#If he's actually upset with someone /he's/ the one who would need convincing! It's all very interesting :3c | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

erwinsvow · 3 months

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𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥

summary: you were a pogue, and now you're a kook. just like how once you were no one's, and now you're rafe cameron's.

author's note: here it is!!! imagine like s1 rafe with the s2 hair, and basically just having a former-pogue girlfriend through out the whole season. i just think rafe would actually be such a good boyf, he just needs someone to settle him down when he gets a lil crazy. follows the sequence of s1 until about 3/4ths down, where i just started making stuff up. you might read this & think no one would act like this.. and that's fine, i know they wouldn't, but this is a self indulgent story for rafe <3 part 2 of the other seasons maybe? enjoy!!

now spinning: black beauty by lana del rey (soooooo rafe coded! he just needs a hug and some pussy!)

word count: 13.5k

warnings/tags: wheeze is a toddler for no reason. reader isn't the biggest fan of the pogues at this point in time. smut: oral (f receiving), fingering, degregation, use of daddy, rafe calls reader kid because <3, lemme know if i forgot something!

“So that’s it? Really? Your mom is marrying a Kook and you’re moving across the island… just like that?” John B speaks to you as if you had any choice in the matter. You look at him sadly, but you’ve cried so much the last few days, it’s hard to find any more tears.

You want to tell him, want to explain everything. The way your mom has been so lonely for years, ever since your dad passed away. The way she would pull double-shifts every week just to make sure you had the nice, trendy shoes and hot dinner every night. The way you grew up in the cut but it never felt any different than growing up in figure eight, because she took care of you.

And now it was your turn, to take care of her. Blake Richards was rich, and he wanted to take care of your mom, which meant for the first time in a long time, she would be the one being taken care of. And you owed that to her, you owed that much.

“I-I don’t really have a choice, John B. I mean, this is my mom. And she’s getting her chance to be happy. I can’t ruin it for her.”

“Yeah, I get all that but, like, does this mean you’re gonna go full-Kook on us? Because I think that would just be disturbing,” JJ says, and you crack a smile, even as you feel a tear spill down your cheek.

“I don’t think I could ever go full-Kook.” It comes out quietly, a notch above a whisper.

“Hey, hey,” you hear John’s voice again, as he stands up to get closer to you. You feel embarrassed, the way your cheeks flush and heat up when he’s only a few inches away from you. He wipes the tear away with his thumb. “No crying, okay? Nothing has to change.”

The way he says it, you almost believe him.

“Right,” you say, still quiet. There’s a sob stuck behind your throat, and you don’t want the boys to know how upset you really are. You’ve stitched up these boys more times than you can count, set shoulders and bones and nursed bruises for them. “Nothing has to change,” you repeat, trying to convince yourself. Everything was about to change, starting with your relationship with them.

And that’s the one thing you wish could stay the same. Deep down, no matter how many times you were teased and laughed with, there was a part of you, buried away, that thought you would end up with one of these boys one day. Sweet John, funny JJ, smart Pope. Well, maybe not Pope. You’ve seen the way he stares at Kie, even when no one else notices.

But John and JJ, the possibility of being with one of them always lingered in the air. Even when they’re flirting with tourists or cracking so-called boy jokes that you just wouldn’t understand, you always thought they were your endgame.

If only you knew.

Pope and Kiara drive up, just as you’re wiping away another tear. You’re dreading repeating everything to them, shedding more tears.

౨ৎ

“Who is that?” Topper asks, eyeing some girl entering the club. Rafe was getting sick of Topper crying over every pretty girl he saw on the street when he was supposedly dating his sister. He hardly cared about Sarah, daddy’s favorite, but that was his family, and he wouldn’t tolerate disrespect to his family.

“She must be fresh meat,” Kelce says, “I’ve never seen her before.”

“Tourist?” Topper questions. Rafe downs the rest of his drink.

“Nah, man, see that guy ahead of her? That’s Blake Richards. My dad works with him, he’s a big finance guy. He’s a widower, but I guess not anymore.”

“Step-daughter? Jesus,” Topper says. “It’s like a cheesy porno. But I wouldn’t be surprised if he married her mom to tap that, I mean-”

“Enough,” Rafe snaps. “Shouldn’t you be in a fight with my sister?” Topper blanches.

“I mean, look at her Rafe. That is something special,” Kelce says, and then finally, Rafe lifts his head to look at you.

You look… confused. Your head is turning, taking in everything about the club, like you’d never been there before. A waiter comes up to your family with tall glasses of water, little pieces of cucumber and lemon floating around in them with ice cubes. Richards—your step-father—takes a glass and hands it to a woman who can only be your mother, with the same hair and complexion. Before he can take a glass to hand to you, you take it from the tray yourself, smiling and saying thank you. The waiter, some teenage Pogue, blushes at your affection.

When you start walking, continuing the tour, the waiter turns to look at you walk away, gawking like men do when they see something pretty. Rafe feels an overwhelming urge to punch the kid, and cover you up with his jacket.

You’re not in anything too immodest, compared to what he’s seeing girls at the club walking around in, but it feels like it’s too much for the leering eyes that follow you. Your jean skirt comes down a little less than half-way to your thighs. Your shirt is white, with puffy sleeves and little buttons that tighten around the chest.

He sees a glimpse of cleavage, which makes his chest tighten uncomfortably, not in the way he’s used to when he sees a pretty girl. He wants to take his shirt off his back and slide it onto you, buttoning it up all the way and making sure no one else looks at you the way he’s looking at you right now.

“Rafe?” his friend calls, and he’s not sure which one. In your glancing, you turn towards Rafe and you lock eyes for a second. You must have noticed him staring. You probably think he’s crazy, but he doesn’t seem to care much at the moment. Your mother must have beckoned you, because you turn away in a second, walking towards the older couple, trailing behind them again.

“Be right back,” he says, leaving a confused Topper and Kelce behind him at the table. He cuts through the tables near the bar, entering the walkway where your family is already, but coming out of the other end. He gets there just in time to run into Richards, who’s leading the little group.

“Hi, Mr. Richards, right?” he says, holding his hand out. “Rafe Cameron.”

“Oh, Rafe, hi,” the older man replies, shaking his hand. Rafe grips hard, making sure Richards doesn’t think he has a wimpy handshake. Otherwise he’s never gonna agree to what Rafe has in mind. “I haven’t seen you in years, I mean you were half your height last time I was over at Tannyhill.”

“Crazy, right? Well I just wanted to say hi since I ran into you. How’s, uh Benny and Brax?”

“I can’t believe you remember them, they haven’t been to Kildare in years. They’re good, yeah, Benny’s in California now, and Brax is out at law school, at Oxford.”

“Oh yeah, international law, right?”

“Yeah,” Richards says, smiling wide. “You’ve got quite a memory, son, I’ll have to tell Rafe when I see him.”

“Oh yeah, he’s around here somewhere.” Then, he makes his move. He turns his gaze to your mom first. He thinks about it briefly, but if he addresses you before her, your mom will be on guard. He knows how their minds work. “I don’t believe we’ve met before, I’m Rafe,” and he shakes your mom’s hand, but turns back to Richards for the introduction—something else in his little cheat-sheet of rules. Let dad do the talking, so he feels like he’s in control.

“Rafe, this is my wife, Anna-”

“Nice to meet you, Rafe,” your mom smiles at him sweetly, and he smiles back.

“-and my step-daughter.” You smile, and hold your hand out. He shakes your hand, gently, and looks at your face, because he can tell the smile is forced. He wonders why.

“Nice to meet you.” he says, and you smile that forced way again.

“You too, Rafe.” You let go of his hand, and it’s good, because if he held on any longer, the adults would get suspicious.

“First time here?” he questions, still looking at you.

“Yes,” your mother answers, laughing, if not a little uncomfortably. “Is it that obvious?”

“Nah, it’s a lot to take in, I remember that much.” Richards smiles at him, almost beaming. He knows Rafe has been coming here since he could walk. That means the old man appreciates him trying to comfort his new family. Another step closer.

“It is,” Anna says, looking at her daughter. She has those worried eyes, the one Ward’s new wife won’t stop looking at him with.

“Well, it’s the perfect place to be all summer. I mean, pretty much everyone our age is at the pool or the courts.” At his mention of the both of you, you look up from staring at your shoes quickly to looking right at him. He smiles. You don’t smile back.

“Really?” Richards asks, still openly friendly.

“I mean yeah, Mister R, I remember Benny on the golf course, like, everyday. And Brax, I mean he practically taught half of us how to swim.” Richards nods and laughs, continuing small talk about his sons. Rafe sneaks another glance at you, and you look back knowingly, like you can smell his intentions from a mile away.

“Honey?” your mom asks quietly. “Do you wanna go with Rafe?”

“What?” you reply quickly, surprised. You weren’t listening, and he tries hard not to laugh.

“Well, I can take you ‘round, introduce you to everyone. I’ll finish the tour if you and Mrs. Richards are heading up to the course?” He nods at the golf clothes your parents have on, that you are lacking.

“I think that sounds great, right, honey?” Anna presses, and after you lock eyes with her, you nod in agreement.

“Yeah, sure,” you say quietly. Rafe smiles again.

“Great, great, yeah. Well, it was great to see you Mister R. Missus R.”

“Thank you, Rafe. Kiddo, you can ask for the car to go home when you’re ready, okay? Your mother and I are going to get dinner here.” Anna looks up confused, probably wondering how they’ll get back.

“I’ll call someone to bring the car back, honey,” he explains, and your mom smiles.

“I can also take her back,” Rafe interjects. “Tannyhill is the same direction, and I’m headed back anyways. If you wanna leave the car here.”

“Really, Rafe, that would be great, thank you.” You look even angrier than before, but the plastic smile spread over your face doesn’t faze them.

“Right, thanks, Blake. Bye mom,” you say, and then lean over to kiss her on the cheek.

You watch them walk away, chewing your cheek and turning back to Rafe with anger splashed all over your pretty features.

“I can’t believe that worked on them,” you tell him quietly, smiling when your mom turns back to look at you before they turn the corner. Your parents were too gullible sometimes.

“Yeah, me either, kid.”

“Don’t call me that,” you reply right away. “And despite what you think, I’m not touring this place with you. I’m probably never coming back here after today.” You start walking away, in the opposite direction of your parents, when he chases behind you.

“Y’know, I don’t get you. Every girl your age lounges around here all day, and everyone else wishes they could.”

“Well, you know what they say,” you start, smiling sweetly, though he sees through it again. “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop.”

“Really?” he shrugs. “Never heard that before.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t have.”

“Come on, you’re not even giving me a chance. You don’t even know me.” You laugh at that.

“Yes, I do, Rafe, you just don’t recognize me.” You continue your brisk pace, looking for the exit and getting closer. He reaches out to grab your forearm, holding you back for a second. He guides you into the corner, between the hallway where there’s no one else around.

“Yeah, that so?” Rafe is almost caging you in. He’s so close you can smell his cologne and the scotch on his lips.

“I’m from Kildare, Rafe.” You try to break free of his grip, but it proves even harder than you thought. He holds you in place without even breaking a sweat.

“No, no, no, because I know every pretty girl in Kildare. And you’ve definitely never been here before, so-”

“Really? Even the ones from the cut?” You thought that would be enough to get him to drop your arm, but he doesn’t budge.

“Huh. So that’s why you’ve never been here. Old Man Richards married a Pogue and made her daughter into a Kook? Did I get that right?”

“I’m not a Kook,” you say, squirming, because you still don’t want to be trapped by him. His cologne smells good, your mind wanders and thinks, like ocean air and sandalwood. You snap out of it at once.

“Not yet, you’re not.”

“I’m not going to be, either. A little money isn’t going to change anything for me.”

“Yeah, yeah, kid. That’s what everyone says, ‘til it does.”

“Rafe, let go of me, I said let go-” And he does let go, quickly, and your arm falls. Faint red marks appeared when he was holding on, what can only be a bruise tomorrow. He’s marked you, and you’re not half as angry as you would have thought.

“Come on, kid, we’re finishing this tour. I promised,” he says, and the last bit is so mocking, you can’t believe mom and Blake fell for his act.

He takes you around the entire club, shows you the restaurants, the spa, the pool. At least a handful of girls stare at the two of you walking side by side, but Rafe doesn’t look back at anyone. You don’t know how to feel about that.

The oldest Cameron isn’t a mystery to anyone in Kildare, but you don’t know anything about him besides what the boys have told you. JJ hates him, naturally, John doesn’t let you look at him in passing, and even Pope can find a few bad things to say. But right now, he’s not doing any of those things you would have expected once he found out you and your mom are from the other side of the island. The crude jokes and gold-digger comments are nowhere to be heard.

But you can’t write him off completely yet. After all, this is Rafe Cameron.

He finishes the tour on the golf course, so you can wave to your parents on the course. You’re sipping on a lemonade through a little pink straw, and he finds it hard to look away when your cheeks hollow to draw up the liquid. Your mom and Blake wave back, and you smile—genuinely—for maybe the third time that morning.

“They’re good together,” Rafe comments, on the walk back to the front door, where his truck is waiting.

“Do you really think that?” you ask quietly. You’re tired, he can tell, drained from trying so hard to make sure he knows you hate him.

“Yeah, kid, I do. He’s been a widower basically my whole life. And he married your mom, so he must really love her.”

You can’t tell if he’s just saying it to get on your good side. You hope he’s not. Through all of this, all the crying and the suffering and how much you miss your old life and your friends, if your mom doesn’t at least end up happy, it’ll all have been for nothing. You feel more tears brewing.

“Thanks, Rafe,” you end up saying quietly, as you put on the seat belt in the passenger seat of his truck. His music plays softly in the background of the drive - rap, something you've heard before but can't place - back to Blake’s house. With your window down, you stare out of it and try to pay attention to the breeze in your hair rather than the entirely overwhelming scent of Rafe, which is all-consuming in his car.

Rafe turns to look at you every few minutes. You look perfectly in place in his car, leaning against the panel with your eyes closed. That means you trust him, even though every word you say makes him think otherwise.

Your eyes flutter open when he puts the car in park, outside the door to your house.

“Home sweet home, kid,” you hear his voice in your ear, but he sounds closer than he should be. When you turn to look, he’s leaning over you and so close to you, you feel the heat radiating from his body.

“What’re you doing?” you ask quickly, heartbeat picking up and rocketing off.

“M’just getting the door for you, kid.” His arm flexes, only an inch or two away from your chest, pulling the handle and swinging open the door. He leans back into his seat, smirking. “Why, what'd ya think I was gonna do?”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in and swallow uncomfortably. Your throat feels dry and your palms are suddenly clammy.

“Nothing.”

“Sure. Whatever you say.”

You climb out of his car, shoes hitting the ground a little too hard. He strains his neck, trying to make sure you’re okay.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, not meeting his eyes, closing the door behind you.

“Anytime, kid. I’ll be seeing you around.”

You thought he would take over the second the passenger-side door was shut, but he doesn’t. He stays and watches you fix your skirt that had ridden-up on the drive, and walk into the front door, glancing behind you, just for a second, before going inside. And then you hear the roar of the engine, only after the door was closed and you were safely inside.

౨ৎ

You didn’t take it literally, that you would be seeing him again. Rafe seems like the type to play with his toys and get bored before long, but true to his word, you see him days later. And to his luck, you were feeling even worse than the first time you met him.

The morning started like any other—showering in a bathroom that’s just yours, and no one else’s, and attached to your bedroom. You can hardly remember the years when your dad was alive, but after he passed, you and your mom moved into a tiny two-bed, one-bath with your mom’s best friend. You were there for the next five years, until she got married and moved out, and it was just the two of you. But even in all the years since, you’ve never had your own bathroom until now.

You shower as long as you want, whenever you want. Your room is in a completely different hallway than the master, where Blake and your mom sleep. You blast music at night, singing along off-tune from the bathroom, and would stay on the phone for hours with your friends. If anyone answered your calls anymore.

It’s been three weeks since you broke the news to everyone that you were moving. Two weeks since you actually moved. One week since Rafe walked you around the country club and drove you back home, like you belonged to him. In that time, you’ve driven down to the Chateau twice, walked by Kie’s house, which is now just a few blocks away, and texted multiple times—all with no responses. At first you panic, thinking something’s happened, but then you realize this was what always happened. When you’re off on an adventure, you don’t think about who’s waiting for you back at home.

That’s what’s running through your mind when you run into Rafe again that day.

You had showered without interruption, taking your time doing your hair up just because you felt like it. There was no work to be done, no chores assigned to you anymore. Breakfast was always prepared when you went downstairs, so you took your time getting ready now.

You missed a lot of things about your old life, but the limited time and constant rushing and anxiety were not among them.

Your clothes were picked out with the anticipation of seeing your best friends again, your favorite overalls from the thrift store—which had been bought when you were still two sizes too small for them, and had been baggy on you until last year, but they were such a steal your mother refused to let you put them back—and a yellow shirt to match your ratty, yellow converse. They had been washed so many times they were more brown than yellow, but it didn’t matter much.

This outfit was the old you, and it brought up feelings inside you that nothing in figure eight could change. You wore it because you wouldn’t look any different to your friends in this outfit, and for maybe a few hours, you wouldn’t be the girl in the fancy house with the country club membership anymore.

“You look nice, sweetie,” your mom says, when you head downstairs. She’s drinking her coffee at the table, your step-dad nowhere to be found. It’s eleven in the morning and she’s just woken up too, in her robe and slippers, and you smile, watching her more relaxed than you’ve seen in years.

You swing by her side of the table to give her a kiss, and steal a piece of toast from her plate. You’re relieved she doesn’t mention your clothes, not when she keeps offering to take you shopping with Blake’s money, which you keep refusing, but is getting more tempting every time you step in a puddle in these shoes.

“Thanks mom, I’m going to see the boys and Kie, I’ll be back later, don’t wait up!” and with that you’re gone, before you can discern the disapproving look in her eyes.

Your junky old car, older than you by several years and still somehow the nicest thing you own—used to own, a voice chirps in the back of your head—is hidden around several fancy cars in the driveway. It’s intentional, you’re sure, and likely your mother’s doing. Nothing embarrassed her more than you handing out constant reminders of your old life to everyone around you.

And then you’re on the way to the Chateau, windows down and no music, since there was no way to connect your phone and the radio was busted by Pope a year ago, who claims he was trying to fix it.

But it’s what happens when you get there that embarasses you the most—no one’s there, and no one will answer your call. You wait around for a half hour, trying to see if they come back, but they don’t.

And that’s when it hits you. They were off on their adventures, and you weren’t just down the street anymore, which meant you weren’t invited. You get back in your car and slam the door, humiliated, tears falling down your face and probably ruining the makeup you had done, stupidly, this morning, because you wanted to look nice for them, like your old self for them. You don’t realize until later, after you were done crying, and seen Rafe again, that your friends didn’t want to bother you while you were adjusting to your new life.

You feel betrayed, and the words that John had told you rattle through your head, because he was wrong. Everything had changed, and nothing would be the same.

You take off, heading back home. There’s a big storm brewing and your Accord gets dramatic in the rain. It’s not until you cross the border back into figure eight that you realize two things. One, that you had just thought of your new house as home for the first time. And two, that you had never felt more alone.

There’s not much to do about either of these feelings, besides stopping for the biggest bowl of ice cream you can reasonably carry back home, and eating it in your room, crying and watching You’ve Got Mail for the hundredth time.

So that’s what you do, pulling into the ice cream shop closest to home. Your car also doesn’t have the greatest functioning air conditioner, and you don’t need any more questionable stains in your seats, considering how many times JJ had borrowed it and returned it, promising you it’s nothing and that that spot in the back seat was always there!

In line, tapping your foot, calling your mom’s cell. Your eyes are puffy and your nose is red from crying. She’s not answering, but the unspoken rule of your little family is to always, always call when you’re getting ice cream in case the other wants something. You’ve only been gone something like two hours, and you can’t imagine what she’s doing that she can’t answer your phone. You dial Blake’s number, hoping he answers instead, and while it’s ringing you realize it’s your turn to order. You haven’t even looked at the menu yet.

You turn to the people behind you, telling them they can go in front, but when you look up from your phone, you almost drop it.

Of course it’s Rafe Cameron behind you. Of course. Who else would it be? Who else would keep catching you at your lowest moments? He’s with a little girl, who can’t be older than four or five, with dark hair and glasses, holding his hand patiently while staring up at you, while you stare at him and he stares back.

“Rafe, she said we can go in front,” she says, tugging on the hand she’s holding.

“Yeah, Wheeze, I heard. Let’s go order and then thank this nice girl for letting us go ahead, right?” The little girl nods, and follows him up to order. Rafe looks back at you but then your step-dad answers, so you turn away, cheeks heating up. You don’t want him to see.

“Hi, what’s going on?” you hear his voice through the phone, sort of staticky and jumbled.

“Hi, Blake, I just wanted to ask if you and mom wanted ice cream? I’m at the place… yeah, the one near the house.”

“Oh, yes, let me ask her, one second-” You hear him put the phone down, or cover the mic, and then, “Honey! Kiddo’s asking if you want ice cream.”

You feel yourself soften a little bit at the nickname. And then you hear your mom and Blake talking back and forth, for what feels like ages. The girl behind the counter looks at you with a glare and you try to look back at her with an apologetic smile, but you’re a little fed-up from the emotional turmoil you’ve just endured.

“Hi, sweetie, I’m okay, I had some at the club with lunch and twice in a day is just not a good idea-”

“Just get it, who cares? We can have it later tonight too-”

“What if the power goes out? It’ll melt, and then it’s just a waste of money-” Crap. You hadn’t thought of that.

“We have generators for that.” Blake picks up the phone again. “Hey, kiddo, get your mom her usual and make sure you use the card I gave you, okay?”

You hang up the phone, smiling, and then order. It feels weird, being oddly comforted by someone other than your mom or your friends for once. In your distraction, you don’t see Rafe and the little girl hovering near the freezer window that showcases all the ice cream they offer. When you’re reaching for the shiny black Amex, you hear him again.

“I got it, kid,” Rafe says, pressing his matching card against the reader and pushing your wrist down and away. He does it so easily, without trying, just like he did in the country club. You look up at him stupidly, brain not registering what he just did and why he did it, and you don’t move for a moment. You don’t move until he leans down a little, close enough to smell that enticing cologne again but not nearly close enough.

“I think the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you’. And you should probably get out of the way.” You blink back up at him, and he’s smirking again. You feel kind of stupid, the way he’s talking to you, but you also don’t mind as much as you thought you would. The girl behind the counter yells out Next! and that’s when Rafe takes you by the arm, just above where he had bruised you, and moves you away himself.

“You okay, kid?” he asks, and you feel yourself melt like ice cream left in your car for too long. You don’t know if he really means it, or if he really cares, but you do know Rafe Cameron needs to stop talking to you like he likes you, or you’re going to be in trouble.

“Fine, yeah. Thanks, uh, thanks for the ice cream.” You’re still blinking slowly, stupidly, stuck in a daze. You should really get it together around him. It’s a little pathetic if a strong grip and a couple of nice actions gets you acting like this. That’s a problem for another day right now.

“Is she okay, Rafe?” the little girl asks quietly from beside him.

“No idea, Wheezie. Why don’t you sit and eat your ice cream?” he replies, and she sits down a few tables away, beginning to shovel chocolate ice cream with a tiny wooden spoon.

“Hey,” he says, and you begin to snap out of it. It’s raining outside now. You hear the pitter-patter of the drops on the roof. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yes. I am. I just had a bad morning. Sorry.” But you don’t know what you’re apologizing for.

“Well, are you gonna talk about it and shit? ‘Cause I don’t know you that well yet but you’re kinda freaking me out right now.”

“I-I…I just-”

“You, you, you just?” he mocks, and then when tears fill your pretty eyes and he sees one slip down your face, his own eyes panic briefly. “Hey, hey, I was just joking, kid-” He pulls out a colorful chair for you, and sits you down next to Wheezie, who is still eating ice cream at an alarming rate. Your ice cream is ready at the counter, and he brings it down next to you, holding his own strawberry cone in his hand.

“Hold this for me Wheeze,” he says, not really asking, and the little girl shakes her head right away.

“How’m I gonna eat mine then?”

“Wheezie,” Rafe says, in a voice that you haven’t heard him use before—and then you realize how stupid you sound. You’ve talked with him twice, you don’t know anything about the voices he uses or how he sounds when he’s talking to this girl who can only be his little sister.

“Can I have some?” Wheezie propositions back, and Rafe nods. “Okay!” she says, taking a bite of the scoop with her front teeth.

“So, y’gonna tell me what’s going on or am I gonna have to guess everything?”

“My friends, I just keep missing them, or they keep missing me, maybe. I just wanted to see them. It’s really lonely here, that’s all.” You’re staring into his eyes, his really, really blue eyes that are currently a little alarmed and concerned, and the fact that they’re that way for you is making you a little dizzy.

“Yeah, I get that. Sorry, kid, that’s the lay of the land, right? Not a Pogue anymore, are you?”

“I don’t know what I am.” You feel silly and embarrassed for pouring your heart out over ice cream with Rafe Cameron. He doesn’t know you, and he never will.

“Well, right now you have a choice. You can sit here and eat ice cream with us, or you can go home and cry about it alone. But if you choose the second one, Richards and Anna will see you, or hear you, and ask about it. And I’m not gonna keep asking if you don’t wanna talk. So pick one before this shi-stuff melts, okay?”

You nod dumbly again. You’d like to turn your brain off and let Rafe decide for you.

“I need a spoon.” He smiles, not smirks, for a second, before getting up to get you a spoon.

A few things float through your mind while you eat ice cream with the Camerons. First, Rafe remembers your mom’s name. Second, Rafe doesn’t swear in front of his kid sister. And third, and most important of all, Rafe Cameron cares about you.

“That’s a lot of ice cream,” Wheeze, or rather—as you’ve just learned—Wheezie, comments.

“I was feeling really sad,” you reply, shoving another spoonful into your mouth, watching the little girl eye your peanut and chocolate ice cream inquisitively. “You’ll understand someday.”

“Boy problems?” she asks, and you can’t help but crack a smile. Rafe looks up from his phone momentarily

“Not really, but a good guess. This would also apply to that situation.”

“My sister’s always got boy problems.”

“Really?” you ask, and then look up Rafe. “You have another sister?”

“Yes,” he says, in between licks of strawberry ice cream. You should really look away when he does that, because your heart rate is picking up. “And she’s even more annoying than this one.”

You laugh while Wheezie frowns.

“If I’m so annoying, why do you always take me for ice cream, huh?”

“She’s got you there, Rafe,” and you resist the urge to look at him, even when you can feel his eyes on you.

“Because you wouldn’t stop asking, dork, that’s why.” Wheezie shrugs in reply.

“I’m not gonna finish all of this. You want some, Wheezie?” you ask, offering her your spoon. She looks back at you smiling, and then at Rafe for permission, who nods.

She digs into the pile left, while you finally give into the urge to look up at her brother again. He takes another lick of his ice cream and you look away within a second.

“Been eating that for a while, haven’t you, Rafe?”

“Yeah.”

Somewhere in between Wheezie eating so much of the ice cream so quickly that she gets a brain freeze, and Rafe finally tossing his half-eaten cone into the trash, it’s time to go home. And as much as you hate to admit it, you don’t want to leave. The rain is coming down hard outside, a preview of the impending hurricane.

“Drive here, kid?” he asks, as your feet hesitate by the door.

“No,” Wheezie answers, “I came here with you, dork.”

“Not talking to you, kid,” he replies, rustling the top of her hair with his hand, getting an ugh, Rafe, in response.

“Yeah. Yes, I drove here. But my car doesn’t do so good in the rain.”

“Huh?” he questions.

“It’s old, okay. Junky. The AC is broken. And the radio. Sometimes she just stops, y’know?” You gesture to your blue car parked out front, the rusty, tiny sedan two spots down from his shiny truck.

“No, I don’t know. Richards lets you drive around in that thing?”

“She.”

“It’s a car. Barely, at that.”

“She has a name, okay. HoHo. That’s her name.”

“Alright, well, you’re gonna have to ditch the hoe, because I can’t let you drive home in a hurricane in… that.” You turn to glare at him. “Her, sorry.”

That’s how you end up soaking wet in the passenger seat of Rafe’s truck, Wheezie secured in her booster seat and Rafe even wetter than you are. He drops you home and says the two of you can go pick up your car tomorrow—if it’s still there, he adds at the end, leaning over you again to open your door. You stare at him dumbly again, which has now become a bad habit, and it’s not until Wheezie says you’re getting her wet in the back that you finally climb out and close the door. You stand behind the front door with your mom’s melted ice cream in one hand, and your phone with Rafe’s contact saved in the other, wondering what exactly just happened.

౨ৎ

The next few weeks pass through as quickly as they came. Your car—to your chagrin and your mother’s joy—does not survive the hurricane. Blake gives you a fancy, luxury car to drive around in that he just had laying around, which you don’t believe for one second. But, your mom is pleased when you actually start driving it, and you can actually listen to music from your phone and enjoy air conditioning and the most luxurious of luxuries—a backup camera.

The night of the ice cream shop incident, Rafe texts you. You were completely ready to wallow in bed, waiting for the text from him that never comes, drowning your sorrow in more ice cream, but he does text you. First and right away.

R: Is it wrong if I hope hoho drowns tonight?

that’s so mean. she never did anything to you.

R: She’s kinda ugly. And what was that about no ac?

so she deserves death????

R: The impound lot at the very least

if she dies, it’ll be because YOU manifested it

R: Never thought I’d believe in that manifesting shit, but here we are

did Wheezie eat dinner after how much ice cream you let her inhale?

R: No.

R: Ur fault. You gave her yours

you gave her yours too

and btw, I offered her a bite. she ate the rest. not my fault

R: She’s five, genius

R: I’ll come around noon tomorrow. Sleep tight kid

౨ৎ

Somewhere in between picking up your car—which entailed no less than stopping for lunch, even more ice cream that you can’t stand to watch him eat, and driving through town to see how bad the damage from hurricane Agatha was, and altogether three hours together ending with a wet, heated kiss in his truck with the windows fogged up—and today, you’ve been with Rafe more times than you can count.

And you try hard to suppress the thought that it’s just because he’s available, that the availability is the reason for your attraction. And then you catch yourself trying to justify why you want to see Rafe so much, this guy that you had just been assuming was bad because your friends told you he was bad, without much in the way of an explanation.

But Rafe is the furthest thing from bad. He’s so sweet to you it makes you delirious. He picks you up all the time, even when you tell him you’re just at home, and your car is right there. He pays for everything, he opens every door, the gentle but teasing way he is with Wheezie makes you even more head over heels.

But most important of all, he calls you first. He texts you first. He makes you feel wanted, and you definitely, definitely, want him, so you don’t think twice before saying yes to accompanying him to Midsummers.

You actually don’t know what it really is, besides for a big party. It was always one of the worst nights at the hospital—litters of teens with alcohol poisoning and from car accidents— so your mom would be working. When you turned eighteen, your mom paid for classes to become a junior nurse, and so busy nights like the one of Midsummers usually was, you would get called in too. So before this week, you’d never spent Midsummers doing anything other than cleaning wounds and fetching suture kits.

You tell Rafe this and he looks at you strangely, another of his looks you hadn’t seen before, with furrowed brows, and you flush and apologize, regretting even opening your mouth.

You know you’re deeper than you thought when he takes your head between his hands and kisses you—messy, with tongue and spit left glimmering over your mouth, so much so that he wipes the corner of your mouth with his thumb when he’s done.

“Go get yourself a pretty dress, and we’ll have fun, yeah?” You nod stupidly again, the way you’re prone to doing around him. He must have realized you get a kick out being told what to do by him, what to worry about and what to focus on.

You finally take your mom up on the offer to go shopping. Her and your step-dad are going to this thing anyways, but you can tell she wasn’t completely sure you’d go to something so Kook-y, maybe not just yet, and she doesn’t want to push it since your mood finally seems to have picked up. But then you tell her Rafe asked you to go with him, and the two of you smile and jump around the living room, laughing like kids. She’s happy for you and you’re happy that the two of you are happy at the same time.

Rafe sends you money for a dress—enough money to pay for a month’s rent at your old place. Your mom says your step-dad insists on paying. You feel like things are coming together for the first time.

You wander the stores, trying on different dresses and feeling like a scene out of a movie until you finally find the perfect blue dress. Blue for Rafe’s eyes and his suit jacket, because you’re not embarrassed to admit to him that you want to match for Midsummers. It’s patterned with little flowers, ruffles and lace moving in the wind when you twirl, and for once, you stop feeling like you need to pick a side to be on—Pogue or Kook—and you decide just to be Rafe’s for now.

The night of the party, Rafe offers to pick you up, but you tell him you’ll come with your parents. They’re both wearing shades of peach and salmon, the three of you together look like you’re headed to a baby shower, which you and your mom laugh about in the car ride there.

You text Rafe to let him know you’re there, and tell your parents you’re going to walk around to find him. When you glance back, they’re talking with some of Blake’s friends, people he had invited to the wedding.

You see, what you can only think, is a glimpse of Pope, in his usual waiter get up, but he disappears before you can see where he was. His father is still there, though, and you make your way through the crowd to get near him.

“Hi, Mr. Heyward,” you say, smiling and unsure if he’ll recognize you. You don’t think he’s ever seen you in anything but your overalls or scrubs.

“How can I help yo-wait, is that you, well I’ll be damned. You’re blending right in, aren’t ya?”

“Well, it took long enough.” You suddenly feel embarrassed, because he knows the old you, the one who wouldn’t be here in a million years. “Do you know where Pope is? I thought I saw him, I just wanted to say hi.”

“He just went off that way, but if you see him, tell him I still need his help over here, just like I did before he walked away—”

“Can I help with anything?” you ask quickly, but he shakes his head and tells you the direction Pope went in.

You follow it generally, trying to see where he could have gone in such a short time. But then you see all of them, and you can’t stop your feet from running over. Kie, JJ, and Pope, all standing and talking about something, but you don’t really care about interrupting. Kie’s all dressed up too, and you suddenly don’t feel so embarrassed.

“You guys,” you feel yourself gushing. “It’s been so long,” and you go in for a hug with each of them.

“Wow, god, you look so pretty,” Kie says, and you hug her again. You don’t realize how much you missed her.

“You too, Kie,” your smile is so wide it starts to hurt. “Isn’t this so weird, all of us here at this party? Where’s John B?” you ask, looking around.

“So weird,” JJ says, and you notice the bruise around his right eye because he’s turning to look at Kie again.

“JJ, what the hell happened to your face?” JJ doesn’t answer, he actually doesn’t say anything at all, which should have been your first sign that something was wrong. You look at him quizzically, before turning to Pope.

“Pope, your dad’s looking for you, I just went over to say hi-”

“Oh crap,” he says, heading back in the direction you just came from. “Sorry, be right back.”

“W-what the hell is going on?” you question Kie and JJ, searching for any answer, desperately hoping that it isn’t we don’t wanna tell you. Your phone goes off, twice, and you pick it up. The look on your face must have been beyond palpable to your friends.

R🧸ྀི: Come inside the house

R🧸ྀི: Got a surprise for you

“I-I gotta go inside,” you say, looking at the confused faces of your friends.

“What’s inside? I thought-”

“No, nothing, I don’t know, Rafe just asked me to go inside, and I haven’t even seen him yet-”

“Rafe? What, Rafe Cameron?”

“Y-yeah?”

“What are you, with him, or something?” JJ asks, and you feel your heart fall into your stomach.

“I-I yeah, maybe. I’m here with him tonight, he-” Your phone goes off again. “I’m sorry, I have to go find him, but I’ll come find you guys right after, okay?”

You leave the two of them there, looking at each other confused, looking at you like they don’t recognize you. And it stings, for a moment, until you get inside the mansion and find Rafe hanging out by the entrance, nursing a glass of scotch and eyes lighting up when they see you.

Everything with him is like that scene from that movie. Lights go dim, you walk in slow-motion, the room goes quiet. He watches you walk up to him and his eyes take in everything—your pretty hair, your dolled up face, the way your dress moves when you walk, and most of all, that you’re here with him. He reaches his hand out to grab you by the waist to bring you in for a kiss. It’s not like the others, it’s chaste and soft and romantic.

“Hi,” you breathe out, resting your forehead against his.

“Hi, kid. You look fantastic,” and he presses another sweet kiss to your temple.

“We’re matching,” you say with a smile, taking in his blue suit jacket and the way you feel dizzy right now, and you feel his grip tighten around your waist.

“Yeah, we are. Now get in line with me, we’re walking out together.” Your eyes are big like coins, because you understood that you were coming here together, but this is his family’s big night, if everything your mom and Blake told you was to be taken seriously.

You don’t have time to say anything, because Rafe’s nice parents line up ahead of you, and his two sisters behind you. Wheezie tugs on your dress and you turn to greet her and Sarah quickly, because then the doors open and you’re walking out, following Rafe’s lead, lots and lots of eyes on you, but only one pair of blue ones you really care about.

You almost want to cry, the whole thing is so magical. You have a flute of champagne and a sip of Rafe’s scotch, and you are deliciously tipsy for the next two hours. Your parents come over to talk to you and Rafe, and you can see how happy your mom is in her eyes. You and Rafe dance until your feet hurt, and it’s only then, when he leaves your sight, that things seem to get back down to how they normally are.

You can’t find Wheezie’s parents or Sarah anywhere. The little girl spilled ice cream on her dress and is crying quietly, fat tears rolling down her chubby cheeks. You want to get her parents, because you think they can help, but you end up taking her to the bathroom yourself. With a damp paper towel, you wipe as much as you can, and you promise to get her another ice cream if she stops crying.

“It’s just a stain, honey, don’t worry.” You toss the dirty tissue and grab another one, wiping the tears and then letting her blow her nose. “It’ll come out when you wash it. And no one will notice because it’s so dark now, right?” She nods in agreement. “Do you wanna go find your big brother?” Another sad nod. “Let’s go honey,” and you take her hand and lead her back out.

You’re not entirely sure what you missed in the last fifteen minutes. Everyone’s gone quiet, staring at what you hope is a trick of your eyes—all of your friends running from the party, hooting and hollering. Kiara’s parents look hopelessly upset, Mr. Heyward downright disappointed, and your mom scanning the crowd, trying to see where you are, until she spots you and Wheezie.

Her and Mrs. Cameron come running over, and you instinctively flinch, thinking the giant headpiece she’s wearing will poke you. You hand off Wheezie and turn to look at your friends, and you think, for a second, they’re waiting for you. They are, you realize slowly, waiting for you.

And you almost take off right then and there, until you feel Rafe’s warm hand on your shoulder, and you look up to see him bleeding.

At that moment, you turn right back around and head inside to the nearest room, sitting Rafe down on the bed and scrambling to find something to clean his wound with, and something cold to help the swelling, and in your panic, you don’t realize you’re rambling.

“I mean, what the hell was all of that? I turn around for two seconds and everyone’s running from the party like there’s a fire, and destroying things and throwing punches, I mean, I get they hate the whole Kook thing, but it was never like this before, even when I didn’t know you yet, and I-” you drop the frozen bag of peas onto the floor in your sudden realization. “I just let them leave. They waited for me. I didn’t go with them.” Your eyes fill with years. That’s a betrayal, not all the stupid stuff you thought was happening before tonight. They waited for you, and you turned right back around to go inside with Rafe.

“Hey, hey hey,” Rafe says quietly, taking your head in his hands again. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay.”

“You’re bleeding, Rafe,” you say, voice trembling. Your tears are ruining your makeup.

“I’m gonna be fine. You know why?” he asks, and you feel more tears rush down. “Hey, hey, no crying.” Rafe wipes away the tears with his hand, then he brings his hands to your back and rubs soothingly. “You know why, kid?” “Why?” it comes out a whisper.

“Because you chose me. We’re gonna be fine, okay?”

The way he says it you believe him.

You spend the next two days at Tannyhill with Rafe, wearing nothing but his t-shirts and doing nothing but rolling around in bed. It’s been a month, maybe a little bit more, and you haven’t even had the talk yet—the sex talk. There’s no doubt in your mind that he’s not ready for it, but you’re not ready for it, not yet. You’re working on it. He doesn’t make it easy for you, either. You’ve spent hours now, making out in his lap, grinding against each other until you make a mess all over his shorts and his hair is sticking up in every direction, and working your way up to telling him what you want.

You’re almost there. You’re waiting for the perfect time. Which was almost right now.

“You like that? Shit-” he breathes into your ear, pressing a kiss to the tender skin of your neck right underneath. It makes you moan again, louder, until he clamps a hand—the one not three fingers deep inside your leaking pussy—over your mouth, barricading the noise from leaving. “Gotta be quiet, kid, you want the whole house hearin’ what a little slut you are?”

His blue eyes, lustful and blown, stare into your own. You shake your head softly underneath the tight grip of his palm. You’re always obedient with him, but he really likes you like this.

“Yeah? You gonna do whatever daddy tells you? Just so I keep my fingers in this tight pussy?” You nod compliantly, head falling back on to the pillow. His fingers are thick, and the cool of his ring rubs against your clit in the best way, in ways you didn’t even realize it could feel.

He keeps fucking three fingers in and out of you, moans muffled by his hand but not completely silenced. You must be making a mess, because it’s what he keeps talking about, rambling about your messy cunt, greedy and sucking him in, and how you’ve been cumming for him like a little princess for the last two days, but it’s never enough for you.

It’s when he removes his hand and kisses you hard instead, tongue deep inside you mouth, the metal of his chain dangling on your chin, and you feel the similarly cool metal of his ring on you, you finish again, exploding around your boyfriend’s fingers and moaning into his mouth. He hears you, repeating his name over and over again, not Rafe, but rather daddy, and he swallows your chants into his mouth. When you calm down, he makes a show of licking his fingers off while locking eyes, and then you get flustered and bury your head into his neck.

He laughs, because it’s so cute, but only for a minute. Then you two shower together and he makes another show, but this time out of you, kneeling on the floor of his tub while he paints your face with his cum, making sure to cover the necklace you’ve been wearing recently too, the silver, loopy little R hanging between your collarbone.

Then you get dressed—a little pink dress that’s been his favorite recently, with buttons down the front and a pretty bow where your tits sit— and the two of you have lunch with his family like nothing ever happened.

Rafe drops you back at home later that day, gives you a kiss where he grabs the back of your head to bring you in, and then waves bye to your parents as he unlatches the door for you, in his usual way.

౨ৎ

A week later, he does the same thing. Drops you off, drives away once you’re inside, and you’re starstruck walking back, so much so, you don’t realize there’s someone waiting for you.

It’s Kie, and Rafe’s sister, Sarah. You’re a little confused since you thought the two of them didn’t get

along, but they look like they’re fine now.

“Hey, listen, we need you to help us. Can you come down to the Chateau later tonight, after sunset?” Kie asks, and you must look as confused as you feel, because Sarah speaks right away, before you can get a word out.

“You cannot tell my brother. Promise us you won’t.”

“Why are you asking me that? Why can’t I tell him?” Sarah and Kie exchange a look, and it’s clear to you that you are missing several pieces of the puzzle. “Guys! Come on, you-you can’t expect me to just be on board with lying to my boyfriend and showing up to help you guys without knowing what it even is, right? What’s going on?”

“We will explain everything, just please promise us that you’ll come,” Kie implores and you nod hesitantly.

“And you won’t tell Rafe?” Sarah asks again.

“Come on. Pogues for life, right?” Kie says, and you get a flashback to your life two months

ago—doing anything for your friends and dreaming of how you’d end up with one of the boys someday. It all seems like a million years ago.

“Yes, yeah, yeah, I’ll be there. I won’t tell him.”

You guess that God was on your side today.

R🧸ྀི: Hey kid. Busy with my dad today. Dinner tomorrow okay?

sounds perfect!! don’t work too hard! i'm gonna watch a movie with my mom and blake and stay in tn

R🧸ྀི: You got mail again?

you know me so well

R🧸ྀི: Have fun princess.

You set down your phone on your dresser, feeling like you could throw up your dinner. It’s just starting to get dark outside, and you’ve just lied to Rafe for the first time since you’ve met him. It feels terrible, like something’s gnawing inside you, begging you to come clean and confess, or not to go out at all. You think about it for a moment, maybe if he knows you’re with some of your old friends, it won’t be like a real lie.

Then you remember your old friends are the ones who punched him. You tell your mom you’re going to Rafe’s, and then you get in your fancy car that Rafe helped you christen the other day—in the backseat, specifically—and drive to your old life.

You park next to the Twinkie and get out, stepping into a slush of mud. Your shoes are new, and were clean, and you cringe internally at how much you started caring about these things. You don’t want Rafe to see you with dirty shoes.

The boys and Kie are sitting on the logs near the fire pit. Sarah is sitting right next to John B, looking at him how you look at Rafe, and then you realize the magnitude of just how much you’ve missed.

“Hey,” Kie says, looking up first, smiling. “You came.”

“Yeah.” You’re at a loss for words. Everyone looks the same. Everything feels so different.

A part of you wants to sink down between Pope and JJ, crack a beer, and laugh at jokes you think you would still understand. Another part wants to get into the fancy car and drive to Tannyhill. You opt for neither, standing a few yards away and letting the light from the fire cast its hazy glow over you and all your old friends.

“Did you tell him?” Sarah asks. She means it well, not in a rude way, but that’s how you feel.

“No, no, I didn’t. He, he thinks I’m at home. With my mom and Blake.”

“Alright,” JJ says, tossing his empty beer can. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

“Listen,” John B says, getting up and sounding too sincere for your liking. “We all appreciate you coming. Because we need a favor from you, and it might not be easy.”

“I mean, I think it’s gonna be pretty easy. Unless Rafe is like, really, really crazy, like even crazier than we already know he is-” JJ says, but stops when Kie and Pope shake their heads. “What? She knows, she’s the one dating him.”

“Know what? I don’t even know what you want from me-”

“We need a distraction. For Rafe, okay?” John B starts.

“An hour, okay, that’s all we need, right guys?” Sarah asks, looking back at everyone. They nod, trying to convince you, except Jayj.

“Well, like, maybe a couple of hours. If he’s up to that, y’know, I don’t wanna assume shit ‘bout stamina and all that-”

“JJ,” Pope says, shoving the blond’s arm. “You’re not helping.”

“What?” you breathe out, even more confused than before. You start to get what they’re asking, you just don’t want to admit it.

“We need to distract Rafe, for an hour, or like two hours, and we figured you’re our best bet.” John B says, and you look at them with your mouth falling open a little.

“You want me to…sleep with my boyfriend, to distract him, so you guys can do something that you won’t tell me about?”

“Kind of, yeah. Pretty much.”

“And is, is this thing going to hurt him in the long run? Is he going to be upset? When he finds out what happened?”

“My Kook feelings radar is a little off, right now, but who knows, I mean hell, he might not ever find out,” JJ says, and you want to sit down, because your knees feel weak, but the ground is muddy and the logs are occupied. “If we do our job right, he won’t know for a long, long time, right guys?” A chorus of right, right rings around the fire.

“And you’re not gonna tell me what this is about at all?”

“Well, it might not be a good idea. Because, you’re dating him, and listen, we just need like an hour, and he never has to know you were a part of this, okay? I will never tell him, none of us will,” Sarah says, and you do believe her. But you can’t believe that they’re asking you to do this.

“And if he finds out, and he breaks up with me, then what?”

“Yeah, I, uh, knew this was a bad idea. She’s not gonna do it, guys, so let’s just reformulate-”

“Oh, you knew I was gonna say no, JJ? Lying to my boyfriend? For the people who hurt him?”

“He hurt us too, y’know,” Pope says, and you feel your heart begin to race.

“No, I don’t know, because no one tells me anything! No one answers their phone and no one’s here when I drive down. Kie, you live two streets away from me now. The first time I saw you all month was at Midsummers and then, today. Asking me to come here to lie to Rafe, to sleep with him to distract him.”

“No, no, we shouldn’t have asked you, because I knew you would say no, I told them-” and you can’t believe the words coming from your friend's mouth. “Look at you, you went total Kook on us.”

And then you feel like they’re taking it all in. The R around your neck, the jewelry that sparkles in the light of the fire, all yellow citrine, for Rafe’s birth month. The pink dress that’s his favorite—you put it on this morning in case you ended up back at Tannyhill tonight. And worst of all, his white button up hanging from your shoulders, smelling like ocean and sandalwood and Rafe Cameron.

“It’s like you belong to him now.” You feel a tear sliding down, but you wipe it away.

“Maybe that’s because he was actually there for me, when I needed it. And I get it, maybe I should have tried harder. But you guys should have too.”

The group of you stand there in silence for a moment. Your phone goes off. You know it’s Rafe. They know it is too. It starts with Kie, and then a course of apologies from everyone. John B wipes away your tears like nothing has changed. JJ scratches his head, and then hugs you tighter than he ever has before. Pope tells you how much he’s missed you, how he had to start bandaging wounds in your absence.

“I’ll distract him. An hour, that’s all you get. I’m not sleeping with him because you guys want me to, okay? So if he leaves, he leaves.”

You take off for Tannyhill, leaving your old life behind and risking your new one all at once.

౨ৎ

Rafe’s phone goes off again, and he lets out a short, tight breath.

Princess: are you still busy at home? i need you

Princess: please rafey

“I’ll be back,” he tells Ward, and before he can even respond, he’s out of the room, calling you. The line rings twice, and then you answer.

“Rafey?” you sound quiet, like you’ve been crying.

“Hey, hey kid. What’s going on? I told you I was working tonight,” and then he runs a hand through his hair, because he knows he’s fucked, if you’re crying and you need him, then he’s going.

“I know, Rafe, I just really need you, I had a really bad night-” “Woah, wait, I thought you were just with your parents?”

“I was, it just got really bad, I-I’m outside Tannyhill because I had to leave, and then I got lost and I was scared so I just came straight here.”

“Lost? Jeez, kid, it’s, like, down the street.”

“But I didn’t wanna bother you, ‘cause you were busy-” and then he hears a hiccup, and then a sob.

“Okay, okay, stay there, I’m gonna come get you,” and he hangs up the call. He darts outside, spotting your navy car and you inside, still in the same clothes from this morning, just wearing his shirt over it, like a jacket. He gets close and you climb out of the car yourself, jumping into his arms and burying your face into his neck, like you always do when you get like this. He can feel the way your body shakes under his arms, the wetness of your tears on his black polo.

“Okay, it’s okay now, come on, let’s go inside.” You make it up the stairs to his bedroom, when Rafe guides you inside and pulls his blinds, so no one peeks inside.

He sits you up on the edge of his bed, squatting before you, hands in yours, arms resting on your knees.

“You gonna tell me what happened?” You shake your head, another tear falling. You wish you could say you were pretending, but the tears find their own way when you think about the encounter you just had. You’re lying when you tell him it’s between you and your parents, but his reaction makes you regret it instantly. “Did they say somethin’ to you? Did they try something? I’ll go over there and sort it all out, okay, kid, don’t worry about a thing.” He stands up, running another hand through his messy hair, letting it fall in the moppy way it always does, over his forehead. “Stay here, okay, princess, I’ll be back.”

Then you realize he’s gonna go over there and talk to your perfectly happy, clueless parents, so you stand up and turn him back around.

“No, no, Rafe, don’t leave,” and then you melt into a hug, taking in everything about it. Rafe rests his chin on the top of your head, his arms tight around your back. He smells so good, and the way he’s taking care of you makes you realize a couple things. “Will you just…make me forget?”

Your boyfriend looks down at you, and you don’t shy away from his gaze like you often, when you get flustered.

“Make you forget?” he questions.

“I just don’t wanna think about anything else,” you start, undoing the bow of your dress, more cleavage revealing itself. “I just wanna think about you,” and then your fingers undo the buttons trailing down the front of your dress. It falls off your shoulders, and you stand before him, naked, certainly not for the first time but what feels like the most intimate it’s ever been.

There’s a pretty lingerie set hidden in the back of your closet, what you had actually put aside for this moment, but you had no time to run home and get it, so you opted for the next best thing, taking your bra and panties off in the car ride here, shoving them into your purse, and hoping that Rafe was as tempted as you were.

“Just about me?” he questions, and you take his hand into yours, leaning in to press a soft kiss against his lips.

“Just you, Rafe. I’m ready, Rafey, I want you to fuck me,” and it seems like that’s all it takes. Rafe crushes his lips against yours, kissing you how he always does, tongue in your mouth and spit everywhere. He holds you by the back of your head and your hands run through his hair. You want him closer, even closer than he already is, than he possibly could be.

His hands leave your head and go down to your ass, grabbing both cheeks roughly and wrapping your legs around his waist. He drops you on his bed, head hitting the pillow, and you pull away for a second, to catch your breath. Rafe doesn’t let it happen, gripping your cheeks between his hand and bringing you back in for another kiss. You’re naked, and he’s still completely dressed, but you don’t miss the obvious way his hardened dick presses against your bare cunt.

You can’t breathe, and all your senses are overpowered by Rafe, but you also don’t really care. You keep kissing, moaning into each other’s mouths and gripping hair and skin that’s sure to leave a bruise tomorrow, until you feel him finally pull away for a second. You catch your breath, open-mouthed and heaving, eyes locked.

“‘M only gonna ask this once, kid,” he breathes, leaving another hot kiss on your neck, which makes you spread your legs further open with instinct. “Y’sure you want this? ‘Cause there’s no going back.”

You nod in that way you always have with him, telling him everything with no words at all.

“That’s my girl,” he breathes against your neck, and you feel him bite down into the soft skin of the flesh there. You yell out, but it turns into a moan when Rafe licks his tongue over the wound. “That’s just so you can remember this night, okay baby?” You look back up at him, wet eyes, swollen lips, and flushed, sweaty skin.

“Thank you, daddy.” He smiles, because you’re in for it now.

“You’re welcome, kid. Shit,” he breathes out, “I knew you’d like it, little freak.” He starts with more hot kisses, all the way down your neck, down your sternum, and stopping to press a kiss to each side of your ribs, before continuing down to your stomach. You whine from your position below him, one huge hand holding your hip in place and the other tracing the pattern of the kisses down, until he finally reaches where you want him to be.

“Gotta be quiet, kid, everyone’s home. You gonna let them all hear how much of a whore you are for me? Huh?” he mocks, and you shake your head fervently. “Good girl. You’re being so good, you’re gonna get a treat, okay?” You nod stupidly.

His breath catches for a second, when he gets down to your glistening cunt. He looks up at you from his position there, your chest heaving, tits bouncing with how much you’re squirming, how much you want him to do something. He moves his hands, one resting on your breast, pinching the nipple with his finger, and the other running a line down your pussy. Your whole body twitches up when he runs the metal of his ring over your clit, because he knows you really like it.

“Rafe, please,” you cry, sounding stupid and fucked out, even though he hasn’t started yet. “Please, please,” and your hips jerk up. He pushes them down.

“Be patient, kid. Gotta admire this virgin pussy for the last time before I ruin it, ‘kay?” You feel your walls tighten at his words, and you hope he missed the way everything just clenched, but it’s Rafe, and he didn’t miss a thing. “Like that, huh? You like being my little slut?”

You shake your head, trying to deny it, but the damage is done.

Rafe dives in, and you let out a moan that you didn’t realize you were capable of producing. You clamp your own hand over your mouth, because you know he’ll stop if you get too loud. His tongue licks you up and down, and true to what you had always thought, he does know what he’s doing.

The hand pinching your nipples doesn’t relent, and the weight of his arm holds you down when you buck up as he pushes two fingers inside you, scissoring them to stretch your walls out. It hurts, in the best way, and before you know it, he’s added a third.

His mouth stays focused on your clit, and your legs tremble, even though it’s barely been a few minutes. It’s all of it, all at once. Being naked in Rafe’s bed, his hand groping your tits, the way he holds you down without trying, the smell of his cologne and his skin and his sweat, making you lightheaded.

His fingers push in and out, and when he hits that sweet spot inside you, the one your own fingers have never been able to reach but somehow, Rafe’s have become well acquainted with, you can’t help the noises you make.

You repeat his name over and over again, and you think you’ve felt the height of this pleasure, that nothing could surpass this feeling, until your stomach tightens in an entirely new way. Your fucked out brain gets it together for a minute, to feel the overwhelming, ecstatic pressure of Rafe’s tongue on your clit, spelling out his own name. Your stomach tightens, unbearably so, that coil winding up, but before he even finishes the F, it snaps all at once.

You let out a scream��which you think is so stupid of you. But it feels so good, there was no way around it. Rafe reacts instantly, grabbing your hand that’s pulling his hair and using it to snap over your mouth, all while he rides you through it.

His nose presses against your clit while he slides his fingers out, your pussy walls clamping around nothing, missing him already. He laps up the mess you just made with his tongue, the noise being so overwhelming, you want to scream again.

You use your other hand to yank his hair, pulling him up to look at you, because you know you want to see this. Rafe, your Rafe, your boyfriend, with blown, wide eyes and the entire lower half of his face glistening with your juices, with the mess you just made, and then you collapse back down onto the bed.

Your breathing is heavy. You aren’t sure it’ll ever go back to normal.

Rafe pulls his shirt off by grabbing it from the back, yanking it over his head. Your hand floats up to

touch his chest, to make sure he’s still real and not just a vivid sex dream, but he slaps it out of the way.

“What did I say, hm?” he asks, leaning over you. His face is just an inch too far to kiss. Your limbs feel numb, and you can’t pull him down yourself. You want to cry, because you want to kiss him so badly. “I said you had to be quiet, or everyone’s gonna know what a little whore you are.”

“I tried, daddy, I did-”

“I don’t think you tried at all, kid.”

“No, I did, I swear-”

“You’re lucky that I-” and before he finishes his sentence, you pull him down into another kiss. He tastes like you and scotch, and the combination is so intoxicating, you can’t pull away. “Hey, hey,” he breathes. “I’m not going anywhere, okay?” and the soothing way he says it, you believe him.

“I’m lucky that you what?” you ask, unbuckling his belt and snaking it off the loops.

“That I love you, and I’m not gonna punish you tonight for not listening to me.” You drop the belt over your stomach, the melt part hitting with a little clink. You look back up at him, your eyes wide, you imagine, your cheeks flushed.

“You love me?” you ask, quietly. You can barely hear yourself over the thud of your heart pounding in your chest.

“I do,” Rafe replies, running his hand to smooth over your hair, which you’re sure is a mess now. “Enough that I’m gonna fuck you now, but I had to say it first, because I’m gonna fuck you until you break.”

You’re speechless, watching Rafe unbutton his pants and kick them off, boxers going with them. He strokes himself once, twice, and you’re still staring up at his face, even though normally you would get distracted.

He looks up again.

“You ready, kid?”

“I love you, Rafey,” you say, twisting your hands around to the back of his neck, pushing him into yet another kiss. You can’t pull away, even if you want to, you want him so close that you forget everything else in the world for now. While you’re kissing, he lines himself up with your leaking pussy, which has probably ruined these sheets, and pushes in the tip.

You pull back from the kiss, just to moan, but Rafe silences you with his mouth again. He pushes in more, and more, until you’re sure he’s bottomed out. Your cunt is so, so stretched, you can’t fathom this is what you’ve been missing out on, and it feels so good, like nothing has ever felt before, not his fingers, not his tongue, not any other part of him.

“That’s halfway, kid, you doin’ okay?” and your eyes jolt up to his in a second.

“H-half?” you breathe out. “I can’t, I can’t take any more, s’not gonna fit Rafe, not gonna fit-”

“Hey,” he repeats, which always has that calming effect on you. “You let me worry about that, okay? Just relax this pussy f’me, okay?” and the way he says it, you do, because you have no other choice. He pushes in again, fast, hard, and then pulls all the way out. You’re too scared to look anywhere but his eyes, so you stay locked in on them, until he pushes all the way in again, and your eyes clasp shut.

“Oh, oh my god, Rafe-” And you don’t care who hears you this time. He pulls out again, just his lip still inside you.

“Look, princess, look down,” he urges, and you follow his instructions, because you always do. “Look where we’re connected, yeah?” He fucks in and out of you, slowly but then faster, and you do look, entranced at the way your pussy sucks him in, the way your cum is coating his dick, at the brutal pace he’s set.

You look until you can’t anymore, leaning back against the pillow and watching Rafe above you, his face twisted in pleasure, eyebrows furrowed, mouth panting. He buries his face into your neck, and you grip the top of his shoulders, nails digging in, because you just need to hold onto something.

He told the truth, you think, in your fucked out, blissful state, that he was going to fuck you like he hated you, battering into your sore pussy over and over again.

You repeat his name—daddy, not Rafe—until he shuts you up with a kiss, and he watches the strings of spit connecting your mouths when he pulls away.

“Just needed this dick, didn’ya princess? Just needed daddy to think for ya?” You moan in reply. “You got it then, kid, because m’never gonna stop fucking you. Y’never gonna think about anything else again.”

And then he finally does you in, because he presses down, right below your stomach, while he slams in, and you feel something inside you break, like a flood breaking through a dam. It washes out to every part of you, from your ears to your fingers to your toes. White hot pleasure runs its course through your body, cunt tightening and shaking, eyes rolling back, your spine arching forward. Through all of it, Rafe pins you down, and fucks you through it. And finally, deliriously, you open your fucked-out eyes, looking up at him.

“I love you, daddy,” and he cums before he can even pull out, messy rivulets shooting inside you, leaking out onto his expensive sheets. He moans into your neck, and his entire body slumps forward, and you giggle under the weight.

A few minutes pass by.

“Rafey, you’re gonna crush me,” you say quietly, sing-songy. You’re so happy, you’ve forgotten everything else that’s happened.

Rafe presses a kiss to your forehead and rolls off, slumping next to you. Your head lands on his chest not a second later, his arm around your shoulder and another kiss to your hair.

“Feel better, kid?”

“So much better, Rafey.”

You don’t know when you fall asleep, only that you woke up to the sound of your phone going on. You pick it up, trying to turn down the light so Rafe doesn’t wake up too. There’s one message.

JJ: I thought you said you weren’t gonna sleep with him?

౨ৎ

#eeeeeee!!!! thoughts????#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #obx

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writingmeraki · 2 months

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here and now.

a kim mingyu drabble !

pairing : secret!agent!mingyu x secret!agent!reader, established relationship ( they are married )

genre : angsty with fluff :)

warnings : reader is pretty miserable, cussing, cheol is mean but annoying mean, petnames, kissing, unhealthy routines.

author's note : ohhh i can't let go of these two, i rlly jst like this au a lot lol, i wonder if you would want more set in this same au, lmk hehe :) hope you like this !! but also the fact that i have other wips but i can't get this specific couple out of my head ???? very self indulgent bcoz tell me why i want this mingyu with me rn. also third work this month...let's hope we keep balling like that!!!

set in the SAME universe as this !

word count : 1.6k

The world was miserable.

You wanted to curl up in a ball and just lay in your bed, sleeping until you could no longer differentiate between reality and dreamland.

But alas, you couldn’t. As an agent, sleep to you was like a reward. One would think a need should never be something you get once in a while but, your job was practically making all your essentials feel like rewards.

Mayhaps not the healthiest, but you were already used to it and your body as well, so you were not truly affected when you couldn’t get any of your essentials.

Though, you were sure the world felt more miserable because you hadn’t seen him in so long.

Kim Mingyu, the man you married. Your husband.Your other half, your other puzzle piece, your other- you get the point. Six months, twelve days, and ten hours since you last saw him.

He was gone on a mission that was supposed to take no less than a month, but who were you kidding? Who was your boss kidding? Top priority missions always took up time.

The thing that still pisses you off is why you weren’t allowed to go with him.

Apparently, you were needed back in Seoul and not there was the bullshit reason. You spent enough time being annoyed and angry at that, now you just felt terribly upset. Upset without him in your life physically, sure virtually he was one message away, but being on the complete opposite side of the globe also meant time zones were a pain in the ass.

Sighing, you made your way into the tall building disguised as one of the offices but it was where your agency was. You held a cup of coffee, that was just as bitter as your mood, in fact you didn’t even like coffee, but today you felt no point in trying to uplift your mood because the only thing that would was a certain person who you were not even sure when you’d meet.

It was not you who felt this way, in fact Mingyu was probably feeling worse. Having been someone whose love language was physical affection, it did not feel the same through a fucking screen. He was ready to quit actually, three months into it because he terribly wanted to see you, but you convinced him he’d be back sooner if he finished it.

You knew you were lying to him and yourself, but you had no choice. This was your duty right?

The boss’ office was still as peculiar as he was, never failing to amuse you whenever you’d enter and always finding new collections or items decorating it. Today, you saw an art piece that was of the sun and the moon.

Everything reminded you of him. He was your sun, even your moon too.

You frowned more at the thought, wondering how the heck were you not able to not think of him for a few minutes. Then again, perhaps being together for more than a decade would do the trick. You’re practically bound permanently by that point.

Sitting down on the cushion chair in front of Seungcheol, you didn’t even bother greeting him, still in thoughts until you heard a chuckle from in front of you.

“What’s funny?”

“You look extra miserable today.”

You glared at the man, annoyance changing into anger with retorts about how he’d feel if he was kept away from his partner for this long, considering he was someone who was pretty boastful about his partner.

“But- I did not call you for that. I have a special mission for you. And no, I don’t have any updates on Mingyu.”

You groaned at his words, considering what he said was just getting worse and worse as he spoke.

“For this though, you’ll have someone with you. You’ll be needing another person to complete this task. They should be arriving in a few minutes.”

“Please don’t be a rookie, I don’t have the patience to deal with one, not right now.” You figured you couldn’t not do it. It was your job after all. But perhaps he’d be a little considerate.

“Oh don’t worry, I think they are pretty experienced, maybe even more than you.” He grinned but you couldn’t quite put a finger on what he meant. His eyes gleamed with something you couldn’t tell.

“Just say you hate me, Cheol. It’s easier.” You bitterly spat out, taking a sip of the now cold coffee and frowning in distaste. It seemed it was up to par with your state.

You leaned back, looking at the watch on your wrist, seeing it’s been a few minutes already and wondering just how long this person would take.

You tried to pinpoint who it possibly was, but you were never good with names of people you might have seen in passing. That was more of Mingyu’s thing, he always remembered the forgettable things.

The sound of the door opening was what made you perk up. You sat a little straighter, feeling like perhaps you shouldn’t make it outwardly obvious to the entire population how you were truly feeling.

Seeing the chair pull, you didn’t bother looking besides you, feeling that seeing them from the corner of your eye was enough. They were a little further from you, but you could tell they were quite…large? They were wearing a cap and a mask, practically their entire body was covered with a black coat. It was suspicious and you just wondered if this was just an excuse for Seungcheol to have you murdered in a discreet way.

Seokmin…? No, he's almost my height, probably Chan?

You didn’t even realise the person had taken your coffee, pulled off their mask,took a sip of it and almost spat it out.

“Baby this is actually so disgusting, since when did you drink this?”

Wait.

You recognised that voice.

He kept the cup back down on the table in front of you, wearing that very very familiar ring on his left ring finger.

You think your brain short circuited at that very moment.

Now you knew why Seungcheol had a sly grin.

The fucker planned this.

In all his glory, Kim Mingyu sat beside you, now seeing no point in wearing the cap, he tossed it off and threw it on the table. He shuffled his hair, which was now longer than you last saw it.

“Missed me?” He had the audacity to say that with his stupid canines peaking out, wearing that stupid grin that made you feel giddy all over and the stupid glint in his eyes that shone as he took you in.

Stupid, stupid, stupid Mingyu for making you feel like throwing up in all mixes of emotions.

So in the mix of it, you just remained frozen. Eyes blank, nothing on your face physically to indicate any emotion.

“I’ll leave you two…just don’t do…stuff.” Seungcheol retorted and your hands itched to strangle him.

Before you could even comprehend you were now alone, you felt your chair being pulled to face him. Your mind still in disbelief and conflict.

“Hi.” He spoke gently, his hands now reaching towards yours and grasping them. It had been way too long since he smelt your signature perfume, held your hands in his with the same intensity, felt your touch. He thinks he might just die in peace now.

“I’m just trying to figure out if I’m dreaming.” You murmured as you blinked slowly at him, still unmoving even though he now was bent down and closer to you.

The grin on his face widened as he leaned in, and next thing you know, you felt his lips on yours.

Familiar…just like…home.

He pulled back, still smiling as he softly laughed, “Real enough, darling?”

Mingyu wasn’t someone who was caught off-guard easily but he was the moment you launched forward and wrapped your arms around him. He yelped as he held you, surprisingly not toppling over.

You didn’t even grasp you were full on sobbing at that point, your entire body shaking and held you even more tightly. He stood up, one arm around your waist and the other gently rubbing your back.

“I’m here now, I’m here.” He whispered softly as his hand caressed your hair, you moved your arms to wrap them over his shoulder as you placed your head in the crook of his neck.

“i-i really-” missed you. I felt incomplete without you. I just…I really missed you. I really fucking love you.

You wanted to say as cheesy as it may have sounded, but cheesiness be darned you couldn’t hold back, not when the time apart made you realise that it didn’t matter if it was just another way of showing your love for him. You also realised Kim Mingyu deserved all possible ways of showing your love for him.

“I know, ‘s okay baby, I know.” You only sobbed harder as you pulled back, not caring how you looked, probably a whole mess with red eyes and tears all over, his arms were still around you as you held his face with both hands.

He was there. You thought as you caressed his cheeks. He was there. You thought as he looked at you like he’d finally found his treasure,eyes twinkling, smiling at you.

And he was there, right there, with you as you tilted your head up, closing your eyes and placing your lips on his.

Because no matter what or how long, Kim Mingyu would always find his way back to you, his other forever half.

And oh, you’d make sure he was never apart from you from then on. Not even for a day.

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri. do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest.

feedback is always appreciated 💌

links : main navi ! | svt masterlist !

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meggtheegg · 6 months

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FNAF Movie Theory...

I'm pretty sure there's still one major plot twist in the universe of the movie that's been set up for a sequel but hasn't actually happened yet. Heavy spoilers under the cut:

After watching the movie in theaters and then revisiting a few scenes on Peacock, I'm still kind of convinced that Mike Schmidt is Michael Afton.

Here's my reasoning. A lot of the characters spend time acting like they know something the audience/other characters don't, and those things are...mostly resolved. But some of them just...kind of aren't.

The main thing that sticks out to me is William's whole storyline. Starting with the scene where he offers Mike the job, his behavior is almost explained by the movie's logic. He sees Mike's name, seems...kind of deeply upset, looks at him very closely, stands to get coffee, and has a moment of visible internal conflict. Then he instantly offers him the Freddy's job. The way the movie frames this, it seems to be saying that he recognized the name of one of his victims, realized this was the kid's brother, and decided to kill him right then and there. Which is passable as an explanation, but it has a lot of holes, if you look deeper.

Why would William so instantly recognize a fairly common last name as the brother of some kid he killed that wasn't even anywhere near Freddy's? Why did he kidnap/kill Garrett in the first place, in some random forest in Nebraska? Why did he see the name on the file, then immediately stop and examine Mike's face so closely, when Mike's memories/dreams pretty clearly show that they never saw each others' faces when Garrett was taken? Why did he send Vanessa to "keep Mike in the dark" if he purposely gave him the job to get him killed? Why not have the animatronics kill him right away? He didn't know that Mike was searching for the man who took his brother, and while he could have maybe guessed he was still actively haunted by what happened based on Mike beating up a guy that he thought was kidnapping someone, it still feels like a weird choice to go and hire him, then just have him do the job with no issue for a few days.

As for Vanessa, we see that she's been cleaning up William's messes for years. Why is Mike the one she changes her mind and stands up to her father for? There's no implied romance between the two and no particularly meaningful connection beyond them both having family issues. I guess she cares about Abby because she's a kid, but kids getting hurt clearly never stopped her from helping her father before.

And, on a more meta level, this is Scott and his storytelling style we're talking about. The man puts plot twists inside of plot twists and everything always ties back into the Aftons, somehow.

So, here's my theory: I think that Mike is William's kid, but Mike's mom left Afton when he was young and remarried the man that Mike thinks is his father.

It seems convoluted and maybe cliche, but if it's true, then suddenly there's an answer to all of those questions. "Michael Schmidt" isn't exactly an eye-catching name, unless you had a kid named Michael and your ex-wife married a guy with the last name Schmidt. Garrett's kidnapping, then, becomes an act of intentional, petty revenge rather than an extremely random coincidence. Giving Mike the job and sending in Vanessa suddenly becomes about piecing together how much he knows and figuring out if he's worth trying to reconnect with or is just a threat that needs to be killed. (It feels worth noting that William is as far as I can remember the only person to call him Michael in the whole film. He also very pointedly never says "Schmidt" until he's decided to kill Mike and suddenly announces his full name out loud. If he went by Michael as a little kid, that is what William would default to calling him, but if he took the new husband's last name, that would be like like salt in the wound that he wouldn't want to voice. By finally saying it out loud, it feels like he's making the decision to fully separate himself from Mike.)

As for Vanessa, if Mike is her brother, it makes sense that he would be the person she'd turn against William to save. It would be weird for her not to tell him, but she could also be trying to protect him, in some way. There's never any mention of her mother, and it seems like it's just been her and William for a long time. Also, ending the movie with her in a coma feels like a strange narrative choice, but it makes sense if she knows information that's purposely being kept hidden for the sequel.

Of course, it could just be that the movie has kind of messy writing and I'm trying to fix it because I want there to be a deeper reason for it. Maybe there is no Michael Afton in the movies, or maybe he's off chilling and doing his own thing somewhere and we'll see him in the sequel. Only time will tell.

#fnaf movie #fnaf movie spoilers #five nights at freddy's #five nights at freddy's spoilers #michael afton #mike schmidt

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popponn · 6 months

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sick day safe distance.

summary: you caught a cold and really doesn’t want him to also get sick. it’s that simple, actually.

notes: was tempted to add more, but yeah one day, maybe. this is me trying to pump myself up and trying to grasp sae more for an upcoming fic. also warm up for a bit. still i hope it will be an enjoyable read, as simple and unserious it is haha. warning: none, just mentions of colds symptoms here and there. fluff, clingy slash affectionate bfs, reader's gender unspecified.

character: nagi, sae, isagi.

nagi seishiro

this guy somehow turns even more similar to his favorite chat sticker. just a bit more fluffy, and bigger, and with grubby hands. put simply, nagi is pretty troublesome because he insists on still being close to you. he really doesn’t see a point in keeping his distance since he still lives under the same roof as you—which doesn’t mean you could go somewhere else though. he is not above actually hanging on your hip. don’t test him.

in a way, you will be lucky if he must go out for practice. but if he is not, then good luck. if before you sleep, he was sitting a few meters away from you, the moment you took a nap nagi would be laying his head somewhere near or on you while playing his game. pray for your debate skill, because you really need to convince him that ‘getting sick is even more troublesome than not cuddling with you for a while. yes even when that’s what he really wants.’ also a little tip, be strong and don’t look at his baby face too much. that’s a losing fight with a natural puppy face. and if you want to take a bet, use his hoodie as your sick attire. it will either satiate whatever it is in him or worsen it.

he is a bit childish and adamant when he is clingy. even when he is not in the clingiest mood, that wouldn’t necessarily mean his concern for you would be gone immediately. every hour or so, you will definitely see a nagi peeking at you, asking if you want anything because ‘if you got worse it would be even more troublesome’. and honestly just let him do anything he wants to take care of you—this guy will be okay in the kitchen and in anything even if it’s his first time. that’s the resident giant sloth doing something for you out of his own willingness. plus if worst comes to worst, hey, maybe adrenaline could be an instant cure.

itoshi sae

sae makes a face that indicates he is a little upset, hums, and then actually says he will stay somewhere else for a while. he reacts so gracefully and normally it’s kind of cold. but then again, this is sae and his personality. just because he seems unaffected and puts you somewhere pretty low on his priority list, it doesn’t mean that is how it truly is. and if you are trained to translate sae-speak through experiences and are already used to him, it’s kind of obvious, from his actions especially.

it’s obvious in the way he leaves you messages and voice notes. and in the way he insults you when you try to do something dumb or eat something that you shouldn’t. in the way he sends you food and reminds you to drink every hour he can—and if he has to practice, he will find someone to do that task through sheer deadpan alone. also in the way he keeps the call on until you sleep every night—saying that this is to make sure you won’t infect his part of bed, which is a lie. if you show him that you miss him by cuddling his side of bed this guy will short-circuit, in a very positive way.

also, since this is sae with his terrible case of ‘showing he actually cares’, most of the proof of him being genuinely upset from being away from you will come from others. in the form of complaints. all telling you to get better soon because he got extra grumpy and blunt in his wording as if he is on a vengeance quest. and even if his play got better somehow, help his teammates because they really are not here to deal with a boyfriend who has love deficiency or some bullshit. of course, you hardly believe them because in every video call, sae acts like it's nothing. still, go do loving gestures in your temporary long-distance relationship. some people will actually owe you for that. also don’t forget to at least give him an update if he somehow couldn’t contact you. just in case.

isagi yoichi

isagi takes it with a grimace and an understanding sigh that truthfully still sounds very exasperated, but accepting nonetheless. he will still whine a little though, in a very joking and light manner. this guy’s schedule is packed and he rarely has any time with you, so of course if any chance he should have gotten sabotaged by some random flu, it’s entirely within his right to get at least a little upset. so understandably, his priority as an egoist who really wants some loving would be to get you healthy again as soon as possible. also, maybe, that part of him that takes care of people so naturally kind of screeches when you cough roughly.

the sweetest part is probably how he will still find a way to take care of you no matter what his schedule is. what isagi wants, isagi will get somehow after all. it’s his break day? you are not leaving his sight and he will watch the old matches from your side—also he is wearing a face mask so don’t bother to shoo him away. if he has training? maybe you have to walk around a little bit by yourself still, but somehow everything from food to medicines is ready. his friends ask him to hang out? this one is a straight-out pass, his baby is sick.

this is the guy who will try to cook porridge for you while calling his mom in the process and sends a longing gaze when you keep a distance between the two of you. he won’t protest and will actually do his best. remember to walk around the neighborhood with him the moment you get better. also give him as many handholds, hugs, kisses, and praises as possible. actually, go do a headstart on the praise if possible. even if he scolds you to rest instead of giving him sugary words, the soft dotting look on his face can’t lie. just make sure to not suggest sleeping in the hotel or have him stay at someone’s though—trust this guy and his self-centeredness. when he really wants to stay with you and stay healthy for his career, he will. don’t doubt him or make enemies of the protagonist.

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hexiewrites · 2 years

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I’ve been thinking a lot about late-deafened Steve, and what that actually would have looked like. Because the thing is: I love this head cannon. Boy got bashed around so much, ESPECIALLY on his left side, theres no way he didn’t come out of that with some long term damage. And I’ve been thinking about what that means for him, when his hearing starts to go, and how isolating that would be.

Except. Then I keep thinking about Robin.

Give me child-of-Deaf-adults Robin. Robin whose parents met at Gallaudet. Who were confused and upset when the doctor said, relief clear on his face, oh thank god, how lucky, your baby is normal, she can HEAR. Robin who grows up a in a Deaf home with a Deaf family. Who learns ASL before she learns English. Who never learns to be quiet because at home it doesn’t matter, so she can blast trumpet all day long to no complaints, and forever feels uncomfortable in places where she has to try to keep it down. Robin who grows up learning ASL and English and thrives, loves the way her brain works when it’s parsing languages, and starts teaching herself French and Spanish too, blasting day time Spanish soap operas constantly whenever she’s at home, shouting along with the screen. Robin who interprets for her parents, taking on burdens no seven year old should when she’s the one who has to tell her mom the cancers back. Robin who, four years later, gets to tell her dad that the surgery worked. The cancers gone. Moms gonna be ok. Robin who, at eleven, doesn’t know the sign for remission but she signs CANCER-one hand eating at the other like the disease that almost took her Mom-and signs FINISH, signs NONE, signs MOM-OKAY, MOM-SAFE, and is glad her dad can’t hear how loud her sobs are because even she’s embarrassed at the noises she’s making.

Robin who doesn’t quite fit at home, the loud little girl in the odd quiet house (not that her house is ever quiet: if you dont realize you’re making noise you don’t do anything to tamper it), and who doesn’t quite fit at school, when she shows up in kindergarten signing instead of speaking and all the other kids make fun of her for years, call her spazzy Buckley and imitate the signs, crude and heartbreaking and she can’t even cry here because everyone can hear her. Robin who teaches herself to speak without signing, sits on her hands and tries not to internalize the hatred, but her fingers still twitch constantly along with the words. Robin who thinks she’s never going to fit in, and tries to separate out the two different parts of herself because it’s easier, most days, to pretend to be “normal” even though that feels wrong too.

Give me Robin, who knows Steve inside out and who knows what it looks like when someone can’t hear you but pretends they can. Robin who clocks Steve immediately, even though he tries to brush her off like he’s been doing to everyone. Robin who finally takes him home to meet her parents, explaining it all in the car (into his right ear, which is better than the left though still starting to fade). Robin who gives Steve the gift of understanding and hope for the future. Who holes up with him and teaches him sign, slow at first (because Steve has never been good at grammar, and he constantly furrows his eyebrows despite her pleas that eyebrows are important in ASL and he needs to use his face more or he’s going to confuse everyone, it’s the visual equivalent of lilting your voice up like every sentence is a question and it’s weird, Steve!) and then faster as he starts to realize how useful it is, starts to bring her lists full of signs to learn, starts to lean on and cherish the experience of this new way to communicate. Robin, who helps him practice lipreading even though she’s terrible at it. Robin, who finally convinces him to get a hearing aid and lets him sob into her shoulder when the doctor says it’ll help for a few years, but long term there’s probably nothing they can do, and then tells him to buck it up because there are way worse things than being a little deaf and besides, now the Buckleys will just have to adopt him for real because they did always talk about adopting a deaf child or two, if there was ever one in need.

Give me CODA Robin, whose never felt like she belonged until she nearly gets murdered by Russians with her best friend. Who brings Steve into her life, shows him Deaf culture, gives him a place where he fits. Robin who finally realizes that this is her place too, and it’s so much sweeter for getting to share it with the people she loves.

And then, after, give me Eddie knocking on the Buckley door and begging to learn ASL too. Give me Robin’s mom, somehow roped in to teaching him and the party, as they try to learn in secret to make Steve’s life easier (and their own, because ASL is god tier for pulling pranks from opposite sides of a high school cafeteria). Give me Dustin, excitedly telling Miranda Buckley to FUCK-OFF every week for months because he thinks he’s saying THANK-YOU and she finds it too funny to correct him. Give me Eddie trying to surprise Steve and ask him out on a date, but instead of signing HUNGRY, WANT YOU&ME GO AFTER WORK? he signs HORNY, WANT YOU&ME GO FUCK?

And give me Steve, who thinks about it for a long minute (partially because Eddie totally botches the grammar, but partially because he looks so hot, standing there nervous and trying to communicate with Steve in a way that will make him the most comfortable) before he smirks and signs back YEAH, and takes Eddie on the best goddamn first date of his life.

#sorry i just!!! had so many thoughts #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #steddie #at the end there #deaf steve harrington #disabled steve harrington #CODA robin buckley #asl #stranger things #stranger things headcanons #is that what youd call this #idk #word vomit #hex writes stuff #kind of!#oh and uh sorry about the angst in the middle #i couldnt help it

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pia-nor481 · 5 months

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Empty Bed Part Two

Lando Norris x reader smut

3.5k words. Part One

"What's up with you?" Max asked, worried about his friend's pouting. Lando was angry and upset. He knows this is how hook up culture is supposed to be, have sex and leave before anything gets awkward, yet that's not what he wanted. Its sad that he wanted her, even now, weeks after their last encounter. "Nothing serous, just jet lagged." His reply was a bit harsh and also the truth at the same time. It was the penultimate race of the season and the stress was beginning to affect more than usual, he was far too frustrated, not just psychologically but sexually. "If you say so." He felt Max's hand make contact with his shoulder as he walked past, heading to the red bull garage. Lando walked towards his drivers room and put up a rather convincing smile. Free practice wasn't particularly fun for Lando, he liked the thrill of the race, but he couldn't feel that if he was focused on collecting data. He let out a loud sigh as he lent against the closed door, finally alone. It felt good to be in his own presence.

He pulled the orange shirt over his head to replace it with a black fire proof. "Woah, what animal attacked you?" Daniel laughed out, seeing his friend's shocked face. "You were so happy the morning after, maybe you need to get laid more often." The scratches on Lando's waist were still visible, a reminder for him, a reminder of her. "You're one to talk, that girl in your lap seemed pretty blissed out." He shook his, Lando was shocked that Daniel took the risk of fucking some girl in such a public place. "Well I know how to fuck. By the red on your hip, I can guess you can too." Daniel flashed his signature grin while loosening his suit. "Can I be honest?" Lando paused, looking back at his friend, who's expression changed in the blink of an eye. "Always." Lando let out a relived sigh, he already felt better. "How do you do it? I don't get how you can fuck a girl and move on so quickly, as if nothing happened." Lando looked away mid-sentence, feeling almost ashamed, reaching for the rest of his clothes. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I can't just forget, unless I'm that drunk. But still, it's not something you should hold onto, especially if you're not going to see her again." Daniel said sincerely, he was stunned that Lando would say such a thing. "Is it really bothering you that much?"

Lando had to pause, he didn't know what to do. They didn't have the same level of friendship that Daniel had with Max, or Lando with Carlos. Yet he almost felt bashful at the thought of discussing this with anyone else. "I just... Felt so drawn to her. It doesn't make any sense to me. I was just looking to fuck, but everything about her... It just felt more than that. She joked with me, and it was actually funny, she was so gorgeous too; Perfect even. She didn't even know who I was, yet she was in a F1 afterparty. You know how you can tell if they actually know you or not." He said it all in one breath, and so, was practically gasping for air. "I'm guessing she is good in bed too?" Lando's head shifted to the side in a look of disappointment. "Yes, but that's not the important part." He said, zipping up his race suit. "I get how important this is to you, I do, but you can't dwell on it, you need to focus on racing, thinking about a girl, no matter how perfect, that you're not going to see again, isn't gonna get you on the podium." Daniel grabbed Lando's shoulders, rather firm, and looked in his eyes as he spoke. "Alright."

While Lando was in the car he didn't dare think of her, but when he was in his new hotel room, she consumed all of his thoughts. So while he was buttoning up a white shirt, he couldn't help but feel down, he was exhausted, not just from the race. Lando practically dragged his feet along the floor to wards the door, wishing he didn't have to go out and celebrate another podium, he had to celebrate someone else's win. As he begun tying his shoes, he could hear the banging of a fist on the hotel door. "Give me a sec." He shouted back, rushing towards the door. "Hey." It was Daniel at the door, adorning his usual smile. "It's only 10, there is no rush." Lando said, looking down at his watch, before reaching for his phone and room card, and slipping them into his pocket. "I know, but I don't know whether or not I should get plastered with you or let you run off with some girl." Daniel said, hooking his arm around the younger's neck. "Too soon man. What if i went off with another girl, You'd stop me?" Lando said with a bit of bite, shifting his gaze towards the other man. "Well no, I'm just trying to look after you man." Guilt immediately ran through his body, Daniel was trying to be helpful, and was more than likely doing the right thing. "Sorry, I'm just all over the place. This season has been hard, and you know the rest." Daniel patted his back before giving a reply, "We'll sort it out, mate, lets just focus on tonight, we can deal with everything tomorrow." Lando cracked a smile, "While we're hung over?" Their pace quickened as the approached the outside of the club. "Absolutely."

The loud music and lack of air sent a wave of pleasure through Lando's body, it felt so good to be in such an environment. There was always skin to skin contact, and it just felt so amazing. Lando felt a girl lean back, further into him, he was already a few drinks deep, but he was still capable of making good, enough, decisions. His hands quickly found her hips, but she didn't feel the same. However, that didn't stop him. He wanted to feel this close with someone, and she was more than willing; until her friend called her over. He was left on his own again, Daniel was still in the club, most likely in the bathroom. "I'll be back in a bit mate." He made it seem as though he was stepping out for some fresh air, but Lando quickly noticed him gravitating towards a woman, the same one he saw Daniel with last week. He didn't let that ruin his mood as he struggled to make way to the bar. As soon as he reached the table, the volume of the music seemed to fall slightly, he waited for a while, and in doing so he looked around, observing the people around him. Until he saw her hair, her skin, everything about her, it was hard for him to not recognise. "Can I have a vodka with full fat coke and a rum with diet coke please."

He walked over to her as quick as possible, placing his drink on the bar, and began dancing his fingers over her arm, she didn't even flinch "Found any attractive men to chat up?" She could feel his breath against her ear, he was speaking at a normal volume, knowing she could not hear him over the music otherwise. "I have now." Lando was so ecstatic that she was flirting back. He handed her the drink and she opened her mouth to speak, he noticed the glitter in her lip gloss and made a mental note that it needed to be smudged later. "Rum and diet coke." He sated simply and she smiled before taking a sip. "Thank you." He was shocked she was staying so formal, not formal per say, but you wouldn't expect some one you had a one night stand with to be appreciative of a drink. "What are you doing here, Lando?" As she spoke, his eyes travelled over her whole body, first he noticed the white sunglasses atop her head, then the glitter and blush covering her cheeks. "I could ask you the same thing, baby." She leaned closer to him, almost as if she was longing for his presence. "One of my friends... she really like sports and is watching these races, but she hates travelling alone, so I decided to come with her." It took a while for Lando to acknowledge that her friend was a formula one fan. He was too focused on her body, last time he saw her, she was wearing a white mesh top, this time it was a pink bra, covered in gems and glitter, and it just looked so good on her. "Tell me then, why are you here?" He grabbed her hip, feeling the material of her mesh skirt against his skin, he wanted her as close as possible. "Would you believe me if i said, my friend brought me here so he could go looking for a girl he hooked up with?" It wasn't a lie, but wasn't quite the truth. "Are you sure the name of your friend is not 'Lando'?" She laughed lightly, sipping her drink, hiding behind the glass once again. "I promise, only because his name is Daniel, you could ask him, but I don't think we will be seeing him tonight." She placed the empty glass on the bar and slid her hands up his chest, her touch was electrifying. "I'm sorry, I had to take your clothes, I couldn't leave in what I was wearing." His hands travelled over her back and down under her skirt, squeezing her ass lightly. "It's okay, you can keep it." He pulled her into a desperate and deep kiss. It lasted for what felt like hours. The skin on skin, the music, the alcohol, it all felt euphoric. "Come on, before I fuck you right here."

His hands never left her body, a firm grip around her waist, a reminder almost. Just as they made it out of the club their eyes immediately met, she was looking at him for a direction. "I've not got my hotel key." He almost whispered out. Lando claimed to have left it behind when Daniel knocked on the door; this also gave them an excuse to go back to her room, he knew she wouldn't disappear like last time. "Come on then." it come out more of a moan than a huff of annoyance. She practically pulled him down the road towards her hotel, to say Lando was shocked by the building was understatement. She kept a tight grip on him as they walked up the stairs, Lando was looking shamelessly up her skirt, not that the sheer fabric was hiding much. As soon as she reached the top step she pulled him into a rough kiss and almost moaned into his mouth, just feeling him riled her up. "Please, Lando." Her words were left in the air as he took the key from her hand and opened the door as quickly as possible "Come here, babe, need you so bad."

She chased his voice to the bed, she needed him just as much, but couldn't verbalise it. So she decided it would be best to swing herself over his lap and cover his neck in glittery red marks. In the process lando slid his hands up her back slowly, teasing not just her, but himself. She began to suck harder and bite slightly, tugging his skin between her teeth. "Fuck, babe." His breath got caught in his throat at the feeling. Lando didn't expect to her to do such a thing, especially with how he was the last time they were together, he was shocked that she was acting more demanding; so he trailed his hand up to her top, his fingers quickly hooked around the clasp of the bra, he pulled it far from her skin, and smiled at the thud of it back against her skin. She let out a loud whine, not anticipating the feeling. "Behave." She nodded quickly, not expecting to get chastised. Lando placed his hand under her ass and hoisted her up, turning around to gently place her on the edge of the bed, hands slowly and softly running his fingers along the outside of her thigh. She reached up and gripped his collar, pulling him lower. "Don't tease me."

"Or what?" He replied back in a flirty manner. As she felt his fingers against her underwear she gasped, he pushed her skirt up, not before admiring the pink butterflies on the mesh, he'd waited so long for this so he couldn't waste a minute. Lando grabbed her hips harshly and pulled her body closer to his. "I can stop right here, if you want." He pushed her underwear to the side and lowered his head. "No please, Lando please." She would feel him smirk against her skin as soon as she started speaking. He licked up against her cunt before focusing on her clit; he kitten licked at first, ignoring her pleas, then circling quickly, enjoying the noises she let out. He continued to abuse her clit and lightly teased her slit with one hand, the other pressing down lightly on her abdomen. He was paying more attention to her now, really trying to discover what made her feel good. Although it had only been a few weeks since they were together, Lando couldn't stop thinking about her. He felt guilty, he replayed that night in his head over and over, and he felt awful for not paying enough attention to her. When you hook up with someone you are not really there for the other person's pleasure, Lando wanted do change that. He thrusted his fingers slow, not rushing, he wanted to enjoy this, he wanted her to feel good. As he moved his fingers in a 'come here' motion she pushed her hips closer to him desperately, "Harder?" his eyes didn't leave her for a second, he wouldn't forget this, he couldn't miss the look on her face. "Faster." She barely said, out of breath from moaning so much. As soon as the words left her mouth, he was following the instruction, she was quivering slightly as he hands mad a home in his hair, tugging on it lightly, feeling him groan into her, adding to her pleasure. "Be good." Lando began to suck on her clit lightly, he wanted a reaction and that's what he got. She was practically singing a song for him. The hand that was resting on her abdomen travelled back towards her thigh, slipped under her knee. He lifted her leg up higher, her calf now resting against his back, forcing her thighs further apart, giving him more space. Her voiced echoed throughout the room as he sped up the movement of his tongue and fingers. "That's it babe, cum for me." The wave of pleasure that washed over her took her vision temporarily, white covered her vision as she came. She was on cloud nine and Lando didn't stop his attack.

When he came up from between her thighs he had a satisfied smile on his face, when they made eye contact the smile turned into a grin of joy. She moved back on the bed slightly, a blissed out look on her face still, Lando very quickly noticed the wet patch on the bed as he got up from his knees and got on the bed; unbuttoning his shirt in the process. He kissed up her abdomen slowly, leaving marks across her whole body, biting down in the manner she did prior. "Don't whine, its only fair." He laughed out, opening her legs once again. She gave him a pointed look, yet he just gave her one back, he wanted to be in control, and he got what he wanted. "Please." Her pleas fell upon deaf ears as he just continued to tease; he ran the tip of his cock up and down her cunt, focusing on her clit more often than not. He enjoyed teasing her, he felt as though he deserved it. Lando squeezed his cock lightly, he needed to feel some form of release, the pressure already building up. She took hold of his arm aggressively with a firm grip, knuckles turning white. He pushed in slow, just like before, not wanting to over stimulate her so soon after one orgasm. "That's it." Her eyes rolled back as soon as he started speaking, yet he couldn't look away, she was just so captivating, he wished he could say such a thing, but he could not, not in a situation like this. He began thrusting slowly and softly, more sensual than before. Lando gradually sped up, knowing it was something she liked, his hands wouldn't leave her body for more than a second, his hands would be dancing on her skin as a form of comfort. "Fuck, please." He liked to hear her beg, it felt like an exclusive sound, he didn't think anyone had fucked her, it was just a feeling, until he realised how quickly he made her cum. Lando pulled her legs around his waist, allowing him to her her deeper, "Oh yes." Lando wasn't quiet, she was just beyond loud, and his just got him impossibly harder. "Good girl, be good for me." Once of his hands left her him to slide down to her clit, rubbing fast circles; she could feel his touch all through out her body, every nerve sending signals felt like an overload. Her orgasm hit her hard, pelvis lifting up higher than Lando had already positioned it. She let out a choked whine as she felt Lando pulsating, all he felt was euphoria when he was with her, but this was on another level. Rope after rope of cum left his cock in pleasure, his head fell into the crook of her neck as he groaned, waves of pleasure still washing over him.

She winced as he pulled out, pushing her underwear back in place, he grabbed her neck softly, pulling her closer to him, he wanted to kiss her, he didn't want to beg, he still needed control, he didn't want to swallow his pride, her hands slid up his back and into the base of his hair, tugging so she could catch her breath. "Careful." He felt the need to remind her. "Promise." She smiled, smirked is a better adjective for the blissed out look on her face. Lando pulled back the cover of the bed, slipping under it with her, he kissed her neck softly as she slowly began to drift off, he inter locked their hands when he slid his arm over her waist. His eyes began to close as her breathing finally regulated.

When his eyes opened again, it was because of the morning light slipping through the hotel curtains. Lando's mind was still fuzzy. He tried to sit up but quickly realised his pounding headache was from alcohol, then all memories came running through his mind, then a wave of panic. He turned to the side a quickly as possible, noticing no one was in his arms. She was gone. He ran his hand over the mattress and noticed it was cold, disappointment flooded his whole body, and so he felt lethargic; Until he realised that they had come back to her hotel room last night, a smile crept up on his face as he sat up. The thought of having a long conversation, with out too much flirting, was his first thought. Until he saw his hoodie, the one she stole the first night together. He assumed she would have been wearing it, or at least taken it home before flying out for this trip, but no, it was folded neatly on the counter in front of the bed. Lando, finally, built up the courage to get out o the bed, and saw that her suitcase was gone, so were her shoes, so was she.

He was, once again, left in an empty bed.

Masterlist

There was a lot of struggle in trying to finish this (things not saving and paragraphs randomly deleting because reasons) but I seem to repel technology. If I’ve made any spelling mistakes let me know.

#f1 x reader #f1 x reader smut #f1 smut #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #lando norris x reader #f1 fic #lando norris x reader smut #lando norris #lando norris smut #lando x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x oc #lando norris x fem!reader

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mellifiedprincess · 11 months

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anotha one😝 this fic is pure crack honestly, it’s not my best work and i was sleep deprived and wrote this in like 20 minutes, soooo keep that in mind. i also imagined the reader being super short in this, because i may have a wee bit of a size kink (don’t tell anyone🤭) but like how cute would ethan look with a partner that’s like 4’11 compared to his 6’1 ass. AGHHH I CANT

Ethan Landry x Reader

Nap time

Everyone who knew you, knew that there was only one thing in this world that could rival your love for Ethan. And that was napping. You couldn’t help that you were a sleepy girl. You were lucky enough too, that you could nap anywhere. Whether it be your head resting on a hard countertop, the lap of one of your friends, you were even found asleep on the stairs in your parents home once.

Unfortunately though, as of lately, you haven’t been able to sleep that well. And you knew exactly what the cause of this was from, well more of WHO the cause of this was from. Ethan fucking Landry. The boy with the loveliest doe eyes, the boy with the sweetest smile, the boy that stole your heart all those months ago and has told you he was never giving it back.

But he didn’t just steal your heart, no, he stole your ability of napping anywhere your little heart desired.

You couldn’t nap without him anymore.

Of course it wasn’t all his fault, you were the one to snuggle up to him, thinking you were only going to ‘rest’ your eyes for a few seconds. Those few seconds turned into two hours. You couldn’t help it. He was just so warm and smelled so good. It certainly didn’t help that he was running his fingers through your hair while softly humming in your ear. Anyone would have fallen under his spell and drifted off in minutes, if they had been in the position you were in. At least that’s what yoy keep telling yourself.

You had also, by now, convinced yourself he did all of it on purpose.

Which is why you’ve been glaring at him for the past seven minutes. You were sleepy, and all you wanted was to lay your sweet little head down and take a nap. But when your head hits the soft pillow on Ethan’s bed, you find yourself not able to fall asleep. You knew in your head all you needed to do was ask Ethan to come lay down with you, and he would. He would do absolutely anything you asked of him. But you were furious with him. Furious that his conspiracy against you has worked.

“Baby, we’ve talked about how you have to tell me when I’ve upset you, otherwise I won’t know how to fix it.” He wasn’t even looking at you, he had his back towards you while he worked at his desk. “I can quite literally feel the heat from your eyes, angel.” “Well my eyes would be closed and I would be fast asleep, taking my much needed nap if you wouldn’t have ruined them for me.” You grumble out, arms crossed, brows furrowed, adorable pout present.

He drops his pencil at that, confusion wasn’t a strong enough word to describe what Ethan felt. “How did I ruin your nap?” His voice raises an octave higher out of disbelief, and he finally turns to look at you. “I’ve been quiet this whole time and you have quite literally fallen asleep at frat parties before, where it was much more chaotic. I had to nearly tackle someone to stop them from sitting on you.”

“Don’t act like you don’t know what you did!” You yell as you jump up, standing on Ethan’s bed and pointing an accusing finger at him. His brown eyes widen, not sure if you’re just having one of your ‘moments’ as he likes to call them, or if you’ve actually lost your mind. “I don’t though, that’s why I asked you to tell me.” At his remark, you ball your fists up, throwing them down at your side, all while making the cutest grumbling sound.

Ethan stands from his chair, coming to stand in front of you at his bed. Since you’re standing on his bed, you’re looking down at him. His hands grab yours, unballing your “threatening” fists, and he’s pleading with his eyes. “Tell me what I did so I can make up for it.” After a few seconds you throw your head back with a loud groan, before dramatically falling forward to be caught by Ethan, wrapping your arms and legs around him completely. “I can’t nap without you.” You all but cry out, still holding a menacing stare as your forehead touches his.

He laughs. He laughs right in your face. “Stop laughing at me!” You push his face away from yours, squirming in his arms trying but failing to get away from him. “Awe, I’m sorry baby. What can I do to help?” To anyone else, he would sound patronizing, but you knew he genuinely was sorry and wanted to make you feel better.

“Don’t you need to finish your homework?” Your eyes glance over at the anatomy worksheet, and then back to Ethan. “Yeah, well I think my baby needs me more. So, I’m not worried about that right now.” You grin at his words, placing a sweet kiss to his lips, before pulling away pretending to look deep in thought. He already knows what you need, he also knows you’re just too scared to ask. All because you got in your own head about how dependent you’ve become of him. He loved it. He loved that you needed him just for the smallest of things like taking a nap.

“Do you want me to lay down with you while you nap? I’ll even hold your hand the entire time, if you want.” You giggle at that, already feeling much more relaxed. “What if I want to wrap myself around you like a koala? Would you let me do that?”

“You’re already the size of one, so why not?”

“Ethan!”

You’re pouting again, and he could only smile because you were just too fucking cute. “Okay! Okay! I’m done.” He pushes a few strands of hair out of your face, and grabs your chin, placing a few kisses to your pouted lips.

“Can we lay down now? You’ve been standing here holding me for like 10 minutes now, your arms have to hurt by now.”

“Baby.” He says with disbelief. “I’ve held you for way longer than 10 minutes, while we were doing something a lot more physically demanding.” Your cheeks immediately flush red at his words. Hiding your face in his neck. “Don’t get all shy on me now. You were just yelling at me 10 minutes ago about ruining your naps.” He couldn’t help but tease you, it was just too easy.

“Ethan, stop it.” You mumble out. He laughs again, but finally moves to sit you back down on his bed. You climb to the top, and wait for Ethan to join you. He goes to slip under the blanket with you, but you stop him. “No! You have to take your clothes off!” He holds his hands out in front of him, in a defensive manner. “Someone’s not so shy now. You need me to tire you out or something?”

You roll your eyes at your dumb boyfriend, and watch as he removes his tshirt and jeans. “I meant so I could sleep on you more comfortably, you perv!” “You’re calling me a perv, after asking me to strip and defile you?”

You open and close your mouth “I didn’t ask-“ You stop, exhaling sharply through your nose. “Please, E, just get in the damn bed.” “I’m coming, jeez!” Finally, he lays down beside you, and before you could move, he turns and wraps his arms around your body, an innocent grin on his pretty lips. And you can already feel your eyes grow heavy, as his fingers begin to trail up and down your spine and he presses soft kisses to your temple.

“Get some rest, sweet girl, because I will be defiling you when you wake up.” His tone is light and playful.

“Ethannn, can you stop being such a horny teenage boy for two seconds?” Your tone is annoyed. “Yeah, as long as you’re around, that’s not happening.”

“You’re such a whore.” Ethan laughs at your remark, squeezing you even closer, if possible, to his body. He’s finally quiet after that, besides the soft humming coming from his lips.

And he would never admit this to you, but he was having trouble sleeping without you by his side too. He loved the weight of you on his chest, the way your hair smelled. He especially loved when you would take his hand in yours, all while still sleeping, and hold it to your chest. You would hold it so tight sometimes he would lose feeling in his fingers.

He didn’t care though. Because he loved you and all of those things produced a warm, comfortable feeling he never received as a child.

So, he would lay there for hours, and watch the rise and fall of your chest, and listen to the soft snores leave your mouth. All without a single complaint.

#ethan landry x reader #jack champion #jack champion x reader #ethan landry #scream vi

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mediacircuspod · 9 months

Text

Okay so I know that we’re all upset at Aziraphale for this because of very obvious reasons. But can we take a minute to really look at where exactly he’s coming from? Because we only have Crowley’s perspective on the fall because we’ve only ever seen Crowley talk about it before. At least in his vague but colorful ways. Ex; Sauntering vaguely downwards, boiling pool of sulfur, etc.

But this season we get a little bit more on what Aziraphale thinks about Crowley becoming a demon.

And well. Aziraphale thinks that it was a mistake. More below the cut…

Full stop. Aziraphale thinks heaven was wrong about Crowley. He thinks God was wrong about Crowley. We see this in a few key scenes in both Seasons.

Let’s go Chronologically.

Job. Because I’ll never stop talking about the Job minisode. When Aziraphale’s caution is ignored in heaven, he goes to convince Crowley to stop and ignore the will of Heaven and Hell. (He doesn’t take into account that if Crowley doesn’t do the killing, another entity undoubtedly will.)

It’s the “I know you” and “I know [who] you were.” It’s the “I don’t think you want to do this.”

He had faith, even then, that Crowley would do what was right.

It’s the absolute and joyful giddiness of finding out that he’s right. That Crowley saved the goats, and probably the other creatures. That Crowley is going in that very beautiful house in order to save the children.

It’s the tragedy of Jemimah asking if Crowley is a demon and Aziraphale answering “Technically”. Crowley answers too, and he knows that there’s nothing technical about his state of being.

It’s the “you’re a little bit on our side”. And for all that Crowley denies, denies, and denies—Aziraphale doesn’t actually hear him. He hears “Yes. But I’m not an angel though, am I?” Aziraphale interprets, “I’m on my side” as “I’m not permitted to be on heaven’s side”.

In Rome, he extends Crowley an invitation to eat with him. He forgets himself. Tempting is Crowley’s job. He has to remind himself that Crowley is a demon, even if he’s a good person.

When they meet to watch one of Shakespeare’s gloomy ones, he looks to Crowley to do him a favor, and Crowley does. Without fuss. Just to see Aziraphale happy. Aziraphale smiles at this with familiar excitement. And a knowing look. (I want to shake him and screech, “Being good is not the same as being Good”)

Scotland. Crowley does a very good thing in this minisode, and he faces a very serious punishment for doing that good thing. Aziraphale can do nothing because Crowley is a demon who is good. And that is not a virtue in Hell, and the angel is confronted with the fact that Hell is not safe for Crowley. That hell will never be safe for Crowley, and we begin to see Aziraphale seriously worry about the arrangement and what it could mean for Crowley from this moment on.

And then we see a lot of Crowley saving Aziraphale from various scrapes and bad situations. We see Aziraphale refusing to give Crowley access to dangerous materials and then giving in so he doesn’t fall into more danger.

Aziraphale not only wants Crowley safe, he wants Crowley saved.

And at the end of season 1 and the majority of Season 2, Aziraphale embraces who he and Crowley are together. And he’s genuinely joyful about it, even with an undercurrent of sorrow he feels from being disconnected from heaven. We get hints of this throughout the second season… “You need to tell someone about something clever you did before you pop” “I can’t report to heaven anymore” “I’m afraid I’m out of miracles right now”.

This is the whole point; he never stops wanting to be good. And he never stops believing in Crowley’s goodness, either. Maybe even more than his own. (Aziraphale has to convince himself of his own righteousness almost as much as he has had to convince himself of Crowley’s evilness.)

And this brings us back to THE SCENE. Because right before Aziraphale makes his offer to Crowley. The Metatron has to make the offer to Aziraphale. And The Metatron plays Aziraphale like a fiddle.

The Metatron plays his cards exactly as he should right from the beginning, with ordering Aziraphale a coffee and making him drink it. It’s a subtextual threat, and Aziraphale probably doesn’t realize it, but Nina’s coffee shop is called “Give me coffee or give me death”. The coffee doubles as a gift from the Metatron to endear himself to Aziraphale and also as a signal to the audience that this guy is a very big deal, as well as a very big threat.

And then the Metatron separates our two entities from one another. Crowley has always given Aziraphale more courage when it comes to defiance, so Metatron invites Aziraphale away from the safety of his home(both the bookshop AND Crowley).

And then. And this is the Kicker.

The Metatron apologizes.

Not in the usual way humans do, but in the way that Crowley and Aziraphale do. By saying, I was wrong. You were right.

The Metatron praises Aziraphale. We were wrong about you.

The Metatron says that the only candidate for Supreme Archangel is him. You are heavenly.

The Metatron offers Aziraphale a way to bring Crowley with him. To bring Crowley back. We were wrong about Crowley.

Aziraphale looks at the Metatron in the face as the voice of God says Crowley’s fall was a mistake, and you can make it right. (The Metatron doesn’t actually say that in those words, but they ARE the words Aziraphale hears.)

So of course he’s excited to tell Crowley. Surely Crowley knows that his fall was a mistake too. Surely this is excellent news. The best news they’ve been given in a while. They were right after all. They can fix it. Together.

But then Crowley says no. And just as much as we think Aziraphale rejected Crowley—which of course, yes, he did—Crowley rejected Aziraphale too. And Aziraphale doesn’t understand why.

(And Holy Crap Aziraphale IS WRONG. Okay he’s wrong and it’s crazy, but I can follow the line right from before the beginning. Neil Gaiman and company, you are absolutely fantastic writers, I love how wrong they both are, and I love how wonderful they’re both trying to be, this was an incredible season.)

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens spoilers #gomens #go2 spoilers #good omens 2 spoilers #Aziraphale #crowley #crowley and aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable divorce #aziracrow

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the-book-gnome · 1 year

Text

Is that so?

Word count: 5.5k

Pairings: Simon “Ghost” Riley x reader

Warnings: Smut, loss of virginity, slight mention of blood, p in v, fingering, creaming, multiple orgasms, pain implied, praise kink, belly bulge, penetration, unprotected sex, f!reader, petnames (sweetheart)

18+ only ! minors do not interact !

You always wished you were more of a private person. More shielded and not as easy to read. But unfortunately for you, that was not the case, and now everyone knows. You didn’t even say anything about the matter but people could easily tell by the way you acted around him. At first, they thought you were just nervous being around someone so dangerous but after they caught on to the fact that you couldn't meet his eyes and every time he spoke you blushed.

You were fine with other people knowing, you never actually told them so they were just assuming but then soap had just so happened to accidentally tell Ghost. When Soap told you you just drugged and told him it doesn't matter because you don’t have feelings for him but Soap didn’t look at all convinced.

You had been doing everything in your power not to go on the next mission, making up excuses or lying. You got out of the last one but you were ordered to be on the next. You were one of the most experienced medics on the base and they needed you.

———

The task force was sent to Russia for a mission. There was nothing to do but wait until it was light out, so everyone was sitting inside one of the tents. There were a few battery-operated heaters placed around but that hardly did anything to keep everyone warm. The only person who seemed to be unaffected by the cold was Ghost.

Perhaps he didn’t hear when Soap told him about how you felt, he treated you the same as before, which was upsetting. The only time Ghost spoke to you was when he needed help with his injuries and even then he only said a word or two. A part of you had hoped he would acknowledge you more, but of course, he didn’t.

The men were talking in a huddled circle when soap said something that caught your attention. “Yeah it’s blows, I guess you and I are sleeping together,” Soap slapped Roach on the shoulder, flashing him a sly smile.

Roach rolled his eyes at the comment, “I still can’t believe we have to double up, we could be here for a week and they didn’t think to bring enough tents for all of us.” You're hoping to be paired up with someone quiet, Soap was a loud snorer so you weren’t the least bit sad that he already picked a partner.

You decided to wait until someone asked you to partner with them, it would be far too embarrassing to ask and then be denied, you’d rather wait. And wait you did, it had been about 2 hours since that conversation, no one had doormen to you and you were starting to get worried. What if all the tents were already full, where were you going to sleep? It wasn’t until a dark shadow fell upon you that you looked up from your book.

You were shocked to see Ghost standing there. What could he want? Was he bleeding or something? You quickly glanced around his body checking for any wounds but found none. “We will be sharing a tent, I’m going to bed now so either come with or don’t come at all, I don’t want to be woken up by you tripping over things and making noise.” He then walked away towards the exit of the tent.

It wasn’t until his body disappeared through the flaps of the tent that you scrambled after him. You couldn’t figure out why he had chosen you as a partner, he doesn't even like you. A blast of cold hit you as you stepped out of the tent. It was a blizzard out here and you could hardly see 2 feet In Front of you. A gloved hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled you further into the high. You were already shivering, tripping every now and then over small piles of snow. The only thing keeping you from falling on your face was his hand.

“There’s no heater in here so we’ll have to stay close to each other,” Ghost's rough voice filled your ears as the two of you stepped into the tent you’d be sharing. When your eyes adjusted to the darkness your mouth fell open. Not only were there not enough tents but there was also a shortage of beds apparently. In the middle of the tent was a medium-sized cot. The right size for Ghost but for both of you? There was no way you wouldn’t be falling off every five seconds. “Is there a problem?” His state was intense. You could feel your body tingling as he stared at you.

You shook your head, there was no point in complaining to him it’s not like it was his fault. You unlaced your boots and set them aside, Ghost did the same. You both kept all your clothes on including your coats, the blanket will keep you a little warm but not warm enough. You expected him to take his mask off but he didn’t, instead, he walked over to the cot and sat down. Ghost motioned for you to go to him and of course, you listened. “There’s not enough room to lay side by side. You’ll need to lay on top of me, is that alright with you?” You let out a breath and nodded, not trusting your voice.

Ghost laid down on his back, he let out a deep groan as his head hit the pillow, he must be exhausted. He draped the blanket across his body and then lifted half of it, “Come.” You were so grateful that it was dark, there was no doubt that your cheeks were bright red. You kneeled on the cot next to his body, not quite sure what to do next. Ghost let out an annoyed grunt and pulled you into him. Your back laid against this broad chest and your legs were placed in between his. God, he was so warm.

You could feel the bottom of his chin resting against the top of your head. It took a few minutes until you were able to relax against him. The steady sound of his heartbeat easing you.

Both of his hands were wrapped around your waist, his legs tangled with yours. It was surprisingly warm, but that could just be from how flushed you were. You started drifting off into sleep as Ghost drew small shapes on the waistband of your pants. It was very relaxing and it felt good to be touched by him.

———

It had only been a few weeks since that first night in the tents. The mission went quickly and the team only had to stay there for 2 nights. Everyone was back at the base waiting for the next mission. You were currently sitting in the med bay spinning in a chair. You were bored out of your mind, there were no patients and the man who was currently in charge of you for the day wouldn't let you leave. Not even for lunch, you had to sit there and eat. It was miserable and if the camp so happened to be bombed at that moment you wouldn't mind very much. Death seemed more exciting than this shit.

That was until a certain tall, large, muscled man walked in. God he was beautiful, you couldn't help but stare at him. You bit on the pen that was hanging from your mouth. A blush formed on your cheeks as you thought of all the ways he could touch you. He was massive compared to you, the top of your head only reached just above his pecs. Your eyes lower to his muscled thighs. He could snap your neck without even straining a muscle with those. And his hands were fucking gorgeous. The few times he wasn't wearing his gloves you made sure to study very intently on them. The veins were prominent and their size could bring you to your knees.

When your eyes reached him, you spit the pen out and hit your knee against the underside of the desk you were sitting at. You cursed as a rush of pain shot through you. “Enjoying yourself?” Ghost spoke from where he was standing. His arms were crossed and his gaze didn't leave you. You didn't really have anywhere else to look since his mask covered everything but his eyes. You could feel the burning in your cheeks as you met his gaze.

Deciding to ignore his words you sat up in your chair and asked, “Is there something you need sir?” Does he like to be called sir when he fucking someone? You wouldn't mind if he did. His voice drew you out of your dirty thoughts once again.

“I need this stitched up,” Ghost held up his forearm showing you a deep gash on the outside of his arm. You hopped out of your seat and rushed over to him. Gently grabbing his arm to inspect the damage.

“Come with me,” You led him to one of the beds, he sat on the edge while you sat in a rolling chair and grabbed all of the needed materials. You grabbed a numbing cream from one of the draws, only to be stopped when he grabbed your wrist.

“I won't need that, just stitch me up as quick as possible,” your brows furrowed, there was no point in making this hurt more than it already has. “I'll be fine, it would just be a waste.”

You nodded and put it away, after cleaning the wound you started seeing it back together. Ghost didn't even flinch. That surprised you, even Price flinched and he acted all strong and tough all of the time. A wave of sadness washed over you as you realized none of this was an act. Ghost truly didn't trust anyone and you had a good feeling he didn't feel much either. Physical or emotional. “How did this happen?”

“Training with soap,” Ghost's response was brief, perhaps he wasn't in the mood for talking. But in truth he never was.

“Oh,” You didn't often see Ghost without his tactical gear on so seeing him with just a normal t-shirt on was strange. It gave you the chance to see his tattoos though. “I like your tattoos, do they have any meaning?”

“No,” Ghost didn't look away from you, you could feel him staring at you but you did your best to ignore him and just keep working. “Why me?” The confusion was evident in his voice.

You immediately knew what he was talking about. You were hoping that he would just pretend Soap never told him. That was what he had been doing for weeks so why bring it up now? “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“I don't like liars, you know that,” Ghost's voice sent shivers down your spine. He rarely used his authoritative voice on you but when he did it made you fuzzy. “You don't have feelings for me, you don't even know me. You're probably just confused or lonely.”

You scoffed at his audacity. Your embarrassment faded away as you grew angry. Did he truly believe that you were just so lonely that you latched on to the first man your eyes fell on? You took your hands off of him and glared at him. “First of all lieutenant, people can develop feelings for one another regardless of how close they are and secondly I'm not lonely or confused. I'm perfectly happy with my social standing and I find it insulting that you think that my feelings for you are some desperate attempt to fill a void of loneliness, which by the way doesn't exist.”

Ghost raises a brow at your words. This was the first time you had ever spoken to him with so much confidence. He liked it. “Is that so? Then tell me what exactly you like so much, and why do you make it so obvious to everyone.”

Your eyes narrowed, why is he such a prick? “I don't make it obvious to anyone, just because people think they know things doesn't make that a fact.”

“So you're telling me you feel nothing towards me? I thought I told you I didn't like liars.” He flexed his hand, bringing your attention back to stitching his arm back up. You rolled your eyes at him and went back to your work. But before you could make much progress his other hand grabbed your chin and forced you to look back up at him. Ghost tilted his head slightly, his grip was gentle yet firm. “Don't roll your eyes at me,” the way he said those words almost seemed like he was challenging you. Egging you on.

A tiny smirk grew on your lips, “What are you gonna do if I do? Punish me?” you couldn't tell how he was feeling, he kept his face a perfect mask. Ironic given that he was also wearing a mask.

“Acting like a brat now are we? I'm surprised at your newfound confidence. I can't say I mind it too much,” Ghost's words caused you to grow warm. You clenched your thighs together to ease the ache at the peak. His eyes showed that you weren't very subtle. “Lust then? I'm sure there are plenty of other men that deserve your time much more than I do sweetheart.” he released his grip on you and motioned for you to finish his stitches.

Your mouth had fallen open and when you closed it just fell open again. You couldn't think of anything to say to him, it was like your brain short-circuited. You let out an annoyed sigh and went back to his arm. Why couldn't he just accept the fact that you had feelings for him? Did he think he was incapable of being cared for?

You finished a few minutes later, after you cleaned up the remaining blood, he thanked you and got up from the bed. As he started walking away you abruptly stood from your seat, “Simon,” you called for him. The sound of his name stopped him in his tracks. His head turned slightly, waiting for you to say whatever it was you wanted to say. “People are capable of caring about you. You don't have to make up some excuse for them thinking they're lonely or deprived, from… from experience, I know someone cares for you, whether you will let yourself accept that, that's for you to decide but don't think that my feelings are not real.” He stood there for a moment, taking your words in. A moment later he walked out of the med bay.

———

He hasn't spoken to you in two weeks. Two weeks since the conversation in the med bay. Two weeks since he's even looked at you. Perhaps you overstepped, but it's not like you could apologize, he made sure the two of you were never alone together. On the bright side you could still watch him like you use to, it felt different now that he knows why you watch him.

You had gone to bed early not wanting to deal with Soap and Ghost bickering, at first you thought it was funny but now it just annoys you. It was just getting dark, the camp was always hot though so you usually only used a sheet to cover up with. You were drifting off when you heard a gentle knocking at your door. You couldn't think of who it could be, or what they wanted at this hour. They knocked again and you threw your covers off and slowly made your way to the door.

You unlocked the door and then opened it quickly, hoping to get rid of whoever was on the other side as quickly as possible. You were shocked when you saw your lieutenant waiting patiently for you. His eyes raked down your body, taking in every exposed inch of you. The only thing covering you was an oversized shirt that slipped off your shoulder and the hem only made it halfway down your thighs. Simon's eyes stared at your thighs a little longer than the rest of you. There was nothing to cover up with so there was no point in trying.

“Is there something you need sir?” When he looked back up at you, you saw the frustration in his gaze. Instead of saying something he just pushed past you and entered your room. You stared at him, an awkward feeling resting between the two of you. After shutting the door, you walked over to your bed and sat down, “is everything alright?”

“No, you can't just say the things you said and act the way you did and then go back to how you used to be, it doesn't work that way,” It was clear Ghost was angry, you didn't know why though. He was the one who left. He was the one who started ignoring you. He clenched his hands, balling them into fists where they rested at his side. “Did you mean it?” He almost looks scared. Worry flooded you, did you scare him somehow?

“I…Simon, what's going on, are you okay?” You wanted to make him feel better, but he was right, you didn't truly know him. No matter how much you watched. You stood up and slowly approached him. He watched your every step. Not taking his eyes off you for even a second.

“Please…please just answer the question.” You took one of his hands in yours. He was freezing and shaking. You covered his hand in both of yours and looked back up at him. “I meant every word I said, Simon. I wouldn't lie about something like that, especially not to you.”

“Why, I don't understand,” Simon looked genuinely confused about how you could care for him. It didn't make any sense, he's killed and tortured people. He's never been very kind to you and he doesn't pay much attention to you either. “What have I don't to earn that?”

You tilted your head at him, a small smile craving your lips. “It has nothing to do with what you've earned. You don't trust people, and rightfully so. But I do believe you want to. I think you're lonely. And confused,” you three his own words back at him, but this time they were true. “You don't have anyone you can count on. You're completely alone and I hate that. I know there's nothing I can do to make you trust me, but I am here, even if you just want to sit in silence now and then. I care about you because I think you're a good man. You've done a lot of bad things in your life but so have the rest of us.” You took a step closer to him. His heavy breaths fan the top of your head. You leaned against him while looking up.

Simon stared at you, his eyes roaming over your face trying to see if you were lying or not. When he realized you weren't he brought his head now to yours. He kissed your forehead through his balaclava. “Can…can I sleep in here tonight?” His words were soft and his eyes were tightly closed.

“Of course, come,” Stepping away from him and turning around you led him into your bed. You say him down on the edge and then rested your knees against the floor in between his legs. You unlaced his boots and pulled them off of him, once you were done, you stood back up and the two of you laid down together. He pulled the sheet over you and pulled you into his chest. Ghost was being vulnerable, with you. Just the thought of that made your heart squeeze. You were proud of him for this. Who knows how long it's been since he was able to relax like this?

“You were wrong, I do trust someone” he murmured into your hair, his strong arms wrapped tightly around you. “You.”

———

The next few weeks went by quickly, the team was sent out on another mission but that only lasted a few days, and to your disappointment, there was not a shortage of beds.

When everyone was back at the base, Simon usually stayed in your room for a few hours. Sometimes you two would talk but he usually just sat there in silence while you read a book.

Tonight was no different than the others, you were sitting on your cot with your back pressed against the wall and Ghost was sitting across from you on the floor. His arms were resting on his knees while he stared at you. When you asked him why he was starting he just told you to keep reading. You listened, not wanting to risk upsetting him and making him leave. About two later he started talking.

“Is it alright if I come and sit on the bed with you, the floor is hurting my ass,” Simon shifted uncomfortably? IYou let out a small laugh and patted a spot next to you. When he sat now next to you, his weight caused a dip in the catch which caused you to slide closer to him. He didn't seem to mind though. “What are you reading?”

“A book,” You smiled up at him and watched as he rolled his eyes at you. You set your book on your nightstand and lay down on your back, throwing your legs over Ghost. “So I have a very important question for you L.t.”

“Yeah? What would that be,” Ghost laid a hand on your knee, and the other was placed higher on your thigh.

You glanced down at his hand, “When was the last time you've don't anything sexual? I mean like with another person, doing things by yourself doesn't count,” Ghost looked at you with an incredulous look in his eyes. “What? I heard Soap talking about how it's been months for him and I was curious,”

Ghost shook his head and rested it against the wall. “When was the last time you did anything sexual?” He threw your question back at you. Which was rude and even more so when he pinched your thigh causing you to yelp. “If you answer then so will I, otherwise you can keep being curious.”

You let out a defeated sigh, there was no way in hell that you were going to answer it so you accept your defeat, “Fine, I guess I'll stay curious then.”

“Answer the question,” Ghost demanded. You shook your head at him, if he wasn't going to answer first then you weren't going to say a word. It's not like it really matters anyway. “As your lieutenant, I'm ordering you to answer.”

“You can force me to answer a question, that's not how it works,” You rolled your eyes at him and then closed them. A second later Ghost pushed your legs off of him and paced a hand by your head, holding himself above you. You flushed as you opened your eyes, he's never been this close to you before. His knee was positioned in between your legs, making it impossible to close them. “Never.”

Simon's eyebrows furrowed, “Never what?” he rested on his forearm while his other hand gently rested on your waist.

“I've never done anything sexual…well besides with myself but I already said that didn't count, though I have kissed a few guys but that was agile ago.” Your cheeks were bright red. It wasn't that you were specifically waiting for marriage or anything but you wanted your first time to be with someone you trusted. In your line of work, most of the men here are complete assholes who only want a quick fuck. So you had given up trying years ago. Simon didn't say anything, he just stared at you which seemed like his favourite thing to do at this point seeing as that's what he's been doing so much of. “What?” Your voice was hardly above a whisper yet he had heard you just fine.

“I can't say I'm surprised,” Simon brought his hand up to his face, slowly pulling down the balaclava, only exposing his mouth. His lips were plump and looked very soft. You didn't realize you were staring at them until they started to move. “So you've never done anything before?”

You shook your head, looking back up into his eyes, “People are vulnerable when they're exposed. I wanted it to be with someone I trust.”

Simon made a sound of approval. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do,” You didn't understand why he would ask that until he brought his lips down to yours. You were shocked at first, not knowing what was happening. Once you kissed him back, all of your worries faded away. His lips felt heavenly and his cologne filled your senses. The kiss was gentle, yet it was filled with passion. You've never been kissed like this before. You felt his tongue move along the seam of your lips, the second you parted your mouth for him his tongue dived in. You let out a shaky moan at the feeling, doing your best to keep up with his movements.

While you let him explore your mouth you felt his hand moving down to your thigh, he lifted it and wrapped it around his waist, settling in between your legs. Another moan sounded from your lips as he ground into you. You whined when he broke the kiss, causing a smirk to grow on his lips. He moved his hand over the waistband of your shorts, “May I?” You nodded at him but that didn't seem to please him. “I need you to use your words sweetheart.

“Yes please.” At that, he slowly slides the material down your legs, your underwear with it. Simon started kissing a trail down your neck, you moved your head out of the way exposing more skin to him.

“Such a good girl,” It was almost a growl, his hot breath sent shivers down your spine and straight to your core. You whimpered when he sunk his teeth into your skin, the shape pain was quickly followed by pleasure as he used his tongue to soothe the ache. “Fuck your soaking,” you cupped your sex with his palm, his touch hands scaling against your clit. You bucked up into his hand trying to give yourself more pleasure. “Such a needy little thing aren't you sweetheart?”

“Simon please,” you begged. You didn't know exactly what you needed from him but you did know you wanted to feel more. Giving in to your plea, Simon started rubbing your clit with his thumb. You grabbed onto his shoulders, digging into his flesh. Your breaths grew into pants as he started moving his thumb faster. You felt a finger prod at your entrance, you whined at him which caused him to give you a small laugh in return. Your back arched as he slid his finger inside of you. Starting with slow pumps, your walls clamped tightly around him.

Simon's slow pace was starting to annoy you, you didn't want to do this slow. You met his slow stroke, grinding into his hand as fast as you could. “Easy sweetheart, no need to be in a rush,” His lips caught yours again. The lack of air and pleasure causing you to feel hazy. It felt wonderful, you couldn't remember when you'd ever felt this good, and this was only his fingers. Your mouth fell open as he added a second finger, the stretch felt unbelievably good. Ghost didn't stop kissing you, he called every moan and whine like he was a starving man.

His fingers moved faster, the only sounds in the room were his fingers thrusting in and out of you. You felt your release quickly approaching, “cl-close,” you whimpered into his mouth. Ghost pulled back slightly, your eyes were half closed and your mouth was hung open.

“You're doing so good for me, so fucking good,” He curled his fingers inside of you, you let out a loud moan and your head fell back onto your pillow. Ghost watched as you came around his fingers, but not stopping until he worked you through your whole orgasm. “Atta girl, that's it.”

Ghost sat up on his knees, a satisfied smile on his lips. You watched as Ghost pulled his fingers out of you. You let out a breath when he opened up his mouth and started sucking your release off of his fingers. He let out a pleased hum at the taste of you. When he was finished he let his hands fall to his sides. “We don't have to continue if that makes you uncomfortable.” Instead of answering him you grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it off of you. Leaving you completely bare. “Fucking hell.”

“I don't want to stop.” Ghost mimicked your action and pulled his shirt off, throwing it to the side. You had never seen him shirtless before, he was absolutely beautiful. His skin was smooth, with a few jagged scars here and there. You reached out to run your hands down his abs. His hands were busy undoing the button and zipper. He pulled down his pants and boxers at the same time. His dick slapped against his stomach. Once his pants were off, he took a hold of your face forcing you to look up at him. You were panicking and he could see it.

“Just relax okay? If you want me to stop, just say the words.” Simon's voice was gentle. It eased some of the anxiety but you were still scared.

“There's no way that's going to fit Simon, it's too big.” He placed a kiss on your forehead, you could feel his dick resting on your pelvis.

“Well make it for sweetheart, don't worry,” Simon moved his hand down to stroke his dick, sliding it up and down your folds. When he asked if you were ready you nodded. “Use your words.”

“I'm ready,” Simon moved his other hand to hold onto, while also holding himself up. The gesture made your heart swell. No matter how emotionless he may act, he was still kind. You bit your lip as he started sinking into you. Only going an inch or two before pulling out and repeating the process. The pain was manageable but it still hurt, the size of his cock, was stretching you out more than what you were used to. He let out a grunt as he bottomed out. Your eyes were squeezed shut and you were taking deep breaths.

Thankfully Simon was true to his word and the pain subsides after a minute or two. His fingers were tracing your face, it was so light you could hardly feel it. “You can start moving now,” He squeezed your hand as he pulled out of you, leaving only the tip in, only hurting a little. Ghost kept his eyes on yours, not looking away for even a second.

After a few thrusts, it started to feel good, really good. “Fuck, so fucking tight, sweetheart,” Gost grunted, your cunt gripped onto his dick tightly, not used to having something so big inside. The sound of skin slapping against each other filled your room. Ghost did his best to keep you as quiet as possible, not wanting to deal with people knowing about what was going on inside your room. You squeezed his hand, the other balling up in the sheets beside you. The stimulation almost felt like too much. Like you were on the edge of a cliff about to fall off.

Your back arched, the position causing Simon to go deeper. His cock pistoning in and out of you at a fast pace. You could feel his dick throbbing, he must be close too. “Oh fuck, Simon!” Your loud moans forced him to clamp his hand over your mouth. Loose enough so you could breathe but it muffled the loud noises you were making.

“I know sweetheart, I know, holy shit,” Simon looked down at your bodies and watched himself thrust in and out of you. When you looked down there was a thick white ring around the base of his cock, along with the print of his dick in your skin. He slowed down for a moment, watching how your body took him in. Each time he trusted inside of you a bulge would form.

At that sight you finally tipped over the edge, your orgasm gushing around his dick as he kept on fucking you, your vision went white and everything went blurry. You heard his moans as he released inside of you, making sure every drop of his cum stayed where it belonged.

Ghost slowly stopped his movements. You whimpered as he pulled out of you. You felt exhausted, all you wanted to do was curl up and pass out. Luckily for you, Simon flipped onto his back next to you, he gently moved you into his arms, stroking your hair and telling you how good you did for him. “You're not going to start ignoring me again are you?” you mumbled into his chest. His heartbeat was still beating fast.

“Never again Sweetheart.”

#cod mw #call of duty #modern warfare #ghost #simon riley #ghost mw2 #mw2 #ghost smut #simon riley smut #modern warfare 2 #reader smut #ghost x you

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pinguwrites · 24 days

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𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔' 𝑺𝒚𝒏𝒅𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒆 ⸻ Chapter One

series masterlist. next chapter

𝒑𝙖𝒊𝙧𝒊𝙣𝒈 | francis mosses x reader

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 1.5k

Warnings: none

A/N: I promise it'll get more exciting later lol

The elevator dinged, and your heart raced. It was dark out, and so the lobby was dimmed — that blue hue that came right before the sun’s rising. After peeking a small look to the side, you quickly went back to the newspaper you were reading, as if you hadn’t noticed the sound at all. Though you didn’t need to hear or see to know who it was. No one else in Sama Place got up this early, except perhaps for you. It was you and Francis Mosses, every day alone at five in the morning. Perfect, wasn’t it?

“Mornin’,” he said, tipping his hat slightly. It was white, with the words “MILKMAN” etched onto the front. If anything, that added detail made him look even more handsome — uniformed, well-put-together, with just a hint of authority. Everything you liked.

“Good morning, Francis,” you greeted, resting your elbows on the desk in front of you. Placing the newspaper aside, you focused your attention on him, but when he approached you, he took it between his fingers and flipped to the page you were at.

“Crossword? It’s a bit early for that,” he mused, eyeing all the columns and rows you filled in. It was a hard one, but nothing you couldn’t handle. Besides, what else were you supposed to do, stare at the wall waiting to say ‘hi’ to the next person who came by?

“I like puzzles, they get me thinking . . . you know, you should do something like this, too.” Francis furrowed his eyebrows, just slightly. “Not puzzles, necessarily. But a hobby.”

It just occurred to you at this very moment that he probably did have a hobby, but as someone who was just a doorwoman, you weren't privy to that information.

“I’m sure you do,” you added with a chuckle. “It’s only that I never see you doing anything but work. You’re so tired all the time. How much effort does being a milkman really require?”

He bit his lower lip. “More than you think. I used to get up at one.”

The idea that whatever company he was working for forced him to do this made you upset. Francis deserved nothing but freedom and long vacations and waking up to brunch, not whatever coffee he drank in the morning to get himself going.

“One?” you repeated, absolutely stunned. “Well, I’m glad you managed to change your shift. Most bosses I know aren’t flexible with that sort of stuff.”

“I was actually doing fine with my original hours. I just changed them because . . .”

“Because what?”

He thought for a moment, his cheeks dusted pink. “Wanted to enjoy the world a little. Can’t very well do that if you have to sleep at seven in the afternoon.” He paused. “I have to go, I’ll see you later tonight, ma’am.”

“Alright. Have a nice day, sir.”

You watched as he left, a longing gaze. In your mind, you imagined spending time with him, whether it be to see a movie or just walk around the city. You found that highly unlikely, though. Mostly because you could never bring yourself to ask him, and never thought he would ever ask you.

+++

“Really?” you said, a little disappointed. “I’d hate to see you go.”

Dr. William Afton shrugged, a grin across his lips. “I mean, it’s quite the modern idea, don’t you think? I think there ought to be more family restaurants out there. And with my engineering background, I think I’m just the right man to create something fun for children.”

“Your idea sounds like a science fiction novel,” you admitted, “but I like it. What does Mia think?”

“Oh, I had to convince her a little, but in the end, she’ll do as I say. Besides, we’re not moving very far. Just closer to the suburbs.”

You nodded. “I’ll miss you. Make sure to stop by again when you can.”

He agreed and went on his way to finish moving the rest of his belongings to his car. It was silly to want him to stay, but that was how it felt here. Everyone knew everyone, it was like a family. You’d made more friends here than you ever did before. Change wasn’t something you enjoyed.

+++

The day had passed by quickly. You took your lunch break and then went straight back to work. You made a few calls to make sure things were in order. If anything was wrong with the plumbing or if the wallpaper had chipped — things like that — it was your responsibility to fix it. Taking calls for potential renters, being in general a polite and pleasant person, it all came with your job.

It was unusual for a woman to hold this kind of position. Women barely worked at all. Most were housewives or teachers or secretaries. The fact that you even got this job at all was a miracle. And the fact that the people in this building were so pleasant was a blessing.

After your father died you thought everything was over. He left you a house, a small, one-story building with a nice lawn and a small backyard. It was closed off from the rest of the street, the way he liked it. Away from others, with his own peace. You supposed that trait passed down to you. Other than a simple conversation, you preferred to be by yourself rather than out with a large group of friends, partying at risqué clubs. Besides, even if you liked that kind of stuff, your father would never have approved.

You were dependent on him, right till the very end. Though you graduated from college, you didn’t know how to get a loan from a bank, drive a car, or even do your taxes. The easiest thing to do was to find a husband, but it was just so difficult. When you saw that sign outside of Sama saying ‘HIRING NOW’ you knew that was where you had to go. A new start. New opportunity. For the first time, you could make your own money, support yourself, and live the life you want.

You sighed, thinking about everything as you leaned back in your chair. The weather was hot today, so you set the fan beside your desk on. It was blowing through your hair, the coolness brushing against your skin with relief. It made your skirt rumple at the ends, but whenever it did that you just straightened it out, pulling it over your knees once more.

“Hey,” a voice said behind you.

Startled, you sat up straight, only to realize it was just Anastacha, the girl from the second floor. She lived with her mom, who was a cook at a restaurant, but apparently trying to make it as a chef. She had pigtails in her hair like always and was wearing a simple plaid dress.

“You scared me,” you said, tone both playful and scolding. “Don’t do that again.”

“Sorry,” she apologized, but she didn’t seem very sorry. “I need help with my homework. Mom says you had a good education, and that if I ever needed help I could just come to you.”

You smiled warmly. “Sure. Pull up that chair over there, and I’ll see what I can do.”

You looked through the folder. It was just basic algebra, nothing too difficult. You remembered doing this in middle school. For the next ten minutes, you both read through each problem and solved it together. She had a lot of questions — annoying ones — but it was fine. She was just a kid, and you were happy to help.

Just as you were explaining the last part to her, the front door opened.

It was Francis.

Distracted, you glanced up and down his body. Was it odd that you found him the most beautiful man ever? His long, Roman nose, and his smooth, pale skin. The way the veins in his hands flexed every time he moved them, the light blue dress shirt that hugged his slim, muscled arms, and that dark, tousled hair, widow’s peak dipped in the middle of his forehead.

He passed by you with a short nod. It almost hurt that he didn’t bother to stay longer, but you could see the bags under his eyes and his sluggish movements. He was tired. And to be fair, so were you.

When the elevator door closed, Anastacha exclaimed, “Oh, he likes you!”

“Shh!” You didn’t need people hearing that. “He does not. Do you want to finish this or not?”

“He does,” she insisted with a giggle. “You saw the way he looked at you?”

“You can’t determine things based on a single look.”

“Yes, I can. Mr. Mosses is nice, but he kind of just ignores everyone. He doesn’t do that with you.”

The thought that Francis may like you was an intoxicating one. He was just a man, one that you never exchanged many words with, yet he managed to make you feel all sorts of ways. Was it possible that Anastacha was right? That he really did like you?

“I bet you like him, too.”

You glared at her. You did not need Anastacha spreading rumors about how you were in love with the milkman, however true that may be.

“No, I don’t. Focus.” You pointed the pencil back at her homework. “Now, in order to find x, you have to subtract . . . . . .”

Taglist: @Meetmeatyourworst @hanawrites404 @Emimurphy2008

#francis mosses #francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #francis mosses x y/n #pinguwrites #that's not my neighbor #fanfiction #lovers' syndrome

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spacerockfloater · 13 days

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Me watching Feyre convince herself that Tamlin is a disgusting monster who only used her to get his power back and then stopped caring for her the moment she became his because he was some selfish lunatic who wanted to keep her as his useless plaything the more time she spends with Rhysand and his Inner Court:

Tamlin. The guy who helped her family even if he only needed Feyre. The guy who had to watch the love of his life die screaming in pain as Amarantha broke every bone in her body. The guy who crawled in front of Amarantha and begged her to spare her while his own blood drowned him. The guy who slept at Feyre’s feet each night out of paranoia that something would happen to her, not him. The guy who let Feyre roam his court and help whomever she wants until she found out that these people had their own healing to do and the help they actually needed, looking up to someone, was not something she wanted to offer. The guy who had to watch her reject him publicly by hesitating at the altar and never even mentioned it because he didn’t want to embarrass or upset her. The guy who had to watch her get abducted every month by his nemesis, a known masochist. The guy who waited and gave her space. The guy who was searching for a way to break the bond all of these months even though she furiously blamed him that he was not doing enough to cancel her bargain with Rhys, a bargain she willingly made and was responsible for. The guy who was willing to let her go even if it meant condemning an entire world. The guy who launched himself at Hybern to save her sisters.

And he’s crazy because he wanted to keep her safe in their fucking palace for one evening?

Reading Feyre’s narrative after she started hanging out with the people of the Night Court made my skin crawl. I kept gripping the book furiously and mentally telling her “Wait, that’s not what fucking happened” every time she spoke about Tamlin. It was horrifying because this is exactly what I always imagined people who abandon you do: leave you and then tell people their own, made up version of events.

Watching her stop speaking about him with love and slowly paint him as her tormentor was like watching a train wreck you couldn’t prevent:

- I love Tamlin and he loves me and we have sacrificed so much for one another.

- I love Tamlin and both of us are dealing with a lot right now, but we’re trying and we’ll make it.

- Tamlin loved me and he made some wrong decisions but I still feel like I’m cheating on him.

- Tamlin’s actions were wrong and I hope we’ll sort things out once we all calm down.

- Tamlin gave me everything but he still made some wrong decisions.

- Tamlin really cared for me but I don’t need what he has to offer me anymore.

- Tamlin was right about my safety after all but I have decided I don’t care and don’t forgive him.

- Tamlin only wanted me because I was useful and then stopped caring for me.

- Tamlin is a selfish prick who used me and then tossed me aside and wanted me to be his stupid ignorant pet and he didn’t give a fuck about me and I hate him and want him to die.

Feyre. Feyre. FEYRE. Wake up. None of this is true. You’re spiralling and you’re blaming him for every little thing he ever did that slightly inconvenienced you while you forgive and justify each and every one of Rhysand’s horrendous crimes against you, all of his countless lies, all of his manipulation.

I think she just never loved Tamlin and that’s why it was easier to hate him.

#anti feyre archeron #pro tamlin #tamlin acotar #tamlin week #tamlin week 2024 #anti rhysand #acotar critical #acotar #anti sjm

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bonny-kookoo · 8 months

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Yoonkook x Reader

Touch-Starved [Main Story]

Yoongi has a crush on you, but is convinced you're not interested in him. You have a crush on Yoongi, but are sure that he'd never like you if he knew your secret. Jungkook has a crush on you but won't admit it to anyone, and you have a crush on Jungkook, but you think you know that he'd never see you as a possible partner, because he knows your secret. It's all just such a mess. How could you ever sort this out?

Tags/Warnings: Wolf!Bangtan, Wolf!Jungkook, Wolf!Yoongi, Dog!Reader, Puppy!Reader, DDLG aspects and themes, no judgement allowed here, non-sexual regression!!!, none of those themes are sexualized in this work, hurt and comfort, major fluff but also lots of angst and insecurity, friends to lovers

Length: idk long didn't count

-> Masterlist

There is no taglist for this fic.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Yoongi is not good at things like affection, or relationships at that.

He easily turns red as bright as a spanked ass whenever he has to try and compliment someone he's even just remotely romantically interested in, or he will otherwise simply not find the courage to do it at all. Backhanded compliments are a regular thing with him, his character not allowing him to show someone he cares without implying that he doesn't- a trait that he hates about himself.

He'd learned it from his father, making him even more upset since he never really got along well with that man in the first place. Yet the more he thinks about it, the more it seems like his family history will just repeat itself, and he will find himself in a marriage simply created because of convenience, not love.

He cringes at that, throwing the rest of his sandwich away. His appetite has been long gone anyways.

The reason of his foul mood is in the dorm currently, sitting comfortably on the couch playfully wrestling with Jungkook over a pack of chips he can't identify from his spot.

He hates Jungkook sometimes.

He's always pictured as a shy boy, yet he's actually the exact opposite - easily likable, charming, and most of all- he's your age. The maknae and you are merely half a year apart in age, and he can see why you get along with him. He is a nice person, with his bright smile and large eyes, talented, strong, and likes video games as much as you do.

Yoongi himself does play some games to a small extend, however, he rather buries himself in his work, losing sense of time whenever music is involved.

Overly confident is not how he would describe you- you are simply uncaring of trends of the masses. You don't crave to stand out like Taehyung does, you rather enjoy simply living for yourself and what makes you happy no matter what people would think of your 'goals'. You love stuffed animals and soft colorful things no matter how childish it might make you look. You rarely take selfies of yourself, and never really pose much in images- you just smile, simple as that.

God that smile. If there is an emotion for hate and love at the same time, he is constantly feeling it when it comes to you.

Yoongi wants to be close to you as well, maybe even the closest if he is honest, yet he doesn't know how the hell he is supposed to do that. You both rarely text- he is too unsure if he can, since he is only in a groupchat with you, and only got your ID from Hoseok, who gave it to him in case Yoongi needs to text you something important. You rarely visit him in his studio, but then again, he never told you you'd be welcome anytime. Every small thing he does for you he either brushes it off as nothing speci¹al, or sometimes even tells you that he didn't do it, but one of his members, claiming that he has no Idea what you are talking about. You also show absolutely no interest in him whatsoever.

Which makes his embarrassing crush on you all the more awkward.

He's Min Yoongi for god's sake! He could have anyone if he really tried, if just for his fame and wealth and status as a full blooded Wolf-Hybrid coming from a 'clean' bloodline- yet he is stuck with you, the tiny dog hybrid who sees him as a friend only- if even that at all.

"Yoongi! Finally leaving your wife in there to join us in being social for once?" Seokjin remarks with his signature laugh following, making you chuckle as well.

"Don't be mean Jin." You softly scold the oldest. "Yoongs works hard in there." You look over your shoulder, one of your floppy ears unfolding while you smile that goddamn smile at him- not huge, not a smirk, simply a nice friendly gesture towards him, curled tail wagging a little.

The nickname doesn't make it better.

He hates nicknames, however, he could definitely keep living with your cute versions of his first name any day of the week. He wants to answer you, give you a verbal response, yet all he can bring himself to do is a shrug of his shoulders.

What the fuck.

But you only playfully hold your heart, falling into Jungkooks lap with a dramatic sigh. "Ah, always so cold-!" Which makes the guys laugh, and himself involuntarily smile to himself. He sits down, managing to actually place his ass next to you on the couch without instantly retreating for once. You bravely put your legs over his lap, and his mind is beginning to form the same amount of error messages like his PC system the last time he spilled his iced americano over his MIDI-board.

Yet he only grunts on the outside, and takes his phone out to search for something.

You chuckle, mumbling a sorry under your breath and move to slide your legs off of him again, but his unused hand stops them, shifting them back. His fingers are touching the small patch of bare skin on your calf between your leggings and fluffy sock that had slid down a little- and he has to use all of his self-control not to burst into flames.

He's never really had any very close contact with you, and always imagined what your skin may feel like- as creepy as that sounds. The smile he can see you forming from the side of his view makes him relax, as well- the first sign spotted that he might have some sort of effect on you. Taehyung makes a noise, but is silenced by namjoon who pulls him into a conversation to avoid embarrassing the producer, well aware of his own personal dilemma with you. He is the only one who really knows of his feelings towards you- having told yoongi that you actually feel the same way, yet a bit different. You are, according to namjoon, scared to overstep boundaries with Yoongi, worried that he may snap at you like he did a few months back.

There's that certain feeling whenever you do something stupid and then want to apologize, but you miss the chance and now weeks after it's just awkward, so you don't mention it, while also having to deal with the consequences daily.

Yeah. He still thinks of that moment he'd yelled at you sometimes at the most random of times, cringing internally at it. He'd been stressed with the new Album he wanted to put out, having been stuck on one song, and you had just turned up at the wrong time. You didn't cry or anything like that, you simply apologized for opening his studio without knocking, and left with your tail tucked between your legs. Since then however you'd become a bit more distant with him, more careful, and less touchy than you were with the rest of the pack.

He knows you're a sucker for skinship and cuddling, especially as a dog hybrid who's grown up in a carecenter between many other hybrids, yet you also respect if someone wants space. He loves how much attention you pay to your surroundings, eyes always wide open- you remember things for a long time, and you are able to keep track of so many things at once- yet he's also seen your apartment, a glimpse of your more raw personal side that you tend to keep close to yourself. You're a chaotic person, and he doesn't know how you find anything on that desk of yours.

You struggle to keep track of chores and your own health sometimes, yet you try hard, he knows that. And that makes him feel such an extreme need to make sure you're always happy and taken care of, that he's the one to take care of you.

"Oh, YOONGI!" You suddenly gasp at him, and he raises his eyebrows, looking at you as you move around a bit, your hands searching in your sweater pocket for something. "I actually cleaned up my apartment yesterday, and I found this. I think I borrowed it sometime ago, but lost it- sorry for that again by the way, won't happen again I promise!" You say, showing him a black and silver USB stick, your curly tail wagging in excitement.

You're right, that is his. He actually had forgotten about it.

"Took you long enough." He simply says and takes it from you to put it in his own pocket, seconds later cringing at his sentence. He could've definitely phrased that better, or maybe even simply thank you for giving it back even after all this time. Yet the timeframe of saying thank you without making it seem weird or out of place is already overstepped now, so he has to suffer.

Jungkook chimes in instead.

"I helped her get some order back into that place. Poor puppy had been so stressed with work that she couldnt keep up anymore." He says, laughing along with you, and Yoongi lets a chuckle of his own slip. But instead of telling you what a good job you did, or any praise he really wants to tell you, he only pats your leg gently two times, running his thumb over your calf for a second, internally imprinting into his mind how soft your skin is.

You however beam at this, visibly feeding off of his small gesture like a touch starved pet- and he can't help but find it cute.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

A knock on his door makes him look at it, giving a verbal response in a low "Hm?", as he hears your voice from behind it.

You're not really saying anything, just a sound of confusion and discomfort escaping you from behind the door, and he can slowly hear your slippers softly moving away, when he gets up from his chair to open his door to see you stop to look at him. You're standing in front of him with wide eyes and lowered ears, one of them being pulled on by your hand as he can hear the rest of the pack laughing in the main living room of the dorm. He chuckles at that, waving you into his studio, making him and yourself smile. You thank him somewhat quietly, and go to sit down on his small couch he has inside his studio, laying down so your feet still touched the ground as to not overstep any unspoken rules he might have.

Yoongi however walks up to you, and puts your feet up for you, grabbing a spare blanket from besides the couch, something he always kept here since he sleeps in his studio quite often. You thank him quietly for that, the soft buzzing of his studio PC and the nice air conditioning already helping your fuzzy head a lot.

Jumping over your shadow and coming here was a good idea after all, it seems like.

Yoongi sympathizes with you when it comes to headaches- and it's clear from your behavior that you probably have one, which could also explain why you don't really talk, since it probably hurts. Due to the fact that he seems to solely survive off of caffeine and a cup of instant ramen smashed in between his busy schedule, he gets them more often than he would like to admit. Yet he also remembers how you'd told him once how easily your headaches evolved into migraines if you weren't careful, so he is mindful to help you in avoiding that this time. He digs around in his mind for any small excuse to talk to you, yet ultimately decides against it, thinking it would probably be better for you to have as much silence as possible.

He wonders what your secret is.

Namjoon had mentioned something you kept secret 'for a reason', but he wouldn't tell the producer what it could be, not even a hint. You hopefully know that nothing could ever really make Yoongi see you any different than he does right now.

Except maybe murder- but he doubts that that's what you're hiding.

He also knows that Jungkook is aware of it too. Maybe you both are a couple? He does sleep over sometimes after all, seems to be awfully good with calming you down whenever you're anxious or panicking. It's like the young wolf is aware or something Yoongi isn't, able to manage you when you're becoming restless about things.

Another knock is heard. Yoongi attempts to call out- but gets up to walk to the door instead so he won't shout and worsen your headache. It's Jungkook- because of course it is.

"Hey- is- oh, there she is. I was wondering where she went " jungkook says, entering after the rapper walks aside, silently giving him permission to come in. "Hey- everything okay?" Jungkook wonders softly to you, and you quietly shake your head, whining slightly to yourself before you pull down your ears once more over your eyes, clearly signaling your headache to him as well. "I told you to drink more, puppy. Come on, let's get you home." He gently says, helping you sit up.

"She can just nap here, I don't mind." Yoongi offers- but there's something in Jungkook's eyes that seems oddly suspicious as he looks for an answer inside his head it seems like.

"Ah, I'll rather take her home, but thanks hyung." He tells him, averting his gaze as he instead occupies himself with you who's silently reaching out for him, clinging onto him as he picks you up, showing clearly how used to it both of you are. Jungkook holds you almost effortlessly, while you're instinctively laying your head on his shoulder, arms around his neck.

Yeah, you're probably a couple, and you just don't want to say it out loud.

"You know, you could just tell everyone." Yoongi grumbles more or less as he opens the door for the two of you, Jungkooks wide eyes looking at him. "No one's gonna get mad or something if you told them." He shrugs, and Jungkook looks around for a second, on edge. "You're together, right?" He asks, and Jungkook shakes his head- though with a hint of shyness in his face.

"Ah no- hyung.." He sighs. "I'll- she'll explain when she's ready okay?" He says, as you whine into his neck. "I have to bring her home now- thanks for looking after her!" He says already walking away-

leaving Yoongi confused.

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Jungkook honestly wishes you and him were a couple.

But life doesn't work like this, and sadly, you're not into him like that. You see him as a comfort person, a packmate and a friend- but nothing more than that. He remembers when he first 'caught' you in the midst of regressing in your home-

the whole apartment a mess, cluttered and absolutely disorganized.

You're one of only three percent of dog hybrids that fall into a different headspace when stressed or overwhelmed. It's not something you can control, and neither is it a trauma response- it's just nature playing a cruel joke on you, making your mind shut down to a certain degree to protect you. It's like your brain is overprotective- trying to shield you from all potential mental harm.

But all of that comes with a lot of issues and troubles, such as difficulty holding a job, or simple things such as keeping your apartment clean.

Jungkook remembers how terrified you were of him finding you in your messy apartment- having had to calm you down for a good hour or so before he could even attempt at helping you clean up and take care of your needs. He's not sure why you're so adamant on hiding it from the rest of the pack- but he's got an idea.

Dog hybrids with your condition are alienated, isolated, judged terribly. And you're probably terrified of being cast out of the pack for it, leaving you alone and without anybody.

Your personal nightmare.

So he just instead has decided to take care of you, and wait until you feel ready to tell someone else. You deserve happiness and the feeling of safety and comfort, but he can also understand that you're worried of how it'll be taken by the rest of the guys.

And yeah, he also gets to be a little selfish himself when he's got time with you like this. He gets to live out a little dream here and there, where you're actually his to love. Because he does love you, to the moon and back- and he knows his heart will surely break a little one day when you find someone to give your own heart to, instead of him.

So he takes these moments for himself, and enjoys those daydreams for now, until he has to wake up.

"There we go, that's already better isn't it?" Jungkook hums after he'd taken out your hairtie, fingers massaging the spot where it had been pressing against your scalp for the past few hours. You hum in agreement, nodding against his shoulder while you move a bit to get comfortable on his thighs.

You don't even know that you almost exposed your secret to Yoongi of all people- the one wolf of the pack you've got a crush on.

Everyone kind of knows it, everyone also knows about his crush on you as well- though you seem rather talented in finding excuse after excuse as to why that can't be true. Jungkook knows your main fear is what you're right now- and that Yoongi could find you appalling, or childish, or anything else negative that could come to your mind.

And Jungkook can't say he doesn't understand your fear- because he does.

"You're gonna get all stiff if you nap like that." Jungkook chuckles, patting your back a little, making your curled tail wag happily. "Don't be a brat now. Come on, we'll take a nap on the couch, yeah?" He hums. You whine. "No? Not a nap?" He wonders, but you nod now. "Okay, yes to a nap, no to the couch?" He navigates, laughing when you nod now, tail wagging. "Puppy if we nap in bed you'll sleep for hours though." He sighs.

But you simply wiggle out of his lap, before you run to the bedroom-

The wolf hot on your heels, when your doorbell rings.

When Jungkook opens the door, it's Yoongi- the producer holding up a jacket. "She left it at the dorm." He informs Jungkook, who reaches out to take it- though Yoongi holds it back. "I'd like to give it to her myself-"

"You can't." The younger wolf denies, panicking a little when he hears something jingle, and feels the toy hit his back softly, fabric ball tumbling to the ground, bell inside the cotton filling the cause of the noise. Jungkook closes the door a bit more now to keep you out of sight. "Just- uh, she'll grab it tomorrow-"

"Her phone and purse are in the pockets." Yoongi says. "I'm sure she'd like it back right now." He challenges, and Jungkook can feel himself squirm uncomfortably under the strong gaze of his packmate, having to avert his gaze. "What's really going on?" Yoongi asks, as the toy hits Jungkook's back again.

"Look, this is really bad timing right now-" Jungkook whines as he kicks the toy back with his food go occupy you at least for just a second to give himself more time to think of an excuse. "-She's.. not feeling well right now." He tries to justify.

"Jungkook you're not being very convincing right now." Yoongi sighs. "What the fuck is going on? Does she hate me?"

"NO!" Jungkook barks, before he pinches the bridge of his nose. "Ah.. God, fuck, alright." He sighs, defeated, letting the door slowly open more, while he turns around to throw the soft fabric ball towards where you sit on the floor, toy flying over your head, making you flop onto your back as you try to catch it.

You don't even realize it's Yoongi who's now in the doorway whole Jungkook sits in front of you to start a game of tug-of-war with the soft llushy toy with you, successfully pulling your attention away from the producer who just silently enters the apartment, and closes the door behind him before he hangs up your coat.

It takes him one good look to realize what's going on.

The hazy look in your eyes. The way you don't even greet him, rather occupied with the game Jungkook plays with you. Your almost clumsy way of movement.

"So that's the secret?" Yoongi hums as he sits down near his packmate, watching you with an unreadable expression.

Jungkook nods. "She's scared of anyone finding out." He reveals, while he watches you now nibbling on his finger instead of the toy, before you yawn.

"Why?" Yoongi wonders. "It's not like it's her fault or choice." He mumbles.

"Yeah, I know." Jungkook shrugs. "But I get it, you know? You hear horror stories about it all the time. Friends and family being weirded out and stuff." He explains, and Yoongi grows quiet.

It really is understandable.

"So that's why you sleep over so much?" He asks, and the younger wolf nods.

"She used to be triggered easily since she didn't have a person to rely on." He explains. "But when I took on that.. role, I guess, she became more stable. It doesn't happen so randomly anymore, she's got more control over it. Today was just a bad day I guess." He shrugs.

"She must be tough to handle." Yoongi mumbles.

"Not really." Jungkook denies. "She's very sweet. The beginning was hard, yeah, but mostly because I didn't know what to do. These days it's become easier." He nods to himself, though Yoongi doesn't miss the look on his friend's face.

"You love her." He states.

And Jungkook only nods.

"I do." He agrees. "It's hard not to."

Yoongi hums in agreement, and Jungkook wants to be swallowed by the ground. Now that the producer knows, he'll take over the care of you- you'll grow closer, emotionally and physically, and you'll no longer need Jungkook to care for you.

His dream is ending, and he hates it.

"She loves you too." Yoongi offers. Jungkook laughs a little.

"Situationally, yeah." He nods.

"No, in general." Yoongi argues, but he can't seem to push through the thoughts of Jungkooks mind, the wolf having already decided his stance on things. "Jungkook.."

"You'll take good care of her, right?" He asks, looking at his packmate with round eyes that try hard not to let any tears fall. "You'll make sure she doesn't have to.. feel ashamed, or bad, right?"

"I'm not taking her away from you." Yoongi shakes his head, and Jungkook nods.

"I know you're not." He says, trying hard to keep it together even as you crawl into his lap to comfort him, sensing his distress.

"She was never mine to begin with."

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You're absolutely mortified when you're informed of what happened- or rather when you connected the dots yourself, after waking from your nap with both wolves next to you in bed.

One look exchanged with Jungkook signals to him that you've pulled yourself out of your headspace- body shaking now with the overwhelming sense of shame you're feeling as Yoongi sits up now as well to look at you with a sense of worry.

"Hey, it's fine." Jungkook reassures easily. "He doesn't hate you or anything, he's cool with it."

"Oh god this is so weird.." you hide your face in your hands, embarrassed by the events unfolding like this.

"Its not. It makes sense, really." Yoongi shrugs. "So this is why you don't want to move into the pack dorm with us?" He wonders, and you nod.

"Its weird. You can say that, I know myself that it is." You sigh.

"You're not weird." Jungkook shakes his head, taking your hand to reassure you. "Promise."

"I agree. This isn't weird, it's something that happens to some." He shrugs. "I still like you." He says without thinking, as you slowly look at him.

"You.. do?" You wonder, and he nods.

"Very much." He smiles a bit awkwardly, when Jungkook let's go of your hand, clearing his throat.

"I'll.. I'll see myself out then." He mumbles, and at that your head snaps towards him.

No- he can't leave like that. Yoongi might've..somewhat confessed, but you still need him. You still want him here.

Wait.

If Yoongi likes you, and toy like him back, and that leads to you Noth becoming partners, that's great. But if that means you can't have Jungkook, you don't want it. You need jungkook.

You love jungkook, too.

"Hey, Yoongi will stay with you, you're not alone anymore-" He tries to settle your clearly bubbling panic, but its to no avail. Your head is filled with the fact that Jungkook wants to leave, and you don't want that.

You want both. Why can't they both stay?

Your cheeks are wet with tears as your puppy-mind refuses to accept the situation. You've slipped right back again, as you make jungkook hold yoongis hand, before you yourself hold onto them, stubbornly holding onto their connected hands, before you lay down on them, eyes closed and ears pinned back.

"I uh.." Jungkook stampers a big awkwardly, attempt at pulling his hand away responded to with a low growl from you, eyes glaring.

"Seems like we'll have to share." Yoongi teases surprisingly, catching the younger wolf off guard as hemeeys the older one's gaze.

"I mean- uh-" he stammers, unsure. "Is that.. will that even work out?" He worries, while you happily fall asleep hiding both their hands.

"Guess we'll have to find out." Yoongi shrugs, laying down again next to you, Jungkook slowly doing the same a few seconds later.

Looks like his dream didn't end after all-

Maybe it just begun.

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