I can’t-!”

“Enji. Stop.”

As he went on the more he got worked up, his breath becoming chopped and panicked, his flushed face gleaming more as sweat slid down his cheeks. 

No. That was tears. 

“Look at me. You’re not a monster. A monster never realizes what they do is wrong. A monster will blame everyone for their mistakes and you’ve never done either.” You moved a hand to the side of his strong jaw, keeping your breathing level as he started to match it. “Of course you deserve to be happy. I’m sure you don’t feel like it now but think about it; what good will it do for you or your family to move on while you just torture yourself?”

When Enji started to shake his head, you weren’t expecting the painful sob that suddenly escaped him, his hands resting on your arms pulling you in as he buried his head into your collar. Beyond shocked at his actions, you could only pet a hand through his red strands while he cried it out. You were sure he never let himself mourn for the loss of his family or even for the monster that he once was. You thought that might have been the reason he drank so heavily some nights, trying to use the alcohol to break the wall his pride had put up. 

After a few minutes of holding him and petting down his hair, his breath started to even out and his grip that moved to your back began to loosen. 

“Thank you.”

His normally deep voice sounded like it had been dragged over gravel when it came out, rattling your whole body with each symbol. Instead of diving into any of the new information that he let out, you helped move him so he could sit back up. 

“Of course.”

Enji was quietly docile after the little meltdown, finishing his food as you tried to put one of the cool gel strips on his head. His fever was worrying even with his second attempt to reassure you that it was part of having his quirk. It was only when the gel strips started to literally melt to his skin did he chuckle softly and give in. 

“Maybe it is worse than I thought.”

“Hmm… you should get into a cold bath.” you suggested softly while trying to get melted gel out of his hair. 

“Shame. I would prefer a sponge bath instead.”

“Wh-?!” Shifting back slightly with wide eyes and a fresh blush, he chuckled deeply which only made you  grow more concerned. “Okay, you need to get better since you’re really freaking me out now.” 

The flame hero let out a soft laugh. “Well, even though I actually said it, I can assure you I would be thinking it when I’m well.” His blazing turquoise eyes meet yours and you felt your breath catch. He was serious. 

“Well, since I owe you the truth back… I definitely wouldn’t mind giving you one.” Your eyes shifted to his insanely built body as your lips pulled up into a smirk. When you looked back at his face, it was rather satisfying to see his own blush spread across his face as his Adam’s apple bobbed slowly. “However… you really need a proper cool down, not to heat up more.” Your finger ran down his strong nose which twitched in response. 

“H-hey…” sniffling and rubbing the reddened tip, he started to stand but stopped. “Uh, maybe you could start it? I need a minute here.” He cleared his throat loudly as you got the hint, a giggle bubbling in your throat. 

Biting your lip, you only patted his shoulder with a nod before heading to the bathroom. Being away from his stifling heat would also help clear up your own increasingly foggy mind and you certainly could use a breather.

Watching the water fill the tub, thoughts swirling through your mind like the water you watched both intensely and not at all. Everything he told you about his family, about how he saw himself… You still had no idea what happened exactly but you were sure that when he was better he would finally explain everything. 

Still, you stood by your convictions; he owned up to his mistakes and were starting to try and fix them. Who was to say he didn’t deserve finding his own happiness as well? Not that you’d be the one to tell him that Hawks learned from Natsuo that Rei had already been seeing someone rather seriously for the past few months. They all deserve happiness and to put the dark past behind them where it belonged. 

A fierce sneeze that echoed down the hallway jolted you from your thoughts abruptly. First things first! Heading back to the living room, you laughed when a second sounded and you caught Enji folded in half with his face pressed into a bouquet of tissues. 

“You alright?” Your hand carded through his hair to pull his attention back to you. 

“I think the medicine is starting to work.” At the incredulous look on your face, he chuckled deeply and shook his head. “Sure it doesn’t sound like it…”

“You pronounced medicine ‘bedicid’.” 

“Alright, I concede.” With a deep groan he stood up from the couch and started down to the bathroom. Pausing to rest a large hand on the wall and turn back to you, a gentle smile graced his flushed face. “Thank you, angel. I mean it, I was in a pretty dark place before you came and… I truly appreciate everything.”

“It’s my pleasure, Enji.” 

He seemed to laugh quietly, the mild disbelief mixing with the lit of happiness clearly before he resumed his trek to the bath. 

The rest of the day was rather domestic as you cleaned his dishes and put away the leftovers. Straightening up the living room, you retrieved the movies and put them out for him to pick. Enji had emerged from the bath looking much better and feeling… well not as hot as before and he was rewarded by agreeing to use your lap as a pillow. It had only taken five minutes of hair petting that loud snores started to fill the house. Oddly, they didn’t bother you as you only continued playing with the scarlet strands with one hand while browsing your phone with the other. 

The text from Hawks that came in made you pause the “match three” game you messed around with. 

“Well you didn’t call to yell at me so I can only assume you’re still there. Don’t worry about your place, I told your employees that you were doing work for me so you got the next three days off to take care of the big guy. And hey, I know it’s just moving out of that really weird time for him and even though you’re closer to my age than his, I still think you’d be really good for each other. Damn! Have you ever seen a text this long?! I’ll let you get back to it~ let me know if you want me to drop off anything!”

“Damn bird.” You quietly laughed as you looked down at the sleeping face of Enji. He looked so peaceful when his powerful features were softened by the deep sleep he was in. “Thanks Hawks.” 

“Mmmm.” Enji seemed to agree as his head rubbed on your thighs, his large arm that wrapped around your knees pulling in to nestle closer to you. 

You had no idea where the future would lead, but you couldn’t help the hopeful thought that the two of you officially started a trek down what would surely be a very rocky road. A road that, while rocky, would smooth out and yield to a beautiful and scenic scene. It was all part of life, after all. And you really wouldn’t mind sharing both the ups and downs with Enji at your side.

[neonponders]

I never thought I’d write a court jester!Steve x King!Billy fic, but here we are. I entirely blame @ghostofjellyfishforgotten and @drinkingbeerfroma for this 💋

The original king!Billy and jester!Steve fics are here~ (this is a gift for Ghost and meant to be read in tandem with their fics 🌹)

Drinkingbeerfroma’s fanart is here~​​ (the enabling source, send them some love 🌹)

P.s....you can probably tell how much of The Witcher: Blood and Wine influenced this for me lol Ch. 2 coming soon! Or, you know, some time!

Read on ao3.

• • • • • • •

Billy strolled into his royal chambers with a tune on his lips. Usually the rustle of clothing, the scoot of furniture, reacted to his whistle so that he could meet his jester right at the door. Or by the bed.

Then again, Steve did wander. Perhaps that’s why he worked as a jester: always the desire to move, to fidget, and it had lent into a natural proclivity for acrobatics.

Billy had never much cared for the athleticism of the job. Not that it wasn’t impressive, but the stunts were the bottom of his jester’s abilities. His Steve.

Steve, who was nowhere in the expansive rooms. Billy huffed a sigh through his nose. He began loitering around, investigating what his jester had left behind and what it could mean for where he’d gone.

Except…he’d left everything behind. Billy’s gaze locked on the sapphire and green velvet of the suit he’d gifted Steve himself, now left in a rumbled state on the bed. The gleaming silk fibers moved with the midday light of the window as Billy circled around the bed to touch them, as if to test that they were real. The fool as good as lived in the king’s royal chambers by this point, so he opened the dresser beside the large writing desk and—

Steve’s original suits and garments sat in the drawers, untouched. The yellow shirt Billy had torn—twice—until Steve left it in disrepair, tired of mending it. The red and purple suit which he’d first strolled into court wearing. His blue boots. The red boots. The god-awful yellow boots to go with that shirt apart from how stained they were from daily living.

What the hell is my fool wearing? Billy mused in disbelief, his amusement only checked by worry.

Amusement that snuffed out under the weight of a paper he finally saw on the desk itself. Both of Steve’s jester hats stood on either side of it, crowning the white square to garner Billy’s attention. More than once, Billy had marveled at his jester’s ability to read and write. This was not one of those times.

Majesty,

An emergency called me home. Nothing to worry about. I’ll return soon.

Yours,

Steve.

Billy read those four lines over and over again, worry tussling with indignant rage, and then confusion. He wanted more out of a note from Steve, which ought not be the prior concern in his mind, but there it was.

Why not address me by my name? This note is for me, nobody else. Who did you fear seeing it? In my own chambers? We’re far past courtly manners.

Largest understatement of his entire reign, but whatever. More annoying and concerning details eclipsed Billy’s focus.

He had no idea where ‘home’ meant for Steve. His Steve. Billy’s pride ordained that Billy is his home; what other place—or person—could have the audacity to yank his fool right out from under him?

Billy’s voice roared down the corridors outside his chambers. His staff was certainly used to making haste in their duties, but this was something else. The king had lost something precious to him, and hell would shiver until he had it back.

It is both a blessing and a curse that the lesbians in his court did not fear him.

“Would you shut the hell up?” Heather barked, swinging out of her room fully dressed in robes but hair a disaster. “Some of us like to do our own fucking now and again.”

“Where is Steve?” Billy growled, damned note in hand. “When did you last see him?”

“This morning,” she sighed with a tone that Billy did not understand until she added, “When he left with Robin. He warned me that you might be grouchy—”

“Grouch—” he began to seethe, but Heather took the paper right out of his hand to give it a look.

“He said he left you a note, your majesty,” she purred through a voice he now noticed to be quite raw. Overused. Her eyelids hung low like she was drunk, or three orgasms gone to the wind.

This only abated Billy’s nerves slightly. Steve genuinely left on his own?

“Where is home?”

Heather frowned at the lines. “For a musician, he isn’t great with words.”

“HEATHER.”

“Same home as my lady, Robin’s. They complain about their corner of the kingdom often enough,” she retorted while surrendering the note as if it had caught flame. “Good grief. How many months has it been? You really don’t pay attention. Your majesty.”

He grimaced pointedly at her lackadaisical manners this morning, but snatched the page up. The sour expression did not fade as he asked, “Who are you fucking if Robin’s not here?”

Heather’s groggy eyes rolled. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself many times over. You’re not the only one around here with an abundance of energy.”

Fuming and feeling too hot for his clothes, Billy marched back to his chambers, yelling orders about a horse.

* * *

More than one person urged against this decision. The more people who tried to talk him out of it, the more disheartening the whole point of secrecy became. Then again, roaring for the whole castle to hear, might not have been the wisest start.

So he sent a rider in one direction, on some pointless “errand for the king,” while he road in another.

It had been a long time since Billy wore commoners’ clothes. He also did not usually go clean-shaven, but he was a different person now. A lone rider on the king’s road, journeying his way to the edge of the kingdom. Two advisors had urged him to take an entourage, at most his best guardsman—but Billy is the best guardsman. First knight and crown prince under his father, The Tyrant. Every dawn stolen from him until the late king’s passing, utterly devoted to training hard, practicing consistent, and never, never losing.

Until the old bastard finally croaked from pneumonia. How simple. How mortal. And ironic, considering his playboy—rat of my blood—heir paraded around with open shirts whenever he was off duty. Constantly challenging gods and climate to do away with him whenever they wished.

The gods took a different king, though. Billy is the monarch now, and for a while, he will be nobody. A fool searching for his fool, and it was not lost on him how ironic his own death might become. But traveling alone on his own roads did not deter him. He’d been on these highways many times—hell, he’d even been assigned to designing and monitoring the reconstruction of the kingdom’s infrastructure.

His last steps on these roads occurred during the funeral tour for his father. An obnoxious tradition, but he’d made the journey in his first month as king. He wondered if anyone would recognize him now. He’d grown his hair out, and so often adorned his face with nothing less of stubble; often indulging in his own shaving kit to manage his facial hair himself and styled it differently whenever he wished. He liked the way lovers shivered against him when he touched their skin. When the lion pressed his lips against the lamb’s pulse.

He liked applying creams to Steve’s inflamed, beard-burnt skin.

He sighed over his horse’s even, medium paced trot. He was a fool, indeed.

* * *

The only thing keeping Billy from scolding himself for knowing so little about his jester, was the fascination of where he came from. Lady Robin entered court to jeers and teasing over her humble, bumpkin origins—before she rightly debated and venomously talked her way around every gnat who dared flaunt a lower intelligence over her.

Billy knew she and Steve got along, but not how much they had in common. Originating from one of the farming districts was one thing, but specifically the dairy and vineyard region proved a fascinating piece of information.

As well as a gorgeous journey. It took a day and two nights, but forests soon exhaled into rolling hills for lines of grape trees, pastures for cattle, sheep, and goats. Billy knew he was getting closer to the center of it all because grapevines began to line the road, with signs every couple of miles encouraging travelers to eat their fill, along with a number informing how far they were to more accommodating civilization.

The smell of shit and manure dampened the experience, but Billy could not claim ignorance over how his own city smelt during the summer. Even under royal decree that half the fleabags leave the capital in order to minimize summer fever and pestilence, the place still reeked.

The road began to veer down into a lush valley of hills; below was the bustling city of this region, and above stood a number of large homes. One ought to have appeared bigger than the rest, but such shared opulence suggested a wealthy middle class instead of one lord standing above them all. Economically, this was healthier. Socially, Billy felt utterly foreign to this hierarchal shape. His court was an uneven, pyramid hourglass. With himself standing on its point, a bloated pool of lords and deceit, then a strangled middle class before an even bigger pool of lower class just trying to feed themselves. It is a shape which cannot hold itself up, and yet he tirelessly managed it.

It’s not my fault, he defended to nobody. It’s what I inherited.

He pat his horse’s neck, feeling the silken grey fur that drew passersby’s glances. He had a beautiful mount: a grey so vibrant she looked blue under storm clouds. His saddle and bridle were humble; couldn’t very well walk around with his embossed leather saddle or a bridle glittering with the king’s golden medallions on every buckle.

When a woman gazed a little too long at him instead of his horse, Billy eased to a stop and smiled charmingly. “Excuse me, where might I find the House of Buckley?”

She adjusted the basket in her arms to hold it on her hip while she swayed coyly. “Peach-colored house on the hill, sir. May I ask what business you have there?”

“Visiting a friend.” Unless she’s in disguise too.

“Best to wait until evening time. Everyone’s in the market or out in the fields right now.”

Billy tilted his head at her. “Buckley is a noble house.” Nobody is working in the fields from that family—

Then she laughed. Laughed. “Are you from the capital?”

Billy’s charm faltered on his face, but he picked it back up easily enough. “Thereabouts. Why?”

“Because people from the capital believe everyone’s rich. Rich enough to sit or poor enough to not own a chair. We all work here, and we’re all in the market or the fields. I can tell you which are Sir Buckley’s, though.”

The little twit liked being a know-it-all, but it served Billy a great deal to be given the tour. Here, property decided who reigned, and property came in the form of land, livestock, or both. With that came a handful of useful names: Buckley, Hagan, Harrington, Wheel—

Billy’s eyes widened like a cat’s pupils dilating on prey. “STEVE!”

Because…there he was. His Steve, strolling right up the cobbled road from the hills and into the market with a donkey loaded with grape baskets beside him. He hadn’t heard his name, giving Billy the time to absorb every new detail about the man who vanished from his castle.

The white, puffy shirt held close to his body with a waistcoat. High-waisted trousers made his legs look long and lean over workman’s boots. He shoved up the colorful fabric ties around his biceps, holding up the shirtsleeves but failing due to all of the sweat from a day in the sun. A belt sagged a little diagonally around his hips, on which such things as pliers, shears, a garden knife, and a pair of leather and canvas gloves waited for use.

Steve took off a large sunhat and set it on the donkey’s head, combing both of his hands through his voluminous, brown hair—

“Steve!”

Billy began to walk his horse in that direction, having long since dismounted for the courtesy of his guide, but now the latter gripped his arm in warning. “That’s Lord Harrington to you.”

Billy blew a raspberry right into the air, scoffing, “Excuse me?”

The woman rolled her eyes so hard, she would have been thrown into a stockade for behaving like that to—well, to a king. But she let go of him and went on her way, leaving him to his fate.

So off he went. Billy walked his mount over to where a collection of people were attending to the donkey and the grapes, and Steve nodded in discussion with an older man.

“Lord Harrington, I hear?” he crooned in greeting.

Two heads rotated toward him, and Billy felt rather smacked in the face by the matching eyes and nose. Father. This is Steve’s father.

Lord Harrington. Twice over.

Steve’s features opened with shocked eyes and a dropped jaw. His eyes darted to his father’s frown, and Billy quickly backpedaled, “I apologize. I know the younger, but not the older. My name’s Billy Hargrove.”

He’d bowed his fair share as a knight, though the gesture felt far removed since he was out of practice. Never the less, Steve gaped at his king bowing slightly at the hips and extending a hand for Lord Harrington to shake.

Thing about being king, not many people actually know the monarchy’s family name. They knew William the Second. William of the Grove. Some whispered the Second Tyrant, but only because Billy was still young and new to being king. They were waiting for him to prove them right.

Lord Harrington shook his head with a glance at his son. “You didn’t say anyone was coming with you.”

“I didn’t think anyone was,” Steve answered bluntly, but he picked up the gist of Billy’s disguise easily enough. “Billy’s been a big help to me in the capital.”

“How so?”

Billy’s brows lifted, but before he could provide a veiled innuendo, Steve chirped, “Roommates. Got me a job. Kept me fed.”

“I did my best,” Billy crooned. He watched Steve’s apple bob in his throat.

Lord Harrington, with his similar, albeit shorter and silver, hair and weathered skin opened his arm to gesture Billy up the road. “You’ll be our guest, then. I’ll show you along. Are you staying at the inn?”

“No, my lord. I’ve only just arrived.”

“Very good. This way. Steve, remind Roger about the textiles. We’ve sheared the animals twice already this season. He needs to either wash it or sell it. We can’t hold onto it or else it will mold and be useless to barter.”

Billy peeked at Steve, who similarly veered to go on his separate way. He met Billy’s gaze for the briefest second, and he looked…not entirely happy to see Billy.

The king did not like that at all.

* * *

Billy looked around the Harrington estate, taking in every detail that Lord Harrington granted him. He had yet to see an inkling of whatever this emergency could have been to rush Steve out of the capital. Out of Billy’s bed. It made sense, now, why he had left everything behind, since he had a home and full wardrobe waiting for him here. Billy had not seen a glimpse of Lady Buckley, though.

People are supposed to ask my permission to leave, damn it. Or at the very least, inform him first. Not skip town like bandits.

The Harrington house looked out over the estate’s vast hills of grapes, goats, and sheep. It would have been endearing, the farmers using their canes to nudge the goats along the alleys of vines so they could snack on fallen grapes. Endearing, if Steve had been the one to show him all this. Billy wanted Steve next to him on this veranda—if it could be called that. The house and its balconies overlooking the city and hills were much smaller than his castle’s, of course.

Billy did not stay long in his rooms—room. Just a room. You certainly acclimated to luxury, he reminded himself. One of his first orders in the castle had been a complete renovation to his chambers. He would not live in his father’s rooms. Those were turned into a storage branch of the castle, and Billy had several walls knocked down to make way for the new royal apartments. Let the old bastard haunt the broom cupboards.

Billy trotted down the narrow stairs into what felt like an abrupt arrival at the dining room. Further down in the house would be the kitchen but there was a smaller, stewards’ pantry, of sorts, in which a woman stood and rotated upon hearing him. It took a second, but Billy remembered to bow.

“Am I correct in addressing the lady of the house?”

“You are,” smiled Lady Harrington. It came as no surprise that she looked at least ten years younger than her husband, but the blonde hair did catch Billy off guard. She offered her hand, which he took and kissed its back.

“For some reason, I didn’t think Steve took after his father so much.”

“In looks only. He has all his personality from me.”

Billy rocked a little on his heels, humming an acknowledging sound. He certainly did not voice his amusement that she might’ve just revealed more about her marital bed than she meant to. He simply replied, “I believe it. May I ask: Steve and Lady Buckley rushed out with hardly any explanation. Is everything all right?”

“Oh, everything’s no more out of the ordinary than it usually is,” she began, returning to her task of preparing what looked like a fruit-soaked wine for their dinner. She sliced up apples and peaches with a curved blade and a practiced hand. “However, our ordinary can be quite sudden and busy.”

A different hum came from Billy’s chest at that. “I understand. Is there anything I can do?”

“Well, if you’re offering, you can half those grapes right there.”

Billy sent the wooden bowl of fruit a dubious glance and then laughed breathily, “I meant—”

“I know what you meant,” she smiled. “For now, you can help me prepare the wine.”

A long dead growl moved through Billy’s mind. Woman’s work—

Stay dead, tyrant, Billy hushed with finality. He accepted the spare knife from her and did the task he was given. She couldn’t know that he was who he was, after all. No one in this town apart from Steve knew that Billy could supply the money, machinery, and manpower at a moment’s notice for whatever reason they might need—

Chatter and laughter moved like a reverse echo outside the house, blooming quickly until, of all people, Robin Buckley herself clapped on the stoop of the Harrington’s side door. Open as it is for the breeze to come and go, she waltzed right in, and stopped at the sight of Billy. Her laughter cut off only to be replaced with, “You!”

“Me,” he threw right back. He raised a brow at a woman of the royal court wearing trousers and boots.

Lady Harrington chimed, “Oh, so you are friends.”

Billy peered back at her. “Was there any doubt?”

“Oh, dear, you look like you’ve never worked a field in your life.”

Billy had never heard his jaw hit the floor until that moment. Robin’s chuckle arrived beside him as she ripped off a handful of grapes for a snack. “When did you get here?”

“Not an hour ago.”

“You could’ve stayed put.”

“You’re enjoying this,” he growled, hoping that she heard his meaning through the words. I’m still your king even if no one here knows it.

She smirked, hearing loud and clear. “Steve gave me the heads up.”

He matched her smile, tone dripping with charming venom. “And where is he?”

She shook her head at him, cooing a tone that was both soothing and condescending. “He’ll be around. You’re in…his house, after all. Thanks, Anne.”

“You’re welcome, dear,” came Lady Harrington’s reply, but Billy hardly heard it.

He was in Steve’s house. A lord’s house. Lord Harrington’s house…and Billy was just some nobody.

Robin really was enjoying this too much.

[obxcunt]

Rafe Cameron x Pogue Reader.

A/N: First of all, this is probably trash, i’m really sorry and i’m insecure about my writing hehe. Anyway, Rafe is the cocky asshole and Y/N the horny Pogue, enemies to lovers vibes, classic. And this is their story or more specifically: How they ended up together.

Warning: Light Smut, Sexual tension, Fluff, Light Angst, idk mention of Ward Cameron and John B? Sounds like a warning to me, you might feel the need to throw your panties at Drew afterwards?

Words: 5K

You started working at the country club this summer, which is where you “met” Rafe Cameron. But it wasn’t really the first time, as a Pogue you were already aware of the Kook’s bad reputation. However, this is when things unexpectedly started to change between the two of you.

At first, you tried to avoid him and his friends as much as possible: which caught Rafe’s attention and intrigued him. You were annoyed by his cocky attitude, vulgarity and poor comments regarding your lifestyle and friends but you couldn’t deny his charm.

One day, after another sexist comment from Topper, you decided to call him out in front of everyone, flipping him off on your way back to the bar as well. And your sudden bold attitude picked Rafe’s interest, leaving the Kook boy wordless and turning him on at the same time.

That’s when Rafe started to come to the club by himself without telling anyone, wanting to admire you in peace. He was obsessed with your work uniform, with the way your short tennis skirt always exposed your legs to him. He couldn’t stop picturing himself caressing your beautiful thighs, his mind going wild at the thought of you sitting on his lap.

Rafe didn’t know how to handle his new feelings towards you, especially the most sinful ones. He wasn’t used to rejection, usually women are the ones coming up to him. But you weren’t one of them, you were mostly ignoring him, torturing the Kook boy through the act. You guys were supposed to be enemies, but deep down, Rafe hoped you didn’t hate him.

On the other hand, you tried to not pay attention to the cocky Kook boy. But today, you knew something was going on due to Rafe’s lack of discretion. You could feel his blue eyes devouring you from across the room as you walked by. He was sitting at his usual table with his friends, drinking in silence and ignoring their conversation, too busy looking at you with intensity: the persistence making you blush uncontrollably. And right now, as Rafe licked his lips: tasting the sweet alcohol he just drank. He smirked to himself, wondering how you’d taste.

You left the room, followed by the Kook boy. “What do you want, Cameron?” You asked harshly, noticing his presence as you both walked to the exit. You were craving fresh-air, your cheeks still burning from his last action. “Do you have plans for tonight?” He asked back, opening the door for you, your eyes lingering on his bicep as he held it. “Why—“ You paused, waving at some customers coming in as you both stood next to the entrance. “I’m not interested.” Rafe laughed, grabbing your wrist as you tried to walk out. “Wait,“ He turned you around, gently pushing you against the wall, not caring about the people looking at the two of you. “One date, one chance.” “I don’t understand, you—“ You licked your lips, trying to ignore the warm feeling invading your body as he looked down at your lips. “This is literally our first real conversation, the insults and shitty comments you usually throw at me don’t count. And now, after all, you want to take me on a date? Why? I’m not a dirty Pogue anymore?” He shrugged his shoulders, playing it cool while he was freaking out on the inside, scared to get rejected by you. “I— I don’t know. You seem like a cool girl.” You raised a brow, then rolled your eyes at him. “If this is some kind of bet—“ “No! It’s not— Y/N, trust me it’s not. I’m not very good at this…” You sighed, a bit intrigued by his offer. “Fine, I'm giving you one chance, Cameron.”

Surprisingly, he wasn’t playing with you: preparing a whole pic-nic on the beach by himself, with a few candles and pillows laying on the duvet he had placed on the sand. “Wow, this is actually really nice.” You said, sitting down next to the nervous boy. Rafe smirked, admiring your features glowing under the sunset’s light. He couldn’t tell, but you were trying your best to not look at him, guilt washing you over as soon as you started thinking he looked hot tonight. You weren’t supposed to feel this way. “Don’t look at me like that.” You said, looking at the horizon. “I— I wasn’t,” You chuckled. “I can’t help it.” He admitted, swallowing hard as you looked back at him. “Did you tell your friends about our date?” He asked. “Of course not, and you didn’t say anything to yours either, right?” He shook his head, making you laugh. “I don’t even understand what I'm doing here.” “Stop pretending you’re not attracted to me,” You laughed nervously. “I know you feel it too.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You lied, your cheeks heating up under his intense gaze once again. “Listen, i’m sorry for the— everything.” “Rafe Cameron, apologizing,” You smiled at the irony. “That’s very unexpected. Is that your way to get into my pants, Cameron?” The Kook boy coughed, drinking a few sips of his beer to cool down. “I— No.” He said, shaking his head. “You don’t want to have sex with me?” His eyes widened at the question. “Yes, I mean— No.” He groaned, while you simply laughed at his frustration. His eyes went down your thighs, those thighs. “Cameron… Don’t.” You warned, his eyes meeting yours and finding a sudden touch of desire in them. “God—“ You groaned, pulling on your skirt with embarrassment. “This is so weird.” He slowly leaned his head towards yours. “I wanna touch you, so bad.” He murmured, his lips dangerously close to yours. You surprised yourself by briefly looking at his own, secretly wanting to taste them. “I—“ You paused, goosebumps now covering your skin as you felt his fingers wandering along your thigh. You looked down, enjoying the sight of his large hand resting on your thigh. “You want it.” He said, clearly amused by your reaction to his touch. “Wh— What? No!” You objected, smacking his hand away in panic. “But—“ “I— I wanna go home!” You blurted out, getting up and walking away from a very confused Rafe Cameron. Truth is, you wanted this as much as he did but you couldn’t lose your composure, not with him.

A few days passed since your catastrophic date with Rafe. And he’s been avoiding the country club since then, which annoyed you way more than it should’ve had. You ended up missing seeing him, searching for the tall boy’s silhouette everywhere at the club, to only find a void eating you alive. The Pogues knew something was wrong: noticing your silence, how much you were lost in your thoughts and the certain sadness occupying your gaze. You blamed it all on insomnia, too scared to admit your attraction to Rafe Cameron, their enemy.

You saw him again at Midsummers, finally. You were working with your friends that night, not expecting to see him walking in with his family, and a beautiful woman at his arm. You weren’t supposed to feel jealous, but couldn’t help it. He looked at you for the first time in a week, his deep blue eyes not leaving you as he kissed his date on the cheek at, asshole. “Is everything alright, Y/N?” Pope asked, walking up to you. “Yes...” You mumbled, faking a smile. “I— I need to use the bathroom, i’ll be right back.” He nodded, watching you leave, catching the Kook boy’s eyes following you through the crowd.

Once you were inside, you let out a sigh, both hands holding on the edges of the sink as you enjoyed the silence. Rafe ended up following you to the bathroom, a bit worried. He knocked on the door without introducing himself, forcing you to move back to it. “What are you doing here?” You asked, looking at the tall boy standing on the doorstep. “I saw you leaving and—“ You snorted, interrupting him. “Shouldn’t you be with your date, Cameron?” He smirked, sensing the bitterness in your question. “Jealous, Y/N?” He briefly looked behind him, examining the empty hallway, before pushing you back inside as he walked in. He closed the door and locked it, without breaking eye-contact. “I’m not jealous.” You lied, taking a better look at his appearance. He looked sensational in his baby-blue suit, your curiosity wondering how his muscles looked underneath it. “You’re the one who rejected me, remember?” He continued, leaning against the door, repulsing the urge to touch you. “Because all of this doesn’t make any sense!” You snapped out of frustration, scratching your head. “W— We are not supposed to do this, we are not supposed to feel this way.” He licked his lips, walking up to you. “We?” You rolled your eyes at his usual cockiness, crossing your arms. “Did you miss me, Y/N?” He asked, caressing your cheekbone with his thumb, going down your bottom lip as he held your chin with his fingers: the action sending shivers down your spin. You fluttered your eyes, enjoying the feeling. “Look at you, getting weak under my touch.” You opened your eyes, annoyed. “Fuck you.” You hissed, hitting his toned chest, both hands finding their way to his neck. “I will.” He said, pushing against the wall, making you whine. “Rafe—“ He slammed his lips against yours in a passionate kiss, the both of you fighting for dominance with your tongues as he kept his hands on your hips, pulling you closer to him. You were finally tasting them, tasting him: and it was even better than you had imagined it. “Fuck—“ He moaned against your lips, the both of you craving way more than a kiss, the both of you needing to feel the void. “Jump, baby.” He ordered in a whisper, kissing your jawline as he smacked your ass. You obeyed, wrapping your legs around his clothed body and letting the Kook boy carry you to the sink counter. Your hands went directly to his belt, a soft moan escaping your lips as Rafe licked your neck, leaving wet kisses all over skin. “Listen to me,” He said, grabbing your jaw to look at you in the eyes, your neediness driving him insane. “We’re gonna have to make it quick, alright?” You nodded, blushing as you felt your stomach twitch at the sound of his voice. “Good girl.” You moaned at his words, watching him unbuttoning your blouse. You had sex with Rafe Cameron for the first time that night, but it wouldn’t be the last.

The next day, you didn’t know what to expect from him. However, you were both eager to see each other again. You saw him during the day, while walking down the stairs to meet someone at the bar. A sudden shyness invaded you, your cheeks heating up at the thought of him: pulling on your hair, calling you his, choking you, controlling your body, cumming inside you. He noticed you, following you in the hallway and gently grabbing your wrist to turn you around, a devilish smirk on his face. “Hey, you come here often?” He asked, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. “Rafe…” You laughed, admiring the few marks on his neck. “Last night—“ “Last night was fucking amazing.” You smirked, biting your lower lip. “Yeah, maybe we should do it again someday.” You said. “Yeah, maybe we should…” You hummed, getting lost in his blue eyes, ignoring the noises surrounding the two of you. Last night, Rafe made you feel alive, and you were already dying to feel it again, no matter how inappropriate it was. You sighed, grabbing the tall boy’s face, pulling him in a heated kiss, listening to your heart rather than your head. You both pulled away, out of breath and turned on. “The closet?” Rafe suggested, driven by lust. “Please.”

And it happened again, again and again. You decided to stop counting at some point, enjoying each time like it was the last one. You guys were having sex everywhere, at any time of the day and night, it felt like an addiction: at the country club, at parties (which was dangerous), at his house (in his room, the shower, the pool, his dad’s office) and yours, in the back of his truck or even on the beach. You both liked it rough, but sometimes it turned into soft-love making: “What’s wrong, Rafe?” You asked, coming out of the bathroom and noticing the crying boy sitting on your bed. “What happened?” You walked up to him, kneeling down between his legs. “Hey, look at me.” You said, cupping his face and wiping the tears away with your thumbs. “My dad he’s—“ He paused, his voice cracking. “It’s okay, Rafe...” You whispered, leaning your forehead against his, sitting on his lap. “You’re safe here.” You reassured him, kissing his forehead. Rafe hugged you tight, a few tears rolling down his cheeks. “Do you want anything?” He looked up, sniffing with a sad smile. “You.” He murmured, the confession making you smile.

He held you the whole time, needing to feel you close to him as much as possible because you were the one making him feel safe and loved. His lips barely left yours, moaning and whispering the sweetest words against it. He looked at you in the eyes, pounding into you at a slower pace, smiling wide as you begged the Kook boy for more. He couldn’t stop admiring the beautiful girl underneath him: scratching his back with fierceness, crying in pleasure and screaming for him and only him. He really wanted this moment to last forever, and for the first time he didn’t leave afterwards, letting you fall asleep in his strong arms, holding you close to his heart: where you definitely belonged.

The Pogues knew you were seeing someone: you were constantly on your phone, ditching plans without explanation and quite often wearing bruises around your neck. However, Rafe wasn’t your boyfriend, yet. You both really liked each other, but didn’t know how to express it: your hookups sessions were turning into something more, which seemed a bit scary to you at times. Truth is, even though you both agreed on keeping this as a secret, you really wanted to talk about it to someone, craving advice and reassurance. And it seemed like the universe had heard your prayers, as Sarah caught the two of you having sex in your kitchen the other night.

“Rafe...“ You moaned, bent over the counter. “Fuck— I missed you so much.” He groaned at your words, pulling on your hair as he roughly pounded into you from behind. “Shit— Pretty girl.” You cried, gripping on the edges for dear life. “This is what you get,“ He smacked your ass. “For flirting with a guy in front of me.” “I— I wasn’t flirting with him!” You gasped, his arms pulling you back against his sweaty chest, his lips sucking on your neck as he pounded deeper into you through the new angle. “Shut up.” “Fuck, Rafe—“ He smiled against your skin, loving the power he had on you. “You’re taking me so well, baby. Look at you, getting fucked in the kitchen. You like that, huh?” You cried at his words, your hands holding on his arms for support. “Cum for me.” He murmured, hitting your g-spot, your legs shaking at the impact. You were about to, until someone arrived in the kitchen: Sarah, holding your backpack in hands. “Y/N, you forgot your—“ She paused, screaming in horror at the sight of the two of you: breathless, moaning mess. “Shit— Sarah!” You tried to call her, but she threw the backpack on the floor before running towards the front door. “Well, it was obviously going to happen at some point.” Rafe said, pulling out of you and putting his pants on. “I told you to lock the door.” You hissed, grabbing your dress off the ground. Rafe looked at you, noticing the panic submerging you as you struggled. “Hey, hey, hey,” He whispered, gently cupping your face. “Look at me, Y/N. It’s fine, don’t worry.” You pushed him away, dressing up in a rush. “This is not okay— I’ve been lying to my friends for weeks, they’re gonna be so—“ Rafe turned you around, pulling you against him. “You need to calm down, okay? I’m sure they’ll understand, and it’s actually none of their business.” You sighed, kissing his bare chest, your arms wrapping themselves around him. “I’ll stay with you, if you want.” He said, kissing the top of your head. “So… About what we were doing ten minutes ago.” He continued with a smirk, squeezing your ass. “Get out of my house, Cameron.” You said, playfully pushing the Kook boy away. “Your little sister just caught us having sex.”

Rafe dragged you inside his house, holding your hand. “Come on, Y/N.” He said, kissing your temple. “Stay in the perimeter, in case she tries to kill me.” You whispered, glancing at his blond sister walking in the kitchen. Rafe laughed, placing a soft kiss on your lips before letting go of your hand. You sighed, walking inside the quiet room, looking at your friend sitting down at the table with a bowl of fruits. “What do you want, Y/N? Condoms?” She joked, looking away. “Sarah—“ “I can’t believe it, you’ve been fucking my brother for weeks, without telling me.” You crossed your arms, nervously biting your lower lip. “I— I’m sorry. I was scared, because it’s obviously very problematic—“ Sarah chuckled, looking back at you. “No shit, Y/N!” She said, falling back into her chair. “First of all, my brother is an asshole, he doesn't deserve you. Second of all, he hurt our friends many times!” “I know, I feel guilty about us everyday, Sarah!” You shouted, walking up to her. “I don’t know how it happened, but i really like him and—” “Oh my god, tell me you’re not in love with my brother.” She said, visibly disgusted. “He’s not that bad, he’s actually sweet at times. Come on, Sarah. I was the first one to defend you and John B!” The Kook girl sighed, trying to understand how someone like you could love someone like Rafe. “I don’t want you to get hurt. You’re one of my best friends, Y/N.” She said, giving you a tiny smile. “I’m traumatized by the way.” She added, grimacing at the idea of his brother and you having sex. “Please, don’t be mad at me. I— I know this is weird, but i liked being around him and i feel like i might have a good influence on him.” “Of course you have a good influence on him, you’re adorable. But we can’t trust him.” You looked down, crossing your arms. “We are not dating, it’s just—” “You need to tell the others, especially JJ.” You looked back at her, eyes widening. “No way! JJ’s gonna kill him, we all know how dramatic he can be.” Sarah nodded. “Do you really want him to find out the same way I did?” You sighed, shaking your head. Maybe it was time to tell everyone.

Today, you weren’t feeling well, a bit stressed by the whole situation. However, you were excited to see Rafe again at the country club. But when you walked in the dining room, your smile disappeared almost instantly, your eyes leaning on the beautiful woman sitting next to him, the one who accompanied him at the Midsummers. She looked flawless and visibly older than you, probably closer to his age. “Take their order, Y/N.” Your manager said. You sighed, walking up to their table, shaking in your shoes. You saluted Ward, ignoring the Kook boy and his date, the sight of them making you feel sick to your stomach. You started overthinking, wondering if he had been fucking her too, the whole time he was seeing you. You could feel his eyes on you, the intensity distracting you and making you choke on your words as you took their order. “I— Alright, Sir.” You walked away, running out of the room once you were done, hiding in the bathroom where it all started. But this time, Rafe didn’t follow you, his absence breaking your heart.

A few days passed since the last time you saw him at the country club. And he has been acting dead ever since. “Y/N?” JJ asked, stroking your shoulder. “What’s going on? You’re usually excited to eat one of my burgers.” You smirked, turning to the blond boy. “I’m excited!” You faked enthusiasm, trying to ignore the pain you’ve been feeling all night. “Don’t lie to me.” He said, narrowing his eyes and sitting down next to you on the couch. “Is it about that guy you’re seeing? Do you want me to kick his ass?” You chuckled, looking at his clenched fists. “Tough day at work, that’s all.” You said, standing up. “Y/N…” He groaned, watching you walk to John B’s kitchen. “Come on, tell me the truth.” He begged, following you. “Did he hurt you?” Yes. “Can’t we just talk about something else, JJ?” “I hooked up with this—“ You turned around smacking his chest. “You’re so annoying.” You said, rolling your eyes at his amusement. “I don’t want to talk about him, it’s probably not even relevant anymore.” You opened the fridge, giving the blond the ingredients. “You guys broke up or?” You sighed, of course he wasn’t going to let it go. “We weren’t together, we were just… seeing each other.” JJ hummed in response, walking towards the counter. “I don’t know what you’re hiding but—” You weren’t listening anymore, looking into space, rethinking about your conversation with Sarah the other day. “JJ? I— I fucked Rafe Cameron.” You blurted out, the confession surprising him. He let everything fall on the counter before turning towards you, eyes filled with anger. “Please, JJ. Don’t be mad at me. I— I wanted to tell you but i didn’t know how.” He clenched his jaw, walking up to you. “Rafe Cameron? Out of all the guys?” He laughed nervously, ready to raise his voice. “Are you fuckinf kidding me, Y/N?” He shouted at your face, giving you goosebumps. “I’m so sorry…” You cried, looking away. JJ’s features softened at the sight of your tears, guilt washing his anger away. “Don’t— Shit.” He sighed, pulling you into a hug. “Don’t cry, Y/N. I’m sorry for yelling at you, it’s just—“ He paused, the sound of your sobs breaking his heart. He knew something was wrong, he couldn’t be the only one responsible for your breakdown. “What happened?” He asked, caressing your hair, still shocked by the news. “I’m so stupid.” You murmured, head pressed against his chest. “I love him.” JJ sighed, holding you tight. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.” He murmured back, already picturing himself fighting the Kook boy.

“Okay, i’ll be there in ten minutes.” You said, holding the phone close to your ear as you left your house. “No, JJ. I won’t give you my bra to try it on. I don’t care if it’s a bet—” You whined, rolling your eyes and closing the door behind you. “Whatever, see you guys soon.” You hung up, then walked towards your car, entering the driveway when you noticed someone leaned against the vehicle: Rafe. “Leave me alone.” You hissed, trying to shut down your emotions. He looked hot, as always, his devilish smirk still present on his perfectly sculpted face. “I’m serious, Rafe.” You said, pushing him to the right, the Kook boy grabbing your hips with both hands in the act. “Let me explain, Y/N.” You pushed him away, this time with way more strength. “Explain, what? How you fucked someone else behind my back? Because you’re ashamed to be seen with a Pogue?” He frowned, shaking his head. “What are you talking about—“ “I’m eighteen years old, still living with my parents, working at the country club and driving an old car. I’m not some model in her twenties, born into a rich family.” Rafe sighed, passing a hand over his face, tears emerging from the corner of your eyes. “Baby…” He said, trying to take your hand but failing. "Don't— You disappeared for a week.” You tried to open the car door, but he closed it immediately with his hand. “Rafe!” You whined, containing your tears. “Let me explain, Y/N.” He begged, turning you around and slamming you against the vehicle, leaning his face dangerously close to yours. You both looked at each other for a second, wanting to close the gap between the two of you. “I—“ You started, swallowing hard. “I don’t know what to do, kissing you or punching you in the fucking face, Cameron.” He smirked, caressing your cheek. “Nothing happened between us, trust me. Michelle comes from a rich family and my father tried to set us up.” You nodded, sighing. “So, are you married now?” “I told him about us, about my feelings for you.” Your lips parted. “But— But you left and—“ “Remember the last time i did that? The week before Midsummers?” You nodded. “I was dealing with some issues.” You frowned. “Are you talking about drugs? I thought you were—“ “Clean?” He laughed, the sadness in his tone hitting you. “I’m never high around you, because you make me feel better, because you’re my escape.” A tear rolled down your cheek, which he wiped away with his thumb. “But the shit my dad was putting through— it triggered me.” “Why didn’t you call me, Rafe? You can always count on me.” “I know, but after what happened at the club… I felt like shit for hurting you, i didn’t mean to. When you left the room— I really wanted to follow you.” You couldn’t hold back anymore, grabbing his face and pulling him into a soft kiss. “I— I think i’m in love with you, Rafe.” You murmured, your forehead resting against his. “I think i’m in love with you too, Y/N.” He replied, smiling, both hands now holding your shaking ones and giving them soft kisses.

That night, you decided to tell everyone at the Chateau: Rafe driving you to the location and accompanying you. You were nervous, holding his hand as you both walked to the backyard, where your friends were talking. “What the fuck?” Pope asked, being the first one to notice the Kook boy next to you. “Holy shit—“ Kiara mumbled, her eyes stuck on your hands. “What is he doing here?” John B asked, standing up. “What the—“ Sarah covered his mouth with her hand, winking at you. “What’s going on, Y/N?” Kie asked, looking at everyone with confusion. JJ remained silent, examining your boyfriend with a clenched jaw. “We— We are dating.” You said, leaning your head against Rafe’s chest, craving some protection. “Is this a joke?” Pope asked, while your other friends seemed disappointed. “I know he’s been a real asshole—“ “What the fuck!” Kie shouted, standing up. “You were hooking up with him the whole time?” “I’m genuinely sorry for lying to you guys! But—“ You paused, trembling in your boyfriend’s arms, as he held you close to him. “I didn’t premeditated to fall in love with him.” You continued, glancing at Rafe. “I still don’t understand how you managed to make her fall in love with you.” JJ said, looking at his boots. “Wait,” John B said, glancing back and forth between us. “You already knew about this?” “She told me yesterday.” Sarah sighed. “And i caught them having sex in her kitchen.” Kie fake-gagged, looking away. “You had sex in a kitchen?” Pope asked, eyes widening. “Oh my god, shut up.” Kie said, slapping the back of his head. Rafe cleared his throat. “I really like— Love, Y/N.” He said, looking at your friends. “I fucked up in the past, but i won’t bother any of you ever again.” He promised, your arms wrapping themselves around his waist, the small gesture making his heart melt. “Gross…” JJ murmured, looking away. “I know it’s gonna take you guys some time to fully accept and understand but—“ “You defended me, when Sarah and I started dating. I won’t judge you, but i can’t trust him.” John B said, looking at Rafe. “If you hurt her—“ “I won’t.” Your friends looked at each other, still a bit lost and overwhelmed by all of this.

After a few months, your friends were starting to accept your relationship with the Kook boy a bit more: inviting him and his friends to parties, hanging out with the two of you, all of this without causing any drama. It wasn’t easy at first, especially for JJ who’s always been protective, but he knew you were truly happy with Rafe and it was the most important to him. Your parents loved him, especially your mother, who finds him extremely charming, obviously. “I think your mother likes me.” Rafe whispered, glancing at the older woman from across the table. “She definitely has a crush on you.” “The mom and the daughter? Sounds like—“ “If you say porn, you’re gonna have to watch some for a while.” You warned, crossing your arms. Rafe chuckled, caressing your bare thigh under the table. “That’s sweet,” He said, leaning his lips closer to your ear. “We both know you can’t resist me.” “I have other options waiting for me.” You teased back, smirking at him. “Really?” He asked, his thumb caressing your inner-thigh, getting dangerously close to your center. “Well, we’ll talk about it later then.” He said, his eyes getting darker and your whole body shivering at his words. You already knew the outcome of this conversation, your legs already shaking at the idea. “Appreciate them while you can, baby.” He said, moving his hand to your knee. “You’re not gonna be able to use them for a while.”

uhuhuhuh, the end.