#the longer I look at the stump the more I see

[aerynwrites]

Longing

Halsin x Fem!Reader

A/N: I have been burning with an intense CRAVING for Halsin and there is such little fic about him (although there are some good ones out there 👀) so I had to do my part and add to the pool 😏 hope y’all enjoy!

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, reader is insecure about her virginity, talks of inexperience, love confessions, Halsin is a sweetheart, references to NSFW content. Very very minor spoilers for act 2.

Part 2

The fur of the rabbit is soft between your fingers as you prepare it. Yet, despite having a knife in your other hand and your task being a delicate one, you can’t seem to focus.

Your eyes keep drifting back to the druid across camp chopping wood for the fire. The axe is a large one, heavy - heavier than you’d be able to lift. Yet the large elf manages to bring it up above his head and swing it back down with a grace you never understood how he possessed.

The muscles in his shoulders ripple with each movement, accompanying the rythmic thump of the axe through wood. His soft grunts as he pulls it from the stump he’s using before placing the next log onto the surface and starting the process all over again.

“The rabbit is already dead, darling.”

The familiar voice rips you from your staring as your head whips around to see none other than your vampiric companion standing over you, a smirk tugging at his lips. You huff at him before looking down to the rabbit by your knees and heat rushes to your cheeks. What should have been a simple skinning job to get the meat ready for dinner has turned into a mess. Cuts in the wrong places, the hide nowhere near usable anymore.

You look back up just in time to see Astarions red eyes go from you, to Halsin, then back again. His smile grows. He shifts his feet, one arm resting across his chest as he gestures with his other to Halsin.

“You know, you could paint a portrait. It would last longer.”

Your cheeks somehow get even hotter, as you turn back to the rabbit in front of you, doing a much better job than earlier.

“Leave me alone, Astarion,” you mumble, cursing internally when the elf lowers himself to the ground beside you, arms resting on his knees.

“And why would I do that, when teasing you gives me so much joy?”

You can’t stop the small smile that tugs at your lips. “Okay, well you got me all flustered. So now that’s out of the way, did you need something or did you really interrupt your reading to bother me?”

The vampire sighs, leaning back on his hands as he looks over to you. “What I need is for you to finally jump that druids bones.”

You nearly choke as the words leave his lips, looking around to see if anyone heard and feeling heat creep up your neck once more as you see Shadowheart failing to hide a chuckle.

You turn to face your friend, eyes narrowed. “Could you be a little more quiet? I don’t need the whole camp hearing you.”

Astarion laughs this time, loudly, and it draws more glances than you’d like. You roughly shove the man next to you before he can speak.

“Your next words better be a whisper or I’m going to stab you ” you threaten, poking the knife in his direction.

Astarion places a hand over his heart, faux hurt in his eyes. “You wound me, darling. I’m just trying to help you. Plus,” he gestures to the camp, “it’s not like your attraction is a secret, nor Halsin’s.”

You shake your head turning back to grab another rabbit, embarrassment welling up in your chest. “He doesn’t…” you trail off, getting defensive. “Nothing’s there, Astarion. So can we please just drop it?”

Of course, he doesn’t.

“Look,” he starts, “all I’m trying to say is that neither of you are benefiting from holding back so…indulge, for once. Gods know we all deserve it.”

You ignore him. Curling in on yourself at the mention of…indulging. There nothing wrong with it of course. Everyone at camp has blown off steam along this adventure. Just…not you.

And the vampire must be able to tell too, because at your silence he straightens up, brows pinching in the rare way that shows he’s concerned.

“Wait, have you never…?” he gestures vaguely in the air.

His words, despite their genuine curiosity, strike a chord in you. You stand abruptly, tossing your work to the ground and stabbing your knife in the dirt.

“No I haven’t. Not that it’s any of your business.” Your words are louder than you intended and draw the eyes and ears of your other companions.

Astarion softens, obviously not expecting this reaction. “I didn’t mean to upset you-“

You clench your fists at your sides, interrupting him. “You never mean to Astarion but -“ You cut yourself off, taking a deep breath. “You’re such an ass sometimes.”

You turn on your heel and storm from camp before anyone can stop you, ignoring the concerned gaze of a certain druid.

———

The water is cool against your skin as you squat by the stream’s edge, rubbing at your hands as you try to get the blood off of them.

You feel foolish now, storming off like that. But Astarion pointing out your inexperience just struck you. It’s not something that’s ever bothered you before. Especially not in recent months since dealing with the tadpole. You all have more important things to worry about.

But the moment you rescued Halsin…it’s like something changed. You were instantly drawn to him. His kind smile and thoughtful words. His care for everyone and everything in nature.

And he flirted with you.

The memory is still fresh in your mind. The night of the tiefling party after you had stopped the ritual at the druid camp and saved Halsin. You were worried you were talking his ear off, but he was attentive the whole conversation. Answering your questions and asking some about you.

Then he said those honeyed words. Suggested celebrating by spending the night with someone special. Implied he would spend it with you if his mind wasn’t elsewhere.

You withdraw your hands from the water to drag them down your face as more memories surface.

More flirtatious banter and kind words. Thoughtful conversations and fighting side by side. The night sat by your bedside nursing you back to health after a particularly nasty fight. After Ketheric Thorm almost took you out.

Your side still aches with the memory. But the thought of his hands with their soothing healing glow, makes the ache subside.

You sigh, sitting back into the grass as your eyes lock onto the slowly gurgling stream, Astarion words playing over and over in your head.

Indulge, for once.

You want to. Gods do you want that.

You’ve spent many sleepless nights thinking about it. About his lips against yours, his hands on your skin, the sweet words he’d no doubt whisper against your ear.

You shudder at the thought before shoving it away. Because any time he hinted at that - showed any interest in you - you would be so elated before insecurity took over.

Halsin’s views on love and intimacy are no secret. You’d asked him once about current lovers and while he did confide no one currently held his affections back home he also expressed that there were others in the past.

Others. Plural.

And you’ve never been with anyone. Not physically or emotionally, you’ve never trusted anyone enough.

Not until now.

You sigh, frustration creeping back in as you press the heels of your palms into your eyes before quickly standing up. You need to apologize to Astarion and finally, maybe, talk to Halsin.

You turn on your heel to do just that when you run straight into a solid mass. You gasp, stumbling backwards just as two strong hands reach out to steady you, gripping your wrists firmly.

Once steady, you look up to see none other than the man haunting your thoughts smiling down at you.

“You must have been very deep in thought for someone like me to sneak up on you, little one.”

You have to suppress a shiver at the nickname. A moniker he’d given you since you teased him about his size at the beginning of your friendship.

You shake your head, moving to step away and only stopping when his hands let go only to slip down and take your own gently.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. “I was just…thinking.”

Halsin stares at you for a moment, a thoughtful look on his face before he steps away, gesturing down the first path, one hand still in your own.

“Walk with me?” he asks. “I know being in nature helps me clear my head of even the darkest thoughts.”

You give a hesitant nod and follow him as he turns towards the path, not able to stop the smile when he doesn’t drop your hand.

———

The walk is mostly silent, a comfortable silence, but silent nonetheless. And you are grateful for it, not sure what you would say if Halsin were to ask what has you so upset.

But, silence can’t last forever it seems, because eventually the large Druid breaks through the sounds of nature surrounding you to speak.

“I overheard your conversation with Astarion,” he says, voice gentle. Probing, but not not forcing you to talk if you do not wish.

You stiffen, your pace slowing slightly, wanting to pull away from the man at your side. But his sure grip on your hand keeps you in place. The warmth of his skin on yours puts you slightly at ease.

“You…you heard that?” you ask, cringing internally. “You were across camp.”

The druid chuckles, gesturing to his ears with his free hand. “One of the curses of us elves. Impeccable hearing. Even when we don’t wish for it.”

You can feel your shoulders creeping up to your ears. Embarrassment settling in once more. “You were listening to us? To me?”

Halsin shrugs. “Not intentionally,” he admits, slowing his steps until you’re both stopped and he’s facing you. “But I find my attention turning towards you more often than not these days.”

His words tie your tongue and before you can gather enough sense to respond he continues.

“Nature works in mysterious ways, little one,” he tells you, eyes never leaving your face. “There is no one way to traverse it, and others journey do not define your own. Each one is unique, as it is intended.”

His words are beautifully woven, as always. And despite his cryptic deliverance, you know the meaning behind his words.

He’s comforting you. And once again, he speaks before you can detangle the jumble of thoughts in your head.

“And,” he reaches out, placing a curled finger beneath your chin to urge you to look up at him, “if it’s any encouragement, I seek you out as much as you do me. Possibly more so.”

Your eyes widen, heart stuttering in your chest at his words. He…does he feel the same way? Rationally you know he does. But that ever familiar self doubt, the tiny voice in your mind has always brushed away the flirting - the kind words and gentle touches as just part of his nature. None of it is reserved just for you.

Right?

Halsin smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners gently as he looks down at you. “Is that really such an outlandish thought? That I return your affections?” He pauses, “unless my heart has run ahead of itself and I have misread-“

You stop him then, reaching up to place a staying hand on his own beneath your chin.

“No! You haven’t…you haven’t misread,” you assure him, trying to still your racing heart.

His smile never falters, his other hand finally coming up to cradle the back of your head, teasing soft strands of hair between his fingers.

“That is good to hear,” he says, pulling you ever closer, his nose almost brushing yours, “it puts this old druid's mind at rest.”

Gods, you can’t breathe. The air in your lungs refusing to expel as he lean even closer, lips a hairbreadth away from your own. Your body sings with anticipation, your skin hot despite the cool air ushered in by the sun sinking below the horizon, the days last rays barely filtering through the trees.

“Can I kiss you, my heart?”

Halsins words are soft, barley a whisper and nearly drowned out by the sounds of nature around you and the roaring of blood in your ears.

You nod. “Please-“

The word barely passes your lips before he descends upon you, sealing his mouth with your own.

It’s both everything you expected and completely surprising at the same time. His hands are sure as he pulls you into him, one hand still cradling your head as the other slips down to your hip before wrapping around your waist. Yet his lips, the kiss itself is…soft. Gentle. Loving. The action speaks louder than any words either of you have said to one another. Louder than the words you never worked up the courage to speak.

Finally, your mind catches up with you, and your hands slide up his chest to clutch tentatively at his shoulders.

Halsins still hasn’t broken away from you, and when his tongue brushes against your lips you let him in. You tug him closer then, one of your hands sliding up to rest at the back of his neck eliminating any empty space between you as his tongue slides against your own.

He only pulls away when he must sense your need for air, but he doesn’t go far, lips pressing gently to the corner of your own, and then another to your jaw.

You’re breathless.

Chest heaving against him, as he pulls away just enough to look at you once more.

“As much as I’d love to continue…” his hand squeezes your hip gently, “we should make our way back to camp. I can imagine our absence as stirred gossip with our vampiric companion and..” he sighs, pressing another soft kiss to your lips. “I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

You can’t surprise the shiver that runs down your spine, or the smile that tugs at your lips.

“I’m…I’m okay being overwhelmed if it’s like that,” you tell him breathlessly.

Halsin laughs, a deep down genuine laugh that makes your heart sing even as he steps away from you.

“Then I will overwhelm you in all the ways I know how.” He promises, eyes trailing over you heatedly.

Your stomach does a flip at his words, and the effect they have on you must show on your face because Halsin chuckles again, leaning in to press one last kiss to your cheek before tugging you back in the direction towards camp.

“Another night, my heart,” he says, thumb brushing over your knuckles from where your hand remains in his own.

You let out a shaky breath, and nod, smiling as you walk closer to him. “I’m holding you to that.”

“I hope you would, though I doubt I will forget such a promise,” he assures before letting silence blanket you both one more.

You can’t stop the thrill that runs through you at his words.

Yes, I’ll hold you to that promise indeed.

#halsin x reader #bg3 x reader #bg3 Halsin #Halsin #baldurs gate Halsin #baldurs gate 3

[abbyscherry]

just a lil nerdy!abby x reader x ellie brain rot. 18+

nerdy!abby who somehow forgot you were deeply involved with someone already and can’t seem to focus on anything but the sound of your sweet little moans and the way your back arches as Ellie drags her lips across your neck, fingers pinching and slightly twisting your hardened nipples, evident through your thin cotton t-shirt.

You invited her here to study but that suddenly went out the window when Ellie turned up, forgetting all about your cute little study date with several rolled blunts in her hand, and eyes slightly pink from already smoking one of them before she left her dorm. She hadn’t meant to interrupt something you obviously told her about, but seeing the way Abby’s eyes widen at the sight of her walking into your bedroom, books open and scattered in random places on your bed, had her chuckling.

“aren’t you supposed to be studying?” Ellie mumbles, lips still glued to your skin but her eyes locking with the blonde who was hunched over one of her many books, glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose, “think your friend likes watching, pretty girl”

Giggling softly, you shove your girlfriend with your shoulder, eyes flickering between the two women. “She’s just nervous around new people Els, and you’re staring at her like you wanna either be her friend or shout at her, i wouldn’t blame her for being nervous” you mumble, smiling shyly when the blonde looks over at you again.

“Nervous?” Ellie scoffs, hand landing on the meat of your thigh, squeezing with a hum. “didn’t seem nervous when she watched me shove my tongue down your throat, or when i had my hands under your shirt, but what do i know, hm?”

“i wasn’t— wasn’t watching” Abby stutters, tucking a lose strand of hair behind her ear, eyes falling back onto the words on her book in front of her. Unaware of the hard stare Ellie was giving her, while you fumbled with your fingers on your nap nervously.

“No? you think i don’t notice the way you look at my girl?”

The way she worded the question had Abby feeling more and more suffocated the longer she sat on your bed. The turtle neck sweater she had on was making her feel even hotter as the silence lasted. Tension was thick and you were starting to think Ellie was trying to make her more uncomfortable on purpose. “i don’t—”

Your eyes flickered up from your fingers when hearing Ellie’s breathless chuckle and you found her with her head back on your pillows, blunt still neatly tucked between her fingers. “relax, m’just fucking with you”

“Els you’re such an ass—”

“But you look at her, yeah?”

This question had stumped both you and Abby. Of course, Ellie would be the only one to actually realize her glances at you, and yours at her. The Blonde had thought she was a little more subtle with hers though. Always able to hide behind her book when she noticed Ellie’s hand sliding up a little too high on your thigh, squeezing the skin as she tears those soft little moans from you. How her hand lingers on your ass, patting and sometimes roughly grabbing the plush of it when she’s got your lips locked with hers. Or even how she’s shamelessly watched and blushed deeply when the Auburn, like today, shoves her hand up your shirt without a single care. 

“Well, it’s hard not to, she’s really pretty” She admits, no longer looking at either of you.

“That she is” Ellie hums, resting an arm behind her head, her other hand slowly riding up your leg, leaving goosebumps on your skin and sending shivers down your spine. “makes you wanna kiss her, yeah?”

“Ellie, what are you doing?”

Her eyes never leave Abby’s wide blue ones, hand still trailing up your thigh, “m’not doing anything, pretty girl. just want you both to admit it. i think your friend here is feelin’ a little left out, It’s nice to share sometimes”

Abby’s eyes couldn’t get any wider at Ellie’s words, while you, were looking at the woman who was still hunched over her books, glasses now placed beside her, and just staring at you both— blushing furiously.

“you wanna kiss my girl, Abby?”

Wordlessly nodding like a lost puppy, the blonde looks all over your face for any discomfort, and when she only finds you smiling shyly she takes that as her cue to move a little closer to you, eyes drifting back to a hood-eyed Ellie, who was still resting on your bed, arm tucked behind her head, and a grin on her face.

And Abby’s damn near whimpering when her lips finally touch yours. Her hands are shifting between resting on your shoulders, to your hips, then your face. She wasn’t sure where to put them honestly, she was slightly nervous to fuck up with this but hearing the soft mewls she’s managed to pull from you from a simple kiss, has her brain in overdrive.

It wasn’t until you let out a choked-out whimper that Abby had pulled away with a string of spit separating you, worried she had hurt you, that she noticed Ellie had her lips back on your neck, sucking and biting on your skin, her green eyes still on the Blonde’s, watching her every move. “she’s cute, aint she?” She chuckles, pulling away. “Baby, lay down”

Both of them watched you obediently listen to your girlfriend’s demand, back resting on the pillows as you nibbled on your lower lip, the lip balm Abby had picked out to use today still lingering. It wasn’t until Ellie placed her hand on your hip that you gasped, looking up at her with soft eyes. “Pretty little thing” she murmurs more or so to herself, sliding your shirt up to reveal the lacy bra you had decided to wear today. “God, you’re lucky i’m being nice and letting only you see her like this”

One of Abby’s hands joined the mix not even 5 seconds later, your legs falling apart beside them as they slowly traced your skin with their fingers, and it was Ellie that laughed breathlessly when she spotted the very wet patch on your panties, “you likin’ this a lot huh, baby?”

“Els—”

“Shh, don’t worry, pretty girl. Abby’s gonna take real good care of you, ain’t ya?”

“I don’t— i know what i’m doing”

Rolling her eyes, the Auburn was quick to grab Abby’s hand in hers and slide it in between your legs, “you two are the same huh? needy little sluts—” She mutters with a scoff, her breath fanning Abby’s ear hotly. “feel how wet she is”

Both you and Abby let out a moan when she presses her thumb against your covered clit, her face heating up just feeling how wet you truly are. Ellie on the other hand was watching your facial expression like a hawk, “feel good baby? yeah i bet it does” she coos, tearing a whimper from you just by her mocking words and tone. Her finger guides Abby’s to rub at your clit, her jaw clenched and eyes focused on nothing but your face. Pressing down harder, she smirks when you grip— well try to grip both their hands, your hips bucking as you try to grind against Abby’s fingers.

“Now fuckin’ touch my girl like you mean it and make her cum”

#nerdyloser!abby #loser!abby #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson smut #abby anderson drabble #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams smut #ellie williams drabble

[cherienymphe]

I Know What You Did Last Summer (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATHS, MURDER, ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP, MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, BLOOD, KNIFEPLAY, STALKING, ANGST, voyeurism, underage drinking, JJ x reader, pogue!reader

➥ Happy Halloween weekend!

➥ banner by @maysdigitalarts​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ ​​​​​​​​|  ➥ divider by @/kimjiho1

summary: When your friends start dying one by one, you're not exactly honest when the police ask if you know of anyone who'd want to hurt them. You do...but he's dead. You know this because you buried him.

~

You stared out into the water, a rare morning in which you woke up early enough to watch the sun rise over Outer Banks. This time last year, you might’ve tried to catch a wave or two, a way for you to often escape and clear your head. However, the problems of last year were gone and there was nothing left for you to escape from.

No one left for you to escape from.

Your gaze fell to the dock beneath your feet, eyes glazing over as memories of a tumultuous relationship plagued your thoughts. The memory of bruised skin and aching limbs made you shudder, wrapping your arms around yourself, the cool North Carolina breeze having nothing to do with it. You tensed for half a second at the sound of a familiar voice on the wind before realizing that you were only imagining it as you often did these days.

Some days you thought you were going crazy, but then you reminded yourself that no sane person could do what you did and walk away with no baggage whatsoever. Then again, it could be argued that no sane person could do what you did period. Thoughts of that night left a sour taste in your mouth, and for the past year, you constantly worried if you did the right thing. It didn’t matter if you did or didn’t because it wasn’t like you could take it back, but still…

Analyzing your past decisions made you feel less like a sociopath or something.

When you heard your mom calling you from the house, you pulled yourself away from the water. Your dad was just heading out for work, and he exchanged a quick hug with you on the way to his truck. You could tell that your 180 within the past year stumped them, but it was in that good way that always sparked a bunch of compliments—you’re so much happier or you’re talking more or you’re around a lot more.

The difference was noticeable to anybody who knew you…and everyone knew why.

Even if they didn’t want to say it.

“You know I leave for work in a little bit, but I put some bacon in the oven, and I just wanted you to know so you could take it out.”

You smiled at her, leaning against the counter.

“We’ll see how long it lasts once JJ gets here,” you told her.

Your tone was mocking, but you both knew you were entirely serious. After telling her that you might be staying at Kie’s tonight, you bid her goodbye, gaze focused on the oven as you checked the bacon. You knew it wouldn’t be long before half of your friends burst through that door, and so you didn’t hesitate to take it out the moment it looked like it was done.

It was when you were placing the pan on the stove top…when you heard it.

It was a light thump that came from the back of the house, and you paused with a frown. It was hardly anything—could’ve easily been a limb falling out of a tree or something—if it wasn’t for the fact that it sounded like it came from inside of the house. Your frown deepened the longer you stood there, listening some more without success. With reluctance, you wrote it off, and you only just relaxed when you felt hands on your shoulders.

“Jesus!”

You pressed your hand to your chest, frowning over your shoulder as both a familiar blond and brunette made themselves comfortable at your table. You hadn’t even heard them pull up, oblivious even to the door opening.

“No, JJ,” the voice behind you corrected with a chuckle, and you rolled your eyes.

“Hilarious,” you commented. “I didn’t even hear you guys come in.”

“Kind of figured when you grabbed your chest just then,” Sarah said with a small smile. “What were you looking at, anyway?”

Her question reminded you of the noise, and realizing that it was probably them you heard, you shrugged.

“Thought I heard something, but it was just you guys.”

By now, JJ had joined them, leaning back in a chair.

“You’re still coming to Rose’s little ‘fall festivity’ right? Somehow Wheezie got out of going by talking our dad into letting her go to a sleepover instead, and I don’t really wanna be alone.”

Her words quieted some near the end, a brief awkward silence as your eyes met hers, both of you ignoring the obvious.

“Of course,” you assured her. “I told my mom I’d probably be staying at Kie’s since it’s closer to your house. Knowing Rose, this thing could go on all night.”

Sarah agreed with that, interrupting John B and JJ’s conversation.

“You can still change your mind, you know,” she told him with a pout, bumping his shoulder with her own.

The face he made was answer enough, and she huffed.

“Besides, even if I wanted to, I’m sure Ward would be thrilled about that,” her boyfriend mumbled.

“You know he’s better, now. He’s not so against you ever since…”

Your best friend trailed off, and your gaze found the floor just as all of theirs traveled to you. The silence was short—not so much awkward—but definitely far from light. You all knew what Sarah was going to say, how Ward stopped caring about so many superficial things. How he was the kind of man who focused on things that actually mattered, now.

He was the kind of man who carried grief, now.

…and it changed him for both the better and the worst.

“I’m going to go and grab my purse and change of clothes. Bacon’s all yours,” you mostly said to JJ, quick to leave the room.

Once inside your room, your eyes landed on your mirror, gaze lingering on the bare space where dozens of pictures used to be. It had been a little over a year since you’d taken them down, but sometimes, when you recalled the happier times before it all went up in flames, you missed them. You missed looking at them when you did your makeup or even just lingering on them when you were on the phone.

Chest aching for so many reasons, you forced yourself to turn away.

It was as you were grabbing your purse and the extra bag with your dress for tonight did you glance up. You blinked at your window, a small frown forming between your brows. Approaching it, you reached out, slowly pulling it back down and locking it shut, desperately trying to remember if you’d even let it up the night before.

“I swear to God, Rose is about to lose her shit,” Sarah chuckled from next to you. “She bought that dress months ago for this stupid party only for her to show up wearing the same one.”

You sipped on your drink that you were definitely not supposed to be having, a light laugh of your own escaping. The little soiree was everything Sarah said it would be, and you could see why Wheezie took the opportunity to bail. It wasn’t Halloween yet, but like every year—or almost every year—Rose was having a series of parties leading up to the last night in October. You were just about to drag Sarah to the kitchen in search of those little finger sandwiches when a loud clanging noise caught everyone’s attention.

Ward stood in the center of the living room when you looked over.

The older man had a glass in his hand and was setting down a fork with the other. You couldn’t get over how much he’d changed in a year, and something in your chest ached, guilt eating at you. There was a small smile on his lips, but the rest of his expression didn’t exactly match up. Somehow, you knew that you weren’t going to like whatever he had to say.

“Um…sadly, we weren’t blessed to partake in one of Rose’s fabulous get togethers last year…”

You swallowed at the way the mood in the room seemed to sink, and you didn’t need to look over to find Sarah glancing at you.

“As you all know, my only son Rafe went missing around this time a year ago.”

Somber murmurs filled the room, and your hand tightened on your drink. Tuning Ward out, the only thing you heard was white noise, probably missing another tangent about how he wished he’d been less hard on him and had done more to heal their relationship before he had to file that missing person’s report that fateful morning.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you fought to keep a frown off of your face.

Memories of dark blond hair and intense blue eyes plagued your mind, making your stomach turn. If Ward’s memories with Rafe were less than fond, then yours were absolutely gut-wrenching. The hairs on your arm stood on end as you thought about the last time you’d seen your ex-boyfriend, and you felt your feet carrying you down the stairs just as Sarah reached for you.

The backyard was empty when you made it outside, and the fresh air did so little to calm you down.

You could hear the blood rushing in your ears at the thought of Rafe, a cold chill passing through you. With a huff, you stepped out of your heels, tears kissing your eyes as you thought about Ward in there giving some grand speech about Rafe and their relentless efforts to find him. You were pulled out of it by the sound of your name, and you wiped your face, oblivious to the fact that some tears had even spilled over.

Sarah’s sympathetic gaze met yours when you turned around.

“Are you okay…?” she whispered, and you sniffed.

“What do you think?” you lightly wondered, a humorless chuckle escaping as you shrugged. “Who knew that a felony was all it took for Rafe to finally get the love he always wanted.”

Your words were scathing, and Sarah slowly approached you, reaching for you.

“Hey…hey,” she repeated until you looked at her. “You’re safe, now. Rafe can’t ever hurt you ever again.”

While those words brought you comfort, they did nothing to diminish your anger.

“It’s not…fair,” you breathed, shaking your head. “He was nothing short of a monster to me…and they talk about him, now, like he was some angel come to earth.”

You knew it bothered Sarah too—she was there that night after all—and she sighed. The blonde pulled you into a hug, holding you tight and rubbing your back. You sometimes wondered if her feelings on the matter were as black and white as yours. Rafe was her brother, after all, and despite their less than enviable relationship, she had to have still loved him.

“Do you think they’ll ever find him?”

You said the words so quietly, as if paranoid someone would hear despite the fact that you were alone. Sarah tensed for half a second, probably because for the first time in months, you were explicitly talking about what you did that night—what all four of you did. She pulled away, gaze somber and resolved all at once.

“It’s been a year,” she said as if that were answer enough. “…turns out the police are even more useless than we all thought.”

You swallowed, and Sarah fought to calm you.

“If they haven’t found him by now then…”

She trailed off with a shrug, but you weren’t so convinced. While plenty of people got away with murder, plenty of others did not, and it didn’t matter that Rafe’s temper had escalated so badly one night until it came down to your life or his. Nobody would care that he used to threaten you and choke you and harm you so bad that you could barely walk sometimes. They wouldn’t care about any of that.

All that would matter was that he was Rafe Cameron, Ward Cameron’s son.

…and you’d killed him.

John B was the first to die.

…and maybe that was why the horrible truth didn’t even cross your mind then.

Your sleep-addled brain fought hard to make sense of the words pouring out of Cleo’s mouth, and despite how unbelieving they were, the feminine wails you could hear in the background told you they were true whether you wanted them to be or not. Sarah’s choked sobs were the last thing you heard before Cleo was forced to hang up.

You didn’t even remember throwing on clothes, only knowing that you somehow managed to leave the house looking halfway decent.

When you made it to the hospital, Sarah was nowhere to be found.

“She was…” Kie trailed off, shaking her head. “They had to give her something.”

You took in the way Kiara was shaking, and unable to keep standing, she collapsed in a chair. You wanted to ask her what happened, but you could see it on her face that she couldn’t handle that, right now. Her eyes were shiny and glazed over, and she looked like she was going to be sick. She looked like she could barely even breathe.

“What…? I don’t…”

You couldn’t get it out, feeling wholly numb as your gaze met Cleo’s. The dark-skinned girl ran her hands down her face, her own gaze tearful.

“They found him in the water, man.”

Her soft words made your heart sink, and you frowned.

“Said he got tangled up somehow… Drowned.”

At that, you did finally sit down, reaching out to hold the armrest. Somehow, any other cause of death would’ve made it feel less real, preposterous maybe. You just couldn’t see John B. dying at the hands of some asshole or choking on his food or run down like a dog in the street.

…but drowning?

John B. dying in the water—a place he loved and often frequented—made sense.

That you could believe.

“Pope and JJ are on the way,” Kie mumbled so low you almost didn’t hear her.

Nothing about any of this felt real. It was only yesterday that you were talking to John B., tossing a beer at his head after some slick remark. You couldn’t quite process that you’d never be able to do that again. Your best friend was gone. Sarah’s boyfriend was gone, and you wouldn’t see nor talk to him again. It didn’t make sense, and maybe that lack of reason was what kept you numb, kept you staring at the white floors of the hospital until two familiar figures made themselves known.

It wasn’t until your eyes lifted and met JJ’s did it really hit you.

The pain in his face from losing the friend he’d known practically since birth seeped into you too, and you were on your feet before JJ’s legs could fail him. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him tight for both of your sakes, and your tears finally spilled over when you felt JJ’s hitting your skin.

You never really saw JJ cry much—it just wasn’t like him. You didn’t know if that was just the way he was or if he took it upon himself to be the obligatory goofy friend who was almost always in a good mood. Today, however, JJ cried harder than you’d ever seen him, the death of his best friend a thousand times worse than anything Luke could do to him.

He held you like a lifeline, even well into the night when everyone was forced to retreat to their homes, nothing more anyone could do. Even if JJ could find some comfort in his own home, you wouldn’t dare ask him to, feeling that same refusal to be alone. You had only been able to shake your head at your mom when she came to see if you wanted—needed—anything.

You didn’t miss the way her sad and heavy gaze fell to JJ in your arms, the blond boy sobbing into your chest as you held him on your bed.

Neither of you talked for what felt like days. There really wasn’t much to say, anyway. On the off chance that JJ moved, it was purely to use the bathroom or eat something that would keep him off the brink of starvation. You couldn’t really tell if you were handling it better than him or if you were just coping in an equally unhealthy way.

There was just this understanding that grief had kind of taken both of your voices.

JJ leaned on you throughout the entirety of John B.’s funeral, and when your eyes met Pope’s, you shook your head at the silent question in his dark eyes. They flitted to JJ at that, and you weren’t surprised to see them holding each other at the end of the service. John B. was like a brother to both of them, and maybe they could help each other in ways the rest of you couldn’t.

“Why was he out there so late?”

That was what Kie wondered as you all sat at The Chateau, still fighting to understand your new reality without John B. only hours after his funeral.

“We all always go swimming whenever,” you told her, and she shook her head.

“…but never that late…and if so, never alone,” she argued, looking at all of you. “They think he died around one in the morning. There was no alcohol or anything in his system. Why would John B. be out there at one in the morning?”

“What does it matter?” JJ spat, making you flinch. “Why are we sitting here trying to analyze this when John B. is dead? Huh?”

Kie looked taken aback, and you could see her mentally reminding herself that JJ was in pain.

“I’m just saying-.”

“No, I know what you’re trying to do.”

The blond was standing, now, angrily staring down at her.

“Trying to make sense of this, trying to find something or someone to blame because that’s easier to swallow than the truth,” he nastily threw at her. “John B.’s death doesn’t make sense…and sometimes that’s just life.”

He stormed off before anyone could respond, and you swallowed at the sound of his bike starting up. You took Kie’s hand at the sight of her forlorn expression, gently squeezing it and sending her a smile. JJ was angry, probably angrier than any of you, and he wasn’t keen on how Kie was trying to deal with it either. The silence after he left was thick, and you felt almost afraid to speak your mind too, because now that Kie had said it, you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

It didn’t make sense for John B. to be out in the water that late.

You shouldn’t have been surprised when JJ kissed you only a few days after John B.’s funeral, but you were.

You all were grieving, and besides Sarah who hadn’t left her home in days, JJ wasn’t coping well. He was so angry and confused and hurt, and truthfully, you’d just been happy he wasn’t going off on some bender or starting fights. He didn’t exactly grow up with the best example on how to cope with anything, and so when he pressed his lips to yours on your front porch, you could only think that there were worse ways to handle this.

Your breathing was uneven as he ran his hands over you, backing you up into your house. Your parents weren’t home, adulthood stopping for no one in the midst of tragedy, and you held onto JJ to keep from tripping over your own feet. You’d wondered what it’d feel like to kiss JJ sometimes, but only ever in passing, and you could count the number of times on one hand. It was bound to happen at least once or twice when you were friends for as long as you had been.

The kiss was rough but not unenjoyable, and you moaned into his mouth when your back met your couch. To your surprise, you liked the feel of JJ’s body on yours, keeping you trapped between him and the couch, and the blond sighed into the kiss when your fingers ran up his back, dipping beneath his shirt. When his lips ghosted along your jaw, your gaze landed on the ceiling, and you arched your chest up into his. His lips were pressing open mouth kisses to your throat, and when your gaze roamed—landing on the window behind him—you violently flinched.

“What’s wrong-?”

JJ cut his own words off when you sat up, lips parted as you stared at the window.

It was dark, and the longer you stared outside, the sillier you felt. Your heart was racing so fast—much too fast—and for a moment, you were scared you were having a heart attack. You felt overheated, and your skin was fighting to get back to normal instead of clammy. JJ said your name again, and you merely shook your head at him, struggling to stop your hands from trembling and your vision from swaying.

For just a moment, you could’ve sworn that someone was outside and standing right outside of that window. It was brief, quite literally a ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ moment, but it wasn’t solely that that had you fighting to calm down, right now. You reached up, rubbing your chest and blinking back tears, hardly paying attention to JJ’s concern.

The way the person stood—their height, their build, their stance—it was all too familiar.

It looked eerily similar to your ex-boyfriend.

That thought had you standing, and you pressed your hand to your forehead. A few tears escaped without your consent, and you licked your lips, finally admitting to yourself why this whole John B. situation had you numb. The thought of John B. now had your chest aching, and for a brief moment, you weren’t seeing your best friend be lowered into the ground.

It was Rafe.

“Are you okay…?”

You finally acknowledged JJ, and you looked at him with a tearful gaze.

“No, I don’t think I am,” you choked out. “It’s not…it’s not your fault, I promise.”

“I shouldn’t have done that-.”

“No, JJ, it’s okay! You didn’t do anything wrong,” you assured him. “I’m just not handling this as well as I thought I was.”

He seemed to understand that, nodding at you.

The silence wasn’t tense or anything, but it was a little awkward. After all, one moment you and JJ were clearly about to have sex, and now, you couldn’t get rid of the cold chill that came over you. You glanced at the window again, so sure that you’d seen someone there, only looking away when JJ pulled you down to sit with him.

“You know I like you,” he whispered, making your eyes widen a bit. “Well, now you know.”

You blinked at him, oddly thinking that whatever this was tonight was some combination of grief and loneliness and the result of a violent confrontation with his own mortality. JJ ran his hand through his blond locks, sighing.

“First it was the whole Pogue on Pogue thing,” he said to which you snorted, recalling the day Pope and Cleo waltzed into The Chateau holding hands. “…then it was Rafe.”

You looked down at that, tightening your arms around yourself at the mention of your ex.

“Then Rafe went missing, and it didn’t seem right even though you didn’t seem…sad about it.”

You swallowed at that, a wet and muddy night coming to mind.

“…but now my best friend is dead, and I’m scared that if I wait another minute, it’ll be too late.”

Your gaze softened at that, looking at him, and it really didn’t take you long to realize that deep down you’d liked JJ too. You first noticed the feeling after the third or fourth time Rafe had hit you, and you just remembered thinking that JJ would never. You hadn’t lingered on it, but now you were wishing you had. Maybe if you felt like you had a way out, you would’ve left Rafe sooner. The relationship might not have continued.

…and that night never would’ve happened.

With the death of John B., you understood exactly what JJ meant. John B. hadn’t been some old man pushing ninety who lived this long and fulfilling life. He was eighteen, unable to even get the chance to start. It was unexpected and heartbreaking but most of all scary, so when you took the blonde’s hand, you didn’t hesitate to pull him closer, pressing your lips to his.

You had no idea that while taking the first step with JJ into the second relationship you’d ever have, Pope’s body was being dumped in the water.

When you all collectively made the decision the next morning to go and see Sarah, no one thought too much of it when Pope didn’t answer. Sarah was allowed her solitude to grieve, you felt she was owed that, but none of you wanted your friend to deal with this alone for too long. Considering how early it was, everyone just assumed that he was still asleep when you decided to meet up.

JJ—now in the possession of the Twinkie—made the decision to slow down at the sight of so many squad cars near the water. It was strange, and there was a sinking feeling in your stomach that you just couldn’t shake. Outer Banks was not without its fair share of crime, but you’d never had the misfortune of witnessing a coroner’s van pull up to the scene.

“What do you think that’s about?” Cleo wondered.

You spoke without thinking.

“Call Pope again.”

You could feel several pairs of eyes on you as you looked out of the window, and there was a beat of silence before they all reached for their phones at once. That twisted feeling only tightened when none of them got an answer. You didn’t voice your thoughts, partly because you didn’t want to be the one to, but you also didn’t want to make them true, somehow.

…but they were true whether you said them aloud or not.

You’d never been inside of an interrogation room—or Kildare County’s version of one, anyway. You never thought you would be, but in this moment, you were thinking of a lot of things you never thought would be. Shoupe—a man you’d grown used to seeing all your life—handed you a cup of water, and your fingertips only grazed it as it sat on the table.

With the discovery that Pope was now dead too, the numbness you’d felt was forced to crack and shatter. While Cleo had to be restrained and held back from ambushing the crime scene, you’d been unable to keep upright, collapsing right there on the side of the road. The entire gruesome debacle had attracted a crowd. After all, Outer Banks just wasn’t used to this, and several people tried to help you remain conscious—namely JJ.

You didn’t even remember breaking down, didn’t even remember being approached by the cops. You actually could barely remember a thing after witnessing a familiar body being pulled from the murky water. You knew that you cried, had to, because your eyes were tight. You knew that you screamed because your throat was raw. You knew these things because of how you felt…not because you actually remembered any of it.

Shoupe’s sigh made you blink, and instead of laying on the side of that road, you were surrounded by four walls.

“Do you know of…anyone who’d want to hurt Heyward’s son?”

His words gave you pause, and you lifted your gaze with a deep frown.

“…what?” you choked out after some time.

His gaze was soft—Pope was your friend and he’d watched you both grow up as thick as thieves—but also inquiring. You watched him briefly lick his lips, sighing to himself as he pressed a hand to his forehead. He seemed to be conflicted, having some kind of internal battle before reaching out to you across the table.

“Pope was dead before he was in the water.”

You merely blinked at him, not quite processing his words.

“Someone…someone cut his throat.”

At that, your vision blurred, and you could see on Shoupe’s face that he was predicting what was about to happen before you even tried to stand. The older man reached for you again, attempting to keep you from falling, but your feet tripped over one another as your legs lost their strength. When your knees hit the hard floor, your brain didn’t even register the pain.

Burying two friends within two weeks of each other was something you would’ve never predicted. Not until you were in your seventies, at least. It felt like the opposite of unreal. It felt too real because all you could feel was pain. It was numbing and excruciating all at once somehow, and having the whole town look at you like some walking magnet for tragedy didn’t help.

In truth, all of your friends got the stares. Two out of the group were gone—one drowned and one brutally murdered—and people looked at the rest of your friends like they didn’t know what to think of them…but you? Oh, they looked at you like they both feared and hated you, and you knew why.

It was only a year ago that your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—had gone missing, and now two of your friends met the same fate everyone suspected Rafe did. There was something in their eyes that held blame, and you might have found it funny if you weren’t so angry and sad and miserable.

You were only responsible for one of them.

“No fingerprints, no footprints, no nothing,” Kie whispered, angrily. “It’s like Pope was just killed and dumped by a ghost.”

JJ was silent as he stared out into the rich girl’s yard, and you worriedly eyed him. Cleo too. It’s not like any of you were doing okay, but JJ had lost the two people he was closest to in the world, and Cleo was now in the same boat as Sarah. It was then that the blonde girl shifted, a noise leaving her throat that had you all looking over.

“Do I have to be the one to say what we’re all thinking?”

She looked between you all with a heavy gaze, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.

“That John B.’s accident wasn’t an accident…?”

Your lips parted at that, and you looked around to see that no one else had expected that either. No one else but Kie who simply wrapped her arms around herself. You recalled her words from last week, how she’d questioned why John B. was even out on the water that late. JJ had been so quick to shut it down, and despite having the same question as Kie, you’d also forced yourself to let it go.

You hadn’t wanted to fathom that someone had killed John B.

“Now, hold on-.”

“Oh, come on, JJ!” Sarah cried. “John B. drowns at one something in the morning, and a week later one of his best friends is murdered?”

You swallowed, hating this conversation.

“This is too coincidental,” she whispered, wiping her face.

The silence was loud as her accusation—and the implications that came with it—just hung in the air. You all looked between each other, and you could see it then. It was sinking in that this was too much of a coincidence, and Cleo spoke up.

“Why would anyone want to hurt them?”

“I think you mean why would anyone want to hurt us,” Kie threw out, and you all froze. “If someone did kill John B. and that same person killed Pope…isn’t it safe to assume they’re working their way through the group?”

You stood, really hating this conversation now, and stared out into the yard.

“I mean, what? Only John B. and Pope happened to piss this person off?”

“That’s even if what you’re saying is true,” JJ argued, visibly disturbed, now. “I mean, think about this. Who the hell did all of us piss off this damn bad? Huh? That doesn’t make any sense.”

It was then that your gaze met Cleo’s, and something passed through her eyes that you also knew passed through yours. You didn’t have to be a mind reader to know that the other girl was thinking about that night, recalling a bloodstained carpet and shovels that would never see the light of day. Your lips parted as your gaze lowered, and feeling like you might be sick, you sat down. No. There was nothing you could think of that all of you had done to collectively anger someone this much. However, there was something that came to mind that four of you had done.

…but Rafe was dead.

He’d been dead for a year, and so what Cleo was obviously thinking was clearly not possible.

Even with that fact, it still didn’t prevent you from being terrified, and it was no surprise that none of you wanted to be alone. Even if John B.’s accident was just that, someone had still killed Pope, and Outer Banks now had a murderer in their midst. If people looked at you with disdain before, then it was nothing in comparison to when a curfew was enforced.

“First it was Rafe…”

You tensed at the sound of the voice.

“…then John B. and now Pope.”

You cut your eyes to Kelce as he walked by you.

“We don’t need a curfew. What we need is to search your damn house,” he sneered, turning his back to you as he strode away.

You crossed your arms over your chest as you waited for Sarah to exit the shop. You knew that Kelce wasn’t alone in his sentiment. It was only just the day before when your eyes had met Topper’s, the blonde’s gaze unreadable despite the clenching of his jaw. Topper was never the kind of guy to evoke intimidation, but that was before he thought you had something to do with the disappearance of his best friend.

When Rafe went missing, you were questioned. It was expected. After all, you weren’t just his girlfriend but also the girlfriend who everyone knew he would literally get crazy about. Your rocky off-and-on relationship was no secret, so naturally you were the first to be brought in. The police hadn’t been able to find anything though, not then and not for the past year, so any suspicions anyone might’ve had were probably long forgotten about.

Until now.

The only difference was that now not only did they think you killed Rafe, but also your best friends.

“They’re assholes. You know that,” Sarah told you as she drove you back to her place.

The Cameron household was where you’d been staying when you weren’t at home with JJ. Ever since that night, something in you felt wrong about accepting the Cameron’s hospitality and even setting foot into their house. That night was complicated, this much was true, but the fact remained that you were responsible for their pain. Ward would never be reunited with his son because of you.

Smiling in their faces and eating at their table left a sour feeling in your gut.

“…but I did kill Rafe,” you whispered.

Sarah glanced at you at that.

“We all did,” she finally said. “…and it wasn’t like that. He was choking you, he was…he was killing you. It was self-defense.”

“Yeah, I’m sure the cops will think rolling him up and burying him in the woods was self-defense,” you scoffed.

Sarah was parked in her yard, now, and she gripped your arm. Her expression was hard as she stared at you, lips pressed together.

“Stop that,” she bit out. “Rafe… Rafe wasn’t going to stop. We had no choice, and do I sometimes wish things had ended differently for him and for us? Yeah. Even the most estranged of siblings don’t actually want to kill each other, but what’s done is done.”

She looked between your eyes, and you swallowed, recalling that silent conversation with Cleo. You licked your lips, touching your forehead and swallowing down a sigh.

“What if it’s not done?” you wondered, almost inaudibly.

When you looked at Sarah again, there was a frown on her face.

“We definitely know of someone who’d want us dead,” you whispered, and you watched the color drain from Sarah’s face.

“…and he’s dead.”

“…but what if he’s not?” you choked out. “What if…? I mean, sure, there was blood and we hit him twice and we buried him, but what if-.”

“Stop,” Sarah breathed, resting her hands on the wheel. “Stop talking.”

“Sarah-.”

“I said stop!”

The blonde girl looked visibly distressed, eyes wide and lips trembling as she stared ahead.

“We killed him. He’s dead…and he can’t hurt you or anyone else ever again.”

Sarah sounded more like she was trying to convince herself than you. You could see how upsetting this conversation was for her, and again, you wished that night had gone differently. Getting your friends caught up in your relationship problems was your biggest regret, and no matter how many times they insisted they’d never take it back, it did nothing to ease your guilt.

Repeating Sarah’s words in your mind, you put thoughts of Rafe behind you.

You were having a horrifying case of déjà vu.

Around this time a year ago, you were also out in the middle of the woods at night, repeatedly stabbing at the dirt with a shovel. It had just rained then, and the ground had been wet—soft. You’d been less calm then, but also somehow less terrified than you were, now. A year ago, it had been four of you digging a hole.

Tonight, it was three.

Sticking together was the plan. Even if you didn’t collectively agree on it, there was the thought in all of your minds that someone was after you. Even JJ, who was in denial, didn’t turn down Sarah’s offer to sleep over at her place. Any other time where Rose and Ward would’ve vehemently opposed several Pogues taking up residence in their house, they were now a lot more welcoming.

Any doubt that you were being hunted like animals was nowhere to be found the night you discovered Cleo’s body.

The four of you were sleeping in Sarah’s room—JJ in the guest room right next door—when you heard the faintest thump. It seemed like forever ago, but in the night, it was oddly reminiscent of the day of Rose’s fall festivity or whatever—before John B. died. You recalled the noise you’d heard that day, your open window, and where you had written both of those things off, you now looked back in fear.

You’d sat up, rubbing your eyes and looking around. Noticing Cleo’s absence, you told yourself that she was getting something to drink or going to the bathroom. However, your effort to lay back down was halted when you heard it again—a faint thump from downstairs that made your hair stand on end for some reason. Glancing at your remaining best friends, you pushed yourself to your feet.

“Cleo?”

Your kept your voice low as you stood at the top of the stairs, not wanting to unnecessarily wake the whole house. Only silence met you, and you frowned. The stillness of the house felt heavy, suffocating, and it unnerved you. It was just moments ago that it wasn’t so silent, and you walked back to Sarah’s room.

Glancing inside, there was still no sign of Cleo, and facing the fact that she wasn’t in the bathroom, you made your way downstairs.

The whole house was dark, and telling yourself that a light would be on if she was in the kitchen, you flipped the switch. An empty kitchen met you, as you expected, and your frown deepened. Walking back to the staircase, you looked up, a heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach as you climbed them. There were only so many places that she could be, and wondering if you’d missed her somehow, you checked all of the bathrooms. She wasn’t back in Sarah’s room either.

As you stood in the hallway, the complete darkness made you freeze.

It didn’t register, at first, and you stood there wracking your brain. Goosebumps completely covered your skin, now, and as you stared ahead, something in the back of your mind was screaming at you—sending off alarm bells. Something about this picture wasn’t right, and once it clicked, your heart sank to your gut.

There was no light coming from downstairs.

The kitchen light was now off.

Stumbling into Sarah’s room, you shook her and Kie awake.

“What, what?” the tan girl mumbled, Sarah’s huff coming from behind you.

“Something’s wrong,” you said, words tumbling over each other. “I can’t find Cleo.”

Both of them were wide awake, now, and Kie was frowning at you when Sarah turned her light on.

“What…?” she asked, disbelieving.

You tried to keep calm.

“I heard something, and I saw Cleo was gone, but she’s not in the bathroom, and she’s not downstairs,” you rushed out.

Sarah was still for half a second before she ran out of the room. While Kie went with her, you took it upon yourself to wake JJ, and once past his confusion, he was right on your heels as you made your way downstairs too. Kie was looking out the windows while Sarah searched each room.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” JJ said. “Don’t you guys have some alarm code or something? It’s not like she could’ve left without waking the whole house.”

JJ was right.

“So, what? You’re saying she’s still in the house? Hiding and playing some sick joke?” Sarah wondered, visibly stressed and scared. “That’s insane.”

You wondered if you should speak up about the kitchen light, about how someone had blatantly turned it off when you went upstairs. That car conversation with Sarah was on your mind, and your vision swam for a bit as you fought to keep upright. It might not be Cleo, but someone was definitely playing some sick joke.

“I’m going to wake my dad,” Sarah breathed. “This…this isn’t right.”

As she made to go upstairs, you slowly made your way to the back door. You stared out of the windows, scanning the yard for anything that might make sense of all this. The yard was empty, and you could hear JJ and Kie behind you as they talked and tried to make sense of what was going on. Too busy scanning the trees and what you could see of the neighbors, your gaze was focused much too high.

When you saw her, you wanted to be sick.

“Oh my God,” you choked out. “Oh my God, oh my God!”

You were scrambling to unlock the door before JJ or Kie could question you, and the house alarm was loud as you threw the door open. The grass was dewy and slippery, and you quite literally fell a few times before you reached her. You collapsed right next to her, and Kie’s scream was even louder than yours once she fully registered what she was seeing.

Your arms shook as you held Cleo’s broken body, and if it wasn’t for the fact that you were too busy trying not to choke on your own sobs, you might’ve been screaming too. You could feel JJ’s hands on your shoulders as he tried to get you to let her go, but you felt possessed.

You couldn’t not hold her.

By now the rest of the household was outside too, and you could hear Rose on the phone, frantic and horrified. Mr. Cameron’s voice was in your ear as he too tried to get you to let her go. You couldn’t understand why. It wasn’t like you were hurting her any more—she was dead. Any hope for otherwise died the moment your wide eyes met her equally wide ones, dark gaze focused on the sky above. You felt like the least you could do was hold her—some kind of apology for not finding her sooner.

You were only convinced when the police showed up, Shoupe practically begging you to.

“We have to take her, now,” he said to you, his eyes meeting yours. “We have to do right by her and try and figure out what happened. You want that, don’t you?”

You remembered just staring at him, lips parted and chest heavy, before finally letting her go. JJ was quick to pull you beside him, his own hands trembling as he held you close. You knew that it was partly for you and partly for him. You completely leaned on him, feeling like you were moments away from fainting.

Especially so when you glanced up…your eyes landing on the open window of the second-floor bathroom.

You weren’t surprised the next day when you were face to face with Shoupe again and he said:

“She broke her neck.”

That wasn’t news to you. You found her…you held her, after all. You saw what she looked like, so his words were expected. His next, however, were not.

“Now, that could’ve happened when she fell…or it could’ve happened before.”

Your gaze lifted then, watching the older man heave a sigh and lean in closer across the table. His gaze was completely serious, lips pressed together and jaw clenched. He clasped his hands together as he regarded you.

“Now…I asked you this before when we pulled Pope out of that water…”

You swallowed.

“…and you gave me your answer then, and I believed you, but now I’m asking again.”

Tears kissed your eyes.

“…and depending on how you answer, I may not believe you this time.”

Dark blond hair and blue eyes filled your vision, a smooth and almost raspy baritone bouncing around between your ears. For just a moment, you weren’t in that room face to face with Shoupe. You were one year younger and rolling a lithe frame up in a bloody carpet. You and three other girls were carrying it to a familiar truck, determined to bury it where no one would ever find it. Even before Shoupe asked his question, that was all you could see.

…and yet, when he asked if you knew of anyone who’d want to hurt you and your friends, you still told him no.

That was two weeks ago, and now you were back in the woods…in a familiar spot…hoping to dig up a familiar face.

“This is insane, you know that, right?” Sarah spat, huffing as she stabbed at the dirt again.

“Look around!” Kie yelled, her voice bouncing off of the trees. “Three of our friends are dead! They’re dead, and you know what? When the cops asked if I knew of anyone who’d want to hurt them, I almost told them Rafe.”

You and Sarah paused at that, staring at her.

“Can you believe that? That sounds crazy, right because Rafe is dead, and..” she threw her arm up. “I would know!”

She was breathing hard, fighting to keep it together.

“…but Cleo was pushed. We all know that she didn’t fall. She was pushed, shoved, thrown, however you want to call it! Her neck was broken…and you all can say that it happened when she hit the ground, but I just don’t believe that.”

“Unless you’re saying one of us did it…” Sarah shrugged. “Someone would have to know the alarm code to not only turn it off, open the window, and toss her out…but also turn it back on as soon as they did it.”

“Sound like anyone we know?” Kie sarcastically wondered, pointedly looking at the ground beneath them.

There was a brief pause between you three as the horrifying possibility set in. Sarah was right. The requirements to pull something like that off fell to any of you, and you knew for a fact that none of you would ever, and so that was where Kie’s suspicions came in. Determined to face the truth one way or another, you continued to dig.

It felt so silly, attempting to dig up a man you’d most assuredly killed. You still had nightmares some nights about the feel of Rafe wrapping both hands around your neck, squeezing so tight that you were sure your neck would snap at any moment. Even when Sarah and Cleo had walked in, shocked and horrified at the sight before them, he hadn’t stopped.

He’d only been focused on killing you.

As you dug, you could remember their screams and the sound of them hitting him and trying to get him off. Nothing had worked, even when Kie came in, attempting to jump on his back. You didn’t know if it was the coke or alcohol that night that made him so determined to kill you regardless of witnesses. Either way, for your sake, you needed Rafe to be in this grave.

You could handle a lot of things, but you couldn’t handle Rafe still being out there.

“I don’t think we have the right spot,” Kie finally said after some time.

You yourself had briefly thought the same, but you remembered that night like the back of your hand. This was the right spot, and the longer you kept being greeted with dirt and more dirt, you could feel an internal panic setting in. Sarah stopped digging after Kie, but you kept going. You had to…because he had to be here.

“Y/N…”

“He’s here,” you breathed. “He has to be.”

Right now, there was only the sound of you frantically digging, and you hadn’t even realized you’d started crying until a sob bubbled up in your chest. You could hear Sarah calling your name again, but you paid her no mind, tossing the shovel aside and falling to your knees. You clawed at the dirt, looking for any sign of bone or clothing or even the damn rug!

“Y/N-,”

“No,” you screamed, throat hurting. “He has to be here, he has to be here.”

You felt like you were going to throw up, nails chipping and breaking as they only came in contact with dirt and sticks and rocks. Hitting your fist against the ground, you screamed again, this one dying into a fit of sobs. You felt Kie’s hands on your shoulders, and you struggled to breathe.

“This can’t be happening,” you heard Sarah breathe.

You pressed your face into your dirty hands, inconsolable as you were forced to face the truth.

“This doesn’t mean he’s alive,” Kie whispered. “Someone…someone else could know. I don’t know how, but it could be anyone else doing this, somebody who dug him up and is messing with us.”

“Or it could be Rafe!”

Your vision was blurry as you looked at her.

“It could be Rafe who wasn’t actually dead when we buried him. It could be Rafe killing my friends and torturing me and coming back to finish what he started!”

You pressed your forehead against the dirt, hunched over as the most awful wailing noise left you. You felt insane, like nothing in the world made sense, and you could hardly stand when Kie pulled you to your feet. If Rafe was still alive…your life as you knew it was over. You struggled to walk as Sarah put the shovels in the trunk, and when she closed it, she just stood there, hand pressed to the top with the other on her hip.

“So, what do we do? Do we go to the police and tell them that Rafe is doing this?”

“…and when they ask why?” Kie wondered, holding you upright. “What do we say? Y/N didn’t want to be with him anymore, so he ran off and came back a year later to kill her and her friends?”

You completely sank against the car, forehead pressed to the vehicle.

“…or better yet, what happens when we tell them we think Rafe is behind this only for his body to turn up? If everyone isn’t suspicious of us now—and they’re pretty fucking suspicious—they’ll definitely be then.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled after some time, continuing when you felt their gazes on you. “I’m so  sorry.”

“What-?”

“This is my fault,” you choked out, forcing yourself to straighten. “I should’ve left him the first time he hurt me. I should’ve…should’ve told someone, I should have called the police.”

“Y/N, this isn’t your fault,” Sarah argued.

“Yes, it is,” you cried, attempting to wipe your face and only succeeding in putting more dirt on it. “You hit him to get him off of me, but… I didn’t have to hit him again. I didn’t have to do that. He was already passing out, and I could’ve just called the cops and-.”

“…and deal with Rafe again when he was inevitably released?” Kie threw out. “Look, Sarah, your family is okay and all, but let’s face it. Rafe would not have stayed in jail long, if at all with Ward backing him up with his money.”

Neither of you argued against that, and your gaze found the ground.

“We need to get back,” Sarah said in a small voice. “It’s way past curfew, and if someone catches us out here, we’ll be even bigger suspects than we already are.”

Sarah was right, and when it became apparent that you needed help moving your feet, she guided you to the passenger side. Kie settled in the backseat, and all of you were quiet, minds no doubt occupied with the possibilities of what tonight meant. Either Rafe wasn’t dead…or someone knew what you did and was getting even on his behalf.

When Sarah turned the car on, the lights shined into the trees before you. You lifted your head, gaze landing in front of the car, and your lips parted. You blinked at the trees, eyes narrowing when Sarah turned on her brights, putting the car in reverse. There’d been a split moment when Sarah’s lights came on—and your gaze wasn’t lifted all the way—that you thought you saw something next to one of the trees.

It looked like a person, standing and watching, but they were gone so quickly that you knew you had to have imagined it. The discovery of Rafe’s empty grave was getting to you, and you wrapped your arms around yourself. It seemed farfetched that Rafe hadn’t actually been dead that night. Murder weapons and such aside, you’d buried him, and how likely was it that he’d woken up to claw his way out instead of simply suffocating and bleeding to death?

It made more sense that this was someone else’s doing, but even still…

Despite burying him yourself, you never felt like Rafe was truly gone.

With three of your friends dead, the remaining four of you were not only being watched like hawks, but also refused to barely leave each other’s sides. Despite the fact that the police still couldn’t determine if Cleo’s death was murder or an accident, the popular opinion seemed to be the former. Walking through Outer Banks as everyone’s main suspect made a place that used to feel like home unbearable.

Deep down though, some part of you felt you deserved it.

Yes, Rafe was abusive and horrible, but it wasn’t up to you to play God. It wasn’t your place to determine whether or not he deserved to live, deserved to see his family again or redeem himself or go on to be even worse. That wasn’t your call, and despite how much relief you felt when you buried Rafe that night, something in you wanted to be punished for what you’d done.

…but not like this.

You never wanted this to come back on your friends and their family. Looking in the faces of their parents and now knowing this was all directly because of you was heartbreaking. Even if it wasn’t Rafe stalking the streets of Outer Banks and picking your friends off one by one, it was clearly someone doing so for him in some weird way. This all came back to Rafe, you just knew it.

…and they were trying to mess with your head in the process.

What else would they get out of moving his remains?

Considering what happened at Sarah’s house, it came as no surprise that the next spot of choice was Kie’s. It wasn’t without difficulty, and you recalled the way both of her parents huffed and puffed as she fought to convince them. You didn’t disagree with their reasoning. After all, you didn’t need to be a genius to know they were wary of you on some level. Too many people around you had died and gone missing.

They just didn’t want the same for Kie…and you wished you’d listened.

“We could leave,” JJ said to you in one of the Carrera’s guest rooms, hand clasped with yours. “I didn’t really want to believe it before but…”

JJ heaved a sigh.

“Someone’s after us for some reason,” he relented. “…and since we have no idea who or even why… Why not just take off?”

He shrugged at you, and guilt ate at you for a whole other reason these days. After Cleo’s death—and the traumatic night in which you discovered Rafe’s grave was empty—you grappled with the thought of telling JJ the truth. He deserved to know why his friends were dead, and why he had a target on his back. You even started to one day.

…but then you thought about him knowing this was all your fault…and blaming you too. You didn’t think you had the stomach or the strength to look him in the face and tell him that your actions that night came back on half of your friends. You didn’t want to face his reaction, and so you swallowed it down.

“I would if I could,” you told him. “…but aside from just how fucking guilty that would make me and us look…my parents are here. Even if they weren’t and we left, I don’t think that would make this stop. Sarah’s here, Kie is here, and whoever is doing this clearly wants all of our heads. They’re not going to give up just because some of us leave.”

You couldn’t stomach the thought of just taking off and leaving Kie and Sarah to fend for themselves. JJ nodded at that, understanding, and you closed your eyes when he reached for your face. You placed your own hand over his, and something clenched deep in your chest. It was so unfair that the moment you and JJ finally decided to stop being cowards, someone put a bounty on your heads.

Even if you made it out of this alive, how could you ever look back on the beginning of your relationship with anything other than grief and trauma? The two of you got together because of John B.’s death and any attempt to try and heal and make something good of this was ruined by the subsequent deaths of Pope and Cleo.

“Do you think this has something to do with Rafe?”

JJ’s question gave you pause, and you pulled back, staring at him with a frown. His expression was entirely serious, telling you that you had not in fact imagined his words. When you blinked at him, you watched him run his hand through his blond locks, the fair hair still damp from his shower.

“I know you killed him,” he confessed.

Your lips parted in shock, and you fought to make sense of what was happening. Disbelieving, you pushed yourself to your feet, looking down at your boyfriend. His gaze was soft, and you watched him exhale, slowly reaching for you.

“Wha…? What do you mean you know? What are-?”

“I overheard you guys talking about it…what…? Maybe three months after it happened?”

You looked away, slowly shaking your head. When you looked at him, there was no malice or disgust in his gaze, and you felt confused.

“I never said anything because I figured you wouldn’t like anyone else knowing,” he whispered.

JJ didn’t look bothered at all, and for some reason that threw you for a loop. Once his hand was back in yours, he tugged you until you sat down with him again. He took your moment of shock to lean in and kiss you—slow and gentle, and his thumb brushed your skin as he pulled away.

“I know what you’re thinking…”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone,” you wondered, more of a statement, voicing your thoughts and confirming his assumption.

“…because Rafe was horrible to you, and not in that generic asshole boyfriend way, but…really horrible,” he told you. “The way he talked to you and treated you in public was disguising to witness, so it wasn’t hard to guess how much worse he was behind closed doors.”

You felt yourself deflating, hating that JJ had to come to grips with that terrifying truth.

“You don’t know how bad I hated him for treating you like that, how much I wanted to beg you to leave him, but you wouldn’t,” he spat, anger in his voice as he thought about the past. “You wouldn’t even come to any of us, and I just thought it wasn’t my place.”

You hadn’t realized how much of your tumultuous relationship with Rafe had been bleeding into other parts of your life almost since the beginning.

“I started to lose my mind over it, you know…just wondering if I was bad for not telling or bad for thinking about telling, but…”

He let out a humorless chuckle, pulling his lip between his teeth.

“Plenty of times I thought about killing Rafe myself, so why would I hate you for having the balls to do what I could only fantasize about?”

You held JJ’s gaze, feeling shocked but also oh so light. You felt relieved that JJ knew, and you’d no longer have to carry around this guilt, but at the same time… You hated that JJ had been carrying this around for months—almost a year. Unlike you and the girls, JJ didn’t have anyone to talk to about this, forced to carry the burden of your secret alone…and you hated that. You hated yourself for that.

Your eyes burned with tears, and you just pressed your lips to his when a blood-curdling scream made you wince.

You and JJ looked at each other for half a second before he hurried out of the room with you right behind him. The screams didn’t stop, echoing throughout the house and mixing in with harsh sobs. There was a knot twisting in your gut, a feeling of dread washing over you like a cold shower. You and JJ took the stairs almost two at a time, and when you both made it to the living room, you paused in your tracks.

Kie had her hands over her mouth, but it was useless—she couldn’t stop screaming and crying. Sarah stood by the couch, frozen in shock, and you didn’t miss what her wide and stricken eyes were focused on. Mr. and Mrs. Carrera were sitting on the couch, facing the blasting TV as they had been for God knows how long. However, something about their posture was off, and when you slowly brushed by JJ to join Sarah…you realized why.

Blood covered the entire front of them both, eyes open and unseeing, mouths open in mid-scream.

Their throats were slit.

Before the horror of what this meant could even settle in, the power in the house went out, bathing you in darkness. The lights from the neighbors and the street were not enough, and you heard Sarah telling Kie to get up. JJ’s hand was on your arm as he pulled you along too, all four of you heading for the door.

Sarah only just opened it when you heard her let out a choked gasp.

She was still, and you worriedly eyed her.

“Sarah?” JJ called her name. “Sarah, what’s…?”

He trailed off, his words dying in the air as Sarah stumbled back. She fell against Kie, and the other girl fought to catch her as the blonde reached up towards her chest. With what little light you had, your eyes focused on what she was gesturing to. Your entire vision swayed once you saw the knife protruding from it.

“Oh my God,” you breathed, and JJ yanked you back away from the door.

You in turn yanked Kie who was forced to let Sarah go. The sound of her body dropping made you wince. Unable to stay with her, the three of you now headed towards the back door. Behind you, you could hear the front door slamming shut, and the sound of it had bile rising in your throat.

The house was still dark, and besides your own heavy breathing, you heard the sound of footsteps coming from the living room. You were the first to make it to the door, hand on the knob when you heard the last thing you ever expected for some reason. The glass in front of you shattered, but your ears were ringing from the gunshot more than anything.

“Fuck,” you heard JJ curse, and you felt him wrap his arms around you, pulling you to the side.

You didn’t realize why until you looked back.

Kie was in a heap at the foot of the door, her blood decorating the remaining glass in the window and the floor too. She was completely still, and the knowledge that two more of your friends were dead within just minutes of each other had you ready to faint. Despite that, with JJ’s help, you were able to keep your feet moving.

He pulled you into the hallway that connected to the kitchen, and on the other side of the wall, you could hear the slow and heavy footsteps. When the crunch of glass was heard, JJ pulled you further along towards the kitchen—towards the front of the house. You were shaking as you slid along the wall, and when the footsteps stopped, so did JJ.

You both were completely still as you waited and listened. Both of your phones were upstairs in the guest room, but you recalled Sarah reaching for hers when she opened the door. It had to still be near her, provided that whoever was in the house hadn’t taken it. JJ seemed to have the same idea as you, because he slowly moved through the kitchen and towards the front door.

A gunshot stopped his efforts.

“Go, go,” JJ hissed, pushing you away from him so harshly that you stumbled and fell back.

You were half in the kitchen half in the hallway when a figure approached the blond who was now also on the floor, clutching his side. You frantically crawled back, vision blurring from your tears just as they stood over him. Your back was pressed to the wall, staring at the one before you with quiet sobs when you heard it.

JJ’s gasps were loud and pained as he was attacked. One, two…seventeen, you counted. You thought to yourself how angry and evil someone has to be to stab someone else seventeen times. You kept your hand pressed to your mouth the entire time, fighting the urge to be sick. When you could no longer hear JJ, you squeezed your eyes shut.

A defeated feeling washed over you, and it was the feeling of being utterly alone.

You could hear those terrifying footsteps again, and when it sounded like they were coming near you from the other side, you sprinted for the door.

Refusing to look at the bodies of your friends, you fought to run across the street. The neighbor’s lights were on, and your legs burned as you pushed yourself as fast as you could. You refused to look back—too scared to—and you practically collapsed at their door as you banged on it. Some of Kie’s blood was on you, and it marred the door as you repeatedly hit it like a woman possessed.

“Open the door, please, please,” you screamed, looking over your shoulder.

You couldn’t see anyone, but you weren’t fooled. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping you from completely collapsing on this stranger’s porch. You were beating their door so hard that your fists were beginning to ache, and your throat scratched from your screams—strained and raw. When the door finally swung open, you quite literally fell inside.

“What in the world-? Oh my goodness,” a small voice said from over you.

Small and brittle hands helped you to your feet, and you felt bad at almost knocking her over in your efforts to make sure no one was behind you. You slammed the door shut and locked it, chest heaving and feeling much too tight. You were sure that you were almost on the verge of a heart attack. You had to be.

“Sweetheart,” the old lady called. “Call the police!”

She took your hands, guiding you to the kitchen where she grabbed a rag.

“He killed them,” you sobbed, struggling to breathe. “My friends are dead.”

The words didn’t even sound real to you, like some nightmare you’d conjured up, but they were real. Your friends had been picked off one by one for weeks before the rest were finally taken from you in one night. You were alone, and that fact made you cry harder.

“The phone’s not working,” you heard another aged voice say.

You froze at that, looking up just as the woman wobbled to the kitchen entrance.

“What?” you breathed.

“What do you mean it’s not working?” she tutted, and you were quick to follow behind her.

She met up with a man who you assumed was her husband in the hallway, and he did a double take at the sight of you.

“Good lord,” he breathed. “What happened?”

“Never mind that,” she dismissed him, making her way past him. “My granddaughter bought me one of those smart phones, but I hardly ever use the thing. We’ll find that and then we’ll call the police, sweetheart.”

You didn’t want to let her out of your sight, terrified of being alone, but the elderly man reminded you of his presence. He guided you back into the kitchen with a strained but kind smile. You could tell that your presence worried him. You were in his house in the middle of the night covered in blood, after all.

“Thank you,” you managed to mumble when he handed you the damp rag.

The feel of Kie’s blood on you was both comforting and horrifying. Your friend wasn’t with you, but this small part of her was, but at the same time, it only reminded you of her gruesome and tragic death. The woman came back through the hallway, joining her husband in the living room, and you heard her mumbling something about hoping the cops would come quick when there was a knock on the door.

The sound of it made your stomach drop, and you stood in the kitchen, rag tight in your hand. What were the chances they’d be getting some friendly visit at this time of night? Right after all your friends were brutally murdered, and you were forced to seek refuge at this very house?

You’d only taken one step forward when you heard the door open, followed by a startled gasp. It happened quick, too quick for you to even process, and it wasn’t long before you could hear the woman’s husband yelping too, a loud thud reaching your ears. Before today, you didn’t know what it sounded like to stab someone or cut their throat. You stumbled back, eyes wide and heart so loud in your ears that it was all you could hear for a moment.

You felt so cold, and you had the shivers to prove it, and slowly but surely…you reached for the knife in the sink.

The house was so quiet, and you didn’t hear a single breath or footstep. Taking a hesitant step forward, you held the knife out in front of you, briefly squeezing your eyes shut. Stepping into the living room, you weren’t surprised to see the bodies of the poor couple who’d just tried to help you. Blood stretched from beneath them like a stream. You pressed your free hand to your mouth, swallowing down a sob.

You were surprised, however, to see an empty living room.

Your brain was completely empty, feeling like you were short-circuiting. You were being toyed with, that much was obvious, and your lips trembled as you slowly spun, fighting to see any sign of your tormentor. Slowly kneeling, you looked for the woman’s cellphone, and you had to swallow down a curse when you realized it was gone.

You stood in the living room, feeling like you were losing your mind with no idea of what to do next. You could run back across the street to Kie’s where you knew a phone was…or you could try another neighbor. A last resort of an option flitted through your mind, anger briefly filling you as you considered simply killing the person who did this.

The front porch creaked, and your gaze zeroed in on the door.

Backing up, you moved further into the house and further away from the door. You glanced over your shoulder, arm grazing the wall as you hid in the hallway. You could hear the door opening just as you disappeared around the corner, and as you slowly and quietly moved about the back of the house, you wanted to cry with the realization that they had no back door.

The house was so modest and quaint that you hadn’t even considered that possibility.

Tears of frustration and fear skipped down your face just as the upbeat tune of a whistle reached your ears. You didn’t know why, but something about it made you so angry. You were being played with, like a damn mouse in the grasp of some cat. How this person could snuff out life like it was nothing and be so giddy about it, you didn’t know. It disgusted you.

…and so the knife was tight in your hand as you stomped back towards the living room.

There was no doubt in your mind that you were going to die tonight, and you’d rather it be fighting and on your terms. The lifeless faces of your friends were all that plagued your thoughts, one after the other being taken from you so easily. As if they were nothing. You thought you were prepared for the person you’d grown to hate most in the world.

…but you weren’t prepared for the sight of Barry sprawled along the couch without a care in the world.

You actually came up short, stopping in your tracks in both shock and disbelief. You felt your lips part, and your hold on the knife wasn’t so firm, now, almost dropping it. A myriad of emotions hit you at once, none of them good, but the loudest and most prominent was…confusion.

You barely knew Barry, really only in passing. The only time you ever saw him was when you happened to be in Rafe’s truck when he needed to make some exchange, the dark-haired man always giving you a mockingly prissy wave. You never talked to him outside of pleasantries, and quite frankly you hated being around him. Somehow, he always managed to bring out the worst in Rafe, egging on any of Rafe’s disgusting behaviors.

He never called you by your name, it was always—

“Mrs. Country Club,” he drawled, that familiar cheeky half grin on his lips.

The gold in his mouth winked at you as you just stood there, and your stomach turned.

“Barry?” you breathed, and he simply raised his hands as if to say ‘the one and only’. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He raised his brows at that, pursing his lips together to fight off a smirk. You looked around, trying to make sense of this before taking a shaky breath.

“Why?” you spat, gaze meeting his unreadable one. “I don’t understand…”

Your words died in your throat, getting choked up.

“Why?”

He played with his hair, a look of confusion on his face.

“Why what…?”

“You’re not funny,” you sneered. “You’re not. Why? Why? Why?”

You screamed the last one, face wet with tears, and all the while he simply…smirked at you.

“How about this… I’ll answer yours if you answer mine,” he proposed, gesturing between you. “Did you feel bad when you dumped your boyfriend in the woods?”

His question made so much click, and you sighed, eyes briefly closing.

Of course.

Of fucking course.

Somehow, someway, Topper and Kelce were like brothers to Rafe despite their differences, but Barry? You always hated how your ex-boyfriend managed to find a camaraderie in the dangerous drug dealer, both of them cut from the same psycho cloth. Only Barry could never go to the lengths Rafe did. At least, that was what you always thought…

The laugh that left you seemed to surprise both of you, and he blinked, brows raising again as he just…looked at you.

“That’s what this is about?” you breathed, voice shaking from anger and grief and disgust. “Revenge because I killed your bestie?”

Your tone was mocking, and all the while, Barry just stared at you.

“I guess psycho little rich boys must be hard to come by,” you spat. “Forgive me. Had I known you were going to take it so hard, I would’ve tried to make it look like some tragic accident instead.”

Again, he said nothing at all, and you recalled he’d asked you a question.

“…but to answer your question, no. I didn’t.”

The corner of his lips lifted ever so slightly at that, smirk growing.

“Rafe treated me like his property, like he could do whatever he wanted to me…and best believe…he took full advantage,” you forced out. “That night it was him or me…and I chose me.”

The other man jutted his lip out a bit, nodding in a way that suggested he was almost impressed. You looked at the bodies of the poor couple who’d gotten caught up in your shit, and you wiped your face, more tears spilling over. You adjusted the knife in your hand, staring him down.

“So, are you going to try and kill me or what?”

He tilted his head, raising an eyebrow at you.

“That’s what this whole thing has been about, right?” you threw your arms up. “Tormenting me, driving me crazy, taking my friends from me and saving me for last so I knew what was coming, right?”

His silence actually angered you, now, and you roughly exhaled through your nose.

“What are you waiting for?” you brokenly questioned, startled by the sound of his chuckle.

It was genuine.

“I am offended,” he laughed, hands grazing his chest as he sat up straight. “Do I seem like a bloodthirsty murderer to you? Come on, now, Mrs. Country Club. You know that’s not my style.”

His words confused you.

“Truthfully,” he said, resting his elbows on his knees, a half-smile on his lips. “I’m just here for the show.”

You were so startled by the tight grip on your wrist that you dropped the knife, your lifeline clattering to the floor with a loud clang. Another knife—a bigger one—was at your throat, and you sharply inhaled at the feel of cool metal to your skin. In your attempt to get away from the blade, you pressed yourself further into the chest at your back. His hand on your wrist briefly tightened, so bad that you cried out in pain, but the tears that poured over had nothing to do with that.

You heard his deep breaths, and it wasn’t because his lips were at your ear, but because you’d stopped breathing. You couldn’t feel your heart, an icy emptiness in your chest where it was supposed to be, and the noise that finally left your lips was a cross between a gasp and a cry. The knife at your throat pressed harder into your skin, feeling a slight sting there, but it was nothing in comparison to the feel of his face pressing into the area where your neck and shoulder met.

He deeply inhaled, and a shudder passed through you.

“Word of advice…”

You closed your eyes at the sound of his voice, hoping for anything other than what you accepted as the truth.

“…if you’re going to bury someone,” his lips were at your ear again, and his tone was chilling. “Make sure they’re actually dead.”

A sob finally escaped, and your tearful eyes rested on the ceiling.

“Unlike you, I don’t make that mistake.”

Revulsion filled you, and you were certain that now you really were going to be sick.

“When I set out to kill someone, I get the job done,” he purred, a kiss to your neck. “…but you know that better than anyone, baby.”

You couldn’t even describe the feeling of being in Rafe’s arms again. There was too much going on within you to pinpoint one feeling, but above all else, you knew that you felt fear. Not once had you ever been able to actually heal from Rafe’s abuse. He was the thing you feared most in the world…and then you killed him.

That wasn’t healing.

That was just getting rid of the problem, but the fear and inferiority complex and damage still remained. You were happier with him gone, and you’d mistakenly took that for healing, but now that he was back… Now that Rafe was alive and well and a thousand times worse than you knew him to be, all of that came back, and you couldn’t stop crying.

“What? Nothing to say for yourself?”

It was so hard to breathe, and you couldn’t answer Rafe’s question even if you wanted to.

“Nothing to say about how you hit me upside the head and buried me in the woods like a fucking dog?”

He shook you as he said this, and you cried out. Evidently, that made him angrier, and you soon found yourself thrown to the floor. Your legs landed in blood, and your attempt to crawl away was halted by Rafe’s hand in your hair. He yanked you back until you were on your knees, and when you reached up, his other hand had the knife at your throat.

“Oh, wait, that’s right. What was it you said? It came down to you…or me…?” he chuckled, purposefully nicking your neck. “…and you chose you…right?”

He shoved you again, and you struggled to get to the wall, leaning against it and finally facing him.

It actually hurt you to see that he was just as beautiful as the day you buried him. Of course, he was sober, now, but what did that count for when he also had half a dozen literal bodies under his belt now? Blood stained his shirt, so much of it, and you wondered how much of it belonged to your friends. Your lips trembled as he pushed his hair out of his face, his other hand still holding the bloody knife.

“Sorry about your boyfriend,” he suddenly said although he didn’t sound sorry, at all.

Your face crumbled, and he chuckled.

“It wasn’t my intention for him to go like that, but…” he wiped blood off of his forehead. “I couldn’t quite get the image of him on top of you out of my head.”

Your eyes widened at his words, staring at him in shock as you recalled the day you told yourself you were imagining things.

“Truthfully, Sarah was supposed to be last,” he casually said, and you pressed your hand to your mouth. “My own fucking sister.”

He scoffed, and something passed through his gaze that told you he was genuinely hurt about Sarah’s so-called betrayal. His blue eyes rested on you, and you were suddenly thinking about the last time you stared into them…when he had his hands around your throat, choking the life out of you. Rafe seemed to be thinking about that night too, and you watched his gaze briefly fall to the floor, sniffing.

“I gotta admit,” he murmured. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

He looked into your eyes again, and you realized that you hadn’t stopped crying once since he revealed himself to you. Your gaze briefly landed on Barry who was still on the couch, watching the whole ordeal like this was some tv show instead of real fucking life.

“Rafe…” you choked out.

“…but I can promise you,” the blond sneered, pointing the knife at you. “I won’t be making that mistake again.”

You closed your eyes, fresh tears falling, and you struggled to swallow.

“Just get it over with already,” you breathed, so tired and…defeated. “Just kill me.”

When you opened your eyes, Rafe looked genuinely amused at the words that left your mouth. You weren’t surprised when he chuckled, and he glanced over his shoulder at Barry, still laughing.

“Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

Your confusion must have been evident because he laughed again. Rafe stepped towards you until your eyes were level with his crotch, and you hated the way he looked down at you, like you were this helpless and hapless thing that he was just going to have so much fun with. When he slowly knelt before you, you flinched as he lifted his hand, the end of the knife lightly grazing your cheek before it trailed down your neck. Rafe’s blue gaze followed the descent, tongue darting out between his lips.

“Why would I do a silly thing like that?”

His almost inaudible words were loud and clear to you though, and you felt like you’d been shot.

“I won’t lie,” he said, staring at your collarbone. “I thought about. It was the first thing on my mind when Barry pulled me out of that grave you put me in.”

You swallowed when his gaze snapped to yours.

“I wanted to gut you like those fish my dad are always reeling in,” he spat. “I wanted to cut you open.”

You shook your head, letting it fall as you cried.

“…but this seemed soo much better,” he breathed, voice shaky, and you knew it wasn’t from fear nor anger.

Rafe was excited.

“…because you know what’s so much better than murdering all of your friends and forcing you to live with the fact that their deaths are on your hands? Hmm?”

He reached up, lightly grazing your lips with his fingers.

“Do you know what’s better than that?”

His hand tightened around your chin, and knowing him like the back of your hand, you knew he actually wanted an answer.

“No,” you muttered.

Rafe leaned in, brushing his lips against your cheek in a gentle kiss as he whispered his response.

“Having you all to myself.”

You didn’t have time to resist before Rafe was yanking you up by your hair, quite literally dragging you through this stranger’s house. Your feet tripped over one another, and several times you almost fell. Rafe finally wrapped an arm around your neck, keeping you in a chokehold as he forced you down the hall. The moment you tried to scream, his hand was there, forcing it down, and when he tossed you into the bedroom, your forehead hit the leg of the bed.

You heard him whistle.

“The old geezers have taste,” he praised. “…bet this is where that granddaughter of theirs sleeps when she comes to visit.”

You were a sobbing mess, just barely pushing yourself to your knees when Rafe tackled you onto your back. Not unfamiliar with this predicament, you fought against him, hitting him and scratching at his face. Any resistance was met with a genuine laugh, and when Rafe had both of your wrists pinned down beside your head, he tilted his own at you.

“You already killed me, baby,” he breathed. “What more could you do to me?”

The scream you let out was filled with equal pain and frustration, kicking out when he sank his teeth into your chest. It was done with the full intent to hurt, and he succeeded, pain blooming beneath your skin as he tore at your shirt.

Becoming reacquainted with his knife, you tried to scoot back as he sliced through your pants with it, pulling the jeans off of you in tatters. Fearful of the weapon in his hand, you tried to push at his arm, but when his free hand wrapped around your throat, effectively pinning you down, the knife found its way to your stomach.

You breath hitched as you froze.

“I’d be careful if I were you,” Rafe hummed. “I might just…slip.”

You yelped at the sharp feeling along your stomach, and the burn you felt told you there was a cut there. He didn’t let go of the knife as he undressed himself with his other hand, and when he reached for your bra, the blade was pressed to your throat the entire time. You couldn’t stop shaking even if you wanted to, and Rafe made a show of taking his time as he settled between your legs.

“I hope you know how much planning went into this…”

You squeezed your eyes shut.

“…and I hope you know that this was all that kept me going.”

When he pushed into you, you gasped in both pain and shock. You hadn’t been with Rafe—with anyone—in a year, and you struggled to adjust. Fresh tears escaped, and when Rafe’s bloody hand gripped your jaw, he turned your head to meet him in a kiss. It was gentle, nothing at all like the rough thrusts he started to give you.

Your back rubbed against the floor as he fucked you, and your crying was drowned out by the sound of his deep moans. Rafe sounded like he was in heaven while you felt like you were in hell. The feel of his cock pushing into you made your mind shrivel with disgust, but your body responded exactly how he wanted.

“I missed you,” he moaned, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “Fuck, I missed you so much.”

You sobbed louder, hating the way his thrusts became smoother, now. Your body greedily sucked him in with every push of his hips, and as his hands ran over you, all you could think about were these same hands killing your friends. These same hands that had done so much damage to your life even before that fateful night last year.

With a tug on the hair at the nape of your neck, Rafe forced your head back, and he took his time grazing his teeth along your skin. You could still feel the cool blade of the knife on your skin whenever he moved his other hand. His hips snapped against yours, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room, and it seemed like every nightmare you’d had about Rafe had come true…only multiplied by one hundred.

He pressed a hand into your stomach, holding himself up that way while the other hand pressed the knife to your throat. A fresh bout of sobs escaped, and you swore that Rafe actually smiled. You were proven right when he laughed, a deep and raspy chuckle that made your hair stand on end.

“Sucks, doesn’t it?” he breathed. “…being so weak and at the mercy of someone else?”

It was sick how Rafe didn’t seem to realize that you knew this feeling long before today. Countless days filled with fear and yelling and manhandling plagued your mind, and the knowledge that Rafe had no intention of ending your suffering was enough to make you go numb.

As if sensing that, Rafe pressed the blade into your throat.

Your gasped turned into cries as you reached up.

“Uh uh,” he panted. “None of that. You are going to lie here…and you’re going to think about what you did to me.”

You gripped his wrist, eyes pleading. Rafe leaned in, nose pressed to yours with a knife pressed to your throat and a hand pressed to your stomach.

“You’re going to lie here, and take my cock, and thank God that I decided to spare your life.”

A particular hard thrust made you gasp.

“Every day, for as long as you live, I want you to think about your friends and remember that they are dead because of you…”

You closed your eyes, and Rafe dug the knife into your throat.

“Open your fucking eyes,” he breathed, continuing when you obeyed. “They are dead because you failed to kill me, and every time I come inside of you, you should take it with nothing less than gratitude.”

He kissed you then, roughly and lacking of any kind of love. It was purely done for show, to exert his power over you and remind you that you belonged to him. You tried to turn your head, and in doing so, you caught sight of Barry leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest as he watched. The sight made you turn your head away, sobbing beneath Rafe.

“…because never forget that I wanted to cut you open,” he whispered in your ear, grinding his hips against yours and forcing a choked moan from your lips. “…but where is the fun in killing you when this is so much better.”

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader #obx #outer banks #obx imagine #outer banks imagine #kinktober #halloween #halloween fic

[majestyeverlasting]

A Little Less Restless

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (friends to lovers)

Summary: As Bucky finds himself within the still familiarity of Brooklyn, he comes to realize that he deserves nice things. And, most of all, that he deserves you.

Word Count: 2k

A/N: I haven't posted any new writing in a bit, and it feels good to be resolving that (yay me). Please enjoy this piece I wrote today. Lot's of fluff and very obvious feelings. It's been a while since I wrote something for him. <3

Three knocks sound on Bucky’s front door as his reflection stares back at him in the bathroom. He's leaning close to the mirror in careful criticism. Enough to see the green flecks in his irises. The freckles on his cheeks from being in the sun. The pricks of hair making up his scruff. Then he eases back and squares his shoulders. They fall after he releases a breath. 

He prays he doesn’t look as restless as he feels. 

The smile you give him when he answers the door carries a warmth he isn’t sure he deserves. But he takes it because that’s all he can do. Enjoy it like a man who’s been cold his whole life. By some miracle, he feels himself smiling back in that small, weighted way of his. It was a trade off of sorts, and now you’re even. No outstanding debts. 

He motions you inside with a soft please, and you study him once you’re in the foyer. In the few seconds that you’re silently observing, Bucky wishes he knew exactly why. As tender as your gaze is, heat was already rising to his cheeks. But like everything else when it comes to you, he takes it. Looks right back at you shyly, pushes his hands into his pockets, and waits. 

“Your hair’s shorter,” you finally say, smile growing wider. “Did you cut it?” 

“Cut it,” he repeats like a question, hands moving to run through it. The previous night creeps back to the forefront of his mind. 

When he’d gone for a walk to get some air and inadvertently found himself being drawn in by the red, white, and blue barber’s pole spiraling on the next block. It’d been ages since he’d gone to a professional, but walking inside to the faint scent of tobacco and aftershave made him feel as though he’d never stopped. 

“Mhm,” you hum, certain. 

The stumped look on his face vanishes like it was never supposed to be there. “I went and got it trimmed at a place called Ricky’s last night.” 

“And you forgot that quickly?” Next thing he knows, you’re wrapping him in an embrace, peeking up at him after a few seconds, “I’m teasing.” 

He squeezes you back tighter. 

It’s you who eventually pulls away, and he finds himself trailing you as you venture deeper into his apartment, eyes roving thoughtfully. A coffee table now complements the couch in the living room. The walls are no longer bare. At long last, the space was beginning to look more like a home. 

For the longest time, Bucky had only seen it as a place to rest his head after countless assignments that took him miles away. It didn’t need to be anything special, or so he thought. One of the first things you told him upon coming into his life was that he needed a constant. A place to come back to that he could make his own. That was his. He’d spent so much of his life serving other people and belonging to other people that he was finally learning what it meant to be his own. 

It was exhausting not being halfway across the world with a task to busy his mind. Brooklyn was still in comparison. A place where he could recognize street names, faces, point out buildings that used to be something else when he was a kid. And now there was you, who made being stateside worthwhile in a way he didn’t think was possible. He realized then, how much he’d deprived himself of meaningful connections outside of work. 

“It looks great in here, Buck. What’d I tell you?” Your earnesty is genuine. Makes him, as old and borderline cynical as he is, feel special. “You’re gonna have to start inviting me over more.” You shoot him a wink, and he freezes because of the weight of the implication. If you notice, you don’t say anything. 

A few months ago you’d been strangers crossing paths. Then acquaintances. Now friends who cared about each other a whole awful lot. Only, it was more obvious on your end. He kept most of his sentiments guarded, not yet ready for them to bleed out like an open wound. It didn’t help that you were always wielding a knife, coming closer and closer to cut through the wall he built around himself. 

“You can come over whenever you want,” he says. “I’m always here.” 

“When you’re not on assignment,” you add. “And I know. I just don’t want to scare you away.” 

Bucky frowns at the suggestion, but his lips eventually turn up. “Good thing you’re not a scary person,” he says, counting on earning a laugh. Something. 

And you do, right before shaking your head. “I’m serious.” 

“You couldn’t scare me away,” he assures. 

You nod slowly. “So how’ve you been?” There’s something else lingering on the tip of your tongue, so he waits it out. It ends up punching him right in the gut. “You look…I don’t know.” 

It hadn’t been all too long since he’d come back from Morocco. Only a week. And it would be a while before he was sent out anywhere else. His mind was in the constant process of drifting to the type of thoughts all men sifted through when they have nothing but time. Those regarding purpose, belonging, and meaning. Not to a deep, crippling degree, but enough to make him want to spring into some sort of action. Find something to indulge in that wasn’t saving the world. 

Bucky swallows and shifts his weight. “Restless,” he offers. “Didn’t think you’d notice.” 

“I’ll always notice.” Silence stretches between the two of you and a siren wails in the distance. “Maybe we can go out tonight, just you and me. Is that something you’d wanna do?” The question sounds shy. 

What you didn’t know quite yet is that he’d probably do just about anything if it was with you. 

***

At the end of the night, it’s Bucky who pulls out his card and pays for dinner. Not even giving you the chance to think about digging into your purse. As an old tune continues playing overhead, your grateful eyes sparkle at him from across the table. 

Neither of you had dined here before. It’s one of the places Bucky said used to go by a different name and was run by a different family, Italians. You liked listening to him talk about what once was because it made you realize just how much he knew. Just how thoughtful and reverent he was when it came to the good memories he had. 

Being listened to so intently was new for him. But he enjoyed it. Especially when you’d ask questions or bring up a point he made further back in the conversation. By the time the waiter comes back around with his card and his copy of the receipt, the two of you are basking in the memory of the evening and thinking about what the rest of the night may hold. 

“This was really nice,” he says, folding his napkin and setting it aside on the table. Then his expression becomes consumed by a certain solemness. “I don’t know how well it comes across, but I need you to know that I appreciate you. A lot.”

Your heart nearly bursts. “I know, Bucky,” you promise. He still looks unconvinced, so you extend your hand face up on the table for him to take. “I know.” 

The cab ride back to his place is quiet. You hold onto his hand the whole way, relishing the feeling of his thumb tracing back and forth over your skin. It’s a gesture that says I’m here with, I’ll be here as long as you’ll have me. Brooklyn passes by in rushes of darkness peppered with light. Pedestrians walk alongside the streets, some holding hands just like the two of you. It isn’t long before the driver pulls up alongside the curb of the complex. 

It isn’t until you’re in the elevator that you’re sure that you want to stay. 

The two of you get off at the fifth floor. 

“Is it okay if I spend the night? If not, I completely understand. I know it’s such short notice,” you ramble as he’s turning his key into the door. He hopes you don’t notice the way he falters. But part of him knows you do. You don’t miss anything. Luckily for him, you’re just as fazed by your own question, holding your breath. 

It’s not until you’re inside that he graces you with an answer, “‘Course you can.”

Your shoulders drop in relief. What you’re not expecting is the laugh he tries to bite back. Maybe it was mean of him, but he liked knowing he could make you sweat. Sometimes it seemed like it was only ever you who made him openly anxious. 

“You’re terrible,” you accuse, failing at restraining a smile. “Absolutely horrible.” You’d forgotten to throw away an empty water bottle before you left, and it’s the closest thing you’re able to throw his way in retaliation. He catches it and tosses it in the trash himself. 

Mischief written all along his smile when he starts towards you. 

Partly scared and partly excited, you think to flee at the last second. After a few measly steps, you’re being pulled back into the firmness of his chest. He’s sure enough laughing now, the vibration rushing straight into your back right along with the warmth of his body. So are you. He only has one arm secured around your waist and, despite the fact that he’s not even trying, it's enough to hold you. 

“Wait, wait, wait—hold on a second!” your words come out giggly both because you’re anticipating some sort of attack, and because he’s never held you quite like this before. Unlike a normal hug, this feels like he has you rather than you having each other. It’s vulnerable. Dizzying. 

“You win, you win!” 

“What?” he laughs in surprise. His mouth is so close to your ear that you shiver. “Thought you had more fight in you than that,” there’s a playful warmth to his words. 

You shake your head in denial and relax back into him. You didn’t stand a chance of winning unless he let you, and you were more than willing to tap out early. Because even so, you were still in his arms at his mercy, and somehow that felt like the safest place to be. By the time you realize both of your laughter has faded to a thoughtful silence, he’s pressing a featherlight kiss to the shell of your ear. 

When he lowers his arm from around your waist, you turn around to face him. 

There’s a ghost of a smile on his face. He suddenly looks boyish, younger. Having crawled out of whatever shell of crushing expectation and responsibility he usually resided within. 

When he cups your face and presses his lips to yours, his shoulders relax and his breaths slow. And for once, he indulges. In you. In the prospect of having someone to lean on and being leaned on in return. It’s a reminder that he’s allowed to experience nice things. To have a life to look forward to outside of lending himself to cause after cause. 

You’re soft, and warm, and everything good a person could be. He pulls away slowly after a while, blinking down at you with heavy eyelids. You’re looking right back at him like he’s the world itself. 

“Maybe you’re not so terrible,” you whisper, smiling. 

Of everything he was feeling now, restless wasn’t one of them. 

_

Thank you so much for reading! I promise I see every like, comment, and reblog and appreciate them all very much. 

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x fem reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n

[sbdskate]

Pencils Down (18+) - Daniel Ricciardo x lawyer!fem!reader

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x fem!lawyer!reader

Summary: At the end of the 2022 F1 season, Daniel Ricciardo finalizes his legal affairs by signing as a reserve driver with Red Bull. The tempting young associate who’s handled the negotiations is no longer off limits.

Warnings (18+): language, *smut (!!!), dry humping, oral (f receiving), fingering, NSFW

Word Count: 2,957

A/N: Surprise! This is an alternate Laws Of Attraction scene that I turned into a one shot. Initially, I had written the hook up to happen immediately after the contract signing, but realized it disrupted the flow of the story. That being said, I still want it to see the light of day. If you're new here: (1) welcome! (2) if you liked it and want the full story, you can find it here. Again, new to smut writing so feedback is always welcome and appreciated. Thank you!

Daniel Ricciardo had finally signed with Red Bull as a reserve driver. After a tumultuous 2022 season filled with lots of lows, you had been the one shiny bright spot as he navigated what his future might look like in the sport. Everybody seemed to have an opinion and something to say, though rarely to his face – how many times had he read in the press that he was “washed up” or that “his career is over” if he didn’t get a primary seat on the grid. But you’d listened to him and supported him as you traversed the fallout with McLaren’s termination and braved negotiations with other teams. Granted, as his lawyer it was your job to act as his fiduciary so he shouldn’t have read as much into it as he did. But from Belgium to Abu Dhabi, he shared his hopes and dreams with you for now and for the future and you received his words with care and without judgment.  

Stress, despair, and proximity created the ultimate concoction that laminated the bond between attorney and client. The more time you spent together, the more you learned about each other, and the harder it was to keep personal feelings from muddling the professional relationship. He watched as you navigated worlds surrounded by men, both in Daniel’s field and yours, and he admired your wit, intellect and steadfast determination in the face of being constantly undermined and underestimated. And you, ever the skeptic and cautious to a fault, couldn’t help but succumb to the charm of the handsome driver even when he was at his worst.

Which brought you to the hallway of Red Bull hospitality, the ink from his signature still wet on the new contract for the 2023 season. The other lawyers and representatives had cleared out, leaving the two of you to contemplate whether the little touches and prolonged glances over the last three months were more than they seemed.   

“So that’s it?”

“Yeah.”

“Pencils down.”

“Yep.”

“I’m not your client anymore.”

“Correct, I no longer represent you.”

“Now what?”

The irony of the situation was not lost on either of you. After months of buildup and counting down the seconds until the end of your attorney-client representation, you were stuck in a country that criminalized PDA and the cohabitation of unmarried couples. He was scheduled to go back to Perth and you back to the New York office of your law firm tomorrow. You hadn’t allowed your daydreams to get this far and you were stumped.

“I don’t know.” The universe was cruel and unforgiving. You checked your surroundings and bit your lip in frustration.

“Follow me,” he whispered. “I know a place.”

You followed the driver a pace or two behind in silence as you tracked the maze of Red Bull hospitality, cutting through the kitchen, hallways and corridors, until you reached Max’s driver’s room. He closed the door and locked it behind you. He grabbed your hands.

“Tell me you don’t want this. And I’ll leave you alone. You’ll never have to see me again.” His voice was low and gruff, in a way you had never heard before. He squeezed your hands, eyes pleading, trying to convey more than he could put into words in the moment.

You shook your head in disbelief that somehow that was the conclusion he had come to. You cupped his face with your hand, thumb rubbing along his stubbled jaw line. Your voice was soft, barely able to get the words out.

“I want this. I want you. Please.”

You didn’t have to say it twice. His lips crashed into yours in a passionate kiss that almost knocked you off your feet. Months of pent-up sexual tension and mutual curiosity were released in an instant. Your hands roamed each other’s bodies, too many places to explore to stay in one place. Your hands finally found a home in his soft, beautiful curls while his hand firmly held the base of your neck. His other hand rubbed circles around your lower back, cautiously moving downwards. You smiled into the kiss and moved his hand to your bottom, granting permission to proceed.

Having the green light, he moved his other hand down to grab a handful of your ass and picked you up. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around him as he pushed you up against the wall. The hem of your pencil skirt scrunched up at your waist. The thin fabric of your underwear and the bulge of his pants caused friction against your sensitive clit, and you wiggled your hips to get more from the sensation. You kissed him back with ferocity in an attempt to stifle the moans you desperately wanted to scream out, especially as you felt him harden from the contact. You pouted when he pulled away, only for his lips to land on the sensitive spot on your neck. You threw your head back and closed your eyes, unfortunately with too much gusto causing a loud *thud* when your head hit the wall. He immediately stopped.

“Are you ok?” His concern was immediately replaced by giggles when he saw you laughing. “Shhhh we still need to be quiet.”

“I know, I know,” you said between fits of laughter. “It’s just – are we crazy? We’re in a glorified closet with paper thin walls.” You paused, your laughter slowing. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea,” you said with a sympathetic smile. He gave you a chaste kiss.

“If it were up to me,” Your eyes rolled back as his lips met the column of your neck again. “I’d wine and dine you so hard,” *peck*  “maybe somewhere in Monaco,” *peck* “and then take you home and fuck you on the balcony.” You were practically drooling by the time he pulled away to look at you. “This is nowhere close to being good enough for what you deserve. We can stop whenever you want.”

You looked at him, dazed. His warm chestnut brown eyes were so earnest, but it was hard to keep your head straight with him still firmly pressed against you.  You absentmindedly wiggled again but he steadied your hips with his fingers. He pressed his forehead to yours.

“I need you to use your words. Do you want to stop?” You frowned.

“No,” you paused. “But I don’t know if I want to continue here.”

“There’s always tonight.” Skeptical, you raised an eyebrow.

“Go on?”

“Well, I can come to your room once all the festivities are over and everyone goes to bed. If you’ll have me, of course.” You swooned.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I already told you I want you. It’s risky though, no?”

“I mean yeah, a little. But …” he grabbed your wrists and pinned them besides your head. “…trying not to get caught is half the fun.” His hot breath tickled your face. All sense of logic and reason went out the window. As a lawyer, this whole situation went against your very nature of rule following. 

“Oh,” was all you could croak out.

“Can I do something for you before we go outside?”

“Please,” you begged, eliciting a wicked smirk from him. It dawned on you that he enjoyed seeing you frazzled. But you enjoyed it too. Considering how intense your job was, the mental reprieve was just as thrilling as his touch.

Peeling you from the wall, he continued to hold you until he sat down on the massage table so that you were straddling him. Free from you prior constraints, you rolled your hips over his hardened bulge as you made out. His hands moved from your ass to unbutton your shirt partially, just enough to expose your breasts. He moved a hand to cup one, gently rolling a thumb over your unlined bra where your nipple lay beneath. He separated from the kiss to make his way south, not missing the opportunity to take you in.

“Holy shit,” he breathed. He remembered when you burst into his own room just a few weeks ago to apologize for abandoning him in Austin. Flushed rosy cheeks, messy hair, clothes disheveled, panting - as you were now. He loved how easily he could make you come undone and that only he could ever see you this way. He raised his hips to meet yours when his mouth finally landed on your neck again. You leaned forward and gently bit his shoulder to suppress the noises that threatened to spill from your lips as you bucked your hips. Not trusting your ability to stay quiet, you began leaving a trail of kisses starting at his jaw and down his neck. He stopped you part way down his chest when he realized what you were doing, grabbing your hips roughly. You looked up at him innocently.

“What’s wrong?”

“Don’t.”

“I want to make you feel good.”

“You already make me feel good. This is about you.” He hoisted you back up on his lap, positioning so he could pick you up again. You let out a small yelp at the sudden movement, only for him to place you back down on the massage table. He leaned down to give you a kiss on your forehead before spreading your legs and kneeling in front of you. If you weren’t blushing before, your face was now beet-red. His hands lightly caressed the length of your leg, starting at your ankles and slowly making their way up your thighs. Your toes curled in your heels in anticipation.

You took a sharp inhale as he leaned in to leave a trail kisses up your inner thigh. You held your breath when he stopped at your panty-line, his hands playing with the sides of your thong. He looked up at you intently.

“Do you want me to keep going?” Eyes wide, you aggressively nodded and he chuckled at your eagerness. He drew little patterns over and around you, but purposefully just shy of your clit. You bit your bottom lip in frustration, the teasing becoming unbearable. He lightly dragged a finger over the center of your underwear, feeling your wetness through the fabric. As cool, calm, and collected as he looked to you, he too was quite literally bursting at the seams. His hardened cock strained against his pants seeking release. He wished he could fuck you right then and there, but understood the obvious risks you so pointedly observed.

Your legs trembled as he slowly pulled the fabric down. You wanted to scream feeling his hot breath over your entrance. You slapped a hand over your mouth when he closed the gap. He drew little circles around your bundle of nerves with his tongue before he switched to flicking. Your free hand found its way to his curls again, grasping for anything to keep you grounded as you felt like you would float away. Looking up from between your thighs, he saw the rise and fall of your chest and your bra peeking through your shirt. He unwrapped an arm to bring a finger to your folds, pausing to gauge your reaction.

You subconsciously bucked your hips, desperate for more contact. Accepting the sign, he inserted a finger, then two as he continued to lap at your clit. You arched your back in response to the dual sensations, doing your best to focus on your breathing. You wanted to shout his name to the world, to let everyone know that he was yours and you were his. Every obscenity known to man was on the tip of your tongue, but you held it in. His hands and mouth fell into a comfortable rhythm as your hand found a place in his hair again, running fingers through soft ringlets. Your core tensed, pressure pooling in your lower abdomen. He sensed you were close as you subconsciously squeezed your thighs around his head, encouraging him to keep going. He wished he could stay there forever. He looked up again a few moments later to see your eyes squeezed shut and your whole body convulsing around him as you reached your climax. He’d never seen a more beautiful sight.

You melted into the table as you came down from your high. You gave him a small pat on the head to indicate that you had finished, though your limp body was evidence enough to him. He smiled as he pulled away, giving a small kiss on your inner thigh before sucking his fingers that had been inside you moments ago. You lazily glanced at him slack-jawed. You still weren’t sure whether this was all just a fever dream. He began to wipe his mouth but you grabbed his shirt to stop him.

“No,” you mumbled. You haphazardly pulled on the shirt in your hands to encourage him to meet your lips and he happily obliged. “I want to taste myself,” you said under your breath just as the gap closed.

He wasn’t exactly sure what he had done to deserve such praise but was thankful nonetheless. You felt another wave of pleasure pulse through you as you tasted your own salty essence on your tongue. You began palming him over his pants, moving to unbuckle his belt when he stopped you. Sometimes he even surprised himself with the amount of self-control he had. But he knew it was only because if things progressed, the little he had left would dissolve into oblivion. He would happily go to jail for you, but he was not worried about getting caught himself. The repercussions for you would be detrimental in more ways than one and he wasn’t sure his celebrity would be enough to shelter you from reprimand.   

“Nooooo,” you whined as he peeled your hand from his crotch. He gave it a kiss before returning it to your side.

“Not here. Later, I promise.” His cock was pulsating, he tried to think of the Bills, Zak Brown, or literally anything else to take his mind away from the vision in front of him. You moved your hand down to play with yourself, but he grabbed it again. Your lower lip jutted, and you spread your legs wider for him. He was pretty sure he would give you almost anything you asked for with the eyes you gave him. Almost.

“Why?”

“Because we’ll get caught.”

“If I go to jail, I go to jail.” He laughed.

“That’s not what you said earlier. Plus -” he gave you a peck on the cheek. “I can’t fuck you if you’re in jail.” He had a point. You closed your legs, finally conceding.

“Fine. But I’m not happy about it.” Taking your hand again, he helped you to your feet. He knelt before you to pull your panties up, unnecessarily taking his time. He didn’t miss the opportunity to kiss your hips and gave your butt a light tap to close out the encounter. He straightened your skirt, taking care to smooth out as many wrinkles as he could. You bit your bottom lip, your heart felt so full with how delicately he handled you but you also ached for him to rip off the clothes he just took great care putting on.

“You’re being awfully needy.” He continued to dress you as you complained, buttoning your shirt back up.

“What can I say? I’m a strong, independent, needy woman.” He bit back his laugh. He didn’t need you to know this hurt him as much as it pained you.

You pulled him in for a kiss again, though it only lasted a second before he practically pushed you away. You frowned and were about to ask his what was wrong, but looked down and quickly realized his conundrum. You were reminded of one of the few benefits of being a woman: the ability to hide arousal in public.

“Oh – oh shit. I can help…?” You gently touched his chest and began kneeling but he placed your hand back at your side and encouraged you to stand upright.

“Nope. No. I just have to… think of something else for a bit.” You looked at him intently but he was very focused on the ceiling. You didn’t want to make him feel bad, so you pursed your lips together to hold back your laughter.

“Ok. Well, um, I’ll see you later then.” He shut his eyes hard when you went to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Oh fuck, I’m sorry,” you said again, realizing you were not helping the situation. “I’m just - going to go.” You turned around and bent over to pick up your work bag, which incidentally prominently displayed the curves of your rear.

“Oh my God, please just get out.” You immediately stood up straight to find him covering his eyes with his hands.

“I know, I’m sorry!” You walked backwards to the door to avoid any further accidental temptation. “This was fun, I’ll see you later,” you said with a giant smile.

Not removing one of the hands from his face, he waved with the other one. “Just be careful on your way out. But please, for the sake of both of us, you need to leave,” he said with a smile.

“I know, I know, I’m leaving. Byeeee,” you whispered as you shut the door.

You quickly checked your surroundings and made a b-line for the bathroom where you finally had a moment to process what just happened. You looked at your reflection. Your heartbeat had finally returned to normal, but your cheeks were still a little flushed from the encounter. Otherwise, you pulled your slightly tangled hair back in a bun – no one would be none the wiser.

You didn’t look much different, but your sense of reality had been permanently altered.

#daniel ricciardo #smut #f1 #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #f1 x reader #dr3 x reader #daniel ricciardo one shot #one shot #dr3 #danny ric #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #f1 fic #f1 smut #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo fluff #daniel ricciardo f1 #formula 1 smut #formula one #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #formula one x y/n #formula one x you

[flowersandbigteeth]

Your orc husband comes to fetch you

A little thing to start 2024. I've gotten lots of requests for more orcs ^_^

General Plot: Your husband finds out you've been injured in battle and comes to fetch you.

Orc (Reven) x GN reader

Word count: 1K-ish

More SFW fics

TW: Mention of amputation, mention of break up, hurt comfort, sfw fluff, size difference

“Heard the news?” Reven’s client asked, a brave move considering the razor at his throat. 

Skilled fingers never wavering as he drew the blade across his client's chin, he let out a bored grunt, focused on his task.

“There’s rarely any news that hasn't made it through the shop.” 

His client’s eyes twinkled, eager to share some gossip. 

“They say the Dragon Slayer is retiring.” 

Reven’s graceful stroke paused, and he pulled his hand back before he sliced the man's cheek. 

“Oh? I thought they’d never give up their crusade.”  

“Word is the crusade is over. The dragons pillaging Walker’s Keep are dead. The slayer killed them all.” 

Reven took a deep breath before asking his next question. 

“Will they be returning to their homeland?” 

The client snorted. 

“If they ever leave the hospital. They were gravely wounded in the final battle. Thank the Goddess the dragon’s gone, they won't be doing much-” 

The razor clattered to the floor with a metallic clang, and Reven’s feet carried him out the front door of his barbershop without a word to the half-shaved client sitting in his chair. 

He left his crinkled apron in the dirt as he mounted his horse and steered her towards the road to Walker’s Keep. 

–

“Come on hero, eat a little,” one of the nurses at the clinic urged you, holding up a spoon of oatmeal. 

You waved it away with your remaining hand, your face a miserable, twisted version of itself. 

She huffed, getting annoyed. 

“You haven't eaten in three days! It's only a hand. Some of the people here have lost brain matter, their genitals…You've already killed the dragons. You don't need-” 

A clamor outside the door of your hospital room cut off her little tirade. 

An orderly’s deep voice drifted through the door. 

“Sir! Only family can-” 

“I am family, dammit. I'm their husband!” 

Reven’s familiar baritone made your heart flutter. Still, you were afraid. It had been so long since you'd seen one another. Three years and you hadn't parted on a happy note. 

The door flew open, and there he was, his massive shoulders filling the frame, emerald green skin as rich as you remembered it. He’d changed his hair, no longer cropped around his ears, but long hanging in a thick ponytail over his shoulders. 

He tipped his head to enter the room, dark eyes on you, and his lips twisted around his tusks in an expression you remembered as annoyance. 

“Get out,” he barked at the nurse, and she shuffled past him without question. 

Your voice was only a murmur.

“You came.” 

“Of course, I came. I would have come sooner, but someone failed to send their spouse a note mentioning they’d lost their hand!” 

Your eyes dipped, full of shame. 

You'd left Reven on a cold December night. He'd begged you not to go, cried, yelled, and made you a million promises if you'd just let someone else handle the mission. But no, you had to be a hero, and look what that brought you. You were broken and useless, alone in a hospital bed. 

“Stop thinking so hard,” he muttered, chestnut eyes roving over you, ever analytical. 

He crossed the room and plopped down on the bed, holding his hand out. 

“What?” you asked. 

“Let me see it.”

You stretched your bandaged stump to him, and he fingered it gingerly. For an Orc he had nimble fingers honed by years as a barber. 

“Bah…Just a scratch.” 

He gently placed it in his lap, twisting his body so the two of you were face to face. 

“It's my sword hand. I'll never kill another dragon.” 

His head tipped to the side. 

“I've heard the dragons are dead.” 

“They are, but-” 

“But nothing. You accomplished your mission…sacrificed for the kingdom…It's time to come home.” 

You blinked at him, tears burning the backs of your eyes. 

“You want me to come home? I'm…I'm useless.” 

He chuckled. 

“Nothing's changed without your hand. You've never been good at anything but killing.” 

“Swordsmanship was my only skill.” 

“A stupid one.” 

His lips twisted around his tusks again, but this time with amusement. Large fingers slipped over your cheek, and he pulled your head to him, brushing his lips over yours. His scent and taste were so familiar. It was as if you'd been holding your breath the three years you'd been gone and could finally get some oxygen. When he pulled back, he looked down at you, expression solemn. 

“I wrote you letters. You never wrote back. Did you toss them all out?” 

You shook your head, trying to hold the tears back. The Dragon Slayer crying was embarrassing. You nodded to the small chest where the nurses had placed your belongings. 

Reven crossed the room, opening the box and pulling out a stack of letters tied with a green ribbon you’d come across. 

“I didn’t know what to say. I felt…guilty…I guess.” 

He tossed them on your lap, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Hello. I love you, would have sufficed.” 

“I’m sorry, Reven. I left and ruined myself when I could have been home with you. I could have been happy.” 

“You killed the dragons, accomplished your goal…You aren’t happy?” 

“It feels emptier than I thought it would. I left you alone. Anything could have happened to you, and I would have lost my chance to see you again.” 

He chuckled. 

“I’m not helpless.” 

“I left you alone. It’s unforgivable.” 

“That’s for me to decide.” 

You looked up at him, searching his eyes. 

“You’d forgive me? I don’t deserve it. I got hurt. You told me this would happen, and I didn’t listen. Now I’m just a burden and a fool.” 

He sighed and pushed you to the side, sliding into bed with you before pulling you back into his lap. His nose grazed the column of your neck, and you felt him breathe in your scent.

“Maybe a fool, but never a burden, and being foolish doesn’t make you unlovable. I missed you (Y/N).” 

“I missed you, too.” 

“You weren’t the only fool.” 

“You started dating another bloodthirsty idiot while I was away?” 

“I should have come with you. I was angry at you, but that didn’t last long. Then I was bitter you hadn’t asked me to join you, and I didn’t insist.” 

“Kharma caught up to me.” 

“If you hadn’t lost your hand, would you still be gallivanting over the countryside fighting monsters?” 

“Probably.” 

He buried his face in your neck, and you felt the slight wetness of tears against your skin. 

“I don’t think it was Kharma…I think it was Fate.”

“Fate?”

“Fate spared two idiots unwilling to budge.” 

You sat on those words for a few minutes, the heat of Reven’s body seeping into your bones. You could never quite get warm the entire time you’d been gone, no matter how many furs you donned. You always felt cold, even with the heat of the dragon’s flame singing the tips of your eyelashes. 

“Don’t leave again,” he whispered.

“It wasn’t worth it. I’d read and reread your letters all those lonely nights, wishing I had the strength to abandon my quest and return. I was afraid…I’ve never been afraid before. I’ve killed monsters my whole life and never felt fear, but the thought that you might reject me if I walked through those doors…that I’d come home to find some other lover warming your bed…our home…” 

You felt Reven smile into your skin. 

“There aren’t too many half-feral sword-wielding jocks roaming around Elderoak. That’s what I go for.” 

“Thank you for coming to get me, Reven.” 

“I should have come sooner.” 

“I wouldn’t have listened.” 

“I’m bigger than you. I should have thrown you over my shoulder and taken you home.” 

“And now…?” 

“You could walk…or I could throw you over my shoulder anyway if you like that sort of thing.” 

You twisted your body to snuggle deeper into Reven’s arms. You finally felt warm for the first time in three years. 

“Did the doctor clear you to leave?” 

“They’ve done all they can…they were waiting on me to eat.” 

You felt his chest shudder as he chuckled. 

“You don’t want cold hospital gruel? Spoiled.” 

“Not spoiled enough. I miss your cooking. I want to go home.” 

He hopped to his feet, making you jump as he hoisted you princess-style into his arms. 

“I’ll come back for your things,” he promised as he carried you out the door. 

“Forget about it…It’s just armor and weapons I don’t need anymore. The letters are the only things I want to keep.” 

“Are you sure? They’re a little sad. I missed you so badly…I whined more than anything.” 

“I want them to…remember how unfair it was…everything I put you through to stroke my own pride.” 

He lifted you up to his lips to press a heavy kiss into your forehead. 

“Even if you forget, I’ll make you remember. You left, but I let you go. I’m sorry for that (Y/N).” 

“Then we’re both sorry.” 

Your stomach grumbled loudly, and Reven laughed again. 

“Sorry and hungry. Think you can get down some tavern food? It’s not my cooking, but you can’t wait to eat until we get back to Elderoak.” 

You looked up at him, cupping his thick jaw with your remaining hand.

“In your company, it’s just as good.” 

#monster boyfriend #monster x reader #monster fluff #x reader #monster lover #orc x reader #orc boyfriend #orc romance #orc #orctober #teratophillia #terato fic #orc fluff #fliff #fluff #romance fluff #sfw romance #sfw fluff #sfw monster fluff #monster x gn reader #x gn reader #gn reader #monster romance #monster fic #orc fic #my fic #my fic writing #x yn #yn #self insert

[milkweedman]

Proof of concept thorn tool. (Much better versions of) these are known throughout prehistory and were used to process plant fibers. I didn't know if they'd work well enough on milkweed to bother with, but now I have tried.

I probably need at least 30 thorns, and definitely longer ones. I was collecting and storing some in my rollator bag, and I think they might have been falling out because I definitely picked way more. But even like 7 or so very short ones bound together (badly) with flax was still, in fact, a far more effective tool than just my hands.

I only processed one milkweed stalk, since it was getting dark and this tool does absolutely suck, but I got it from whole rhetted stalk to fiber in about 10 minutes, and I think I could easily do 2 or 3 stalks at once and it would take the same.

I first smashed the stalk with a hammerstone against a wooden stump to get the hard pith out. The stone on wood technique is new to me but very effective. I'd been trying stone on stone (lack of available tree stumps to work on) and it hardly gets the pith out at all. But stone on wood is super effective as well, definitely will keep doing that.

After removing the pith I combed it repeatedly with the tool. This was made difficult by the fact that the tool was constantly wiggling around and falling apart. But it quickly stripped the outer layer off the fibers. Previously I had been rubbing them between my hands, which was very very slow and tended to damage the fibers. I got the idea from Sally Pointer's videos, but I think milkweed might just have too thin an outer layer ? Or some other reason (or maybe I was doing it wrong, but I don't see how as it is just rubbing). So the tool worked much better and faster. It did produce a lot of tow, although better technique and a better tool will probably help with that.

The line fibers

The tow fibers (top--I didn't have the energy to clean them up, but these should be spinnable as a rolag once I do)

Also tried a little cordage. My twist ratio was way off, which is a new cordage problem for me. I was curious how it would work up, but I don't plan to continue it. Not sure what to do with the rest of the milkweed though. I'm not very confident about spinning it, although maybe if I processed it more I'd have a better chance. At the moment it feels very rigid...not like the flax or hemp I've used.

Anyway, I need to go back to the hawthorn trees I found in the winter and look for new thorns I guess, although it might be too early. I really want a better tool so I can process the mountain of milkweed stalks before I move.

#milkweed #fiber processing #sorry for the bad pictures it was night when i finished #prehistoric fashion #(thats just my prehistory tag but also if i can spin it it will be prehistoric fashion so) #bast fiber

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

omg okay so I’ve been trying to think of something appropriately AMAZING to ask you for your celebration so I raise you: 💬 Put Joel and Pin situation… DOUBLE DENIM JOEL (like him for actors and actors) she finds him a jacket? and she tailors it for him…. PLEASEEEE

I love you 🩷 so happy to be your friend

Double Denim

Seams sleepover micro drabble request | 825 words | warnings: none other than that a confident Joel is a sexy Joel, double denim menace | can be read independently of the series but is part of the Seams universe

Joel stares at his closet, stumped.

He says closet, but it’s more of a glorified wire rack mounted onto the wall next to his bed. And while his collection of clothes has grown from what he crossed the country with, it’s not much more than a bunch of shirts, jeans and underwear. It’s enough that he always has something to reach for when he rolls out of bed - usually unwashed and crumpled - but hey, who’s judging?

But now, for the first time in longer than he can remember, Joel doesn’t know what to wear.

He could go for the jeans he was wearing yesterday, his nicest pair, but he got paint on it right on the crotch thanks to a clumsy manoeuvre, of all places. And he could wear that (marginally) smarter red plaid shirt that he knows you like, except there’s a stain on the front that he never managed to get rid of completely.

It’s just not good enough.

Joel shakes his head in disbelief. This is absurd. He’s a fifty-three year old man fretting about what to wear in the middle of the fucking apocalypse. 

What’s probably even more absurd is the fact that it’s movie night in Jackson. He’s taking you to see Casablanca, and then to dinner afterwards.

And he wants to look nice for the occasion. 

For you.

There’s only one thing to do.

You look up from the shirt you’re ironing when the doorbell rings over him at the Outfitter, and you smile. ‘Hey, what are you doing here?’

He gives you a peck on the lips. ‘Hello, sweetheart. I uh - I wanted to buy some clothes.’

‘Oh, did something break?’ you ask, setting down the iron and giving him a once over.

‘No, I just - wanted somethin’ new.’

Joel smiles at the quizzical look on your face, always so open and expressive despite your shyness. He knows his answer comes as a surprise to you, as it did to him.

He watches as your mouth parts with a grin, excitement in your eyes. ‘Never thought I’d see the day. Joel Miller partaking in some clothes shopping?’

He winks. ‘Who said you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?’

‘Alright, so, what were you thinking?’

‘Some nice jeans, and a nice jacket - maybe,’ he adds with a touch of uncertainty.

You don’t look like you expected that answer, and you tease him in reply, ‘Nice jeans and a nice jacket? Whatever for?’

Instead of answering straight away, he reaches for your hand and pulls you close. The sweet gasp that escapes you makes his heart swell with possessiveness, and he dips to brush his words against your lips. 

‘For you, sweetheart.’

You duck your head, more from habit than actual coyness, and you curl your fingers into the fabric of his shirt to keep him flush against you. ‘Are you trying to romance me, sir?’

‘I might just be, ma’am,’ he answers with an insolent grin. ‘If that gets me a discount.’

Rolling your eyes, you jokingly push him away and instruct him to wait here, before disappearing into the back of the shop.

Joel is browsing the jeans rack when you return, your hands full. At the questioning arch of his eyebrow, you explain, ‘Someone brought these in the other day, and I thought they’d fit you.’

‘Settin’ clothes aside for me? What would Maria say?’ he tuts, shaking out the jeans and the shirt with a skeptical look. ‘Denim on denim?’

You feign exasperation, pushing him towards the dressing room. ‘Just try them on, you insufferable man!’

It’s deja vu as you wait, hearing him disrobe on the other side of the curtain, and you cross your arms and try not to tap your foot, impatiently, excitedly -

When the curtain snaps back, you can’t help but stare.

Joel cocks his head to one side, a lopsided smile at his lips. ‘Well?’

A parody of your first meeting months ago, you parrot the same words back at him. ‘What do you think?’

He turns on his heels to face the mirror, pulling on the lapels of the denim jacket, perfect for mild autumnal evenings that don’t warrant his winter coat, but are a touch too cold to venture outside in just a shirt. The mid blue wash matches that of the jeans, comfortably mid-rise and straight cut, with the cuff upturned at the ankle of his brown boots. Without even thinking about it, hands in the pockets of the jacket, he twists around to check out his ass in his reflection, as unashamedly as you are.

Unlike that first time, Joel doesn’t need any prompting to answer your question. 

‘I look fuckin’ good, sweetheart.’

With a grin, you slide your hands around his waist, down his ass, and into the back pockets of his jeans, biting your lip when you watch his eyes darken at your boldness, while you preen in the easy confidence that fits him even better than these jeans.

‘Hell yeah, you do.’

Note: Thank you for this super cute prompt @undercoverpena! I tweaked it a little bit, but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless ❤️ AND I've been dying to put Joel in this ensemble, thank you for making my dreams come true 😘

#fuckyeahseams #seams sleepover #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x f!reader

[beenbaanbuun]

has yeosang nipped their lamb-dove? he's bitten hongjoong officially. has he bitten anyone else? i feel like if he did the reader would be like ur just a puppyyyyyyyyyy. and defend sangie to the matz like he just accidentally bit them its fine hes teething. all the excuses. i bet there would suddenly be chew toys for him too if so (and theyd be so clearly from the reader - all pastel and cute vs the monochrome of the matz!fam)

the biting was bad in the beginning especially. if either hongjoong or seonghwa got too close to him, he’d lunge for them and sink his teeth into whatever skin they had available. it was rare that he’d make them bleed since the bites were more of a warning than anything. it was only ever when they deigned to touch him that he bit hard enough to hurt. of course, over time as he learned the rules of the house a little better, the biting got less and less. hongjoong no longer had to pin him by the scruff of the neck for doing something so utterly disrespectful as smashing a priceless vase for the soul purpose of rebelling, and seonghwa’s regular hair ruffles just became something yeosang could live with.

but darling was somehow special. the fact that he knew he would be dead if he dared to hurt her had no real part in it, because he never felt the urge to hurt her. sure, when she pounced on his and used him as her personal teddy bear it pissed him off, but he never bit her. and all those hours that she spent sat next to him, fiddling with his fluffy tail really, really annoyed him, but again, biting was never an option. instead he’d pin her, flipping her over onto her back and holding her wrists above her head, all while growling threats that he did not intend to keep.

“fucking touch me again and i’ll rip your throat out, brat. damn what your precious ‘mommy’ and ‘daddy’ do to me in return.”

but then she just… giggles in his face and it stumps him. she’s not supposed to find his threats funny. she’s supposed to cower in fear, crying and begging for mercy. the fact that she’s looking at him like he’s the most precious creature in the world has him entirely stumped.

maybe that’s why he doesn’t want to hurt her, though. she doesn’t see him as a threat. she doesn’t flinch back from him when he turns his head too quick, and she doesn’t cower away from him like he’s some sort of dangerous animal. maybe he doesn’t want to be violent with her because she doesn’t treat him like he should be. over time, that treatment stops from seonghwa too, the flinching comes to a halt and so yeosang stops biting him too. with hongjoong, it never really ends, but as the both of them get closer, it just becomes part of their dynamic, something the two of them treat as a game.

the chew toys are definitely something that darling would do as a practical joke, same as hongjoong buying him dog treats and seonghwa threatening him with the spray bottle in his greenhouse if he ever steps out of line. yeosang doesn’t find it funny when she presents him with bone shaped object, just raising a brow at her as she struggles to stifle her giggles with her hand. he takes them anyway, just because he knows it’ll make her happy (damn his soft heart) and hides them away under his bed. no one has to know that sometimes he pulls one of the ugly pastel things out and chews on it like one might chew on the end of a pen. it’s a completely normal behaviour, he tells himself as he stashes the toys under his bed once he’s finished with them. the fact that he doesn’t want anyone to know is not because it’s weird or that he’s ashamed of it… definitely not…

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez fic #opposites attract universe #matz x reader #yeosang x reader

[lady-ashfade]

I thought It Was Normal

Percy Jackson character x male!reader (gods x reader) (platonic all)

╰･ﾟ✧☽ reader: like klaus from TUA. reader is a little oc in this, but i couldn’t help it. I needed this because I got a funny idea.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ warnings: short , me having little knowledge of what’s to come in the books, not canon just a silly idea

Camp got new campers every year so it wasn’t like they thought anything of you. The only thing is, you looked too confused to be there, everything Chiron said you would would give him the strangest look. Percy happened to be passing by, you got a tour of camp just like he did. And you were a bit to loud with your words- and let’s face it. He’s a little nosy.

“So you’re saying all the gods just drop their kids off here- or, don’t give them attention until they do something they deem worthy?” You ask like you had no care.

“Really a great idea. Half gods with daddy and mommy issues running around in the same place. Doesn’t sound dangerous at all.” You comment and continued walking with a eye roll.

Percy was interested in you right after that. You made him laugh and shared his views when he first came here, and he still thought them. He didn’t have to wait long to introduce himself since you left Hermes cabin in a rush to get away from people.

You didn’t want to talk to him at first. He tried to introduce himself but you brushed him off and said you weren’t willing to speak.

“I know it’s a lot to take in, but I’m sure you’re parent will claim you.”

You stopped in your tracks and turn around and started to flail your arms. “I am human! I have no godly parent, not like you-. Honestly I wish I was because I would be less concerned about my future.”

“That’s new.” A girl’s voice popped up from behind you and out of no where. A girl with a cap in her hands yanked down from her head, she looked intimidating to you.

“Can you all do that? Just appear out of no where?” You asked slightly scared but amazed.

“Let’s go back to the part where you’re human,” Percy stepped forward like you were a bomb of some sort ready to explode. “Why are you here?” You scuffed and shrugged your shoulders.

“So, i happened to eat a crystal I found in the woods behind my house. It was weird and it had me hypnotized, surprised I didn’t break any teeth, and the next minute I know I’m seeing the dead. And these voices are talking to me, then I’m moved off to this camp.”

“Wait the dead?”

���The gods say I need training before I came to them. Which is weird because you think they would train me themselves…do you guys know what I should do? I have no clue why they want me.” You look at both of them for help but Percy is just staring with his mouth open and shocked. Annabeth looks annoyed and looking you up and down.

“Don’t piss them off.”  she was going to be great help.

Months go by and you grow closer to the trio. it was strange how you seemed to have more strength then a human, and could kept up in training with them. not once did you ever get claimed and it still surprised them to this day how you just become something out of the blue. They tried so hard to get their parents attention but you just- stumped upon something and had the gods interests?

yes, you were human. but no longer a human boy, but a god in training.

“did it have to be him? he’s more chaotic then your son Poseidon.” zues rubbed his temple as the gods watch down on you.

“fate is a funny thing brother.“

“I for one love the kid.” ares smirks as you trip percy and let out a vicious scream. nothing evil or mean behind it, just a adrenaline rush. but ares didn’t take it that why, you were going to be a monster.

“I’ll bless him soon, he should stay in my cabin.” Aphrodite smiles and played with her hair. 

“We all know he’s basically my child, the dead thing? Yeah, he’ll be staying with me in the underworld when it’s time.” Hades smirks at all of them.

and just like that the gods are starting a war all over again.

Reader: stumbles upon a crystal

the voices: eat me!!

Reader: No!! Let me go!!

Reader then becomes a god.

#Percy Jackson universe x reader #Percy Jackson x reader #the gods x reader #annabeth chase x reader #Greek gods x reader #pjo x reader

[formulafics]

For the blurb reader dealing with the hate of dating a driver and them comforting her.

MRS. ALL AMERICAN, but make it a blurb

well, it may be a few months later, but here it is!! i so hope you love it rena 😔🙏🏻 also im living up to that conversation we had about me dropping things without warning 😼 this also lowkey made me wanna start writing again so 👀

MRS. ALL AMERICAN | SMAU (i’d suggest reading this before you read the blurb!)

Initially, the comments didn’t bother you. In fact, you found yourself amused at many of them, being so unbelievably absurd and far from the truth. A part of you also know it was inevitable. The internet is cruel, and along with that, your relationship moved much faster than most in this day and age. So, for the time being, it wasn’t hard to just ignore them, especially since you were so certain that Alex would be your endgame. To which, he is.

Now, months later, with rings on your fingers, there’s not a shred of doubt in your mind, regarding your relationship with Alex. It’s only getting better by the day, and you couldn’t ask for a better partner. That being said, the comments didn’t stop. Frankly, you’ve started to think they’re getting worse, and unfortunately, it’s becoming harder for you to ignore them.

Alex is not oblivious to your shift in mood. He can see it clearly, especially now as he gazes at you from across the table. His eyes glance down to your hands, watching you pick apart the food on your plate, food that you usually would be ‘going to town on’ (as logan says). His brows furrow as he looks at your face, his heart sinking at the strange sadness that lingers within your expression.

“Are you okay?” He asks softly, eyes meeting yours when you look at him. You swallow a lump in your throat, one you didn’t even realize was there, before answering him. “Yeah,” you respond flatly, huffing briefly. Your chest is tight, leaving you to feel like you can’t suck in enough air. Your response isn’t exactly what Alex hoped to hear, the man being slightly stumped on what to do or say.

He waits a few moments, but the longer you both sit in silence, the more the whole situation weighs on the both of you. “You can talk to me,” Alex assures you, eyes hopeful that you’ll open up to him. You sigh, setting your fork down. You lean forward, resting your arms on the table to close the distance between you and him, and he mirrors your movements, making it feel as if you both are in a more private setting.

“It’s just,” you pause, trying to think of how to word things. “The comments — they’re getting worse, I think,” you say it quietly, the aforementioned lump returning to your throat. Alex’s expression softens, and he simply nods. “Yeah,” he responds. Before anything else can be said, the waitress is at your table, and after confirming that you’re done eating, Alex asks for the bill.

By the time you’re walking out of the restaurant and headed to the car, you’re almost in tears. You squeeze Alex’s hand in yours, unintentionally bumping into his side as you walk to the car. When you do finally reach it, he guides you to the passenger side, but rather than opening the door, he engulfs you in a hug. Just like that, the tears begin to fall from your eyes, and you hug him back, nuzzling your face into his jacket. He doesn’t say anything yet, and just rests his head on yours, his hand soothingly rubbing your back.

He waits until your crying slows, then kisses your head. “I’m sorry about the comments - I know it’s hard,” he says against your hair, and you just nod in response, hugging him impossibly tighter. “You smell good,” you say quietly, lifting the mood slightly. He chuckles, making the corners of your lips pull upwards. “Thank you,” he hums. You look up at him, a small smile on your lips. Even though there’s still weight on your shoulders, you can’t help the smile, or the way your heart speeds up when you look at him.

He tilts his head down and presses a kiss against your lips - a soft, short one. “I wish I could do more,” he says earnestly, resting his forehead on yours. “I know,” you respond, knowing that he probably needs some reassurance too.

A few moments pass, the both of you stood there in comfortable silence with your eyes closed, soft gusts of wind breezing past you. Alex inhales, then pulls away, but doesn’t go too far just yet. “I just hope you know that everything they say is complete bullshit, and that i’m genuinely so happy with you,” He says, his eyes glimmering with honesty in a way that makes your heart squeeze in your chest. “Me too,” you respond, pressing another kiss to his lips. Slowly, the lingering weight on your shoulders finally dissipates as Alex opens the passenger door, holding your hand until you’re in the seat. He bends down, a silly grin on his face. “I love you so much,” he says, making you smile. “I love you.” you respond, watching as he closes the door, then walks around the car, taking his place in the drivers seat.

taglist: @renarots @jsjcue @treehouse-mouse @illicitverstappen @lovstappen @leclercvsx @motorsp0rt @fastcarsandshit @vellicora @spidersophie @arkhammaid @kortneej81 @lokietro @piasstrisblog @elliegrey2803 @i-love-ptv @marshmummy @sadieurlady

#✩ . aa²³ files 🏎️ #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 drabble #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #formula one fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 smau #f1 x female reader #formula one social media au #formula one smau #formula one blurbs #alex albon x reader #alex albon x you #alex albon x y/n

[weird-is-life]

slow dancing with TASM!Peter omg🥺

Hii lovely, ty for this cute request🥰! Hope this is okay, warnings: fluff, kissing, mentions of wedding, (0.6k)

You and Peter are at that age, where you actually get invited to the wedding, you don't just go because your parents were invited.

So when Peter gets invited to one of his mate's wedding, he asks you to come with him as his date. Being Peter's best friend, you agree.

You love spending time with Peter, but as you spend more and more time at the romantic wedding atmosphere, you can't shake off the 'more than just a friend' feelings towards Peter.

He keeps looking at you funny, smiling oh so softly, that you think, you might get the wrong idea of Peter liking you back in your head. It's impossible not to think that way. You know it's not good for you, hoping that he has romantic feelings towards you won't end up good.

But of course, it goes even worse than the soft touches, lovely smiles, hushed jokes and the freaking compliments every few minutes. Peter's asks you to dance with him. Dance with him to a slow song!

"I can't dance, Peter. I'll just embarrass myself," you protest as Peter stands there with an offered hand.

"Please, you'll do just fine.. C'mon, I won't let you embarrass yourself I promise," Peter convinces you or more like begs you with the puppy eyes. You despite your better judgement agree.

Peter leads you to the dance floor, smiling like a fool. He's been trying to show you how he feels the entire wedding, but he hopes the dance will finally help you understand.

You put your hands on his shoulders and Peter holds you by the waist. Peter starts to slowly sway you both to the rhythm of the song, when he sees you anxiety over the dancing.

"Look at you, you are a natural at this," Peter whispers, as you move together. His compliment makes your cheeks go a little red.

"Thank you," you say sheepishly, gaze fixed on the ground, worried you'll stump all over Peter's feet.

But as you dance longer and longer, you get a bit more confident and you stop looking at you feet. You look up at Peter, only to find him smiling weirdly at you.

"What?" you ask with a small chuckle, "do I have something on my face?"

"No, it's just-...You look really beautiful," Peter tells you.

You suddenly stop dancing," Peter, y-you can't just say things like this, in a voice like that, to me." You'll die if he continues to speak to you like that.

"Why? It's the truth," he says, baffled. He honestly thinks, that there's no one more beautiful there than you.

"Pete...," you whine, but you start dancing again, " you've been killing me the whole wedding."

"With what?"

"With-With....everything. I'll get the wrong idea in my head and then I'll just end up with tears," you tell him, hoping he'll understand, that his loving or teasing (you are not sure) hints are too much for you.

"But-"

"Don't get my hopes up Peter, not tonight," you interrupt him, clearly a bit upset now, " you know, I like you and i don't understand-"

Peter interrupts your rambling. Of course, he knows you like him, that's why he's been dropping the hints the entire wedding. But clearly you didn't understand, so he has to take the matter into his own hands.

He shuts you up with his lips on yours. Your initial shock of Peter kissing you lasts only for a few seconds, before you're kissing him back.

When you pull away, he grins lovingly at you," do you understand now?"

"I think so," you giggle, feeling a bit stupid, that you didn't catch on earlier. "But I think you should kiss me once more, just to be sure...."

Peter, without hesitation, kisses you for the second time.

#tasm!peter parker imagine #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker fluff #tasm!peter parker x fem!reader #tasm!peter parker fanfiction #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter imagine #tasm! peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #peter parker x reader

[wizardrousactivity]

Feel better now?

Warnings: Angst, mating press, mentions of self-harm, mentions of relapsing, Fem!reader

Pairings: König x fem!Reader

Note: I am not very proud of this one because of my STUPID WRITING!!! but I did end up spending 2-3 hours on this so I’m hoping some people would enjoy it. Mwah love you all 2.3k words! 

König felt his chest shrivel up once he saw your pouty lips and half-teary eyes, watching you storm out of the room while he was stumped.

Thinking of ways to apologize to his sweet girl flooded his noggin and he threw his hands out and fell back into his chair almost comically, grumbling and getting back to his paperwork while he tried to push away any other thoughts besides the box of his work. You shoved yourself into the bathroom, rubbing your hands all over your face to try to stop the tears that were making your face feel icky. Thrashing around to find your towel, the water running loudly in the background - the sounds couldn’t compare to how loud your thoughts were. 

The shower felt harder that day, the water burning the red lines you inflicted on yourself yesterday.

You sat down on the wet floor, head in your palms as you sobbed, the tears falling from your face entwined with the water and vanished along with it. On your knees you grabbed the shampoo - cleaning yourself should never feel this difficult, you’ve grown soft. 

Standing up, your body immediately planting itself onto the wall as your knees buckled. Nibbled lips, fingers clasped your mouth. Trying to suppress your gasps and whines. —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You’ve managed to do your hair and apply lotion to your body, since you’ve fixed yourself - you find that you’re capable enough to make dinner, putting on clothes you just washed, they’re warm and make you feel a bit better. The harm is visible, and you try to forget about it. Too drained to change into other clothes that hide your pink and white scars, busy prodding at your pajama shorts to make them just a little longer, even if it wont make a difference. 

Leaving the bathroom you walk into the hallway hoping to see König doing paperwork in his office, or holding out his arms for you. Instead what's in front of you is a closed door, making the air catch in your throat.  

The descend down the stairs feels melancholy, you feel as if your brain is off, walking only as if you’re a zombie dedicated to pleasing others. You want to make him happy, make him forget about your previous interaction with the blessing of food. 

This week felt like the final straw, constantly trying to please people at your job - you’ve been trying so hard. Nobody was there for you, König looked at you with a face of anger, eyes narrowing yours. Going on about how he has helped you while you try to squeak out your words, and he yelled at you. Piercing and loud, making you tremble as you looked up at him like he had betrayed you. He screamed at himself in his head, scolding himself for lashing out on you. Years of aggression had changed him truly, down to his entire system - he doesn’t know how to respond now. 

As soon as your hands touch the stove, you begin shaking, tears running down your face. You couldn’t find the energy in yourself to cook and it made you feel all the more disappointed in yourself, the walls of discipline you’ve built come crashing down.

Nails snuggled firmly into your arms as you sink down onto the floor, hyperventilating in frustration. 

You cry into your skin for the umpteenth time, biting into your flesh so the man upstairs doesn’t hear you. Nothing has ever made you feel so useless, and you can't get over that. 

A heavy hand on your shoulder makes you jump, interrupting your thoughts. You turn your back slowly, only to see the kindest pair of sleepy eyes looking back at your manic ones. Your eyelids shut tight, hands finding his shirt and pulling him in. “M’ so sorry..”  It’s muffled into his shoulder and he pats your back, hands resting at your hips. He shushes you gently, eyes scanning over the numerous scars on your legs that looked almost too fresh - and he swore his heart paused for a second. König punches himself in the head mentally once again, biting his lip. “Not your fault..I shouldn’t have yelled. Shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you.” 

Your face digs itself into the small dip between his neck and shoulder, sobbing even harder - gasping for air between them. And he feels like a monster at this point.. “I’m sorry, mein Liebling, don’t waste all your tears on me.” König brings you in even closer, landing sloppy kisses to your forehead and cheeks. "I was wrong, never cry for me like that." He says, reassuring you in a stronger voice, yet it remains soft. König mumbles something under his breath, like he cursed himself forever, never to let you cry over something he failed to do - control his emotions around you.

You grab onto his jaw with need, locking lips with him in vast movements, and he lets it happen. Letting your tongue win the fight for dominance, hand gently resting  at the back of your skull, the salty tang of your lips stimulating his organ of taste. But he couldn't care less.

Hums vibrate into your mouth pleasantly, he taps your back to let you know when he needs to breathe.

The kiss is broken after only his lungs start to burn for air, you’re still hungry for more of it. His breathing is heavy as he claws at the soft skin under your shirt, massaging your lower back and pulling you even closer to his warmth, pleasantly surprised at your actions. “Need more-” You hiccupped, mouth-agape with feeble sounds. “Please.” 

“More of what? Tell me.”

“Want more of you- Need you.” You confess, and his heart cinches from its beat. Almost seizes to continue at the sight.

He simply nods, picking you up by your waist and putting you up against him - not where you're flat against his chest, holstered up enough so he can kiss your tummy, electrifying butterflies filling your abdomen. König plops you down on the bed, as gentle as he can possibly be - you look like glass to him right now as your legs hang off the side of the bed, you're sitting on the edge of it as he lowers himself.

He’s right in front of  you, crouched. He’s kissing your thighs all over, strings of apologies you can’t hear when he runs along one of your scars. “Can I please.. I want to show you how sorry I am.” You know what he’s implying when his eyes drift down to your pussy, clothed but getting absolutely drenched underneath. 

“Yes.. please.” A simple sniffle and he’s making snail work of your shorts with little kisses, pulling them off along with your panties. He’s purposely taking it slow with you, testing the waters. 

Successfully spreading your thighs, he salivates. One look at your perfekt swollen clit and he’s down on his knees, offering one long lick to the slick heavenly gates. “So good.” He groans, now flicking your bead with his tongue in vast motions - and you mewl out, high pitched and needy. He’s so good at eating your pussy, wrapping his lips around the whole thing once he made you sensitive for it. “König..” A pule of his name leaves your lips, sending blood straight to his cock once again. 

You gasp once you realize he’s rolling your hips onto his tongue, making you fuck yourself on his tongue with his hands. “Holy fuck-” Your toes curl, biting your bottom lip. The changes between flicking his tongue and sucking all feed into your upbuilding orgasm.

“König!” He stops abruptly at the last squeal of his name, right at the moment you felt yourself coming undone.

Standing at his full height you pout up at him. “I’m sorry- please, can’t let you cum yet. Need to show you.” He repeats, almost defeatedly, like he wants to fulfill your needs now.

König pulls down his pajama pants down to his ankles, before he positions himself in front of spread legs. Rubbing his tip against your clit, prodding against it deliberately. Making you sob, kick your feet against his back needily. “Uhuh. None of that, you’ll get what you want in a second.” Gentle, affirming.

“Gonna slip this in, slowly. You got that?” He affirms with you, and you're nodding your head urgently. It makes him chuckle, how pliant and needy you are. 

You throw your head back once you feel his stretch, a wince passing through your lips. "Er nimmt es so gut auf.." He praises with a moan, a hand gently caressing your collarbone from where he stands.

He’s trying to distract you from the feel of his cock spreading you open, you’ve tightened up so much since the last time. 

He finally gets the whole meat slab in with a plap, and you let out a sigh of relief. He finds it really cute, how you struggle beneath it. “You’ve got it.. Good girl, the best.” He dances his hips into yours, balls flat against your ass. “Made for my cock.” “So deep..” Your thighs tighten around him, begging him to start a pace already - the torture of slow, deep thrusts. “Hah- fuck.. Too slow Köni..” Ugh, you’re so fucking cute. Stop it. It’s taking enough of his willpower to not fuck you right into this bed. 

“H-Harder..” König chuckles, grinning at how feverish you are. “Dirty girl.” Your knees are then pressed next to your ears, he’s putting you in some sort of mating press - making you swallow in anticipation, a little fear maybe. This position makes him feel deeper than ever, you’re clenching around him.

 He swallows. “This is what you want? You can take it?” He doesn’t relent his rolls into you, like this is a casual interaction. “Yes- fuck- Please!” You beg and he immediately complies, making you jump up with every thrust of him into you, heavy balls slapping right against you. “You like this?” He doesn’t even need to have you answer, your mewls are speaking for you. 

As soon as he gets you where he wants, a hard thrust is battered into you - making you cry out at the sheer force of it. He’s not cruel though, bending down so you could hold onto his shoulders. He gulps, adams apple bobbing. “This is what you wanted? Tell me, please.” He needs to get confirmation from you, eyes scanning over your face for any signs of discomfort. “Keep going.” You take his breath away, good girl. Taking all of this cock. 

He bites his lip, denting your can roughly - the smacking of your skin is loud and sinful. His hands lay planted on your ankles, driving into you like a two dollar whore.

Broken moans escape your mouth as you constantly feel his dick ram against your cervix. ”Gonna show you how sorry I am.” Your body tensed up as you felt your orgasm approaching humiliatingly quick.  Your legs tried to kick at something, but that's impossible with them suspended in the air, unable to move.

He just wont stop thrusting either, watching you try to form a sentence underneath him. 

Waves of pleasure incinerate through your body, burning your insides with ecstasy and heat. The constant sliding of his shaft against your walls doesn't help it either, he's changed the angle which his dick hits to where its constantly drubbing your g-spot.

"Good- good pussy. I'm' hitting that pillowy spot." He laughs, orgasmic yet a little bit deranged in the middle of sex.

You gasp out, feeling a string in your stomach get unbearably thin. Your pussy clenches, it’s slightly nauseating from how tightly you’ve clamped. He moans, back arching from the feel of you squeezing him dangerously tight. “Fuck yeah, cum for me. Cum for me.. Ja..!” His head is thrown back, lost in just you completely. 

The coil finally snaps and you squeal, your juices coming out squelching and running down your ass. You’re drooling, lips coated in saliva. And he just wants to clean up all of that with his kisses, connect your saliva together. 

"Ah! König!" You yelp, vision turning white as overwhelming waves of bliss start hitting you like a truck.

Your toes uncurled once you’ve gotten off your high, signs of it still lingering around in your stomach - feels like your pussy is beating as fast and hard as your heart.

But you can’t forget, he’s looking for his release as well. Mouth open and panting above you like a mutt.  His moans announce his upcoming orgasm while rutting into your sensitive pussy like a bitch in heat. Your hand comes up to his chest to try and get his pace to relent - but it’s not possible to push past a brick wall. You’ve already started sobbing at this point from the overstimulation, mewls for König to be gentler goes in from one ear out from the other. Or if he can even hear you. 

With the clenching of your snatch he's throwing his head back with a broken moan. "Hng-auh..! It's been so long since he's had good pussy like yours, and you best believe he's enjoying himself.

A rumbling deep inside of him, lingers of an upcoming orgasm taking over his well-mannered self. Now his hands have moved up to your ankles, putting himself in a plank and pounding so hard you think you'd die.

König's trying to match your moans like an orchestral performance, seemingly like he's mocking you, yet it's full of honesty and neediness. "Close hmng- yes.. fuck m-" He announces before cutting himself off unplanned, spurting into your storage room with his buttocks clenched forwards to push semen further into you.

The mongrel of the house squeezing your ankles with a sob once he feels his high hit him like it did yours, keeping his shaft nestled in you while he finds himself in ecstasy - unknowing of your suffering from overstimulation beneath him. Beaten and battered pussy.

He doesn’t notice your trembling body underneath him till he hears you let out a feeble sound of his name. Looking down to your shaking legs, thighs covered in your splattered juices. And by god, are you a sight.

“No more..” You mumbled, unable to coherently speak to him anymore. He pulls out of you, a small squelch being heard from how good he's spread you out. "Ja, won't fuck you anymore." He gravely snickered, letting your legs down from the sore position they were in.

König practically purrs out his praises, running his hands up and down your body. “Let’s get you to the bathroom now, a bath?” He suggests, your ears perk up at the sound of a warm bath surrounding your achy body. 

Bonus ;)

#konig x reader #konig mw2 #call of duty #könig x reader #konig smut #konig cod #cod x reader #konig mw2 x reader #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw2 smut #call of duty modern warfare #cod modern warfare #cod #cod mwii #könig x you #könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #cod mw2

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

so I just read Doodles (and adored it!!) and now I can't stop thinking abt Miguel trying to sketch the reader, but having no artistic abilities and therefore failling miserably. a sequel perhaps??

((not sure if you're still taking requests tho. love ur work anyway!!)

hii!! AW that’s so kind, thank you! I absolutely loved writing this, thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

doodles (part 2)

Miguel O’hara x f reader

wc || 881

warnings || none just fluff

part 1 -> doodles

masterlist + rules

Miguel has many talents, but drawing is not one of them. He has an indispensable need for perfectionism, so anything he was automatically good at frustrated him massively. 

Since you've shared your knack for drawing with him, things have somewhat progressed between you both. Your relationship wasn't definite as of yet, but it was like the wedge between you two dissipated, like there was no longer a divide. You both spoke more freely with each other as if there was now a common understanding, like there were no secrets, well, still some secrets.

So now, when you'd hang out, you kept your doodle pad away, preferring to immerse yourself in conversation with Miguel rather than sketch your time away. He noticed how you were more present, more attentive while you were with him, and though he'd never admit it aloud, it made his heart feel full for you to want to spend time with him.

"You got your uh- notepad?" he asks, changing the subject of today's events at HQ.

"Always," you smile, head tilting to the side as if to understand him better. "Why'd you ask?"

"I want to try something," he sheepishly grins, his demeanour coltish as he avoids your gaze. "Can I borrow it?"

You playfully squint your eyes as you watch his expression soften. "I suppose,"

"And a pencil?" he adds, his tone sweet and juvenile as he extends a hand. 

You weren't completely certain about what he had planned, but you had an idea.

"Okay, turn around a bit... no, towards me... now, put your arm up... yeah, on the table... no, your elbow. Mierda," (shit) he chuckles, shaking his head. "Put that there," he grins, adjusting you, moving you around in your chair. "Now, relax," his smile widens as he gazes at you across the table. "Hermosa," (beautiful) muttering under his breath.

His grin slowly fades as the lead touches the paper, looking stumped as he peeks at you over the notepad. He softly sighs as he begins to sketch you, glancing up at you every few seconds, sometimes looking at you more than necessary. 

"How's it looking?" you sweetly ask, trying not to move too much.

"It's uh- it's," he pauses, masking the unsatisfied look on his face. "Good," he shrugs, his tone unconvincing as he continues to draw you.

He didn't have to say anything for you to know what he was thinking. His expressions were clear enough, even if he thought he hid them well. 

"Can't wait to see it," you reassure, your eyes soften as they meet his. 

He sighs heavily as he guides the pencil over the paper, flick-like strokes around the page as if he's sketching your hair. "It's terrible, cariño," (honey) he huffs, visibly frustrated as he drops the pad to the table. "Sorry,"

"No, no, don't be," you grin, standing from your seat, joining him on his side of the table. "Can I?" you ask, reaching for the pencil tightly gripped within his fist.

He nods, extending it towards you with a wry smile.

"Why you being so hard on yourself? It looks good," you partially lie. 

It wasn't an awful drawing. It just wasn't great. You hated the idea of lying to Miguel, but surely this one time would be okay, a small white lie to avoid hurting his feelings. For someone who doesn't often do anything artistic and creative, it was actually a pretty solid effort. And although he wasn't one to care for art, you could tell this meant a lot to him, like he was trying to impress you or show another side to himself, a softer side even. 

You could tell that he was frustrated in his attempts, so you reassured him, placing your warm palm over his forearm. "I think it looks great, Miguel," you smile. "Would it be okay if I help you?" you question, being careful with your wording to avoid the possibility of upsetting him.

"Go ahead," he nods, scooting his chair closer to you, resting the side of his head in his hand like he was getting comfortable to watch you. "I'm sure," he says, answering the question you had in mind, noticing the quizzical look in your eyes.

"Okay, so," you grin, looking at him. "I think it's the angle. It makes the proportions look funny, and it makes my nose look enormous," you playfully scold, earning you a soft laugh from Miguel. "But, you did the eyes well- wait a second, why are my lips so detailed?" you coyly smile, slowly turning to face him.

He doesn't answer. He shrugs, avoiding your gaze.

"Okay, okay, I'll drop it," you say, hiding your smile behind your hair, shielding the side of your face with it.

"Don't hide it," he mumbles, extending a hand, reaching for your hair and brushing it behind your ear. He smiles, noticing the blush form over your cheeks. "Show me how to improve it,"

So you did. You sat close together, inches apart as you made minor adjustments to the sketch, adding shading and highlights as Miguel admired the process, watching the drawing come to life. His eyes dart between you and the finished sketch of you on the page, a sweet, sincere smile spreading across his lips. "Hermosa," (beautiful) he whispers. "I'm gonna frame it."

@sunshiines-stuff @queerponcho @selfryed

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara imagine #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel atsv

[jjunieworld]

09. more than anything ⸝ ˚⋆

↳ half written, half texts. word count: 1.1k

— SOOBIN’S POV —

soobin could hardly wait until 3:30pm. he was so anxious about it, in fact, that he skipped the class he had before it all together.

he sat on his bed debating on what to do. should he bring something for her? no, that definitely makes him look insincere. she he put on nicer clothes? he didn’t know. so he instead sat on his bed frozen, all these thoughts going through his head.

the clock ticked by and every five seconds soobin would check his phone to make sure time didn’t jump five hours instead and he missed his only chance to explain himself. currently, it was 3:15pm. it takes him seven minutes to walk down to the cafe from his dorm.

should i get there early? soobin thought. perhaps. if he left now, he would get to the cafe at 3:21pm. maybe that’s too desperate, he concluded.

minutes ticked by and soobin decided he couldn’t wait any longer. he rushed out of his building and made the trek to the cafe.

when he arrived, it was 3:25pm. he tried looking through the window of the cafe for y/n, but he couldn’t see anything.

suddenly a thought forced its way into his head. what if she wasn’t here? what if she changed her mind?

as he pushed through the doors, he let out a sigh of relief. there y/n sat, at the same table she helped soobin at a lifetime ago. she didn’t look up at the sound of the bell, her eyes were downcast and she had a blank look on her face.

when soobin sat down all she did was look up at him. it felt like she was looking right through him. this y/n looked and felt so different from the y/n from over a week ago.

wordlessly, she put her phone face up on the table, the timer set for ten minutes on it. she pressed start and looked back up at soobin.

his heart pounded in his chest as he struggled to get his words together. the weight of knowing she was timing him didn’t make it any better.

he started by apologizing, profusely. then he went into what exactly happened that night, the drinking, the jealousy, the argument with sakura, and finally, the words he didn’t mean.

“i know people say that what you say in the heat of the moment are your true words, but i swear to you i didn’t mean that,” he breathed. he glanced down at her phone. five more minutes. y/n stared at him, once again saying nothing. so soobin continued.

“and to answer your question… it’s not that i was ignoring you. well, i guess i was, but not in the way you think. i promise! i was avoiding the feelings that came with seeing you. being near you. i like you, y/n. more than i’ve ever liked anyone. and i didn’t understand those feelings at first, i still kinda don’t. i thought that if i avoided you, then maybe they would go away. i didn’t even think about how that would affect you, and i’m truly sorry for that.”

the words spilled out of his mouth one by one until he couldn’t stop. he wanted to tell her more, but he got the majority of what he wanted to say across. and he only had two more minutes left.

soobin waited for y/n to say something, but for the remaining two minutes she simply stared at him with that same blank look. he desperately wished he knew what she was thinking. any indication that his words didn’t go in one ear and straight out the other.

her phone buzzed on the table when the two minutes were up. she grabbed it, stood up, and left the cafe without saying a single word to soobin.

soobin sat at the table stumped. he stared at the chair across from him where she just sat that was now bare. did he fuck it all up? was it all truly over?

after a couple more minutes, he too stood, and moved to leave the cafe.

he wasn’t paying attention as he went to open the door, too inside his head. so he was very shocked when it opened right in his face. a pissed looking yunjin pushed him backwards, demanding him to sit the hell down. and so he went and sat back at the table he was just at.

“of all the places…” she muttered under her breath as she sat. “of all the places…” she said again, louder, “of all the places she would disappear to when i go to check on her, she was here with you.”

she scoffed and looked up at him. he went to say something, but she held a hand up.

“shut up. i don’t want to hear it. she gave you one last chance, you’re very lucky. you try and pull some stupid shit like that again…” yunjin trailed off. she was so angry she could barely get her words out. soobin understood. she scoffed again, looked him up and down, and left.

soobin ran his hands through his hair. he’s done so so many times today that the strands were probably sticking up at this point.

he went over yunjin’s words. “she gave you one last chance, you’re very lucky.” indeed, he was, and he wasn’t going to blow it again.

classes were finally over and soobin could finally take his long awaited nap. late classes were actually torture.

as he was walking to the elevator, he felt someone come up next to him. he looked over to see y/n.

she didn’t look at him. instead her gaze was solely focused on the hallway in front of her. soobin smiled a little to himself and kept walking. he could feel some lingering stares on them, but he couldn’t care less. all that mattered was that she was next to him.

y/n moved to the side of the small crowd waiting by the elevator and soobin followed. she waited as they all got on said elevator, and until the elevator came back up empty. they got on, standing side by side, and soobin watched her.

he was willing to wait however long it took for y/n to speak to him.

soobin felt her hand slide into his. a smile broke out on his face as she looked up to him.

“you like me?” y/n asked him. “more than anything,” he replied. she smiled back at him. she nodded a little to herself as she looked back down.

“good,” she said. she looked back up to him. “you owe me another date.” soobin laughed a little and then nodded. “where do you want to go?”

masterlist.

summary: choi soobin has always been the popular kid surrounded by his popular friends. y/n… not so much. one night, soobin and his friends make bet that soobin can’t get y/n to date him in a month. unfortunately for y/n, they’re a hopeless romantic.

A/N: yunjin do nawt play… she gets down… double upload as a present! happy holidays!! ♡

taglist: @imagineyour-kpopboy @gothgyuu @carengene (if your name is bold it wouldn’t let me tag you!)

— kipo <3

#📼 — ALL FOR A BET ⸝ ˚⋆ #txt #tomorrow x together #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt x reader #txt social media au #txt beomgyu #txt huening kai #txt soobin #txt yeonjun #txt taehyun #choi soobin smau #choi soobin x reader #soobin x reader #soobin x y/n #soobin #kpop smau #kpop social media au #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop #le sserafim yunjin #le sserafim sakura #enhypen jake sim #enhypen sunghoon #tomorrow x together social media au #tomorrow x together imagines #kpop x reader #txt smau

[reilliane]

i promised scara brainrots, here we go! slightly angsty, but more on the fluff side this time (surprisingly) and pretty self-indulgent! this is long lmao

✤ she/her

SPOILERS FOR 3.3 ARCHON QUEST!

: ̗̀➛ Reverse Isekai AU (becoming besties with a fictional character- wait, why is he here)

Imagine being in a fit of tears after playing through the Archon Quest. It's always been known that the narrative behind Scaramouche—Kunikuzushi, Kabukimono, Balladeer- just him, is tragic. But boy, with the way everything fell into place, he was meant for tragedy, it's awful.

It's difficult to focus on the characters' dialogue when you're busy trying to see through the blurriness of your eyes, but you manage. You hear him say something to the Traveler, and there shows up a choice box like always. Paying no mind to it, as you are occupied with sniffing and catching your breath, you press whatever.

He mentions ceasing, as what the trailer for version 3.3 entailed, and he's gone, and- wait. Did your game crash? Why is it frozen on a particular scene? Huh, your device shut down- your progress!?

Alas, you're not in the mood to lament over that when you can just spill woe over the story for the mean time. So you do just that, weep and roll around in your bed kicking your feet 'cause wow, yes, the guy's evil and all- but damn! His life is founded on nothing but angst! When you pull for him in game, you'll be placing him in the teapot with only the finest of comforts availa— OUCH!?

To your pain and confusion, something drops onto you from above, crushing your back as that something eventually topples out of your bed with a loud cuss. Wait a minute, was that a voice-? You take a peek and start laughing. Ahahaha, no, impossible, why- that only happens in fanfiction! Yet, his demanding question that reaches your ears in real time only serves to remind you that this is real.

��What the hell are you laughing at, you puny mortal? Answer my question or die where you stand!” AHAHAHA YOU'RE TRIPPIN'!

News flash, you're not. Because all of a sudden you are being pinned on the bed, with a very angry little man above you that doesn't seem to be joking around with what he said about killing you.

Holy smokes, it's supposed to be impossible but no, he's right there. On top of you. If you were reading some kind of e rated fanfiction in ao3, you would've screamed because hey he's looking pretty handsome right now but- woah, woah, calm dOWN SIR YOU WILL RECEIVE YOUR ANSWERS!

As expected, Scaramouche does not believe an ounce of what you say, but resigns to it. After all, he has already 'deleted' his existence in Teyvat, it'd only seem logical if he were to be transported in an entirely different world...

Now, as he is a smart guy, he very quickly deduces that you somehow know him. Oh boy, imagine telling him that he's someone from a game. At first, he'll laugh bitterly at it, saying something like 'of course. my misery was some kind of amusement, is it?' BRO mission therapy starts now. You're no Nahida, but still!

Now imagine him learning that he has 'fans'. Boy will be so confused like, fans what fans- do you mean those accessories orrrr-

He understands what you meant when you show him that he has a 'following', and he's pretty stumped. He only ever knew Haypasia, he had a single follower, but in this place- he had... tens of thousands? HUH? HUH??

As he's already been given a reality slap by the Traveler and Nahida, he's no longer in the mindset to be all god-like, but boy the temptation... until he realizes that he doesn't have any elemental powers. And he's become human. Oh boy.

When he realizes that he's breathing and has a heartbeat, dude stares at you for like a minute straight. Is this real? Look, look! He snatches your hand and holds it over his chest and- holy hell he's right, he has a beating heart.

Give him some space to process things, his mind is currently exploding right now.

It'll take him time to understand that he's loved as much as he is hated in this world. The latter he understands, but the former... oh, is this real? He still can't believe it, so you had to go through various social media platforms just to prove a point. He bares his eyes to numerous 'posts' that range from 'YO HE BETTER COME HOME I'LL TAKE GOOD CARE OF HIM', 'AHSDAKJHDJAKDHA HE'S SO HOT BARK BARK YEOAWOADSADH', and other more... flustering posts.

HE'S LOVED! Well, he's also hated, but he's LOVED! In all his confused snark, he asks you where you stand in those two groups. Bro's putting you on the spot, good luck.

If you manage to evade that question, you'll tell him that he's free to stay with you until he gets the ropes of this world. It'll be a bit difficult to adjust with someone new and yes you've screamed far too many times when he pops up somewhere in the house, completely still in disbelief that he's there, but it'll be alright.

When you first accompany him outside, you had to throw him in huge clothes just so that he won't be noticeable. Even if he was 'humanized', he still looks a lot like how he does in game, not to mention his voice. He dislikes hiding, but has to put up with it.

Bro highkey basks in the glory when you both go to a genshin convention and see all the love for him. It's the one time he gets to dress up in his Harbinger attire (though he admits he dislikes having connections with it after knowing the truth) and show himself without fear of hearing "YO ARE YOU SCARAMOUCHE? YOU LOOK LIKE THE REAL DEAL!" because cosplayers are a thing. When he finds out that he gets a 'redesign' he pesters you to buy him the outfit. How laughable, how can the OG guy not have his own made clothes in the game??? You cave of course.

He's still a smug lil shi- though, so he will say that he is the one and only 'Wanderer/Scaramouche' when asked in the convention. Your panicked screaming in the background is thoroughly enjoyed, please, continue giving a good show as he revels in all the attention. Before long, posts about him are scattering all around the internet and you lecture him about the mob on your door and the diehard "HE'S MINE!" fans that has sent threats in your social media. They still believe he's just a really good cosplayer, but still...

“Hah, what're you so scared of?” he'll just smirk in the middle of your lecture, “They won't be able to land a hand on you so long as I'm here.”

Cue malfunction. He knows what he's doing, isn't he? This smug piece of- you'll kick him back into the game if you could!

“Like hell you will. Even if you can, you won't do it. Your boring human life has only become interesting because I'm here.” + :P

DAMN, HE RIGHT THOUGH!

ive always liked his character from the moment he appeared in that first event but now that his lore is fleshed out it's time to go ham >:D

#moonlitrambles #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche fluff #wanderer fluff #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin angst #scaramouche angst #genshin headcanons