#I wish we had gotten to see more of them together

[erwinsvow]

GOT WHAT YOU WANTED

summary: you're rafe's best friend—kelce and top's too, but there's always been something more between the two of you. neither of you will do anything about it. clearly, the solution is to become friends with benefits.

now spinning: too many nights by metro & future

word count: 11.5k

warning/tags: kook trio reader, using jj to make rafe jealous, mentions of drugs/partying, jealous/possessive rafe and reader, smut !, rafe deals coke. tysm to @zyafics for beta’ing & helping me so muchh & @inimamea for being so lovely and supportive. tysm to all the lovely anons who have been supporting and loving this concept from the start, i hope u all love this ♡ (but sorry in advance if u don’t)

truth be told, you didn’t like making rafe angry. 

it wasn’t fun for you, like other things were—watching your boys play golf while you lounged in the cart with the cold drinks, picking out a pretty outfit for the day, crashing on the couch at tannyhill with your head in rafe’s lap and feet over kelce’s legs. 

those were fun things. what you were doing now, with jj, was something borne of necessity. you’re not a mean girl. you find it tough to be mean to anyone except rafe, actually, and only because he dishes it back and you know his feelings aren’t really hurt, but right now you were being mean.

to jj that is. 

you smile at the blond boy seated next to you, the golden glow of the bonfire casting its warmth onto both of you. you laugh at another joke he makes, but only half-hearted, taking another sip of the beer he’d gotten you from the keg.

jj’s funny, he’s sweet too. it’s not his fault you wish you were seated next to your best friend instead of him, drinking a strawberry seltzer from the case that rafe keeps in the back of his truck specially for you. 

“so?” jj asks, and you turn from staring at your shoes to look up at him. he’s looking at you with a smile, a very charming smile that you could have a lot of fun with, except you’re starting to feel bad about toying with him like this. 

“so?” you repeat back, softly. he leans in a little to hear you. you feel a little warm at the action, but it could just as easily be from the fire. 

jj’s nice—and you’ve always liked nice, preferred it to almost anything. every boy you had ever introduced to your trio had been nice, though rafe hadn’t ever cared. he’d hated them from the moment he’d laid eyes on them. you wonder now when you let him seep into your mind like this, with every other thought about rafe rafe rafe. somewhere in between accepting jj’s invitation to come to the bonfire with him and getting jealous over the fact that rafe was seeing some random girl.

“you didn’t tell your other boy about this, did’ya?” you look up at jj with eyebrows knitted, puzzled.

“other.. boy?”

“cameron.” now you really flush—you certainly don’t want jj to think rafe is your other anything.

“no, no. we’re not dating. we’re just friends.”

“right, okay. you tell him about tonight?”

“no. it didn’t come up.”

“ah. got it.”

“why?” you ask, and before you can look around, jj stares into the distance, gesturing with his eyes to a blurry figure.

“nothin’. he’s just been starin’ at us since we sat down, so i figured, but-” you stand up, looking into the distance where rafe was. you can feel yourself turning green with envy, red with rage, watching him stand next to the same girl he’s been with, her looking at rafe while rafe looks at you.

you sit back down on the log, wrapping a hand around jj’s arm and pulling him down to sit beside you. from this angle, rafe can’t make out anything but your backs, and maybe the lack of any real distance between you and jj.

“sorry,” you say, sweetly, almost having regained your wrath the second you saw the two of them standing together. “he’s crazy.”

“s’okay. not news to me, princess.” jj takes a pause, and you chew your cheek, trying to decide how far you were willing to take this. “you okay?”

“yes. why wouldn’t i be?”

“well, uh, it doesn’t take a genius. even though, y’know, i am one, to know somethin’s up.” “no, jj, i promise, we’re ju-” “just friends, yeah, i got it. i mean, i don’t know what type of friends exactly, but uh, i like you. and i’ll like you even if he has a problem with it. so up to you, really.” you glance up at jj, who is being nicer to you right now than you deserve. 

and you hate it, hate every second of it. you hate how rafe makes you feel, how angry and jealous you get, the fact that you even started talking to jj when in the back of your mind you knew it was because rafe would get upset over it.

but you also hate what rafe’s doing, the girl he’s with and the way he’s with her, the fact that he brought her here and still won’t stop shooting daggers into jj’s head. in short, you hate all of it. 

you lean in, resting your head against jj’s shoulder. 

“i’m sorry. i don’t know what’s going on with him. but, he’s here with a girl.”

“and you’re here with me.” jj wraps an arm around you. 

“yes, but not because-well, i don’t know.” it feels stupid coming out, but if jj thinks that, he doesn’t show any signs of it.

“s’okay. don’t always have to know.” you keep your head on his shoulder, enjoying the warmth he brings. “by the way, he’s still watching.” you smile, though you can’t tell which boy elicited it. “i mean, not gonna complain if i get to be your boy toy for a little but, nice to know you care-” you giggle, pulling away to put your drink on the sandy ground.

“you’re telling me you don’t want a sugar mama?” he laughs at your words and you relish in it. 

it could be picture perfect—waves crashing in the back, the fire flickering in front of you, stars sparkling above. jj keeps his hand on your cheek and leans in for a kiss, and you find yourself leaning too, when the voice of your best friend breaks the silence. you pull away from jj to look up at rafe standing behind you.

“hey. we’re goin’. c’mon.”

“rafe-” you start, but you get interrupted. jj stands, facing rafe.

“hey buddy, we’re a little busy. but uh, i’ll make sure she gets home safe-”

“guys-”

“wasn’t fuckin’ talkin’ to you, pogue-”

“tuck her into bed, and everything. don’t worry your little head ‘bout it-”

“m’gonna knock your little head out if you don’t get the fuck away from-” having heard enough, you drag rafe away by his arm, your pretty nails digging in harshly.

“what the fuck was that, rafe?” you ask, though you feel the bitterness coursing through your veins. how’s that fair—that he parades his girlfriend around you, at the club and here at the bonfire, but you can’t so much as spend a moment alone with jj. 

whatever reservations you had just held about using jj to make rafe jealous seem to have gone far away. instead you’re just angry—he wants his own girlfriend and he wants you without a boyfriend too. you turn to look back at the boy you left behind at the fire. jj gives you a thumbs up.

“how many times do i have to fuckin’ tell you to-to stay away from that pogue-”

“he has a name,” you counter, so defensive because jj was being nice to you even when he didn’t have to be, helping you even with no gain for himself. “and you can’t order me around, okay? you brought a girl here but i can’t talk to jayj? how does that make any sense?”

“stop yellin’,” he barks, grabbing you by the arm now, and guiding you away.

“why? afraid someone might hear us? like your little girlfriend? where’d she go, by the way, i bet she’s missing you right about now-”

“shut up. shut it.” you don’t realize how far rafe’s dragged you until you shake out of his tight grip, standing next to his truck on the street.

“i’m sick of this rafe.” it comes out quieter than you intend, tears prickling up. you hate crying, especially infront of the boys but even more so infront of rafe. “i’m not stopping my life and boys that i wanna see, and relationships i want to have because you’re not okay with it. not when you have your own girlfriend. it’s not fair.” 

“i don’t. i don’t have a girlfriend.” you roll your eyes, he watches it happen with a tight fist, jaw clenching.

“yes, you do.”

“no, i don’t.”

“you don’t?” you question, unbelieving. “you just.. walk around with the same girl for weeks. take her everywhere. but she’s not your girlfriend?” you’re snarky like always—you still don’t know if he likes it or not.

“no, she’s not.” 

“bullshit. at least get your fucking story straight, rafe. that girl’s probably half in love with you-” “m’not dating her. and if it bothered you so much how come you didn’t say something, huh? you pull this shit with fuckin’ maybank instead?”

“i’m not pulling anything with jj.” you lie through your teeth, hoping rafe bites. “i-i like him.”

“no you fuckin’ don’t.”

“who are you to tell me-”

“you don’t like him. what you like is makin’ me fuckin’ angry. well, it worked. stay the fuck away from him. and get in the goddamn truck.”

you groan loudly, the noise almost a scream and filling the quiet street. but you comply, getting into the passenger seat and letting rafe drive you home—to your house, not tannyhill like every other night. when he pulls up to your house, you resist the urge to get out without saying anything at all.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, kid.” you sigh, looking back up at rafe.

“that’s it? you’ll see me tomorrow?”

“what else do you want me to say, huh?”

“are you just gonna ignore all of that? what the hell was that?”

“m’not ignoring anything-”

“so, i can’t see jj anymore. are you still seeing her? who am i allowed to date then? kelce? top? do you have a pre-approved list for me?”

“shut up.”

“rafe,” you sound serious, as serious as he’s ever heard you, shifting in your seat to look right at him. he looks back, his knuckles white on the steering wheel at the mention of you dating kelce or top or anyone. “i’m not gonna stay single forever. i know your alpha-male tendencies don’t agree with it, but girls have needs too. i want-”

“what? what do you want?”

“the possibility of getting laid without you screaming at every boy i talk to would be nice.”

“don’t talk like that.”

“rafe.” 

exasperated, you unlock the door and climb out, not turning back to say goodnight. the last twelve hours seem like a blur, between texting jj and actually seeing him and rafe’s reaction to it. you’re not sure what kind of reaction you really wanted out of him, but you’re not happy with the one you got. you don’t know what, if anything, would have pleased you. 

that night, you go to bed angry and wake up sad. jj texted you something but you can’t find the heart to look at his message yet. 

you’re sure the boys have something planned for today, like they always do, but the idea of opening the groupchat to look at what they decided on makes you feel sick. so you stay home instead, showering off yesterday’s anger and wondering why rafe thinks you don’t deserve to have a boy in your life to fool around with, to date, to do anything with. 

the answer, sharp and painful like the jagged end of a piece of glass, hovers in your mind. you try to push it away.

rafe’s wrong—like always. you really don’t like making him angry, like it even less that your routine is disrupted and that for the first time in a long time, you don’t want to see your best friends today. brushing your hair, the sound of your bedroom door opening snaps you out of your thoughts.

“c’mon kid. get dressed. top’s got tee time at two and we booked lunch before.” you turn to look at rafe but don’t budge. he takes a look at you—dressed in one of his old frat shirts and plaid shorts that barely peak out. 

you look pretty all the time but it feels the worst, the hardest to deal with, when it’s just the two of you alone like this, none of the shit that you do for other people, for outside the house—the makeup, the hair, the nice clothes. when you’re pretty like this it’s just for him, since no one else gets to see you, no one but him. you probably didn’t even notice you were wearing one of his shirts—something that leaves him feeling more pleased than he should be. but like always, he’s not gonna tell you any of that.

“are you adding deaf to stupid?” he asks, and you roll your eyes, letting out an irritated huff.

“i’m not coming. go away.” you turn around on your vanity chair to face your mirror, continuing brushing your hair. rafe walks up behind you, staring at you in the mirror.

“c’mon. lunch is at the place you like. i’ll even talk to you when kelce and top are up.”

“is that your way of apologizing?”

“it’s not an apology.”

“of course it’s not. why would you say sorry? you probably don’t think you did anything wrong.”

“i didn’t.”

“mm-hm. when does rafe cameron ever do anything wrong?” you keep brushing your hair, staring at yourself in the mirror instead of at him. “psycho.”

rafe yanks the brush from your hand, spinning your chair around to face him. he boxes you in, his hands resting on the armrests. he’s too close to you, it makes his head spin. you wish he’d stop, you know he’s not going to. you watch with bated breath, wondering what’s coming next.

“i… didn’t mean to make you upset.” you keep staring up at rafe, blinking fast. “and i didn’t see it from your side. so, m’sorry. about that part. nothin’ else.” you can’t help the slow smile that grows on your face—rafe, apologizing, and to you of all people. you thought you’d never see the day.

“thanks rafe.”

“alright. get ready. truck’s still runnin’.” he pulls himself upright, freeing you of the restraint. you can hear the bass of the music in his car, the future song audible from your open window. 

“that’s bad for the environment. and i didn’t say i forgave you.” snatching the hairbrush back, you resume your motions. you hear rafe groan and it’s hard to hold back the smile. maybe you did like making him angry.

“kid.” 

“what? i heard your apology, and i don’t accept it. hope you girls have fun at golf-” rafe leans back in, holding your jaw shut between his fingers.

“do you ever shut up?” you shake your head from your position, though you can’t really move. “what’s it gonna take, huh? you want my permission to fuck ‘round? sleep with some, some fuckin’ nobody? some pogue? tough shit. you’re not gettin’ it.” he lets you go, and you rub your jaw tenderly.

“but you get to do it?” 

“that’s different-”

“no it’s not! you’re just a dick. and sexist. who am i supposed to sleep with, then?” you shoot back.

“i don’t fuckin’ know, kid. me, i guess. at this point-”

“ha-ha funny. you’re an-” when you finally get up and look at him, he’s staring at you. “what?”

“yeah. that’s fine.” he shrugs, like he’s just decided something trivial, like what to order at lunch or which iron to use. “you can sleep with me.”

“excuse me?”

“yeah. yeah, it’s a good solution. that way you can stay the fuck away from maybank and any other asshole.”

“rafe. shut up.”

“think about it,” he says, and you fall silent to listen, though this is the worst idea  you’ve ever heard in your life. “you get what you want. i get what i want. it works out.”

“how is being your pity-fuck remotely close to what i want?”

“sheesh, kid m’tryna help you right now. offerin’ you a solution-”

“rafe?” “yeah?”

“get out.” you walk over the door, swining it open and waiting for him to step out.

“just think ‘bout it,” rafe says, standing by the door but not leaving just yet. “alright?”

“goodbye, rafe.” 

you listen to the sounds—him walking down the staircase, the front door closing, his truck taking off. after you’re sure he’s gone, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding inside.

sleeping with rafe had been nothing more than a drunken thought that occasionally slipped into your mind when he’d be nice to you after some party. curling up next to him at tannyhill every other night certainly didn’t help, but that’s all it was—a thought, not reality. 

then you wonder if it’s really such a bad idea. maybe if you just got out all of this pent up energy with rafe, and then worked on finding someone he actually approved of, it would be easier for both of you. 

key word: maybe.

the idea that he’s still seeing that girl, the one he keeps denying is his girlfriend, makes you want to puke. he’d have to stop that, that would be part of your agreement. 

maybe rafe’s right, maybe you both get what you want out of this, as messed up as it seems. it can’t be the worst idea in the world—kelce and top always joke the two of you are half a couple already.

you go to your closet to pick out an outfit for golf, hoping you weren’t about to ruin your friendship with your best friend.

.☘︎ ݁˖

rafe’s leaning against the bar at the club when you find him. you think he’s got a weird sixth sense, he always knows when you’re around, and he looks up before you’re even near him. 

“i knew you wouldn’t pass on lunch. top owes me five bucks.”

“yeah. sure.” you put a hand on the counter to steady yourself—this is harder than you thought it would be. rafe takes a sip of his drink. you want to chastise him, tell him it’s only twelve-thirty and too early for drinking, but nothing comes out. your mouth feels dry and you almost want to chug the rest of his scotch. surprisingly, you refrain.

“what?” rafe asks, and you glance up at him, eyes locked.

“i thought about what you said this morning. what you offered.”

“and?” the bastard looks so smug. you should the slap the smirk off his face but you know what he’s thinking—proud of coming up with the idea himself, thinking he’s doing such a service.

“and.. better the devil you know and all that.” you wait for the other shoe to drop for a moment, for rafe to admit it was all a big prank and you fell for it, and now the boys owe him money or something.

“good. i agree. so should we get outta here, or what?”

“right now?” you question, eyes widening. “what about tee time?”

“you’re the only who’s so horny you’re on the verge of jumping pogues. m’just tryna help you-”

“shut up!”your face heats, looking around to make sure no one heard him. “by the way, between the two of us you’re the only one jumping pogues.”

“yeah, yeah. so not now, then?”

“a gentlemen as always, rafe. no, really, thank you, for showing me chivalry’s not dead.” you roll your eyes again, staring ahead at the bottles behind the bar. you don’t want to turn and look at rafe again, but you do.

“at this rate m’gonna have to show you what friends with benefits means too.”

“shut up.” it comes out like a hiss this time, narrowed eyes focusing in on your best friend and apparently, new fuck buddy.

“yeah, yeah. they’re at the table near the window.” 

“thanks.” you walk in that direction, catching a glimpse of top and kelce, but your feet pause for a moment. you stay still, but glance back at rafe.

he’s not leaning against the bar anymore—he’s facing you, staring at you. blue eyes rake over your skin top to bottom, focusing on the pretty sandals and polished white toes, smooth lotioned skin, your short white skirt and tight golf shirt, with one too many buttons popped. 

when you’re talking without ever shutting up, it’s hard for him to focus on anything but your glossy lips or long eyelashes fluttering when you roll your eyes. but now he’s taking it in—how easily you agreed to this little idea, how you talk a big game but you don’t seem as hesitant or upset as you were this morning. 

you turn back and keep walking towards the table—rafe can tell you’re flushed. he’s fine with it, prefers it this way. anything’s better than you going on dates with strangers, showing them looks and emotions and other things that belong to him.

if you’re horny, all you had to do was tell him. downing the rest of his drink, he goes back to the table and like always, sits next to you. 

kelce and top talk about the same old shit, until they focus their attention on you. you’re being quiet, not nearly as talkative or snippy as usual, and you haven’t said a word to rafe the whole time.

“and where’d you two go off to last night?” kelce asks, pointedly looking at rafe while he asks you the question.

“you guys know you left us stranded, right? we all came together. i mean i’m not saying self-absorbed but-” topper adds, but you cut him off.

“you’re really not one to talk about self-absorbed, are you top?” you shoot back, and kelce chokes on his water. 

“easy,” rafe says, and normally you’d fire away something at him too, but this time you don’t. “we had somethin’ to take care of. but you got home didn’t you?”

“yes, but-” topper says, but rafe cuts him off again. you hold back a laugh.

“then shut up ‘bout it.”

“kelce’s mom had to pick us up. it was humiliating.” you snort into your lemonade, all four of you bursting into laughter. you turn to ask kelce a follow up question, and rafe’s staring at you while you laugh. something low in your stomach twists, like a butterfly trying to fly out and away.

when kelce and rafe start talking about the course today, topper leans in to say something to you.

“you’re getting mean. y’know that means you’re spending too much time with him.” you transfer your gaze from top to rafe, staring at the boy next to you. 

the idea of what you would normally say floats through your head—something funny and earnest but still making top feel better, not saying sorry but making him laugh instead. nothing comes to mind.

“yeah. i guess i am.”

you sit through golf, reading your book in the cart while the boys play nine holes. your phone rings with a call from your parents about an hour in, and when you step away to take it, rafe follows you. the boys protest from the distance—it must have been his turn.

“you goin’ home?” rafe questions, and you jolt at the sound, not realizing he was right behind you.

“god. you scared me.” he doesn’t say anything, just keeps staring down at you. “yes, uh, mom wants me home for something.”

“you need a ride?”

“no, i drove here, remember?” 

“oh. yeah. am i gonna see you tonight?” the words make you flush—stupidly, no matter how hard you try to fight it, knowing that they shouldn’t. the two of you are going to be terrible at this. “kid?”

“careful, rafe. you’re starting to sound like a boyfriend.” “yeah. and we wouldn’t want that, now would we?” 

sucking in a breath, tearing your gaze away with pretty blue eyes that are looking at you like maybe that wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world, you’re at a loss for words again. before all of this drama, you could count the amount of times you had been rendered speechless by rafe with no hands—since it had never happened. still with nothing to say, you turn around and start to walk away. foot steps follow you.

“hey, hey. m’joking, it’s just.. a joke. how about i come over later? and we’ll talk about it.” you spin on your heels to face him.

“talk about it? talk about what?”

“our.. arrangement. y’know talk about it..” he tilts his head stupidly and you can’t decide if you want to slap him or kiss him. “..fuck about it.”

“okay! that’s it. bye, rafe.” storming away, you almost wish you hadn’t heard what he called out after you.

“bye, kid. i’ll see you later.”

.☘︎ ݁˖

at ten pm that night, freshly showered and somehow in another one of rafe’s shirts, you were back to where you were this morning—brushing your hair. rafe doesn’t knock on your door, just barges in.

“oh my god-”

“hello to you too.” he steps in, shutting the door behind him and taking a seat on your bed. you spin on your chair to face him.

“how the hell do you keep getting in here?”

“what? your mom let me in.”

“you didn’t even text-”

“i told you at the club. you have selective memory, kid.” he looks you over again. “nice shirt.”

“oh shut up.” you turn away for a moment, setting the hairbrush down, biting your cheek. “so?”

“so?” he repeats. he’s smiling, you can just tell.

“aren’t we gonna talk about our arrangement? that’s what you told me at the club-” you finish in a mocking voice.

“what else is there to talk about? you wanna get laid, i don’t wanna see you with random guys.”

“i still don’t understand what’s wrong with the guys that i-” rafe cuts you off, and he sounds angry.

“of course you don’t understand. you don’t have’t think about this shit, because i think about it for you. what’d you gonna do when some guy starts sleepin’ with you ‘cause me and top pissed him off once? or one of those pogues, huh? to get back at us? take some video of you and send it to everyone? brag and show it off to everyone?”

“oh.”

“exactly. so m’lookin’ out for you. this is better, trust me.” the thing rafe’s saying are making sense. you were on board anyways, but you feel better that there’s a real reason behind it.

“but what about that girl-” you ask, though you don’t know what kind of answer you’re expecting. rafe sighs.

“what about that girl?”

“are-are you gonna sleep with other people too?”

“no. m’too busy anyways. works out for both of us.”

“oh. okay. promise?”

“when have i ever lied to you?” you sigh, about to protest, when he finishes his sentence. “promise.” you feel strangely reassured, like this is a good idea.

“okay. thanks.” you dodge his gaze, playing with your manicured nails, pink this time.

“alright. get on the bed.”

“rafe-”

“what? i just said-”

“you’re not even gonna, like, take me out for dinner first?”

“who the hell d’you think paid for your lunch?”

“i don’t know.. kelce? he got lunch last week. should i go sleep with him next?”

“ha-ha. get on the bed.”

“ugh. you’re so crass. i don’t even know how you get any girls-”

“yeah, yeah. are you gonna shut up now or what?”

you can’t think of anything to say, so you finally follow his instructions, crawling into your bed and sitting up against your pillows to look at rafe. 

you’ve see him naked before. he’s seen you naked before. with all the time you spent together on the druthers or at the beach, you should be used to seeing him like this. he yanks off his shirt, pulling it off with a fist in the back over his head. 

the first sign that this idea wasn’t going to go as planned should have been now—feeling your breath catch in your throat at the sight in front of you. your best friend shirtless, getting closer to your bed. your eyes rake over tan, muscled skin and the silver chain glimmering around his neck. you don’t realize you moved, body sliding down and back flat against your mattress while rafe starts to lean across the bed, his hand planted next to your head.

rafe’s hovering over you. your breathing shakes for a moment, wondering if it would be this easy for him to do this with any other girl. you dismiss the thought when rafe leans in to kiss you, but it almost seems too wrong to let it happen.

“wait-” you move your head a little so your lips are away from rafe’s. “are you sure? you don’t think it’s gonna be weird?”

“stop bugging out, kid.” he says it low and quiet, and your entire body quivers from the sound.

“answer the question, asshole.” rafe laughs, his hot breath fanning across your cheek. you can’t help it, you laugh too, turning to look at him. you think he’ll be grinning like something’s funny, but your smile dies the second you lock eyes.

he’s not smiling, he looks as serious as you’ve ever seen him. he licks his lips, moving his eyes over your body, his shirt and your bare legs.

“you wearin’ anything under this?” 

he moves one of his hands from your knee to your thigh, stroking the soft skin. you curl your leg automatically, head lifting to watch his hands and your entire body trembling under his touch—it’s hot and electric, making your heart beat faster and the hairs on your arm stand up. he looks up from your legs to your face, watches you shake your head to answer no. 

“good girl.” 

your head falls back onto the pillow when the words leave his mouth. a chuckle leaves his mouth, but still he’s not smiling, it’s more just a noise of pleasure than anything else. rafe sits up between your legs, hands grabbing onto both of your legs and stroking again. he makes his way all the way to your hips, fingers dancing over the waistband of your panties. 

you think he’ll stop, maybe at least answer your earlier question, though you can’t remember what you had even asked him. he doesn’t, fingers swiftly hooking around the fabric and pulling them down your legs. you suck in another breath, angling your foot so they fall onto the bed while you keep your eyes locked on him.

“y’ready?” he asks, and you nod, though you’re not sure what you’re agreeing to. his hands go back to your thighs, pushing his t-shirt up to expose more skin. you tense up, but he keeps a palm on your knee. “relax.”

before you can anticipate anything else, he strokes your pussy, which is shamefully wet already, with two fingers, prodding the sensitive skin and gathering wetness. he does that laugh again, like he can’t believe what he’s looking at, and you try to shut your trembling thighs in embarassment, but rafe holds them open.

“rafe-” but before you can finish your sentence, two thick fingers plunge inside you, “oh my god—!” 

“hah. good.” when he pushes his fingers out, just to slam them back in, your eyes roll all the way back, another loud moan emitting from your mouth, sounds he’s thought about a hundred times before but still can’t compare to the real thing. but of course, you don’t need to know any of that. “don’t get too loud. y’folks are downstairs, remember?”

you don’t seem to remember. when he picks up the pace, really just wanting to test you and see how much you could take, you start moaning even louder, sweet breathy sounds filling the room. they’re just for him, and normally he’d want you screaming, but he can’t arouse too much suspicious, or your parents won’t ever let him back in the house. his other hand, the one holding your legs open, moves to your mouth, clamping his palm over your lips to keep your noises quiet.

you must like it, you clench around his fingers and your walls flutter when he locks eyes with you, almost hunched over you to keep you quiet while still fucking his fingers—now three, though he didn’t realize when he’d added another—into you. 

rafe’s hard, and he can’t remember the last time he was patient enough to wait to get his dick wet, but he likes you like this, not just shutting up for once, but eyes shut and face twisted with pleasure, whimpering into his hand, legs shaking in his grip while you’re wet around his fingers. 

“rafe-” you mumble, the sound all muffled. “m’gonna, ohh-” he picks up the pace, shushing you while battering into your pussy, listening to the gasps and whimpers through his palm while you cum all over his hand. 

limbs like jelly and throat dry, you lay there, catching your breath. your skin’s hot and flushed, and you stare at rafe while he stares at you.

“what?” you question, and it comes out quiet, soft, like you’ve done something you shouldn’t have. he’s thinking a couple of things, some of which have no business being in his head at all. do you always get this wet? who else has seen you like this? who’s gonna get to hear you moan the way you just did for him some day?

“nothin’.” 

“oh. okay.” you sit up against your headboard, pulling your—his—shirt down to cover up a little. “well, thank you.”

“yeah. no problem.” for a second he hestiates—briefly concerned you want him to leave now. “well? come on.” you’re trying to sound like you always do, a little irritated at him, a little snarky. he can see through it this time.

“what?” 

“get the condom. you’re the one who said we’re doing it today.” rafe watches for a second, wondering if he should laugh or yell at you, when you pull off his shirt. he stares at you, not moving, wondering why he thought this would be a good idea. 

he’s seen you naked before, changing in the same room or when you two lost all boundaries and started walking into bathrooms while the other’s showering, but this seems different. propped against your headboard naked, with your cum on his fingers, asking him to get a condom. now that he’s seen you like this, he has a new life mission of making sure no one else ever gets to. 

“god, you’re such a boy.”

“shut up.” 

“you shut up. you talked such a big game and now you’re just staring at my boobs-” he moves quickly, fingers on your jaw, actually shutting you up.

“lie down.” biting your lip, you comply, sliding down so rafe was on top of you. “spread your legs.” you move to do so, but rafe uses his hands on your thighs to pull them apart before you can. you can’t look at his face, it almost feels too weird, so you decide to stare at his dick instead, watching him roll the condom on with a puzzled face.

“what?” he’s been looking at your face the whole time.

“nothing. if i had known you were this big i would’ve asked a while ago-” rafe starts laughing, a real one this time, and you burst into giggles too.

“stop-” and he gets closer to you, lining himself up with your wet cunt, “-making me laugh. shut up.”

“you’ve said shut up like thirty times but you won’t stop talking eithe-oh!” he pushes in all at once, and all the breath leaves your lungs. you gasp instead, toes curling, feeling incredibly full, the disbelief that you’re full of rafe quickly fading away. 

you should have known he’d be good at this, good enough to actually get you to shut up. he starts a slow pace, thrusting in and out and you look up to see your best friend’s face contorted with pleasure, heavy breaths in your ears and the scent of his cologne overwhelming everything. his chain dangles on your neck, tickling you, and you try to permanently engrain the feeling into your memory.

you attempt to stay quiet, though the slam of the headboard against the wall is a dead giveaway. rafe pushes all the way out and then all the way back in with another slam, and there’s nothing you can do but take it, clamping your hand over your mouth now.

he manhandles your legs into place, pressing them to your chest while he continues the exhausting pace. you can’t discern anything but rafe’s quiet groans and heavy breaths. you’ve just cum but it doesn’t take long for that hot feeling to wind up again in your stomach, toes curling and eyes getting watery. your moans are still muffled, but the way rafe’s looking at you is only making them get louder. 

your bottom lip must be bleeding from the way your teeth have been abusing it. rafe moves your hand out of the way and leans in for a hot kiss, his tongue in your mouth and swallowing all of your noises.

with a final oh god, oh god, oh god, moaned into rafe’s mouth, you cum hard around his dick, eyes pressing shut and stray tears falling down, rafe’s lips not leaving yours. 

you don’t know why—but you wrap your arms around his neck, keeping the kiss going. rafe pulls away for a moment to breathe and you open your eyes, staring up at him through wet lashes, licking your swollen lips, while he looks back down at you.

he leans in for a final kiss, groaning into your mouth while he spills into the condom, still thrusting in and out of your sore pussy. 

rafe rolls off of you, resting on your sheets beside you. you try to catch your breath.

“you didn’t last very long.” 

“and how long did it take ya to cum all over my fingers?”

“oh, whatever. where’s my shirt?”

“it’s my shirt,” rafe says back, finding the discarded clothing on the ground and tossing it on your chest. you sit up, sliding his shirt back on. rafe’s standing, pulling on his shorts.

“are you leaving?” you ask, and you regret it the second it comes out, quiet and soft like you want him to stay. 

you do want him to stay, but you don’t want him to know that you do. it all feels very complicated and your thighs are aching, your throat dry. 

“no.” he sits back down next to you, swinging an arm over your shoulder like he always does. you lean into his chest. 

“you kissed me,” you say quietly. you’re glad your face is pressed into his side, you don’t think you could handle looking at his face right now. “and you were quiet. i didn’t expect that.”

“your parents are downstairs, remember?”

“oh. i forgot.” you realize after that you don’t want him to know he fucked you so hard you forgot where you were and who was home.

“is kissing off limits?” rafe asks, and you almost choke processing the sentence. things you never thought rafe would say to you.”

“no.. it was nice.” you pause, listening to the silence of the room and the thud of rafe’s chest in your ear. you’re no expert—though you fear you’re about to become one—but it seems faster than normal. “you want ice cream? or cookies? i made some yesterday.”

“no, kid. it’s fine.” you chew your cheek nervously. you want rafe to want to stay, not just because you asked.

“you can go.. if you need to.” you look up at him and then look back down when he meets your eyes. 

“why? got nowhere else to be.”

“oh. okay.”

“turn the tv on. we’ll watch your stupid movie”

“really?” your face lights up, grabbing the remote on your nightstand. you open up the blanket at the foot of the bed, covering both of you while you try to find you’ve got mail. you go back to your position and lean against rafe’s warm body, and he presses a kiss to your forehead. it’s not unusual, he’s done it before, but you don’t miss the fact that he’s decided to do it now. you try to push away the warm feeling blooming in your chest.

“don’t ever make a joke about sleeping with kelce or top again.”

.☘︎ ݁˖

your tired muscles wake up to the sun pouring into your bedroom. the light shines on rafe’s still-asleep figure, but you knew it wouldn’t wake him up, nothing ever does. you don’t remember falling asleep, barely remember anything after rafe showing up.

and the part where you slept with your best friend.

a guilt-trip dangles on the edge, about to take over, when you push it away and focus on the text messages on your phone instead.

top: rafe can’t believe u bailed on cod. u better be dead in a ditch somewhere

kelce: maybe princess finally killed him

top: stop hanging out without us

kelce: top lets just pull up next time

you laugh, and rafe stirs at the sound. you give his arm a shove.

“you ditched playing video games for me? i’m so flattered, rafey.” 

“shut up.” he grumbles. “go back to bed. s’too early for this shit.”

“it’s nine in the morning. and i have pilates in an hour.”

rafe turns over, and you can’t deny it’s nice to have him in your bed for once—it seems like you’re always sleeping at tannyhill.

“didn’t get enough exercise last night? you need more?”

you fake a yawn, covering your mouth.

“exercise? what exercise? i don’t remember that. you mean the boring sex?”

rafe sits up, facing you. you choke back a laugh.

“you wanna say that again?”

“uhh-”

“in fact, why don’t you try and get up? ten bucks says you can’t even walk to the door.”

“i can’t believe the two of us even fit on this bed with your gigantic ego-”

“don’t see you walking. m’waiting.” you toss one of your throw pillows at him.

“get out!”

“alright. i’ll say good morning to your parents on my way-”

“okay! wait, stay.”

“s’what i thought.”

“some way to say good morning,” you mumble, scrolling through your other messages—a text from your other friends about a party tomorrow and a reminder for your pilates class.

“you woke me up.” 

“oh whatever. i was just surprised you skipped a video game for this. but i guess most boys would.”

“there’s not much i wouldn’t skip for you.” you smile at rafe, misunderstanding him.

“that’s so nice. are you saying i’m a great lay?” he rolls his eyes.

“i’m trying to- shut up. what’d they say?” he picks up his phone. 

about twenty minutes later, after checking the hallway (and that too on wobbly legs, just like the smug idiot had predicted) rafe leaves. like always, he says he’ll see you later.

you fall on your bed and dwell on the fact that rafe kissed you last night. it’s hard to focus on anything else, and with every passing second, you think this whole thing was a worse and worse idea.

but he doesn’t seem to think that way. he seemed fine. he’s better at the no-strings-attached thing than you, and you don’t think he would have suggested it if he didn’t think you could handle it. 

with that thought lingering, you get dressed for pilates and hope it’s easier to walk before you see the boys again. you find out that it’s really not. 

after your class, you check your phone, finding messages from top and kelce. game night and pizza at kelce’s house. you’re invited, of course, but you shoot them a message saying you’re staying home with your parents instead. 

the second you press send, rafe’s contact photo lights up your screen.

“rafe?” you answer it without even waiting.

“what, not comin’ tonight? you always come.”

“oh, um-” you pace around your room, trying to think of a lie on your feet. “mom and dad wanted to stay in. you know. game night.” the words feel stupid, though you hope he’ll believe it.

“okay. you gonna swing ‘round after?”

“no, probably not. um, i’ll see you tomorrow?”

“yeah, tomorrow. have fun, kid.”

“you too. tell them i say hi.”

the rest of your day flies by and it’s not long before you’re curling up in bed with a tub of ice cream. your parents went out to dinner with some friends, while you contemplated what the hell you were doing with your own friends.

you four always had a standing date on saturday mornings in the summer—snacks and a spin on the boat. if you don’t go, it’s going to be incredibly obvious something was going on with you. 

you call topper while you pack your boat bag—grabbing the necessities the boys always completely forget about; spray sunscreen, an extra baseball cap, a book for you when you inevitably get bored of listening to them talk.

“what’s up?” top says, and you’ve made your way into the kitchen, pulling out fruit to wash and cut.

“what time are we going on the boat? and i’m bringing strawberries and mangoes, is that fine?” topper is the pickiest when it comes to the fruit—kelce and rafe will eat whatever you bring.

“uh, i think noon. call rafe, we’re taking the druthers today.” crap. that’s what you were trying to avoid. it feels crazy the second you think it—trying to avoid rafe. you need to get it together. acting like some love sick girl over your best friend feels like the stupidest thing you’ve ever tried to do. he must bring it out in you. “do you have any of those oranges? the little ones?”

“i’ll bring ‘em. listen, i need to get ready, do you know the time? i’ll just meet you there.” your self-realization is going to have to wait for another day.

“noon, yeah. i’ll text it.”

“thanks top.” 

you start an internal monologue on repeat—stop being weird about it. he’s still your best friend. be normal. he is not your boyfriend. you repeat it, but still pick out the prettiest bikini you own, yellow gingham and held together entirely by straps you’ve tied into pretty bows. you throw on one of the boys’ button-ups that’s ended up in your closet somehow on top. 

walking onto the pier, you hesitate in front of the druthers. you don’t hear any of the boys, and though nothing’s stopped you from getting on and making yourself comfortable, you wait for a second.

it’s like he knows. rafe steps out from the bridge, and takes one look at you, eyes flicking up and down your body and taking in the yellow fabric that’s barely covering anything, before offering you his hand to get on. 

“hey.”

“hey.” you look around. “nice weather.”

“yeah.”

“kelce and top running late? he told me noon.”

“those two are always late.” he’s staring at you, and this time it becomes clear, that he’s looking at you the way a boy who has been inside of you looks at you.

“i packed mangoes. you liked them last time.”

“yeah, i did.”

“i just hope they’re sweet.”

“yeah. they probably are. sweet.” rafe keeps looking, and you turn around to set your bag down. “listen, kid-”

“it’s a great day. good weather.” 

“you already said that.”

“oh.”

“would you stop and look at me?”

“no, um,” you start, emptying out your bag onto one of the seats. “sorry, i’m busy.” you feel rafe grab your shoulder, turning you around. he’s not as rough as he could be, like he usually is.

“you okay?” he asks, and you feel stupid.

“i’m fine.. are you okay?”

“yeah. but you’re actin’ weird.”

“well yeah, rafe. we slept together. it’s weird.”

“you were on board-”

“i was. i am,” you clarify. surprising even to yourself, you think you still are. “doesn’t make it not weird. imagine if you and kelce slept together. wouldn’t it be weird?” rafe’s face twists into a mixture of disgust and concern. “okay. bad example. sorry.”

“yeah. m’just saying, i wanna make sure you’re okay. but i don’t regret it if that’s what you’re afraid of. and nothin’ has to change.” hearing him say it makes you feel better. you repeat the words, tasting the feel of it on your tongue.

“right. nothing’s changed. you’re still rafe. i’m still me.”

“it doesn’t have to happen again, if you don’t want it to.” you stare up at him with crossed arms.

“why are you being so nice about it?”

“jeez, kid. what, you-you want me to be a dick ‘bout it? sounds like you’d prefer that.”

“no, just. it’s weird when you’re nice.” you look at him for a second before the two of you start laughing. “y’know what i mean.”

“alright. i’ll stop being nice.”

“thank you. now where are these two? i wanna read my book.”

“probably still sleepin’. played until-” rafe keeps talking, but you realize you’re only half paying attention. he takes his shirt off, and at the very sight of his chain sparkling in the sun, you realize you’re no better than the girls who chase after him. “what?”

“hm?” a little dazed, you look up from his abs to his face.

“you’re starin’.”

“oh. you think we have enough time before they show up?”

“time for what?” rafe stares at you while you stare at him. “oh.”

turns out he thought you did have enough time. you end up with your cheek pressed against the tan sofa in the cabin, body folded with your head down and ass up. rafe’s slamming into you from behind, and though it’s only the second time with him, you think there’s no pleasure in the world comparable.

from this angle he feels even bigger than yesterday. you feel tighter, or maybe it’s just the way your cunt is sucking him in, he thinks, thrusting in and out with his hands grabbing the fat of your ass, watching it bounce with every one of his motions. he has an urge to untie your bikini top, just so he can look at the expanse of the bare skin of your back, but he knows you’ll fuss if he does. he settles for shoving the thin yellow fabric of your bottoms to the side, yanking it so hard that you’re scared it’ll rip.

“be—oh—careful,” you get out in between moans, louder than the first time and louder still than he thought you’d be. he likes it more than he should. you already came once, but he wants to see if he can get another out of you.

“shut up,” rafe groans, eyes fixated on your perky ass, the one he’s stared at in hundreds of short dresses and tiny skirts, bikinis that he shouldn’t let you wear and panties he gets an eyeful of when you’re asleep in his bed. “jus’ take it-”

you keep moaning against the couch, head shoved in to muffle what you can, but it’s when you look back at him, turning your head to watch rafe slam into you with wet, lustful eyes, tired from how hard he had just made you cum, that he really can’t take it, finishing hard and fast while you let out pretty mewls that are still ringing in his ear. 

he pulls out, adjusting your bikini bottoms to cover you up, though there’s visible wetness staining them. your inner thighs are shiny where your juices glisten. rafe has to tear his eyes away, you keep your legs clamped shut.

“you okay?” he asks, trying to catch his breath. you don’t speak, just nod. “c’mon.” rafe offers you a hand, again, and you accept, following him outside and into the sun, even though you’re so tired you could fall asleep where you were.

“thanks.” you say, wiping your neck of the sweat that has collected there. he watches you do it. “sorry, i don’t have a tip or anything. how about some fruit instead? call it even?” “shut up, kid. m’not a hooker, you fuckin’ weirdo.”

“no, of course not,” you gasp, like you’d never suggest such a thing. “the correct term is escort, rafe. it’s all very american gigolo.”

“you watch too many movies.” but you still hear him laugh when the two of you step onto the deck. 

“what’s so funny?” you hear top’s voice, freezing up. you catch rafe’s eye, before looking away

“nothin’, man-” rafe starts, but you start talking over him.

“just debatin’ how long it would take you idiots to get ready. got enough gel there, top?” rafe and kelce laugh while topper narrows his eyes at you.

your days are on the boat are always fun—the boys steer while you enjoy the breeze and the sun. you pass the fruit around and read your book—another romance beach read, of course. this one’s about two best friends falling in love. you can’t find the will to keep reading.

you tune in a conversation about a party tonight.

“are we going?” you ask, looking expectantly at the three boys in front of you.

“yeah. why wouldn’t we?” kelce says. you shift your gaze to rafe, who gestures to your thighs with his eyes. you clamp your legs shut, flushing.

“fun. what time?”

.☘︎ ݁˖

finding a little hard to walk straight after your little tryst on the boat, you switch your heeled sandals for a pair of sneakers for tonight. you smooth out your pretty blue dress in the back of top’s jeep. him and kelce are in the front, you and rafe in the back, pulling up to whichever family that was off-island’s mansion for the evening. the music was blaring, audible from even down the street, with two boys carring a keg into the house while top parked.

“are they celebrating something?” you question, staring at the crowds of people inside.

“yeah. the fact that it’s saturday night,” kelce answers, and you shove the back of his head from the backseat. 

you hear rafe and top talking about something, though you can’t make it out. yesterday you thought, dreading when the boys swung by your house to get you, that it would be awkward to sit next to rafe and act like nothing had happened. surprisingly after the conversation this morning, you find that it’s not. he leaned over to open the door for you to get in, asked you how your class was, did the things he always did.

topper’s an idiot for boosting his wheels, and you’d told him as much when he showed you guys for the first time. getting down is a nightmare, even more in your sore state (which you are attributing to the pilates and not the boy sitting next to you right now). 

you turn to look at rafe again but he’s not there, and instead you see him in your window, opening the door and offering you a hand to get down. rafe’s probably helped you down a dozen times. this feels different, you admit to yourself, holding onto his hand to get down and keenly aware of his other hand hovering around your waist.

inside, the party is in full swing, one corner by the windows with billows of smoke and a group of boys in another corner mixing drinks. 

the four of you end up like always—divided into half on opposite ends of a painted pong table from someone’s old frat house. some girl top’s been talking to makes her way over, hanging off his arm before long. rafe watches you toss the white ball, your nose scrunching up in concentration. you cheer when it goes in, turning to hug kelce. you’ve only had two cups but you’re getting tipsy already, he can tell.

“top. top!” rafe shouts over the music, but he’s too busy talking to the girl to notice.

“man, he’s clearly busy,” kelce says with a laugh.

“i agree. looks like that one’s for you, rafe.” you look at him with a giddy smile, leaning forward on the table, palms pressed flat. he wishes you wouldn’t—he can see down the front of your dress from this angle. you cheer when rafe chugs the cup of cheap beer.

he should make the next one just to get back at you, but he doesn’t want you to get too drunk. instead he misses, the ball falling right into kelce’s hands. 

if you were sober, you’d roll your eyes—you’d recognize that rafe missed on purpose. he’s better at this than all of you combined.

“give me five,” rafe says to top, casting one more glance back at you and kelce before walking towards a group of people on the couches and fishing something out of his pocket.

he’s gone, at most, ten minutes, and returns to find kelce missing. his place is taken by some brunette boy, who is currently trying to show you the best way to toss the ball. he’s standing awful close, a hand on your shoulder, his gaze on your exposed skin while you stare at the red cups.

“who the fuck is this?” rafe barks, though with the music blasting, only topper can hear him.

“i dunno, kelce ran off with that chick he’s been hooking up with-” the white ping pong ball lands in the red cup closest to rafe. he hopes he doesn’t look up to see something that’s gonna piss him off, but it’s dashed in seconds—you hugging the stranger in glee that you made another shot. 

he swings around the table, shooting a glare at the boy while putting himself in between the two of you. he faces the boy first.

“get lost.” the boy tries to say something, but rafe interrupts before he can get a word out. “get. lost.” you watch him scramble away, rafe turning to face you.

“c’mon. we’re done with pong.”

“but i made the last one!”

“i said we’re done. y’lucky i don’t take your ass home.”

“we just got here. why would you take me home?” you question.

for all the big talk, all the jokes and banter and emotions you’re trying to bury, you still don’t understand the simple truth known to everyone that’s ever met you and rafe—he’s never going to be happy seeing you with any boy besides himself.

“what’s wrong?” you question softly, looking up at him with big, confused, drunk eyes, not snarky like he thought you might be.

“no. just.. stop talkin’ to strangers, s’all.”

“but he was nice!” you yell over the music, picking up another cup from the table and taking a sip. you hate beer, but they took top’s jeep and not rafe’s truck, so there’s no spiked seltzer here for you. 

“no he wasn’t.” he takes the cup from your hand, pouring half the beer out into another cup before shoving it back in your hand.

“yeah he was! don’t you want that? the sooner i find a nice guy we can stop all of this, right?” you look at him earnestly, before chugging the rest of your beer. 

“alright, you’re cut off.”

the rest of the night goes by the same as all the others—kelce and top into a competition to see who can get more drunk, you tipsy enough to talk loudly about anything that comes to mind and rafe scaring away any guy who stares at you for too long. you stare at rafe’s back when he goes to sell, watching a pretty girl touch his arm when he’s counting the cash she’s handed him. 

you look away since you feel the beer coming back up, anger bubbling. you focus on topper, trying to follow along with his nonsensical conversation about his ex-girlfriend.

“don’t worry,” kelce says, and you turn your gaze on him, confused. “he didn’t even look at her.”

“what?” but his eyes aren’t on you, glancing behind you. you turn, though you shouldn’t, looking at rafe, two girls laughing at something while he opens the little white packet for them. glancing at kelce, and then at top, who is keeled over on the sofa, nursing a half-empty bottle of tequila just by himself, you walk over to where rafe is.

“wait, don’t-” kelce calls out after you, but you don’t listen.

“rafe, i think top’s ready to go. are you?” you interrupt his conversation with the two girls, and though you despise the fact that you’re doing this, you realize kelce was right. he wasn’t even looking at them. you gesture at your two other best friends on the couch, kelce trying to yank the bottle from top’s grip.

“yeah, kid. c’mon, this place is dead anyways.” you smile, though you shouldn’t let rafe see it. no, your smile is for the girls. you feel an unparalled joy when rafe swings his arm around you, guiding you back to the couch. 

you shouldn’t look back, but you do. the girls look mad and you feel happy.

this is fucked—the very thought sobers you. you shouldn’t be happy that those girls think there’s something between you and rafe, but you are. 

rafe manhandles topper into standing up, while kelce turns to talk to you. he’s drunk, and it comes out like a laugh. you smile, thinking he’s going to make some joke about top and tequila.

“you’re just as toxic as he is. hah. and i thought rafe was bad-”

“what?” you ask, but rafe cuts you off before you can figure out what kelce means.

“kelce, it’s your job to make sure he doesn’t puke in the back.”

“man, why am i always on top watch-”

in the car, you pick the music while rafe drives. you notice he keeps an eye out in the backseat, with top’s head half out the window and kelce texting on his phone.

“did you sell a lot?” you ask. you’ve never really mentioned it before, so rafe didn’t expect it tonight.

kelce’s words linger in your head. if you weren’t sober before he said that, you certainly are now. 

“enough. why?”

“just wondering. i saw you before we left, that’s all.” you look at the road ahead, listening to the quiet tune of the bryson tiller song you’d put on.

“you saw me?”

“with the pretty girl throwing herself at you? hard not to see.” you regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth—you sound bitter and angry, two things you truly are, but you don’t want rafe to know already.

“what, you jealous, kid?”

“why would i be jealous? you’re not my boyfriend.” it comes out louder than you expected, trying to talk over top and kelce’s voices in the backseat.

“no, m’not.” 

you bite your cheek and stare out the window. 

“not to interrupt, or anything, but i think top’s gonna puke-” you jolt when rafe slams on the brakes.

tannyhill is fifteen minutes from where the party was, but it takes fifty minutes to get back. rafe pulled over twice to let topper puke on the side of the road, so it’s three am before the four of you get back.

you want to go home—the alcohol in your system and unfinished conversation with rafe have left you feeling queasy too, but it’s three in the morning. top and kelce are too drunk to drive you, and you don’t want to ask rafe.

you decide that you don’t want to be alone with rafe either, changing into one of the shirts you’d brought from home and stupidly looking down realizing it’s one of rafe’s. did you own a single t-shirt that wasn’t from his closet? where had all of your clothes gone?

grumpy that you’re in his clothes, upset that he had pretty much admitted he wasn’t your boyfriend, and riddled with the assumption that he meant he would never be your boyfriend, you collect a pillow and one of the blankets from his bed, walking out the door when you hear rafe’s voice saying your name.

“where the hell are you goin’?” facing him, you stare at your feet.

“the couch.”

“when have you ever slept on the couch here?”

“i’m starting something new.”

“get in bed before i drag you there.” you groan, thumping both feet on the ground before stalking into the room. rafe exhales loudly, loud enough that you hear it, before muttering something under his breath and following you inside, closing the door.

you sit on the bed, but before you can think about what you’ve done, you bunch up a pillow in your hand.

“you-” you throw the pillow at rafe, which misses him completely. “suck!” the second thuds against his chest, before falling on the ground. you huff from your position on the bed.

rafe picks up both pillows, dropping them on the bed.

“what the hell was that?”

“this whole thing was a mistake.”

“it’s been two days.”

“well i’m an emotional fuck!”

“yeah, i can tell.” you pick up the pillow again, whacking rafe’s side with it.

“ugh! you can’t just-” your hands falter, dropping next to you while you look up at rafe through wet eyes. “-just say that us sleeping together is a good idea because you don’t want me with any other guys. what the fuck am i supposed to do with that?” 

“i don’t know! you’re the fuckin’ clueless one. what’d you think that means?”

“stop! just tell me! stop making me think, i’m so drunk and everything is mental gymastics with you-”

“well stop throwin’ my own pillows at me!”

“you suck, rafe. all of this and you can’t just tell me whether you like me or not?” 

in hindsight, you don’t know where the question came from. maybe a small part of you that wasn’t willfully ignorant suspected a long time ago that the way rafe acts towards you is more than just overprotective friendship. you had buried the thought the second it emerged—rafe cameron doesn’t have girlfriends, doesn’t do relationships. the rafe that’s been your best friend was your best friend for that very reason, because you weren’t in love with him.

or at least you thought you weren’t in love with him. and at least, he thought you weren’t in love with him.

the truth, you’re beginning to realize, watching rafe grab the pillow you’re about to hit him with out of your hands and set it down, is that rafe only acts the way he does with you, and no one else. the drinks you like in the back of his car, his shirts in your closet, the bed you share and all the time you two spend alone. you thought it was a great friendship, and maybe it was. but all along there’s been something bubbling underneath the surface, the feeling in the pit of your stomach when he started talking to that girl, how angry you get when you see him with any girl that’s not you. 

you thought rafe’s a dick for giving you such a hard time about any boy you try to talk to. he is a dick, but you’re the bitch that can’t stand seeing him with another girl.

and as the thoughts rush through your head, rafe looks at you in his bed, in his shirt, and realizes the answer to your question is that there’s no one in the world he likes more than you.

“you should have told me ‘bout the emotional fuck part.”

“you should have just confessed.”

“nah, not really my thing.” he sits down on the bed next to you, and you stare up at blue eyes that are looking at you, a smile on his lips. “this whole thing was a bad idea.”

“it’s been two days,” you mock.

“yeah, well, we tried it.”

“do you regret it?” you hold your breath for the moment of truth.

“c’mon kid. yeah, i do. ‘cause i’m not letting you out of my sight after this. you’re dating me or no one at all.”

“so if we break up-”

“straight to the convent for you. don’t worry, i’ll send you a care package. strawberry seltzer and those porno books-”

“shut up.”

“you shut up. and get the fuck into bed. it’s late.”

“you don’t want one last emotional fuck? on your last day as a single man?” you tease, crawling under the sheets. “learn how to read a clock. it’s past midnight.”

“oh. whatever, you know what i mean.”

“i guess i can be convinced-” he leans in for a kiss, and you hold your breath waiting for it, when there’s a sharp knock on the door.

“guys. sorry to interrupt whatever the hell this is, but i think top needs to get his stomach pumped.”

#😭here it is #i am so nervous about this if you think it’s ass . i apologize in advance #kook trio reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader

[vithe-potato]

Better?

Wrecker x reader

Warnings:  Reader described as having thighs large enough to chafe, nothing else it’s just fluff.

Summary: You and Wrecker decide to take a walk around the Market, and he comes up with a solution to the annoying chafing of your thighs.

Word Count: 937

You had been tugging down the inside of your skort every chance you got. 

Long story short, the ship had more damage than usual from the latest missions, and you needed a safe place to fix it up. You and the batch found a peaceful little planet ⸺not yet tainted by the effects of the empire⸺ to touch down on. With less hustle and bussle of previous planets markets and no missions to go on today, you and your lovely boyfriend (with whom you get no alone time) decided to walk around the town's market.

Birds were chirping in mossy-green trees, and the sun was beating down on your face. So naturally when getting ready for the date, you decided to wear something cute and summery compared to your usual modified clone armor.

You immediately regretted the decision. The brand new skort Wrecker and Omega had gotten you as a birthday gift was constantly riding up into uncomfortable positions. The confidence you had gained earlier from all the compliments you had received, was slowly draining.

"Meshla, look how cute these are!" Wrecker enthusiastically called you over to a little shop with little animals that looked more like balls of fluff scratching at the window of their enclosure. He kneeled  down close to the window to take a better look at the cute creatures.

You smiled at him, trying to ignore the painful burning on your inner thighs with every step you took toward him. 'Beauty is pain' you kept repeating in your head. "They are adorable! Do you think Hunter would kill us if we brought one home?" I took his hand in mine and chuckled at the thought of Hunter's angry face the moment we would show up with one of these guys.

Wrecker's nose scrunched up and his lips formed a pout in disappointment, "Yeah, probably." He sighed, lifting from his feet, keeping hold of your hand as he started dragging you to the next sight. You winced slightly, wishing that you had at least shoved some Vaseline in your purse just in case.

The dirt kicked up from under his feet as he abruptly stopped. Confused, you looked up at him, an eyebrow arched slightly as a que for him to explain. "Are you okay?" He asked, concerned.

"Yeah," you brought up your hand to block the sun from your face, you had to look up so far to see his handsome face, "Why?"

"I didn't pull on ya too hard, did I?" You shook your head and your face relaxed as you now understood his concern. "Your arms not hurt or anythin'?" He asked gently.

You sighed, and gently smiling up at him you placed a hand softly on the arm of the hand you were holding. "No, Wreck, I'm okay."

"What's got'cha wincing like that then?" you paused, the heat now too much as it rose to your face.

"Oh it's nothing." you tried to wave it off and keep walking, but his hand was still wrapped around you, and there was no way you could force him to move his feet, no matter how bad you wanted to.

"It's not nothing if it puts my cyare in pain." He said stubbornly. You have to bite your lip to keep from smiling at the cute pout on his lips, and the name he had given you falling from them.

You step toward him to lean your intertwined hands on his chest. Now, craning your head upwards to see him. You lowered your voice quite a bit and gently said, "It's my thighs, Wreck." You can see now that you have just made him confused. You purse your lips together, trying to figure out how to continue. “My thighs chafe-” You cleared your throat, you didn’t want him to take it like you didn’t like the skirt, so you decide not to mention it. “They just burn a bit, it’s ok though, lets just keep walking, I don’t want to go home yet.”

Wrecker smiles as he hears you refer to the Marauder as home, but his pout returns when he remembers the problem. “Ah that’s it huh? That’s not a problem at all Mesh’la!” He then brings his large hands to your waist and suddenly you feel weightless and a million butterflies are in your stomach as he lifts you into his arms, carrying you bridal style. You ⸺suddenly self conscious⸺ look to all of the townspeople passing by giving you weird looks. 

Your face must have shown your concern because your abnormally strong boyfriend looks down at you, now his eyebrow is raised. You gave into his questioning gaze “As much as I love this, Wreck, I think it would be better for me to just keep walking.” His eyes moved to where you had been looking before, understanding came over his features. 

He smiled gently at you, “Well how ‘bout this ‘en.” He maneuvers you like you weighed nothing, pulling your arms up to rest around his neck and easily shifts you to his back. You feel his rough hands supporting the bottoms of your thighs while you cling to his back. Giggling into the crook of his neck, you feel like a kid again. Wrecker smiles proudly, he will do whatever it takes to make you happy, especially if it includes showing off his strength to you. “Better?” He asks, looking over his shoulder to plant a kiss to your blushing cheek.

“Better.” And with that, he set off to inspect the next booth. The two of you didn’t return ‘home’ until the sun had just passed the horizon. 

It's springtime and my thighs chafe, so I thought I would write a little about it. I hope this was relatable! It was completely self-indulgent lol. I haven't written in so long, it really felt good to finally finish something.

Master List : Requests are open!!

#wrecker x reader #tbb wrecker #tbb wrecker x reader #bad batch wrecker #tbb #the bad batch #tbb x reader #the bad batch wrecker #wrecker #wrecker bad batch #tbb fanfic #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch fanfiction

[momolady]

Sleeping Beauty: Author's April #4

(This was intended to be the sequel to my Huntress in the Castle story. It would have been about them rescuing Nadine and solving the curse on the castle once and for all.)

One:

My brothers had thought life in the royal palace would be boring. They were used to doing what they wished, going wherever they pleased. In the palace they had certain restrictions, but outside they were given free run. Even among the knights, which is where they spent most of their time. They trained with the knights, challenging them to playful bouts.

Beyond the palace walls they mingled among the common people easily, after all that was who we were. They went to the sea, fishing and running about the docks. They traded amongst the shops and cobblers. And even within the palace their individual interests were met.

D’Arcy had become the royal physicians assistant, and was often found with the Queen’s apothecary. Craig took to the horse houses and the animals of the palace. The queen kept quite the menagerie in the garden. Finn was often either at sea or with the knights. Or causing trouble. But that was normal Finn. Peadar was the same as well, often keeping to himself, watching the others with a kindly eye. He would place himself in the gardens or in the kitchen where he could watch the comings and goings with ease. And the kitchen did feel more like home.

The only one who couldn’t seem to find his place was Niall. I tried to keep him company as much as I could, but he knew my place now was beside Vered, at the forefront of the royal family. And sure, he found pastimes to occupy him, but unlike the others, his nook in the new life hadn’t been chipped out yet.

“I’m sure once the castle in the forest is done, it’ll be easier.” Vered explained to him one evening. I was glad the two had gotten to know one another. And they were both similar in the regards that they both weren’t fitting in well.

“I do miss the village.” Niall sighed.

Vered smiled. “Why don’t we plan a hunting trip. Just us men.”

Niall laughed. “And leave Fianna alone? She would probably wreck something.”

Vered nodded. “That might be true. But she knows more than anyone that you need it.”

Niall sighed, shaking his head. “This is all I ever wanted for my family. Never wanting for anything. Never having to risk our necks for our next meal. But, I still feel so uncomfortable. Like I’m missing something.”

Vered nodded. “You haven’t found your fate yet.”

“What? Like my Gran’s stories?” Niall scoffed.

Vered laughed at him. “They worked out for your sister. Fantastically so.” He leaned against the railing of the veranda. “Didn’t Granny tell you boys any stories?”

“Some.” Niall answered with a shrug. “But we were boys, we didn’t listen. Fianna was the only one who paid her any mind, let alone believe her.”

Vered smirked. “Well, I bet you’ll listen now.”

“My Gran told me I’d slay a dragon.” Niall scoffed. “There are not such things. No such creatures.”

Vered slapped his palms to his chest. “And I was a horrible beast.”

Niall hesitated, doubting himself for just a moment.

Vered laughed then. “So what is to say you aren’t going to slay a dragon? You saw with your own eyes what is inside me. You saw your sister die and yet she lives.” His eyes narrowed on Niall. “I dare you to listen to Granny now. We’ll see what fate has for you, dragons and all.”

Niall felt shaken to his core. If she had been right about me all these years, imagine what else she was correct about. If Niall had remembered correctly and he was to slay a dragon…well good lord! That meant he was to slay a dragon.

It took Niall some time to actually go see Granny. He went to several others before actually going to see her. It wasn’t like Niall to get the straight answer right away. First, he came to see me and Peadar, since we were both in the library together.

“When Granny told you stories about Vered-”

I shook my head. “She never told me about Vered. She never told me about anything, except that there was an evil in the forest meant for me.”

Niall cocked a brow at me.

“It isn’t her place to reveal the future.” I said. “I wasn’t supposed to know what was going to happen to me.”

“You worried about what you didn’t listen to?” Peadar asked.

Niall scoffed. “And you actually listened to her stories?”

“I listened because she’s Granny. Believe it?” Peadar shrugged. “Up until I saw Vered I didn’t believe what she told me. Now, I’m starting to.”

Niall flaps his arms out, exasperated. “Oy, yeah? And what did she tell you?” He asked huffishly.

Peadar and I exchanged looks, he had been telling me some of the tales Granny had told him since we had gotten to the royal palace. We both smiled, laughing to ourselves.

“Granny told me to pay very close attention to women’s shoes.”

Niall’s mouth hung open. “And you are just going to believe her?”

I laughed, covering my mouth to keep from laughing to loud.

Peadar put his hand on the top of my head. “She told Fianna there was an evil meant for her. If all I have to do is study women’s fashion then so be it.” He chuckled.

“Do you even remember what Granny told you?” I asked.

Niall looked away, arms crossed tightly against his chest, bottom lip protruding farther out than usual.

“Oh come on!” Peadar scoffed.

Niall sighed, letting his arms slip back to his sides. “She told me…she told me I’d slay a dragon.”

Peader nudged me. “Well…excuse me and my shoes then.”

I furrowed my brow. “You should be talking to Granny, Niall.”

Niall sighed, rubbing his chin and looking out the window. “Yeah.” He sighed, turning on his heel and leaving us.

Peadar looked at me. “He’s avoiding it.” He explained. “I don’t think he wants to admit that he was wrong.”

I pursed my lips. “He won’t be able to avoid it for long.”

Niall found the twins and D’Arcy in the kitchen, eating fruit the serving girls sliced for them with giddy joy.

“I don’t remember what Gran told me.” Finn shrugged, biting into an apple.

D’Arcy rubbed his chin in thought. “I remember her saying something like…I will be surrounded by beautiful women.”

Finn and Craig busted out laughing.

“You can’t be serious?” Niall scoffed. “She told Peadar to keep an eye on women’s shoes!”

Craig cleared his throat. “Well, Gran always tells me to stay away from wolves. But I just thought that was common knowledge.”

Finn coughed and slapped his hands together. “I remember now! I remember!” He coughed again, almost choking on apple in his excitement. “Gran told me to listen to cats!”

Niall threw up his arms in frustration. “Shoes? Women? Wolves and cats? Is this woman really being serious?”

The three exchanged looks. “She was right about Fianna.” D’Arcy said. “Sure, her tales sound exaggerated, but I believe she’s right.”

“What’d Gran tell you?” Finn asked.

Niall sighed. “That I would have to slay a dragon.”

“Ooh!” Finn giggled. “Wanna trade for my cat?”

“Just go talk to Gran.” Craig sighed. “Get the straight answer from the source. Don’t keep trying to avoid it. Might turn out the dragon is a metaphor for something.”

“And my women are a metaphor for what then?” D’Arcy laughed.

“Madness?” Finn chuckled, winking at a serving girl as she walked by.

“Just go talk to Gran,” D’Arcy scoffed. “What? You afraid that she’s right? Don’t wanna hear what’s good for ya?”

Niall picked up an orange wedge. “How is hearing that I may get eaten by a dragon good for me?” He laughed, placing the orange wedge between his lips.

“It’s belly could be full of gold.” Finn retorted. “I’m sure if the thing is big enough, and it swallows ya whole-”

“Oh really, Finn.” Craig scoffed.

Niall sighed, rolling his eyes. “Guess there is no avoiding it.” He shrugged then and pursed his lips. “Gotta go talk to Gran.”

Granny was all but eager to finally talk to Niall. Most of the boys had come to her, just to double check if the stories she had been feeding them were true.

“I’m glad you finally came to me, Niall.” She said, tucking into the chair before him. “I was beginning to get afraid you would leave without being prepared.”

“Leave?” Niall asked.

Granny nodded. “Oh yes, Fianna and Vered are going to ask you to accompany them to view on the progress of the palace soon.”

Niall shook his head. “I haven’t heard of this.”

Granny’s hand whipped out, slapping his hand. “Of course not! They don’t even know yet. But a letter will arrive soon, and then you’ll go.”

“Go to what?” Niall gasped. “You always told Fianna she had an evil meant for her.” He brought his palms to his chest. “What is meant for me? You told me when I was young I would slay a dragon!”

Granny nodded knowingly, stroking her long braid. “Ah yes. I was excited with you. You being the eldest and having such an amazing journey ahead of you. I let too much slip there.”

Niall laughed. “You’re serious!” He exclaimed. “An actual dragon?”

Granny shook her head, clicking her tongue. “I shouldn’t say anything else on the matter.” She sighed. “But, since you know that bit already,” she reached out, gently holding Niall’s hand. “You are so important to this family Niall. You have always had to be the strongest. But sometimes, showing what makes you vulnerable is nothing to frown at. It is often in our darkest times, when we have nothing at all, that we show our true strength.”

Niall thought about me then. Remembering the night I had fought Vered. It hadn’t been my strength, or my blade that had defeated the monster. No. Niall could remember standing there seeing my bow before the beast, he thought he would never see me again, his last vision of me being that of my bloody death. Instead, he saw something remarkable, he saw me save us all.

Granny leaned closer to Niall, holding his face between her palms. “No matter how you fight it, you will need someone to take care of you sometimes.”

Niall nodded slowly. “But…what does that have to do with-” He stopped himself and laughed. “Thank you Granny.”

She smiled. “Good boy.

Niall leaned back in his chair, looking over into the fireplace. He and Granny sat in a peaceful quiet for a moment. Granny drank her tea and finished darning one of Finn’s socks. It was when she pulled out my veil that Niall began to feel eager about his fate.

“How come Peadar only has to worry about shoes?” Niall asked, a broad smile on his face.

Granny smiled up at him. “Oh believe me, you’re going to think dragons look pretty good when you see what your brothers have to deal with.” She laughed.

Niall reached out, holding onto the end of the sheer silk of my veil. Granny was working hard, making her fingers ache, to get the beading just right. The Queen had given her special beads made of this crystal with a mother of pearl like shimmer to them.

“When I was a young girl, I never would of dreamed of this.” Granny sighed. “I had never even seen a castle in my lifetime. And here I am, living in one.”

“You never foresaw this?” Niall asked.

Granny shook her head. “I don’t like poking around into my own future.” She plucked a bead from the tin. “Oh no. Too many problems come with that.” She clicked her tongue. “I did use it to make some money, back when I was young and when your grandfather passed.”

Niall knew Granny had always wanted to go back to being a fortune teller when his mother and father both died. But Niall wanted Granny to be comfortable, he wanted to earn the family’s bread. Granny had paid her way many a time, she deserved a respite.

“I haven’t gone very far in my life,” Granny continued. “But I have seen things that would make your eyes pop clear out of your head!” She said with a proud bob of her head.

“If looking into the future is so bad, Gran, how come you did it for us?” Niall asked, leaning towards her.

Granny smiled gently, knowingly. “Because you want to protect those you love. I wanted to make sure you brats turned out happy, safe. I’d do anything for you.”

Niall reached out, holding Granny’s hand for a moment, then released her to continue her beading work.

That night, Niall woke up from a sound sleep. The world was pitch black, save for the sliver of light coming through his curtains. For the split second his eyes were open, he saw something move, something faint. He closed his eyes again and then opened them wide in a flash, realizing what he had seen was a person.

He sat up with a jolt in bed, there was something pulling open the crutains. A pale, white hand stretching into the moonlight and smoothing their hand across the cold glass. Niall was stunned, he was frozen in place. What was this specter he was seeing.

The figure turned, face illuminated my the moonlight. She watched Niall with a curiosity, a small sigh escaped her and she sat on the windowsill, looking out over the castle.

“Excuse me.” Niall said.

The girl jumped, turning and looking at him with wide eyed fright. “Puh-pardon?” She gasped, her long auburn hair cascading off her shoulder.

“What are you doing in my room?” Niall scoffed.

The girl looked from side to side, wide blue windows of disbelief. She looked back at Niall, brow pursed. “You can see me?”

“As plan as day!” Niall snapped as he rose from bed.

“That…that can’t be.” She scoffed, standing herself. “Wait, aren’t you Fianna’s brother?”

“Do not change the subject.” Niall scoffed. “Who are you and what are doing in-” The woman’s hand went through Niall like a cold breeze. There was no substance to her, just shadow.

The woman watched, Niall slack jawed and stumbling back to his bed.

“You held me once.” The woman said. “You were the first man to ever hold me besides my father or brother.”

All Niall could do was stare up at her. A ghost!

“I’m Nadine.” The woman answered, folding her hands against her skirt.

“But…but they said you died.” Niall whispered.

Nadine shrugged. “Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not.” She shook her head. “I can’t figure it out. I don’t even know why I’m still here. You’re the first one who has even been aware of me.” She sat down on the windowsill again pulling her knees up to her chest.

Niall shook his head. “How long have you been here?”

Nadine shook her head. “I could not say. A day. A year. Forever? I have completely lost my sense of time or reasoning. One moment, I was dying. The next I am…wandering.” She turned her head, looking out.

Niall stood up, walking to the window and looking over Nadine. Her long, dark auburn hair, splayed out in a million soft waves down her back. Her skin, white and fragile as porcelain. But she had the strong, regal features that Vered did. There was no use arguing that they were related. They even had the same haunting, blue eyes.

Nadine looked up at him. “Or perhaps you are dreaming.” She retorted. “Perhaps this is all just a trick of your mind. Maybe your mind recreated me to help ease your ill-ease in the palace.”

Niall shook his head, breathless. “That must be it.”

Nadine laughed. “Oh wouldn’t that be a wonderful solution for us all.” She looked away from the window, folding her fingers under her sharp chin. “I haven’t talked to anyone besides my brother in so long.” She chuckled softly. “I barely talked to Fianna I admit. I was terrified of her.”

Niall chuckled at this. All his life, all he could remember doing was talking to me. From the moment I was born I was his.

“She talked about you a lot.” Nadine replied. “I didn’t realize one could love their family so much.”

“But you stayed with Vered all that time.”

Nadine shook her head slowly, almost not moving. “I had to. What I would of given to run away, to leave him behind and…and all alone.” Tears began to dribble down Nadine’s cheeks. “And then…then he changed, and that scared me more.”

Niall sat back in the window, opposite Nadine. “Siblings tend to do that. Like…I can remember when Finn was little. He was scared of his own shadow.” He laughed. “I see him now and wonder where that frightened little creature went.”

Nadine nodded softly. “And what about Fianna?”

Niall sighed, thinking about me as a little girl again. “She used to cling to me. She wouldn’t let me out of her sight, and when I did she just hollered.”

Nadine cracked a smile through her tears.

“And then one day…” Niall became distant for a moment. “One day I realized she didn’t need me. And that was when I began clinging to her.”

“And now?” Nadine’s voice a barely audible whisper.

Niall stared beyond sight, he looked inside, all around himself. “And now…it’s my turn to face my fate like she did. I can’t cling to my family anymore.”

Nadine was wiping at her face then and Niall held his hand out to her, presenting her with a handkerchief. “Don’t cry, please.”

Nadine took it gingerly from his fingers. “It has been a while since a man has offered his hand to me.” She murmured, looking at the handkerchief as if it were made of gold and jewels. “Thank you, Niall.”

“Niall.”

He bolted upright in bed, nearly half scaring me to death.

He looked at me in disbelief. The world around him was bright with morning light now, not midnight blue. “Fianna?”

I nod. “I came to get you, you slept clear through breakfast.”

“I did?” He gasped breathlessly.

“Yes.” I furrowed my brow at him, studying him closely. “Are you alright?”

He shakes his head. “I had the strangest of dreams.” His eyes wander back to the window where Nadine had been sitting. He could see her perfectly. How could that have been a dream?

“What was the dream?” I asked.

“I’m not sure.” He lied. “There was a girl, and she was alone…I think she wanted a friend.”

I tilted my head onto my shoulder, watching Niall’s somewhat lost expression. I brushed the hair away from his forehead. “Are you sure you slept?” I slipped the pad of my finger across the dark circles under his eyes. “You look like you haven’t slept at all.” My hand falls back to my side. “Why don’t I bring you a small bite to eat and then you just try to get some rest?”

He shakes his head at me and begins to stand. “I promised to take the twins out to the sea today. They wanted to go fishing again.”

“They go fishing at least four times a week these days!” I easily shove Niall back into bed. Almost too easily. It scared me for a moment.

Niall chuckled. “You’ve gotten stronger.”

“I don’t like that, Niall. Stay in bed.” I commanded. “I’ll get D’Arcy or Vered to take the twins fishing. I’ll go myself if I have to. But I really do think you should stay in bed.”

Niall stood again. “I just need to get something to eat is all. Go on. I’ll be down in a few minuets.”

I didn’t like it, but I silently conceded and left his room. I went and found Vered, hoping his company could somehow ease my mind. I found him in the library, having taken his lunch and scurried off there were he felt more comfortable. He sat before the fire, a roll in one hand and a book in the other.

I slipped my arm around his waist and curled into him. He was reading another book filled with the language I couldn’t read.

“Something is wrong.” He said to me, setting down the book.

I shrug. “I’m sure it isn’t anything. It’s Niall.”

Vered lifts my hand and kisses the cup of my palm. He stalls for a moment and I hear him sniff.

“What?” I scoff at him.

He looks down at me confused and bewildered. “You smell like my sister.”

“Nadine?”

Vered smells my palm again. “It’s faint, but I can tell it is there. I could not mistake that scent.”

I turn and hold my palm to my nose. Of course, only Vered and his beastly senses could detect something so faint. “That can’t be possible. She vanished in the garden.”

Vered’s eyes were distant, hazy. “Yes but…where could that scent have come from?”

“I only touched Niall.” I say. “He held Nadine in the castle when we came to look for you. But that was ages ago.”

Vered shook his head. “I have not smelled it on him since either. It’s baffling me.”

Two:

She was there again, as if waiting on him to return from wherever he had gone. They didn’t speak at first, just acknowledged each other’s presence. The library was such a great, grand place, with so much to occupy yourself with. And Nadine seemed absorbed in a massive, old tome. She had it sat on the floor before her, the pages and her skin aglow in the light of the fireplace.

Niall sat up on the sofa, feeling pretty assured he had fallen asleep there while talking to me and Vered.

“Do you like poetry?” Nadine asked suddenly. She looked up at him and curled her legs under herself.

Niall shook his head slowly, still comprehending these strange encounters. “My mother used to read it to me when I was a child.” He looked down, seeing the ornate pages of the book spread open before Nadine. “But I’m afraid I haven’t encountered anymore since.”

“Your mother.” Nadine murmured softly. “Fianna didn’t speak much of her.”

I shook my head. “She died when Fianna was just a baby.” I put my forearms against my knees, leaning over. “All Fianna has known is Granny and us.”

“And how did that happen?” Nadine asked.

Niall chuckled. “And how did you happen?”

Nadine smiled softly, unsurely. “An accident.”

My brother nodded, fiddling his thumbs. “My father was an accident.” He said with a gentle nod. “He got gored by a wild boar.”

Nadine averted her eyes. “Oh…”

“I think that’s why D’Arcy took such an interest in medicine…because the doctor of our village couldn’t really do anything.” Niall’s dark eyes took the chance to scan over Nadine, her pale skin, fragile looking hands. The sharp outline of her face was what stuck out most to him. Her thin, pointed nose. Her small but shapely mouth. She reminded him of brambles and thorns. Thin and delicate, but he knew if he moved at her without caution, he would bleed.

“Fianna hadn’t even been born yet.” Niall then chuckled. “Actually, Fianna hadn’t even begun to show in mother yet. We only had Granny’s word to go on we had a sister coming.”

Nadine looked back up at Niall. “How old were you then?”

“Old enough, but still not old enough to take care of a family of six, soon to be seven.” Niall answered lowly. “We had to rely on Granny back then.”

“Her fortunes.” Nadine beamed.

Niall nodded. “Yes, her fortune telling.” He studied Nadine’s smile, so faint and sweet, and even baring the same color as the berries that grew just at the edge of the forest he loved so much. “Did Fianna talk that much about us?”

“Vered liked it when she did.” Nadine answered with a slight nod. “He liked the smile it brought to her face.”

Niall nodded slightly, leaning towards her. “You said Fianna scared you.”

Nadine sighed, a shy smile appearing on her face. “I just knew she was meant for Vered,” she murmured. “What else could of brought her to the castle? From the moment she forced herself inside, I knew. She was, is, so strong.”

“But…” Niall tried to pick his words carefully, “why afraid?”

Nadine’s smile vanished and she stared blankly into the fireplace. She smoothed her palm out, pressing into the spine of the book that was open in her lap. “I realized…that no one would come for me.” She avoided his suddenly sympathetic stare and shook her head. “That was my curse.”

“Then what am I?”

She shook her head again. “Who knows?” She laughed. “I still can’t figure out what I am.”

Niall reached out tentatively, placing his hand over hers. Nadine jerked, then shivered. She looked down at his hand, up his arm, and then into Niall’s eyes. “You scare me, too.”

Niall laughed softly. “Why?”

Nadine tried to avoid his gaze, but she couldn’t force herself to look away from him. She trembled under his hand. “Because I won’t be able to stay with you.” Her voice the flicker of a dying flame. “I can’t keep you.”

Niall’s eyes widened. “Nadine?”

She stood suddenly, the book slipped from her lap and bursting into dust. “I’m sorry. I can’t…” She then took off running, becoming a wind. A wind that blew out the fire, leaving Niall in shadows.

“Nadine!” Niall sat up shouting.

“Who?”

Niall turned, seeing D’Arcy sitting by himself at a table, books open before him. He turned, looking at the fireplace roaring, at the floor where the book had turned to dust, it was clean.

“Have a bad dream?” D’Arcy asked, shutting the book before him.

Niall ran his fingers through his hair. “No…” He stood up. “I need to see Vered.” He said as he began walking out of the library.

“He and Fianna are in the garden!” D’Arcy called after him.

Before Niall had even reached the garden Vered began to twitch. He turned his nose up to the wind and inhaled deeply.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

He looked ahead, eyes wide, but brows cocked suspiciously. “I smell her again.”

My mouth hung open slightly. “You mean, Nadine?”

He turned abruptly, twisting around me and bracing himself towards the door as Niall came running out.

“Niall?” Vered and I echo each other.

#fairy tale retelling #fantasy writing #fairy tale #sleeping beauty retelling #fantasy romance #fairy tale romance #my writing #momolady monsters

[lestappenforever]

After properly waking up (and finally not having any more wake up for the race till Vegas, WE DID IT), here’s a bit if my analysis of the race, which is my favourite so far, a bit even more than Japan, because of its chaos and emotions

First, hometown hero. Zhou was not driving the car based on anything, other than pure emotion. He was living his dream in a way that I wish everyone could one day, honestly I’ve been emotional since that sprint shootout when he reached SQ3 and so proud that he is making history and realising his dream. On a more technical aspect, Sauber meed to get their shit together, the car is not good, and the fact that we celebrate them having a pit stop less than 5 seconds is so disappointing. They need to get it together to get points and be in that fight.

Nico Hulkenberg is a Goat, there I said it. The way he is taking that Haas places is just phenomenal, and honestly I think he deserves a proper team, and he so deserves to be on a podium, more than just one time. Kevin had an okay race, except of course, for ruining Yuki’s. But if K-Mag did not get his shit together, Ollie very easily could replace him next year, especially since Komatsu is no Guenther, and he will not have the mentality of fucking the youngster over.

RB’s weekend was going very well, in terms of race not sprint, that sprint was not great, but the circuit is not for them, and it’s Yuki’s first time there, so an off weekend (a normal one) was not going to be the worst thing in the world. But the way the race played out, with Kevin knocking Yuki out if the race with a stupid crash, destroying his race, and then Fernando locking up and hence lance knocks Daniel out with a crash that was so easy to prevent if he was focused on the car in front of him instead of the apex during the time of a safety car returning to the pit, the pack all close together and still getting up to speed. Yeah, that sucked for them, Daniel especially who was in contention of points. But other than that, the strategy was kind if fucked up, but it could have been saved at the end if it were not for both Astons.

As I said last race week, the Alpines are slowly but surely getting better. They started having pace today, and even if it were anyone else other than Nico, Esteban could have gotten points, but Nico Masterclass. This season is showing who is the leader of the French team, and it’s Estie. He’s extracting every single once if pace in that car, even if there isn’t any, and is showing that he’s the one. Pierre, tbh is getting better as well, but not to the Esteban level of almost Q3 and potentially points. Actually I feel like Pierre has not given much (expect for the Dutch GP last year) where he’s showing that the move to Alpine was a right choice for him.

George is impressive, and I hate to say it, more that Lewis is. He’s getting out everything out of the car, and I feel is working harder to keep Mercedes alive this season, with both the sprint and the race, with snagging that last point in the sprint from a shit quali, to an impressive performance in a track that doesn’t suit the new Mercedes cars, and trying his damn best all weekends, I’m genuinely impressed and proud of him, especially with the way he’s working to show the team that he could be a leader. Meanwhile I feel like Lewis is just trying to finish the year to go to Maranello, granted he’s trying, but I feel George is working harder.

McLaren, I have mixed emotions, Oscar was okay, again his first time on that track, but when compared to Lando, he did okay, not great. Lando was actually phenomenal, pulling that one stop, and doing so well in that, holding Checo back almost half of the race, he should be extremely proud of himself. And on that note, I love seeing Adam Norris down when Lando and Max are on the podium, I feel he’s proud of his son, but also Max, and I am just so happy and giddy

Ferrari, Idk what to feel. On one hand, Charles was phenomenal, but on the other, all these plans just give me anxiety, again, pulling that one stopper, but Checo got him, in a track that doesn’t feel of seem suited for the car, actually impressed. Carlos however, seemed to have gotten in his head, from saying yesterday that if he got Max he would have won the sprint, to the unnecessary fight with Charles on the sprint, he’s getting cocky, and that won’t help his situation of getting into a good team next year.

Red Bull, I AM SO FUCKING IMPRESSED AND I CANNOT BEGIN TO SAY HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS TEAM AND AM SO PROUD OF THEM. Max was just phenomenal, despite the sprint quali that was apparently not so great because the car was not set up for rain. Simply because the forecast didn’t show much rain. As for the race, damn I can’t believe the team did that, 2 perfect double stacks with a total pit stop time of 8 for changing 16 tyres. The pit crew are the actual heroes today. Checo you could see that he’s disappointed, and that shows how much he’s comfortable in the car, and how at one he is with the team, in addition to knowing the stakes at hand. But nonetheless, he was phenomenal in a weekend that according to him, wasn’t great. But yeah, this race was just amazing and chaotic and tbh, I love this chaos. And up next Miami, what will each one do, especially since Max never got pole there (just like Jeddah). We shall see

(Also, hoping the girls next race have a good weekend, especially the Red Bull girls, not because they’re Re Bull, I’ve been impressed by Hamda since COTA last year, and I called she’ll be the RBR girl)

I have nothing to add to any of this, so I'll just leave it in all its glory as it is. ❤️

#Asks #agentofchaos001 ❤️ #Chinese GP 2024

[avisisisis]

Spitfire could've been so much more if it weren't for the time skip

#i'll probably talk about this later #i didn't like their relationship much because i felt it was too rushed #they've made their way into my heart though #but uh. i feel like their relationship was too rushed. way too rushed #i barely even saw it coming. while i definitely believe that they're amazing together they shouldn't have gotten together so soon #if they had more development then i would've liked them better #i wish there wasn't such a big time skip #or that at least we had gotten a spin off where we could see what the fuck happened during the time skip #dc #wally west #artemis crock #kid flash #the flash #artemis #young justice cartoon #young justice #spitfire #wally x artemis #them ❤️

[blizzardfluffykpop]

You sent me an ask so I shall return the favor! What is the most recent Kpop group you’ve gotten into and how did you find out about them? I always love hearing fan “origin stories” lol

Thank you for returning the favor~ That would be The Boyz 🥰💖 I love hearing fan "origin stories" too hehe (This is gonna get long I love them sm)

Anyways I've known about them since debut? I loved Bloom Bloom Pow with my whole heart when it came out and tried to fall for them then- It didn't work. The next time was when The Stealer (TS) came out~ I had watched them perform for Road to Kingdom- because ptg was on the show too- But I really loved TS cb- sm so that I bought the album about 6 mos later with my favorite members as inclusions at the time (Eric, Kevin and Hyunjae). But nothing came about of it even after watching the weekly idol episodes... Then came Whisper era and I ended up biasing Changmin (Q) and loving that song but again nothing came out of it.

(A little backstory is that Changkyun (I.M) got me into Dominic Fike's music-) Thus, when tiktok showed me Juyeon, Changmin, and Sunwoo dancing to Babydoll earlier this year as a dance cover: I fell. And then I finally checked out Watch It~ But Hui had his solo and it distracted me completely from falling further. Then I had gotten sick and decided 'well, what if I watch their content?' And I did... I watched their hello82 interview and their reaction to fanart of them, and lastly their mafia dance. And I loved each sm that I decided to check out more.

It was the first time I had watched their content and wanted to see more. And now, I watch their content almost daily. It's kind of like they revived the joy of kpop for me? My (old) ult of ults has been on hiatus due to the military so it's been stagnant content lately for me. But then they came in like a breath of fresh air- and I simply can't get enough. This month will be 3 mos and I honestly hope I'll follow them for a long time. (I think they're my new ult of ults tbh)

And lastly now here I am as a Younghoon and Juyeon bias (with bias wrecker: Changmin... he's doing everything to be bias again). And with them having a comeback I loved with my whole heart this past month, I think it really solidified them with me. Honestly, I'm so happy with them.

#my 'fan origin story' hehe #lovely mutuals #asks #kate rambles from here #i even started a new kpop journal just dedicated to them and my thoughts- it's a 200 page journal and i have nearly 50 pages about them #and i started it in february ebhbha- #it's so funny because i saw one of my ults' concerts in theater the month before they should have became the ult of ults and here tbz comes #if the theory is true that you fall in love with certain people/groups/things at certain time then that means even when #i wanted to fall in love with them- that i had to wait until now to fall for them even if i wanted to fast forward it- i think now is a #perfect time- it's when i need them most i think- and fuck i could go on about them forever and why they mean sm to me in such little #time but oh how i love these guys- #no seriously everything i wish they could do- i find out they've done or will do- or for like pcs i like them a certain way and by golly #does yh do my favorite poses- and their music is just ?!?! i love it sm- ofc i've listened to them before a lot but ?? it's my speed rn #kate rambles #did i drag my close friend into them too? yes- yes I did- but she had full free will- she could have stayed on the happy mbb boat instead #of jumping into the water and swimming to lip gloss island with me- but alas she didn't so it's even more fun cause i get to be a new #deobi with her- and it's literally the best experiance i could have ever asked for- she prolly won't see these (i'm banking on it) and #honestly i'm so thankful for her- for joining me in this 'insanity' we've gotten ourselves into- i'm glad we were both stolen from our mbb #home together- it's sm fun to talk about tbz with her- because she's experiencing them new just like i am- i could go on here too #but i won't- so i'll stop here- i love these boyz sm tbh (every time i say it even if it's a lot- it doesn't feel enough)

[star-kovs]

I just watched AMATW: Quantumania last night. Here are a few thoughts:

I can’t wait to see more of Kang. He’s a great villain and I’m excited to see more of him and his variants from across the multiverse.

It was great seeing Scott again and I’ve always loved how much he adores Cassie.

It was great learning more about Janet and her time in the quantum realm, and her backstory with Kang.

Hope was sooo underutilized in this movie. She’s in the title but barely does anything until the end! I did like how she saved Scott at the end. She loves him and lost enough loved ones to the quantum realm. I just wish her fear of loss had been utilized more.

Hope should have been split from her parents and stayed with Scott and Cassie. She could have helped them and been looking for her parents. She would have had an emotional arc trying to find where they were. Kang could have promised to help her find them if she helped him, and Scott and Hope could have been on the mission together from the start. Maybe the AntFam could have been reunited due to Hank’s ants in the middle of the end battle. And when everyone escaped, Hope could have gone back to save Scott just like she did in the original storyline.

I loved the end credit scenes, both the one with the Kang variants and getting to see Loki and Mobius again. And I’m excited for Loki s2.

#kat rambles #hope deserved better!! #I wish we had gotten more of her #and we would have gotten more of her and Scott too #I love them together too but it was off in some of the few scenes we got of them #probably from not seeing much of them together at all #ant man and the wasp quantumania #quantumania #antman spoilers #ant man and the wasp quantumania spoilers #marvel #hope van dyne

[writingouthere]

exboyfriend!Sukuna x f!reader.

cw: smut, outdoor sex, angst, controlling behavior.

Your date was a disappointment.

The guy wasn't an asshole or anything, but at some point he'd talked about cryptocurrency for ten minutes straight without you saying a word and there was no coming back from that.

"I had a great time," he tells you as you stand on the subway platform after finally escaping the restaurant. You nod noncommittally and wonder if this is the part where he asks for your number. You're calculating the risk/reward of giving him a fake number and having him potentially call it while you're still right in front of him when you hear a familiar laugh from behind you.

"I doubt it," the voice says and you close your eyes. Maybe if you wish hard enough you can develop teleportation and not have to deal with this.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" your date asks, his voice only wavering a little as he looks at your ex-boyfriend. Honestly, you admire him. The sight of the tall, heavily tattooed (alleged) criminal was usually enough to make people cross the street to avoid him but not this accountant? Investment baker? Dentist? Fuck, he'd talked about his job for thirty minutes and you had not been listening. You would have guilty if you weren't actively judging him for not even noticing your lack of engagement.

Whatever, he probably wasn't brave, he was probably just an idiot.

Sukuna seemed to agree as he laughed again and put his hand on your shoulder.

"I'm her boyfriend."

Your date looked at him, looked at you, and seemed to be weighing if this was worth one mediocre date. He seemed frozen for a second until Sukuna took a step forward and the guy's previously dormant survival instincts seemed to awaken and he booked it down the train platform.

Once he was out of sight, you took Sukuna's hand and dropped it off your shoulder like a fallen leaf that had got stuck on your jacket.

"Are you following me, now?" You wouldn't have put it past him. You turn to face your ex who looks not only unrepentant for his little routine but vindicated. Or maybe he just looks vindictive, you can never tell.

"Are you going on dates with any loser that asks?" He tosses back and you roll your eyes.

"You didn't even meet him."

"So, he wasn't a loser? And you weren't deciding if it was worth giving him a fake number and having him call you right then?"

You hated that he knew you so well.

"He seemed the type to call," you concede and Sukuna scoffs.

"Absolutely, that fucker is. Women have been giving that dumb fuck fake numbers since he was begging for them with his little Nokia flip phone."

"Is Nokia still a thing?" you ask and Sukuna glares at you.

"Do I look like Google to you? Hey, don't try to district me, princess. We were talking about how you seem to have gotten it into your mind that you can cheat on me with any guy with a pulse."

"I'm not cheating on, we're not together," you tell him as your train pulls up. You don't bother protesting as he follows you on it, even though you know the old apartment you used to share is in the other direction from your new place.

"The fuck we're not," he seethes. The other riders look at you and you see one or two guys deciding if it's worth trying to get involved but you're more concerned about the teenage girl who looks ready to fight this asshole for you. God, you loved women.

"You're making a scene," you tell him and he looks ready to make the scene Oscar worthy before you give him the look that used to make him not call your friends' babies ugly when you went to birthday parties.

"Where can we talk then?"

"I'm not taking you to my place," you say and he sucks his teeth.

"Then let's go home."

"You mean to your home."

Sukuna looks furious but you're not in the mood. You had just spent the past two hours on a terrible date, which made you think about how dating was just going to be like this until you found a new boyfriend or gave up, which then made you think about your break up and how up until a few months ago, you thought you would never go on a first date with anyone ever again.

You hated that Sukuna had put you here and you hated that you still loved him.

"I'm not leaving until we talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about."

You're so tired, Sukuna is so close and it's been so long since you got to smell him or feel his warmth. Your apartment was still barely furnished but everything in it was new and it still didn't feel like home. The one sweatshirt of his you'd let yourself take had stopped carrying his scent weeks ago, and just being close to him now, it made something in you relax. Like you were finally home.

"There fucking is," he hisses and now he's so close you can make out the scar on his jaw and the fullness of his lips. You used to tease him that you'd never met a man whose lips were as soft as his. He may have looked like tough shit, but you would never catch him out of the house without lotion and chapstick.

You wondered if he was still using the cherry chapstick you had bought him at the grocery store the week before you'd broken up.

"Are you going to marry me? Are you going to give me a baby?"

"Princess-"

"Then there's nothing to talk about," you say and you thank whoever's watching that the train is pulling up to your stop. You get off and Sukuna is right on your heels.

"You don't even want those things right now, why the fuck does it even matter?"

"I want them eventually and if you're not willing to give them to me, then I just don't think I need to keep wasting my time."

You're roughly dragged into a nearby alley and tossed against a brick wall. Sukuna's hand cups the back of your head, taking the force of the slam and you hate that he watches out for you even when he's being a controlling jackass.

"Being with me is wasting your time? Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"Not your girlfriend," you snap back. "Let go, I want to go home."

"Fuck you," he tells you and you're about ready to fight him, grown scary man or not when he leans down and his lips are on yours.

They taste like cherry chapstick.

His hand on the back of your head tightens, his thumb pressing against your neck and making you shiver. His other hand is pressed tight to your jaw and when you gasp against his mouth, he presses down as if he can hold you open and consume you so you can't leave him again.

His muscled thigh is in between yours and you can feel the rough texture of his jeans, the same pair he wore to work, the same pair you'd put through the washing machine a thousand times, rub against where your legs are only covered in tights. The shorter than usual skirt meant to entice your date, and instead it was being taken advantage of by your ex-boyfriend.

Sukuna let go of your face so he could put his hand underneath the fabric of your skirt.

"New outfit?" He teases as his hand slides to the top of your tights.

"Got it for my date," you snap and he growls at you before he rips the seams of your tights. Before you can complain, he's dragging them down your thighs and diving into your panties so he can get to your cunt. The underwear is new too and a pained noise leaves you at the sensation of them snapping against your inner thigh, both at the pain and the thought of how much they cost.

"I still have those blue ones you like at home, the ones you wore for my birthday last year," he tells you as he slides his finger down the seam of your cunt. You're wet and it annoys you because orgasming has been a bitch to achieve since you had to start giving them to yourself again.

"You can keep them," you tell him and he bites your lower lip between his teeth, they'd always felt too sharp for a man and you know you're a twitch or a less than playful nibble away from a busted lip.

"They're not really up for wearing anymore anyway."

You want to ask him what he means by that as he kisses down your neck and thrusts one finger into you, the slide almost unholy.

"So fucking wet, your cunt was always better at talking than you were."

The sensation of being filled even though it's not enough it's not enough begins to itch at your need to be satisfied as your mind fills in the gaps of his previous words.

You can imagine Sukuna in the bed you used to share, the dark blue sheets and the comforter covered in a black pattern that had reminded you of the marks that covered his body. One hand holding your favorite pair of panties and the other his big cock, that sometimes you missed even more than him.

Did he use the panties to jerk off with, the fabric just an expensive tissue for his cum? Did he hold them to his nose and pretend he could still smell your pussy on them in the bed that used to smell like both of you? You had tried watching porn and reading smut, the stuff you had relied on before you were together, and nothing compared to what it felt like to come from his fingers, his tongue, his cock.

The only times you had touched yourself when you were together were when Sukuna had wanted to watch, his commentary pushing you to the edge. He had always known what to say.

Good girl, now try two fingers for me. Not enough? Do you need my cock? Fucking slutty princess, eh?

No matter how demeaning his words were, you had never felt true shame because his desire for you was always apparent. Sukuna never held back praise where he felt it was deserved, and he had always been quick to let you know that what you were doing was pleasing him.

"Pay attention to me, princess. I'd hate to think I was boring you." The words are laced with cruelty and the added pressure of a second figure is harsh, too soon, and still not enough.

The hand in your hair tightens, but the grip still careful not to mess it up beyond repair. Something you'd been adamant about in the beginning days of your relationship. The gentleness of it, of him, makes you cry out.

Since Sukuna was the only one who still seemed cognizant of how you were in an alley, only a right turn from being on a public sidewalk, he was quick to catch your moan in his mouth. Nearly purring in reply, a ridiculous thing for a ridiculous man to do.

"Fuck, that's it. No one else can make you feel like this, this cunt is fucking mine."

"Yes," you hiss out in agreement. Pleased with your concession, Sukuna's thumb swipes over your clit as he continues his punishing rhythm with his fingers. You can hear how wet you are as it echoes off the brick around you. Even though it's cold outside, you feel almost too hot between the warmth of his body shielding yours from the world around you and the heat that's continuing to build up in your core.

"So close, I know you are. Beg me, princess and I might let you come," he whispers in your ear and you would feel embarrassed of the whine you let out if you weren't so close.

"Please, Sukuna. Please, let me come!"

"I don't know. Not sure if I should reward you since you've apparently being going around giving this pussy to fucking anyone."

You shake your head. "No, I haven't slept with anyone since we broke up."

Sukuna kisses you so hard, you're grateful for the hand behind your head because you know his knuckles must be bruised from the force he kisses you with. Sukuna pulls back, a string of saliva connecting his lips to yours and you hate that you find that hot. That this whole thing is hot.

For a second, the softness in his eyes takes your breath away and you almost forget about where you are and what you're doing and why it's the worst idea you've ever had. He's just Sukuna, the love of your life and you miss him so much.

You think he might say something crazy like he loves you or even propose but then the softness is gone and he just grins at you.

"Alright, come then, you've earned it."

With permission granted, Sukuna focuses his attention on your clit in just that way you like in the way that only someone who's done this hundreds of times could do. He's definitely leaving hickies around your collarbone and neck, but for now they feel good and when you come, you bite your lip knowing it will be bruised. A reminder of how you're an idiot when you look at it in the mirror tomorrow.

Still soft with your orgasm, you reach down to return the favor but Sukuna grabs your hand.

"I'm not walking around with cum in my jeans," he tells you, kissing your palm. Typical of him, to end something crass with something sweet. You sigh as he puts you back down on the ground. You pull up what remains of your tights, the fabric uncomfortable on your quickly drying thighs. Your ripped panties lie on the ground and Sukuna looks at them forlornly before shaking his head, dirty alleyway panties apparently being too much even for him.

Sukuna grabs the bag you'd dropped when he'd kissed you and gestures for you to exit the alley. A few passersby give you strange looks but you figure if you were going to be arrested for public indecency, it would have happened already.

"I guess we're going to mine," you say. "I live like another two blocks this way."

"I know," Sukuna says already heading that way.

You blow a piece of hair out of your eye. "Of course you do."

When Sukuna actually types in the passcode to your building you almost lose it, but you're tired and honestly you had kind of expected to just come home to him already in your apartment at some point. Sukuna had never been great at respecting boundaries. Or the law.

You unlock the door to your apartment, it takes everything in you not to ask if he already has a key. You don't want to know. He follows you in and the two of you sit at the dingy two person table you have set up by one of the only windows.

"Cozy."

"Fuck you." He smirks in that way that has always made you want to punch him and you're reminded that you're currently wearing shredded tights.

"Sukuna, you wanted to talk. So talk."

The smirk leaves his face and he looks at his nails, pressing his thumb against the one on his pointer finger and then looking through the 'o' formed there. "You left."

"I did."

He looks at you. "Why?"

"You know why," you say, tired again.

"Sure, you want to get married at some point. You want a baby at some point. I don't see what that has to do with us, right now."

"Because right now leads to that some point. It doesn't just happen. There are things I want, that are important to me. If they're not important to you, then I need to find someone who has the same priorities as me."

"Because I'm not your priority," he says and this is the rehash of an argument you'd had a thousand times. Sukuna was selfish and possessiveness and while that had always granted you a certain security, it had also been a chain you'd constantly worn around your ankle. You weren't going to defend your time at work or with friends to your boyfriend. That belonged to a different time, to different women and it had been a nonnegotiable early in your relationship that he figure that shit out with himself.

"Sukuna, I love you but I'm not going to give up what I want for my future because you don't want it. You don't have to want it, in fact I appreciate that you've been honest about it-"

"So appreciative, you left me," the words are almost snarled and you sigh.

"That's not fair. You can't be mad I want something else, the same way I'm not mad that you want something else. It's not a character flaw to not want to get married, or to not what kids. It just means you have a person out there for you who shares that view. Because it's not me."

"Why can't it be enough to just have a life with the two of us?"

"It's not about whether or it's enough, it's about me wanting something else."

There's a pause. Sukuna claws at the dents already in your battered table and deepens the grooves as you try not to flinch at the sound of his nails bearing down on wood.

Finally, he responds. "You know, I spent my childhood, my teens and a lot of adulthood raising Yuuji because our piece of shit parents couldn't be bothered and let me tell you. It's fucking hard. It is constant and they need so much for you. I didn't do anything but work and watch him for almost two decades and I don't want to do that again. I want my own life."

"I understand," you tell him. "That was a lot, even if you did a great thing by taking him in."

"It wasn't because I was nice. You seem to be forgetting that I'm a murderer. And you want me to fucking watch Bluey with some brat."

"You may not be nice but you do right by the people you care about. I also don't think you've murdered a baby, it would probably be okay."

"That's more incidental than a conscience choice," he says and you know he has to hear how ridiculous he sounds.

"Alright. I respect your decision but for what it's worth, we're not kids anymore and you wouldn't be doing this alone. I think Yuuji turned out pretty great because he had you, and I think any kid of our would be lucky to have you as a dad."

"You would really do all that with me," he says and his voice is as close to wonderous as you've ever heard it. "You really are a lost cause."

You try not to react, remind yourself that this is always how Sukuna responds to affection. He'd laughed at you the first time you'd told him you loved him. You'd punched him and broken your hand on his chin. He'd told you he loved you in the ER as the attendant resetting your hand looked on in horror.

"I think that's enough for today. Thanks for stopping by and for the orgasm, appreciate it," you say, rising from the chair. You walk the short trip to your door and open it. "Hope you have a safe trip home."

Sukuna stays seated. "That's it?"

"Yeah, Sukuna, that's it."

"And if I said I could do this, I could give you those things."

You think about it and look him over. How his hands twitch as if only his ego is preventing them from clenching. The clear trauma that was informing his previous stance.

"I'd say take some time and maybe talk to someone. I don't want to do this with someone who can just bring themselves to bear it. I want them to be as excited as me."

"That's asking for a lot from a guy."

"But someone will do it." Sukuna looks angry again and when he steps in your space, you push him gently away with your hand. He goes to hold it and even the familiar scrape of his calluses against your skin can't make you waver.

"Bye, Sukuna."

Sukuna looks at you, waiting for you to give in you know but you won't.

He leaves without another word.

When the door to the stairwell slams shut, you finally let yourself cry.

----------

It's been a month since you've seen Sukuna and you're on another date.

The guy is unoffensive. He gave you a hug when you met up and he'd made a joke about the plethora of other couples at the restaurant. You two started playing a game where you tried to guess how many dates each couple had been on?

"Three, she's finally figured out she can't put up with how he chews no matter how nicely coiffed his hair is," your date says as you take another sip of your drink.

"That's a second date, his chewing is a commit or quit type of deal and she looks ready to go. Bet they didn't eat together on their first date."

"Is he telling the plot to Dune, he has not stopped talking since we sat down," he says and you giggle despite yourself.

You've just started on the couple both looking determinedly at their phones by the window when your phone rings.

"Sorry, I need to take this," you say and he smiles.

"No worries, I'll let you know how many times she misses her mouth while looking at her phone."

You wave as you go to stand outside. You take a deep breath and then answer.

"Hey."

"Hey, princess. Bad time?"

"No, just, what do you want?"

"Well, I'm planning this first date with this girl and I'm having trouble figuring out how to explain something."

You want to throw up, what kind of test is this?

"What do you want to say?"

"Well, I've heard that it's important to be straightforward with your intentions, so you don't waste anyone's time."

"And what are your intentions?" You manage to spit out and he laughs, his smugness almost seeping out the phone.

"Well not anytime soon, but eventually I think I'd like a little brat. You know, prove to Yuuji that he wasn't a fluke."

You heart is pounding and you hate him. You love him.

"Uh huh."

"And I guess it would probably be easier to do that if we just got married. You know, taxes, healthcare, I still don't have healthcare but my wife will and I've heard you can add people to that."

"This proposal is the fucking worst one I've ever heard," you say, trying to ignore the fact you are now crying in front of a restaurant. People walk by giving you pitying looks, probably think you got stood up.

"It's not a proposal, it's a framing of intent."

"Why do you talk like such an old man, we are almost the same age?"

"Why do you talk like such a brat?"

"You know-"

"Probably," he says and you laugh despite yourself.

"So when is this date?"

"Tonight," he says. "You can wear that dress you're wearing, it looks perfect on you."

"Are you fucking here, you creep?"

"That's no way to talk to your future husband and no. That place is a shithole, I'm at our usual."

"Good, I've missed it. No one makes my drink the way I like it," you tell him and he hums.

"Well, it will be waiting for you when you get here. So get here soon."

"Alright, I'll see you soon."

Sukuna hangs up and you stand there. There's a perfectly nice guy inside. One who makes you laugh and who maybe one day you could grow to love.

But there's another guy across town who is sitting at your favorite restaurant, ordering your favorite drink. His lips taste like the organic chapstick, he claims to be too tacky to be worth wearing but keeps it in his pocket anyway. He built all your furniture and let you paint your bathroom green even though you live in a rental. He's held your hair back when you were sick and cleaned it up even as he bitched at you for the mess and done a rather cruel impression of you retching.

There's another guy that you love.

So you go back into the restaurant to tell your perfectly nice date that something has come up.

Maybe you're a fool, but what else could you do?

Maybe this will be a series, idk. Being an adult is weird. This is def ooc but you know, let me work through things and call them fiction. That's what this account is for.

#jjk sukuna #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #jjk smut #jjk #sukuna

[scuderiahoney]

Always Walk Me Home

Max Verstappen x Reader // Strawberry Wine Pt I

Strawberry Wine Series

Masterlist

Summary: You and Max are keeping things casual. Sooo casual. You can be casual. Right?

Word Count: 4.3k

a/n: Heeeeere we go, his number is in my bio for a reason, it’s my other favorite boy! This one is heavily inspired by some of the prompts on this list. anyways enjoy!

Warnings: alcohol/mild intoxication, mild sexual references, google translated Dutch

Things with Max are… brand new. Everything is still fresh. Everything he does gives you butterflies, makes your heart skip a beat. It’s the honeymoon phase, as everyone calls it.

It’s so brand new that nobody knows. Nothing is… official, yet. You’ve just been on a few dates, had a few movie nights. You’ve stayed at his place a couple times, waking up with his arm around your waist and Jimmy and Sassy curled up next to you. It’s casual. You’re keeping things casual. Max seems content to feel things out, to keep seeing you without labeling it. You’re trying so hard to be casual about it that it’s almost embarrassing.

You feel like everyone sees straight through you. On top of spending time alone together, you and Max are friends, so you see each other at group outings and clubs and dinners with your other friends. Max acts the same there as he always has- kind, courteous, and friendly. You won’t lie, sometimes you wish he’d hold your hand or pull your chair out for you or something, anything to show you that you’re not the only one feeling less than casual. But you’re scared of scaring him away, so you keep your mouth shut.

…..

You’re out to dinner with friends, somehow ending up sitting next to him. It’s nice, really nice. You can smell his cologne, can feel the warmth radiating off of him at the packed table. You have to fight the urge to nudge his foot with yours, to press your knee against his. That wouldn’t be very casual of you. You can do this, you can be normal.

He’s saying something to the person next to him, laughing and leaning towards them. You want to be the reason he’s laughing, want to be in on the jokes. You keep your mouth shut and look at the menu instead.

“What are you going to get?” Max asks.

He’s suddenly in your space. He’s leaning close, his shoulder brushing against yours. Be normal. You shrug, sliding your finger down the menu.

“Probably the shrimp scampi,” you say, pointing at the item.

Max nods. “You love seafood.”

You blink, breath caught in your chest. He’s right, but you didn��t know he knew that. Let alone for him to say it as fact. It’s not like he’s whispering either- someone else could hear. It’s silly, because it’s such a small thing, but you’re overanalyzing everything about it.

“I do,” you agree, turning and smiling at him.

“I remember things,” he says, a soft smile on his face, and now your face is growing hot.

Someone draws his attention away, and you look back to the menu. You nearly yelp in shock when something brushes your knee, but- it’s Max, you realize with a start, his hand searching for something. You hold your breath. His fingers find yours, and he interlaces your hands, palm to palm. He keeps them resting on your leg.

You try to take even breaths. He’s holding your hand in public, with your friends right next to you. Sure, it’s under the table, but this is the most you’ve gotten from him in a setting like this. He’s held your hand on dates, done much more in the privacy of his home, but here it feels overwhelming. His thumb brushes over the back of your hand, and you resist the urge to hold on so tightly to him that he can’t let go.

Eventually the food comes, and you both let go so you can eat. But it was nice while it lasted.

…..

Max’s apartment is spacious and cozy, despite the fact that he’s gone from it so often. There’s a warmth here, an aura that just screams Max. His cats roam freely, though while you’re there they have a tendency to follow you around.

“They are traitors,” Max accuses as Jimmy and Sassy weave around your ankles in the kitchen.

“Maybe I’m just better than you,” you say.

“Oh, you are,” he says, sending up a swirl of butterflies in your stomach. “But I feed them. So they are traitors.”

You laugh, leaning down to pet the cats. They nudge their heads against your hands and legs, paw at your socks, and when you walk into the living room, they follow after. Max just watches with disappointment.

By the time he joins you in the living room, drinks in hand, both of them are curled up in your lap. He lets out a huff and sets the drinks on the table. Then he’s nudging at the cats, and you cry out when he pushes them both off your lap.

“Max!” You say, appalled.

He laughs, lays down on the couch, and promptly placed his head exactly where the two cats had been. He stares up at you with a wide grin, eyes squeezed nearly shut.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” you answer.

He reaches for one of your hands. He squeezes your fingers softly before bringing your hand up to his hair. You laugh and take the hint, start running your fingers through the blonde strands. He lets his eyes fall shut. Then you watch as he brings his hand up, purses his lips, and points at them.

You take that hint too, lean over and plant a kiss on his lips. When you try to pull away, he wraps a hand around the back of your neck and keeps you there. He deepens the kiss, fingers slipping into the hair at the nape of your neck to hold you there. It’s not the best angle, but it’s nice, always nice to kiss him.

He finally lets you go and collapses back into your lap, a satisfied smile on his reddened lips.

…..

“I can’t open it!” You squeak. “What the fuck, how do they make it look so easy?”

You’re holding a bottle of champagne in your friend’s apartment, trying to get the cork out. It doesn’t help that you’re scared- one too many horror stories about someone getting a cork to the eye, or breaking a window. You huff and try again, gently. No use.

“Lando slams it on the ground,” your friend suggests, her eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, and he also shattered one of Max’s trophies,” you say. “So maybe not the best example.”

You hear familiar laughter, then, and you drop one hand to your side, still holding the bottle in front of you with the other. Max makes his way through the kitchen, a smile on his lips that paints his whole face. You hold it out to him, pouting.

“No, no,” he says. “I’ll show you.”

He wraps his hand around yours, around the bottle. You can’t lie, your mind goes somewhere else for a second, but you tamp those thoughts down and try to focus.

“See, you put this hand on the cork,” he instructs, “and this hand on the bottom.”

His hands are warm over yours. Your face feels hot. Does he feel the sparks when his skin touches yours, too? Or is this normal for him? Is it just a friend helping another friend? You wish you knew, wish he’d say something to quell your worries and calm your racing heart.

“-and then you twist, like this,” he demonstrates.

The bottle hisses, and you jump, but there’s no dramatic pop, no shooting of the cork. You just pull it out, and you stare at the bottle with wide eyes. Oh. That was-

“Easy, right?” He says. “You are already a pro.”

You laugh, shake your head, and hold out the bottle to your friends, standing there with their empty glasses. You want to study their faces, ask them if they noticed anything. You want to ask if they saw the sparks, too. Someone takes the bottle, and your hands fall to your side, the cork still between your fingers.

Your knuckles brush against something- when you look, it’s Max’s hand. He’s still standing there, watching as everyone passes the bottle around. You swallow tightly, bump your hand into his. Deliberately. You want to look up at his face, want to gauge his reaction, but you resist the urge.

Max reaches his pinky out and hooks it with yours. For just a moment, standing in the kitchen, surrounded by your friends, you’re linked. The sparks run from his finger, up your wrist and arm and straight to your heart. Your chest fizzes like the champagne, bubbly and overflowing.

…..

You weren’t even planning on seeing Max tonight. It’s a girls night, one that’s been suggested over and over, each of you being too busy to make it happen until tonight. You’re at your favorite bar, bass thudding in your chest, your friends all around you.

And then, there’s a tingling feeling in your spine. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Someone is watching you. You turn over your shoulder and lock eyes with Max.

He’s leaning against the wall, one ankle crossed over the other. He has a black t-shirt on that’s always been one of your favorites- it hugs his upper arms and his chest so perfectly. He’s watching you, a soft smirk on his lips, a drink in his hand. Everyone is moving around you, but you’re stuck on him.

You smile, wave, and force yourself to turn back to your friends. You like him, you want to spend time with him, but you’ve been neglecting your friendships because of it. Your friends have been teasing you all night about how you’ve been too busy, how you keep checking your phone, how there must be a guy. You’ve denied it at every turn. You can’t leave them now. Ditching your friends for the guy who isn’t even your boyfriend would be the opposite of casual. You force yourself not to look at him, but you swear you can still feel him staring.

Ten minutes later, a bartender appears with a tray of shots and lime wedges. “For you,” she says, pointing at you, and your friends squeal in excitement. She points behind you, then. “From him.”

You turn over your shoulder again. Max is watching, and waving this time. You laugh and wave back, and your friends all do the same. He’s far away, too far to make it in time as you each grab a shot and throw them back in unison. You put the lime between your lips and turn to look at him again, raising your brows. He laughs, eyes lit up so bright you can see the blue even across the room, you swear. Then he juts his chin in the direction of the hallway when nobody else is looking. A message just for you.

You find him out there ten minutes later, trying not to make it obvious and taking the time to come up with an excuse- you fake a phone call. The hall is empty when you walk out, and you wonder if he’s given up on you- you know you saw him walk out. Then he pops his head out from around a corner and waves you over frantically.

He’s leaning against the wall, the same way he was in the club. You stand against the wall on the other side of the hallway and stare at him.

“I’m not leaving right now,” you say. “I promised I’d stay out late.”

“I know,” he says. “Just wanted to see you.”

You tilt your head. “Yeah? Seeing me across the bar wasn’t enough?”

The tequila running in your veins has you feeling braver than usual. It doesn’t seem to scare Max. He just grins wider, brow quirked.

“No, it wasn’t,” he says. “You’re pretty from far away, but even prettier up close.”

Your face feels hot. He pushes off from the wall, leans towards you. He could box you in if he wanted, could pin you right there, but he doesn’t. Instead, he takes your hand in his and pulls you away from the wall, too. The kiss he sweeps you into is sweet. He wraps his arm around you, and you sling yours around the back of his neck. One of his hands cradles the side of your face as he deepens the kiss. Out of all of it, you’re much more focused on the feeling of his thumb on your cheek than the feeling of his lips on yours. It’s strangely intimate, strangely soft, the way he holds you as he kisses you in the hallway of a bar. The way his nose nudges against your cheek, the way he pulls you closer and closer like he can’t get enough.

He pulls away, leaves you gasping for air.

“You taste like lime,” he says.

You nod, dumbfounded.

“You should go back to your friends,” he suggests, kissing your temple. “If I keep kissing you I won’t want to let you go.”

You breathe out a laugh and slap his shoulder. “If you keep staring at me in the club I won’t be able to focus on anything else.”

He laughs. “I know,” he says. “That’s what makes it fun. Besides, you’re fun to watch.”

…..

Three days later, Max is holding your purse. He’d taken it from you when you were all standing in the lobby of the restaurant and your friend dragged you into the bathroom. He’d promised to keep it safe. Now you’re back, your friends are gathering their things and saying goodbyes, getting ready to go home. You’re watching him.

The little black bag looks even smaller in his hands. His fingers are wrapped around the clutch, thumb rubbing back and forth across one of the stitches the same way it had on your skin the night before. He’s talking to someone else, but when there’s a break in the conversation, you nudge him.

“I can take that back,” you say, holding your hand out.

He tilts his head, blinks softly. “That’s okay. I’ll carry it.”

You’re sure you’re staring at him like a deer in the headlights. “Okay, but I’m leaving, so I need my purse.”

He nods. “I thought maybe I could walk you home. If you wanted.”

You nod in response, feeling a bit dumbfounded. The two of you exit the restaurant, waving goodbye to your friends. He takes your hand the second you’re outside, your purse still in his other one. Your fingers knit together like second nature, now. You could predict the pattern of the brush of his thumb against your skin like clockwork.

Your apartment isn’t far, but you find yourself walking slow on purpose, prolonging the moment. You pass people on the street and you know that to them, the two of you look like a real, actual couple. It’s nice to pretend. You lean into his shoulder, and he stumbles and laughs and keeps both of you upright. The two of you talk the whole way there, about everything and nothing and all the stuff in between.

When you reach the apartment building, he finally holds your purse out to you. You open the clutch, digging through it to find your keys and the front door access card. He watches in amusement as your fingers fumble through the bag.

“D’you wanna come up?” You ask. “I have some of that wine you like.”

You pull the card triumphantly from your bag. You look up at him, and he’s smiling softly, something sparkling in his eyes that makes your breath hitch. Makes the champagne bubble in your chest all over again.

“That’s okay,” he says, softly. “I’ve got to get back to the cats. But can I take you to breakfast tomorrow?”

You blink, card still pinched between your fingers. “Yeah, sure.”

He tilts his head at you. “Maybe brunch. You are going to need sleep. How about you text me when you wake up and we’ll go from there?”

You nod. He nods back. Then he reaches up, cups the side of your face in his hand. He’s so gentle about it, more so than he normally is. When he presses his lips to yours, he tastes like gin and he kisses like… like he cares for you. Like this isn’t leading somewhere else, like he’s not going to pull you into his lap and start trailing kisses down your neck. He kisses you just to kiss you, just to say goodnight.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says when he pulls away. “Goodnight, liefje.”

You smile up at him. “Goodnight, Max.”

He smiles back. Then he leans forward and presses his lips to your forehead softly. You swear you’re melting into the sidewalk. You must be a puddle under his feet. You want to press yourself into his chest, tell him to wrap his arms around you, ask him to never let you go.

But you’re trying so hard to be so good at being casual, so you kiss his cheek, turn around, and walk inside. You take the elevator up, leaning against the wall and covering your giddy smile with your hand. When you get into your apartment, kick off your heels, and drop your bag on the counter, your phone buzzes. It’s a call. You look at the screen and see Max’s face.

“Hello?” You answer.

“Did you get in alright?” He asks.

Your heart squeezes fiercely in your chest. He sounds so soft, asking it. You walk over to the window, peel back the curtains, hoping you’re right about what you think you’ll see. There he is, still standing in front of the entrance, phone to his ear. He’s staring up at your window. When he sees you, he waves.

“Yeah,” you say. “You didn’t have to wait, you know.”

But I’m so glad you did.

“Yes I did,” he says, voice soft and scratchy from the night out. “Had to make sure you were safe.”

“Okay,” you breathe. “Let me know when you get home, okay?”

“I will,” he says. You watch as he waves again, smiling up at you. “Goodnight.”

…..

He picks you up for brunch the next day. By the time you’re in his car, it’s nearly 10:30. He drives with his hand on your knee, like always, fingers dancing across your exposed skin below the hem of your sundress. You like watching him drive, like being here with him. He pulls up to the restaurant and runs around to open your door for you, leaving you laughing. He hands the keys to the valet. Then he slips his arm around your waist and leads you inside.

You’ve been on dates with him, but none this fancy, none where you feel a little out of your element. Max seems comfortable, though- it’s moments like these where you’re reminded he’s not just your-friend-Max. He’s F1-world-champion-Max-Verstappen. Of course he can get a reservation here with such short notice. They’re honored to have him here.

A waiter leads you to a booth in the back. The restaurant is bright and airy, fresh flowers on every table. Max asks for a pitcher of water and orange juice before the waiter leaves. He pulls your chair out for you, pushes it in when you sit down. Your palms are sweating, heart beating rapidly. It’s just- this is the closest you’ve come to feeling like you’re actually dating him. Suddenly, it’s terrifying.

You ask him what’s good on the menu. He points out his favorites- the French toast, the eggs Benedict, the omelettes. He tells you he’s going to order a fruit sampler for the two of you to share, and you smile softly.

“They always have the best strawberries,” he tells you, eyes lit up. “You love strawberries.”

“I do,” you tell him, warmth filling your cheeks. “You do too.”

You’d bonded over that, when you first became friends. A strawberry wine that nobody else wanted to drink. Too sweet. You’d split the bottle with Max and went to bed with a sugar rush, your lips still tasting like strawberry. Ever since, for every special occasion, the two of you have gifted each other that same strawberry wine. It’s a running joke, among your friends- you’ll open the bottle, ask if anyone wants a glass. They’ll ignore you, but Max will come running.

He opens his mouth to say something, but over his shoulder, you spot something that makes your blood run cold.

“Shit,” you mutter.

He looks at you in concern. “What is it?”

“Nothing, just-“ you sigh. “Your coworker is here.”

Charles Leclerc has just walked in the door, a girl on his arm. The waiter is pointing in your general direction, towards an open table a little ways away. There goes your whole morning. He’s going to want to leave now.

Max turns to look, brows raised. “Oh. At least it’s one I like.”

You can’t help the laugh. “Should we go?”

Max turns back to you, perplexed. “What, get up to say hi? I don’t like him that much. He’ll come over here when he sees us.”

Us. You wish he meant it how you want him to.

“No, like-“ you sigh, gaze flickering down to the table. “You don’t want people to know, so-“

“What?” He asks, wide eyed. “What do you mean, I don’t want-“

“You didn’t want to tell anyone,” you say, quietly. You can’t look at him. “We haven’t even really talked about this, and… I figured you…”

You trail off, because you can feel him staring at you. He reaches over and tucks his finger under your chin. He tilts your face upwards towards his. His gaze is soft, a small smile on his face.

“Schatje, you have to be joking,” he says, and you stare back at him. “Of course I want to tell people. I have wanted to tell the whole world since I kissed you the first time.”

You blink. “But you- you didn’t want to put a label on it. You never…”

“We never talked about it,” he says. “I was giving you time. I’m a lot. Dating me is a lot. You are… I was following your lead.”

“Oh my god,” you blurt out, a giddy feeling in your chest. “Oh my god, I’m so dumb.”

The two of you just stare at each other for a moment. His eyes are bright and sparkling, his smile spreading across his whole face. You’re so done being casual.

Charles appears at the end of your table seconds later, smiling at the two of you. “Max, hi, good to see you. And I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met,” he adds, turning to you.

“Charles, this is my girlfriend,” Max says, reaching across the table to take your hand.

When you greet Charles, you can’t wipe the giddy grin from your face. It stays there the whole rest of the day- through breakfast, through a walk through a park, through a late lunch at Max’s with the cats winding around your ankles. Every time it starts to fade you think of Max, bright blue eyes, his finger under your chin. You fall asleep still smiling. You’re pretty sure it’ll be there when you wake up.

…..

The next time you go out with your friends, Max carries your bag the whole night. He also keeps his hand on the small of your back nearly constantly. He orders and pays for all of your drinks, includes you in all the conversations, and brushes his lips against your temple every time there’s a lull in the talking.

Nobody questions it. None of your friends even bat an eye. You find out why when you end up in the bathroom with the girls, a tradition as old as time itself.

It turns out they all already knew.

“Max told us all the day after he kissed you the first time,” someone tells you. “And then he told us we all had to act like nothing was different, because he didn’t want to scare you off.”

You collapse into a fit of laughter, bracing yourself against the sink. All this time, you were worried about it, and he’d told everyone right away. You’d thought you were the one struggling to be casual. God, you’d have saved yourself so much trouble if you’d only asked. If you’d only told him straightforward what you wanted. If you’d only been up front.

You’re giddy with it, then. You can feel it coursing through your veins and buzzing in your fingertips. You won’t call it love yet, at least not out loud. It’s too soon, right? It can’t be love. But it’s something, and now you want him next to you. You want his lips on yours again. You’re missing him even though he’s just through the door, waiting for you, your bag in his hand.

When you return to his side, you lean up to press a kiss to his cheek. You watch his smile grow and his cheeks turn red. You place your hand on his shoulder and put your lips against his ear.

“You should take me home,” you tell him.

His cheeks get even redder, and he turns to you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say with a nod. “You’ll walk me home, right?”

“Always,” he agrees.

He takes your hand, squeezes lightly. You feel like you’re glowing brighter than the neon lights above your head.

…..

You slip up over your morning cup of coffee three days later. The cats are in your lap. There’s the perfect amount of cream and sugar in the mug, he’s made it exactly right. The sun is shining through the windows, bouncing off his hair and painting his skin in golden light. You weren’t going to say it out loud, you really weren’t, but it slips past your lips anyways.

“I love you,” you say.

Max laughs, takes the mug from your hands, and kisses you.

Then he says it right back.

read the prequel/ sequel, Someone Sane

okay, now I’ve got my three favorite boys in the masterlist! thanks for reading! come say hi, or check out more of my writing here. drop an ask or a dm to be added to the tag list!

taglist: @4-mula1

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fic #formula one fic #formula 1 fic #formula 1 x reader #f1 fanfic #max Verstappen #fanfic #max verstappen fluff #fluff #honeywrites #mv1 #strawberry wine verse

[tunafruitt]

--> ||❝ The Creator has a.. LOVER?! ❞

SAGAU || Warnings: fluff, gender neutral reader

[ The people of Teyvat find out their grace has been romantically involved with someone for a while now.. what do they think about it? ]

Character(s): NEUVILLETTE, ZHONGLI

-> [ NEUVILLETTE ]

“Oh, the Iudex of Fontaine is the creator’s chosen suitor? Okay.. He’s a qualified and accomplished man. I can see why the creator chose someone like him.”

With the one and only hydro dragon sovereign stuck to your side at all times, it was no surprise to anyone that the two of you had gotten close. But the creator falling in love with him?? That’s different.

Of course, the people of Teyvat had all wished to have a chance with you. And of course, everyone knew it was impossible… but hope is a good thing right? They knew the day would come though, just not so soon..

When the people found out that the Creator had someone they loved more than the usual “I love all of Teyvat equally and platonically.” EVERYONE WENT CRAZY. What do you mean the creator has a LOVER? What do you mean they’ve probably kissed. WHAT DO YOU MEAN ITS THE IUDEX OF FONTAINE????

Nevertheless, no one was actually disappointed. They had heard you talk about him through the screen even before you descended to Teyvat. They were glad you were happy… I guess (though they wish it was with them.) Fontaine obviously took pride in having the creator spend a lot of their time residing there, even more pride in the fact that you were romantically involved with a citizen of Fontaine.

─━━ ꯭  ───ׂ─ִ─  ͜͡✿͜͡  ─ִ──ׂ──  ꯭  ━━ִ─

Neuvillette wasn’t quite sure how to react to all of the publicity the news had gotten. Every time the two of you go out together he feels the stares coming from the people around you. The stares weren’t the usual stares he got when he was doing a court trial.. they felt new to him. He was glad that he was at least able to say more affectionate words to you out in public though!

“Monsieur Neuvillette! I’ve heard the recent news.. haha.. so, how’s it being with the Creator? Bet you feel real lucky, huh.“

“I would consider myself lucky to be with Y/N. I feel that no amount of love give—“

“Y/N???? I-I MEAN— YOU’RE ON A FIRST NAME BASIS WITH YOUR GRACE?!”

“I am. Now, if I may continue…”

When he’s not actively working and someone asks him about you, he could yap about you for HOURS. So much to the point people avoid bringing you up even in non-professional events. He’s literally lovestruck. Heart eyes when he looks at you and everything. (everyone’s secretly side-eyeing him… out of jealousy.)

-> [ ZHONGLI ]

“Hm.. The Wangsheng Funeral Consultant..? He is quite a handsome man, but is that all? Of course we respect him! It’s just that.. I expected the Creator’s suitor to be an Archon or something. But if that’s what the creator wants, we should respect their choice right?”

The people of Liyue had begun to put the pieces together. No wonder you were always visiting the Funeral Parlor.. wait, were the times that the both of you were spotted together at Iron Tongue Tian’s Stall listening to the telling of old stories.. DATES?? How could they have only just now realized…

Well, now that the news is out at least you can comfortably hold his hand outside of the Parlor! Not everyone is completely happy with this though.. Who might that be? The other archons of course! They all took pride in being among some of the closest beings in Teyvat to you, but now that they weren’t all equally close to you, feelings of jealousy began to rise.

Zhongli secretly felt smug about that though. I mean, of course anyone would. Being the Creator’s lover is probably the biggest flex in all of Teyvat!! Only certain people are able to even be close to the Creator, not to mention TOUCH them. (which are the playable characters.) Oh, and doing affectionate things like lovers do WITH THE CREATOR?? The things people would do to be in Zhongli’s place.

─━━ ꯭  ───ׂ─ִ─  ͜͡✿͜͡  ─ִ──ׂ──  ꯭  ━━ִ─

You and Zhongli were taking a walk in the city of Liyue as you always do. There was a cool breeze and the orange lights coming from the food stalls gave the atmosphere a comfortable, warm feeling. You looked back at Zhongli who had already been staring at you. He’s about to put his arms around you when out of nowhere—

“Your Grace! Fancy seeing you here.. ehe. Are you here for the Lantern Rite? Oh! You should come to the Windblume Festival again! We’ll make sure to make it extraaa special, just for you. Speaking of special— There’s a new wine back in Mondstadt made specially from the freshest dandelio—“

“Hello, Venti.”

“Oh. Hello Mr. Zhongli. Are you busy right now? If not, the Funeral Parlor is calling for you. You should probably go.”

“The Funeral Parlor is closed today, Venti.”

lmao archons actively trying to get you to spend time with them instead of Zhongli. (They can’t stand to see you hugging, holding hands, and doing all kinds of sappy activities with him)

AGHHH SECOND WRITING EVER!! Had fun ^_^ might do a part 2 with Itto and Xiao (or other characters) feel free to leave recommendations for any other characters!! Likes nd reblogs are much appreciated ^_^

#genshin impact #sagau #neuvillette #zhongli #neuvilette x reader #zhongli x reader #x reader #gender neutral reader #sagau x reader #yandere #genshin #yayyy

[gay-dorito-dust]

Just Jason being the human version of a house cat.

Someone on here said that Jason is just a massive lap cat and I can’t help but agree because just imagine it; an absolute beast of a man finding solace in resting specifically on your plush lap, his strong, warm arms caging your waist as his face is burrowed pleasantly into your stomach in content, groans in displeasure whenever he feels you move even the slightest of inches.

How dare you move when Jason was just getting comfortable, apologise now for your transgressions.

Jason’s warmth would be advantageous to you during the colder months but an absolute nightmare during the summer, more so if you’re the type to get warm really easily and it ends up irritating you. But this is neither here nor there.

‘Jaybirdie?’ You ran your hand through his hair, scratching his scalp now and then.

Jason groans, showing that he was listening.

‘I’ve got to get going soon or else they’ll call and ask why I’m late.’ You tell him as you felt his arms tighten and you smile. ‘And I can’t exactly say that my 6’2 boyfriend is sprawled across my lap like a stubborn house cat that is refusing me to leave. Now can I?’ You finished, moving your hand away from his hair and focusing on rubbing his upper back, wishing you could see his muscles beneath the black t-shirt. You could only being to imagine the way his beautiful muscles would contract and relax from your touch as though they were like the waves you’d see at the beach, webbing and flowing; it was borderline enticing.

‘Then don’t go then. Simple as.’ His muffled voice said against your stomach.

‘I can’t, I promise to help out at work because someone called in sick…again.’ You muttered out the last part. You didn’t know why your co-worker wasn’t sacked for having so much time off but you knew you weren’t the only one that didn’t like them, and from what you’ve been told by older co-workers, this wasn’t the first time they’ve done this and even then you were surprised that they still even had a job to come back to. So because of them, you and your fellow co-workers were being worked to the bone to cover their hours on top of your own.

‘Again?’ Jason asked, lifting his head up from your lap, having been kept up to date on the goings on in your workplace. ‘How haven’t they gotten pulled in for that shit?’

You shrugged your shoulders, genuinely as baffled as he was about the whole thing. ‘Honestly have got the slightest clue Jay, but It’s all the more reason for me to go.’

Jason groans as he reluctantly lets you go but now you were the one upset at the sudden loss of his warmth and that must’ve been apparent on your face as Jason smirked mischievously as he reassumed his position on your lap, his strong arms went back to holding your waist tightly and his face burrows back into your stomach as he sighs in content once more.

‘See, now you don’t wanna go now because your Jaybirdie won’t be there to keep you warm.’ He teased as you tugged at his hair, causing him to groan.

‘That’s not-‘

‘Oh don’t play the coy card with me sweetheart, we’ve already been through that stage in our relationship.’ Jason cuts you off. ‘because if you wanted to leave that badly you wouldn’t be rubbing my back or running your hand through my hair like you are right now.’ Jason then looks up at you with a raised brow as if challenging you in daring to say otherwise when you both knew the truth.

‘It’s just- we don’t typically get enough time together.’ You began. ‘Crime in Gotham has been on an increase as of late, which is taking much of your time, and work has been asking everyone to pitch in and help cover until our co-worker decided to comes back at their own accord.’ You paused to stroke Jason’s cheek, internally melting when you felt him press his face further into your hand, gingerly kissing your palm. ‘It just doesn’t give us enough time for moments like these, the moments we crave most.’

‘The moments where we’re just together.’ Jason finishes for you and you muttered a small ‘yeah.’

A silence befalls you both as you tried to engrain this moment into your memory because neither of you knew when the next time you got to peacefully exist in tandem, whether that be doing your own thing or doing something together, just as long as you were with each other for longer then a fleeting five minutes.

‘So do you still want to go to work?’ Jason asked. ‘Or do you want to be selfish for once?’

You gave it some thought and soon after began to reach for your phone and punch in the work number as Jason squeezed a thigh in his large hand. ‘Selfish it is.’ He murmured with a smile as he gotten himself comfortable before feeling you run your fingers through his hair once more.

#jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagines #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #dc x y/n #dc x you #dc comics x reader #dc x reader #dc imagine #dc fic #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction

[roosterbox]

Had this random thinky thought the other day.

Pre-S4 Steddie are dating. Have been for a decent amount of time. They haven’t told everyone, but a few people know (Robin, Dustin). The thing, though, is that Wayne doesn’t know. Oh, he knows that Eddie has a boyfriend. He’s seen Eddie’s eyes light up like stars when he starts talking about this boy. About how beautiful he is. About how strong he is. And, most often, about how kind he is. After the buildup he’s been given, Wayne is pretty positive there’s no way for this mystery boy to live up to Eddie’s description. Especially with how loveblind his nephew is. But if the way Eddie lights up at the mere thought of him is any indication, he must be something special.

“Invite him over for dinner sometime, son. I’m dyin’ to meet this guy.”

Eddie agrees. And plans are made. But for whatever reason, said plans fall through. And keep falling through.

But then.

The events of S4 happen.

Steve manages to save Eddie, like he should have done in canon (but I digress). They end up in the hospital, and someone gets in touch with Wayne, who shows up almost immediately. And who does he see at his unconscious (severely injured) nephew’s bedside but Steve fucking Harrington.

Now I’m not saying that Wayne assumes the absolute worst upon seeing ‘King Steve’ Harrington in that room (the worst being that Steve has something to do with Eddie’s condition), but he does make his assumptions based on what he knows and remembers about Steve’s parents (especially his dad). Said assumptions are… not great.

He basically kicks Steve out. And Steve just… goes. Robin tries to protest on his behalf, but Steve tells her it’s okay. “Eddie needs him now,” he says.

Eddie doesn’t wake up for several days. Any time Wayne isn’t with him, Steve sneaks in. And gets kicked out again when Wayne comes back. Wayne, for his part, is getting more and more exasperated with his dedication.

But then Eddie wakes up, finally. Wayne and Dustin are there when he does. The latter leaves to give Eddie and Wayne their privacy for a tearful reunion, but he also calls Steve. A little while later, Steve shows up. He and Wayne lock eyes, and Wayne bristles a bit. He’s straightening up, preparing to kick him out yet again, before Eddie turns. And his entire face lights up in a brilliant smile. His eyes sparkle like twin stars.

“Stevie!” He says, imbuing the name with more emotion than Wayne ever expected.

Steve almost trips over his own feet to get to Eddie’s bedside, where he takes Eddie’s hand in his, twining their fingers together. He looks like he might cry.

And Wayne suddenly understands everything.

He lets them talk for a moment. They’ve seemingly forgotten he’s even there. There are soft loving affirmations, sweet names, and maybe even a kiss or two, before he clears his throat. The boys spring apart (Steve springs, at least), but don’t let go of each other’s hands.

“I really wish we could have gotten to meet each other over dinner instead, boys,” he says, gruff as always.

Steve looks nervous, but Eddie’s just embarrassed.

“Uhm,” Steve starts.

Wayne gently cuts him off. “I think you and I might have gotten off on the wrong foot.” And that wrong foot is entirely on me, he thinks.

Eddie looks between the two of them, confused.

“That’s okay,” Steve is quick to say. “You were just-“

Wayne cuts him off again, moving to the other side of the bed, hand outstretched.

“Wayne Munson.”

Steve hesitates, exchanging a glance with Eddie (who’s still terribly confused), before taking Wayne’s hand with his free one, shaking it.

“Steve Harrington,” he says as if Wayne didn’t recognize him on sight a few days prior.

“It’s nice to meet you Steve.” Wayne smiles. “Nice to finally see for myself the kid who makes Eddie smile like that.”

There are further discussions to be had. Eddie is angry (and a little heartbroken) to discover what’s been going on while he slept (“YOU KICKED HIM OUT HOW MANY TIMES???”), but in the end, it all works out. Eddie’s name is cleared. He (and everyone else!) makes a full and complete recovery (plus a few gnarly scars). And Wayne finally, finally, gets to sit down to dinner with his nephew, and his nephew’s boyfriend.

#stranger things #steddie #wayne munson #wayne munson my beloved #Wayne is a saint #but he’s also a bit protective #Steve doesn’t hold it against him #he knows better than anyone the person he used to be #also pre s4 Steddie my beloved

[circespeaker]

maybe the fact that we're such star crossed lovers makes our romance blossom in ways it otherwise couldnt

#circe speaks #ive gotten lots of comments abt me n my partner being so good together n our relationship being like straight outta romance books or films #maybe if we were both perfectly healthy minds ( state of mind and body like i always wished yo be b4 entering a relationship) #and maybe if he lived closer n i could see him every day #things would be very different. they would be so too if both of us had more successful healthy romantic relationships under our belts. #but the reality is we are in a LDR. im still in recovery and he is struggling at home. we have a language barrier (altho it is quite small) #n we r both autistic #so the cards are not initially stacked in our favor #but then again.. we clicked so fast both online and when meeting up #it was like i already knew him in a life before and was just rediscovering him and being reminded of who he is and how wonderful he is #it felt so easy and natural.. loving him is like second nature to me #and i know he feels the same way #people dont know the layers and they likely never will.. bc its not for them #so they see us being in sync bouncing off each other and loving like an old married couple #i dont care what they think anymore... i can love freely

[moonstruckme]

I would love to see something from the beginning of poly!marauders relationship where they are figuring out that they all want to be together and learning how to make it work. I’ve always wondered how their relationship would start!

Thanks for requesting my love! It took me so long to get to it, I appreciate you being so patient with me <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

Sirius is playing with Remus’ fingers, and you’re trying to figure out if the ache of longing in your chest is some relative of jealousy. You don’t want it to be. Remus and Sirius are your friends, and you’re happy that they make each other happy. And honestly, looking at them now, with Sirius’ leg slung over one of Remus’ and Remus’ long fingers in his grasp, you’re not sure which one of them you’d trade places with if you could. 

Things have gotten…complicated, lately, though none of you are talking about it. Two weeks ago, James had kissed you, and you’d really, really liked it, but you’d felt obligated to confess your confusion to him. You do like James and want him to kiss you, but you can’t help feeling guilty for also harboring feelings for two other people at the same time. It wouldn’t feel fair to start something with James, who deserves all the best anyone has to offer, if you feel like you can’t be fully in it with him. 

And of course you’d known he’d be cool about it, but you hadn’t expected him to truly understand. He’d told you that Remus had kissed him back before he and Sirius had gotten together, and James hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the other boy either. Neither of you had quite known how to move forward in light of your admissions, but you’d agreed to put things between the two of you on hold for the time being. 

Then just yesterday, you’d been walking to class with Sirius, and he’d accidentally brushed your bum with his hand. The zing you’d felt was probably more a nervous response than anything else, but it had felt markedly different from the icky feeling you’d gotten when boys had touched you without your consent before. Sirius had been quick to apologize, and you’d waved it off, but you’d seen the look in his eyes. You aren’t usually one to flatter yourself by presuming anyone might have feelings for you, but the attraction in his gaze was unmistakable. 

You’d said anything to anyone about that, but even now, when he’s half atop his boyfriend, Sirius’ eyes keep flitting to where you’re working on your homework. 

“Anyone started on the potions essay?” Remus asks. 

“No,” says James. “Have you?”

“No.” 

You and Sirius both make quiet sounds of agreement. 

It’s silent again, the only sound the gentle scratching of pen on parchment. 

“Alright.” James sets his pen down with a thwap. “What’s going on with you guys?”

You look up, and he’s staring right at you. 

“What, me?”

“Everyone!” James shakes his head. “No one is talking to each other. Did something happen?”

You press your lips together, but Sirius blurts, “I told Remus I was into Y/N.”

James blinks, looking about as shocked as you feel but without the added embarrassment. You wish, not for the first time, that you could apparate straight out of Hogwarts. 

“It’s fine,” Remus says. “We’ve sorted it.” He gives you a kind look. “Don’t look so nervous, love, I wasn’t upset. It’s not like we don’t all have thoughts about other people sometimes.” 

Sirius looks unsurprised, and you gather that was a part of the conversation they’d already had, but James nearly chokes on air. 

“Do you?” he asks. 

Remus flushes, his fingers tightening almost imperceptibly around Sirius’. “Sure. Sometimes.” 

James and Remus’ gazes are locked, a sort of heaviness building in the air between them, and you hurry to dispel the tension. “I mean, you’re all very good-looking,” you laugh. “It’d be impossible not to notice each other.” 

Sirius seems on board with your plan of levity, falling easily into his default flirtatiousness. “Yeah, gorgeous? Do you notice as well?”

For a second, your mouth works without sound, your thoughts flittering about your head like frenetic butterflies. You’re sure your face is turning a humiliating pink. “I—I mean, like I said, it’s hard not to.” You clear your throat. “You don’t get to be the golden boys of Gryffindor for nothing.” 

“And here I thought it was our brains.” Sirius grins, letting you out the trap he’d unintentionally ensnared you in. “Well, if we’re known for our looks, then it makes sense why you’re part of the group too.” 

It takes you a second to catch his meaning, but you don’t miss Remus’ tiny nod of agreement. 

“Wait a minute,” James says, still looking between the lot of you like he’s refereeing a particularly perplexing tennis match. “So…Sirius and…who all here likes who?”

You go mute, as do the other boys. 

James nods, and he’s sticking his tongue in his cheek like he does when he’s nervous, but the set of his brows is resolved. “Okay, I can go first. I fancy each of you.” 

You look over at Remus and Sirius, but neither of them appear as shocked as you’d think the profession would warrant. Sirius opens his mouth like he has something to say, then shuts it again. 

“Trust me, I feel very weird about it,” James goes on anxiously. “I just wasn’t sure—”

“No, it’s alright.” Remus leans forward slightly, looking like he would reach out and comfort James if he were close enough. “I’ve…I’ve had similar thoughts.”

Sirius has ceased his toying with Remus’ hand, but he doesn’t let it go, looking down at their joined fingers. “Me too,” he says, not quietly but noticeably lower than his normal half-shouting volume.

“I never…I don’t really understand it all the way,” you admit. “But I think I like each of you too.” 

There’s another agonizing silence. Remus starts to brush his thumb gently over Sirius’ knuckles. 

“It doesn’t make any sense to me,” you say finally. “I see you two together, and I’m not jealous at all. But I like you both.” You look over at James, and your face hasn’t cooled at all, but it gets a new wave of heat now. “And you, too.” 

James gives you a little smile, and it’s like he can’t help himself, reaching over to give your shoulder a tiny squeeze. 

“I don’t think,” Remus says carefully, “that there’s anything wrong with that. I mean, it’s not like any of us doesn’t like anyone else, apparently. Just…what do we do about it?”

You and James exchange a look, but this suddenly feels like something you shouldn’t intervene in. You’re both single, but Remus and Sirius aren’t. 

“Well,” Sirius drawls with a nonchalance that’s definitely forced but so familiar that you’re grateful for it anyway, “if it’s alright with you, I think I’d like to date.” 

“You are dating,” you point out. 

Sirius shoots you a mocking look. “Date all of you, smart-ass.” 

James lets out a little laugh, and you smile a bit at Sirius’ brashness. The both of you look to Remus. 

Remus only shrugs as if you’ve asked him to comment on the weather. “S’alright with me.” 

James really does laugh now, the loud, hooting sound you love so much. “It’s alright? You really do know how to make someone feel special, Moons.” 

“Fuck off,” Remus laughs. “What else am I supposed to say?”

“Um, that we’re the most attractive people you’ve ever seen and nothing would make you happier?”

“Well there you go, James. You’ve said it for me.” 

The laughter dies out, the new awkwardness of more-than-friends settling over the four of you. 

“Well shit,” Sirius says after a minute. “What do we do now?”

“I don’t know,” you reply. “You’re the only ones who have been in a relationship, what do you guys do?”

Sirius looks at Remus, and Remus looks back. 

“What do we do?” Sirius whispers to him. “Do we…we go on dates sometimes, yeah?”

Remus nods, one corner of his lips twitching amusedly. 

Sirius turns back to you and James, nodding decisively. “A date,” he announces. “Pick you all up in, uh, our common room at eight?” 

“Eight is good for me,” James says, grinning so hugely you can’t help but smile with him. “Now, if we’re all done being weird—Y/N, lovely, could you help me with this charms homework? I’m dying over here.” 

You scooch closer to him, peering at his parchment and wondering if now you can stop cataloging all the places your bodies touch, your shoulder brushing his upper arm. 

“It looks fine to me,” you say after a moment. 

“I know, sorry” James replies, leaning into you so that the warmth of his arm seeps into your skin. “It was a charade.”

#poly!marauders #poly!marauders x fem!reader #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders x y/n #poly!marauders x you #poly!marauders x self insert #poly!marauders fanfiction #poly!marauders fanfic #poly!marauders fic #poly!marauders imagine #poly!marauders drabble #poly!marauders scenario #poly!marauders oneshot #poly!marauders one shot #james potter #james potter x reader #sirius black #sirius black x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #the marauders #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders era #the marauders era #marauders fanfic #marauders fic #marauders fandom

[mypoisonedvine]

100 random dialogue prompts

truly random, there's a mix of angsty and smutty and fluffy in here. as a result it's nsfw and 18+ :)

"who did this to you?"

"where are you going dressed like that?"

"this isn't enough anymore. I need more of you-- all of you."

"I'm not angry, I just get tired of watching you get hurt."

"don't say stuff like that, it gets me all... confused."

"just lie to me, okay? just this once."

"I never said I didn't feel the same way."

"you should go... before someone sees."

"I hate how you make it impossible to hate you."

"too good for you? don't be ridiculous-- they don't deserve you."

"fuck, do that again... please."

"you promise you're going to behave this time?"

"oh please, you knew what you were doing... you wanted to drive me crazy."

"no, it's not over. it's never over."

"so you're saying even if we were the last people on Earth--?" "nope."

"sooo... is everything supposed to just go back to normal after that?"

"you can't ignore me. not anymore."

"it's not what it looks like!" "is that a picture of me?!"

"you really didn't notice that I was falling in love with you?"

"is this really the last time?"

"I'm sorry, I swear I tried, but I just can't get over you."

"do you really think that toy can replace me?"

"don't tell me how to feel."

"forgive me, but I'm not feeling very patient right now."

"you could do so much better than me."

"what would they think if they saw you right now?"

"I didn't know you could be so obedient."

"you can take it."

"you were never my fallback-- I always wanted you."

"yeah, I want to, but... wouldn't it be weird?"

"don't act like you never thought about it before."

"I wish they could all know about us."

"you're the best mistake I ever made."

"no, I don't hate you... I'm angry, but I don't think I could ever really hate you."

"let's just stop now before anybody's feelings get hurt."

"don't get my hopes up if you're just gonna leave like everyone else."

"I can't let it end like this."

"if you do what you're told, you'll get a reward."

"what's gotten into you? you're being so... naughty."

"I think we're on a first name basis by now."

"don't do that... don't act like you don't feel this too."

"it was never just sex."

"I wish I'd met you sooner."

"you can tell me anything."

"why do we have to get out of bed again?"

"I think this is my favorite way to wake up."

"I was already yours."

"there's no way that was just a one-night thing."

"if you can look me in the eye and tell me you want me to go, I'll go."

"has anybody else ever made you feel like this?"

"it feels like we were made for each other."

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry, and I miss you."

"I have an idea to make them jealous."

"just one more kiss?"

"do you really expect me to believe this is what you want?"

"if you say you're happy with them, I'll believe you. or at least I'll try to."

"I can think of a more fun way you can thank me."

"no, I'm in charge tonight, remember?"

"if you keep doing that, this might end a little too soon."

"hey, you lost the bet, fair and square."

"stop imagining it!" "I'm sorry, but I can't get it out of my head!"

"it's too bad we never did. we would've been great together."

"I never thought I'd hear you talk like that."

"oh, fuck me--" "okay." "what? it's just a figure of speech..."

"were you joking? I wasn't joking."

"admit it: you had a crush on me!"

"I just need you to hold me right now."

"friends can cuddle, right?"

"I wouldn't have picked this for movie night if I'd known it had so many sex scenes..."

"they're great but... they're not you."

"I always thought it would be me and you in the end."

"you're not actually trying to convince me that was a friendly kiss, are you?"

"if you hate me so much, how come you keep coming back?"

"do you remember getting drunk and calling me last night?"

"I'm free tonight if you still need a date for that thing you're going to."

"I'd do anything for you."

"I think I finally get what all those love songs are about."

"it's weird being here again... so many memories."

"I wish you'd give me a chance."

"I never meant to hurt you."

"just come to dinner with me. it doesn't have to be weird."

"seeing you with them made me realize you should be with me."

"just ask yourself for once: what do you want?"

"okay, okay, I'll leave-- as soon as I can find my pants."

"we need to be more careful next time."

"wait, why are you in my bed? did we...?"

"I took you for granted, I know. but I want to treat you right this time."

"kiss me like you mean it."

"keep the lights on, I want to see you."

"is it just me, or does your celebrity crush look a lot like me?"

"we promised we wouldn't let this affect our friendship."

"no, don't cry-- if you start crying, I'll start crying!"

"I want to see my marks on you tomorrow."

"don't act innocent, it's not going to work with me."

"is this really turning you on? I'm not even doing anything."

"come look at the stars with me."

"I lov--" "no, don't say anything. you'll kill the moment."

"what happens next in your fantasy?"

"I probably shouldn't tell you this but... you were in my dream last night."

"why do you still wear the hoodie I left at your place?"

#fic prompt #writing prompt #dialogue prompt

[ickadori]

++ 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐔

[summary] your parents have no place in getou’s new world, but you do.

[cws] fem reader. death. murder -> getou is killing your monkey as parents, but it’s not described, just hinted at! yandere vibes but i didn’t lean into it heavy. mentions of getou’s past crimes (village slaughtering/killing his parents). hinted that reader used to like getou. unedited.

“You can’t be here.”

If your body hadn’t locked up in fear, you would have given yourself a pat on the back for keeping your voice so steady despite the panic curdling in your chest at the sight of Getou Suguru standing on your doorstep—your parent’s doorstep.

“I can’t visit my dear old friend? We are friends, aren’t we?” No, you had stopped being friends with him the moment you heard of what he did to his parents—no, not even then, because you couldn’t believe it at first.

“Getou Suguru killed the people of the village, as well as his parents.”

You had balked when Yaga first said those words to you, and then you had spat venom as you vehemently denounced the claim. I mean, it was Getou. He wouldn’t—he couldn’t. Someone had gotten something terribly, terribly wrong. He wasn’t that kind of person, he wasn’t evil.

There had to have been some kind of mishap — an anomaly. Perhaps his technique had failed and one of his curses had turned against him and killed the villagers, and he was powerless to stop it. Or maybe there had been some kind of colluding - it wouldn’t be the first time that the higher-ups pulled a nasty, underhanded tactic for their own hidden agendas.

But then Gojo had come to you with bloodshot eyes and wild hair, and you had known it was true, even though the both of you had desperately wished it wouldn’t.

Even then, with the confirmation that Getou had turned his blade against the people you all had spent your life training to protect, you still hadn’t turned your back on him…until you had seen the state of his childhood home.

The walls, once painted a a soft cream, had been stained a dark red, splatters of blood stretched high up to the ceilings. The pictures on the walls that contained images of a young Geto positioned in between his parents, beaming smiles on all of their faces, had been smashed beyond recognition. The recliner that you vividly remember seeing his father napping in, book laid on his chest and glasses slipping down his nose, had been flipped, the fabric slashed to shreds and the cushion spilling out. His mother’s apron, a gift that you had given her one year for her birthday, had laid in bloody tatters next to it.

You would have thought he hated them with the savage way he had killed them (didn’t he, though? Was this his way of showing you all just how serious he was?), he hadn’t even left behind a piece of bone to properly identify them, and the implication that he had let the curses he hosted consume them had made you sick to your stomach.

That’s when you began to hate Suguru Getou, but even more than that, you began to fear him.

“No, we’re not.” Whatever steel that had been in your voice before was now gone, and the waver in it was clear as your hand tightened on the doorknob. You wanted to slam it close and turn the lock, but what good would that do? He’d get in, and while you were a decent enough sorcerer, him and Gojo had been the real hotshots, you just happened to be entertaining enough for them to let you tag along. He could kill you easily, your parents even easier, and your stomach twists into painful knots as you think to your mother who’s only a few feet away and sitting on the couch, curled into your father’s side as they watch a movie together.

“That hurts my feelings,” he smiles, and instead of the fluttery feeling that it used to give you, it only makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. “I considered you family, y’know—I still do.”

You bristle, eyes narrowing into slits as a wave of anger washes over you, quickly replacing that all-consuming fear. “Is that why you’re here? To kill me just like you did your family? Your parents?”

“My family?” He tilts his head, a look of confusion taking over his features, and you finally notice his new look. He’s garbed in a monks robes, and his hair that had usually been kept tidy and out of the way now flows down his back. A fleeting thought of his attractiveness passes by, and you don’t entertain it. “Oh, those monkeys.” An easy smile graces his lips as he bats his hand in the air, as if shooing away something bothersome. “No, I’m not here to kill you. You actually have a place in this world, unlike…” His eyes make a motion to the side when he hears your mom’s grumbled complaint of the show, and he’s been inside your house enough to know exactly where the couch sits.

“Leave, Getou.” His eyes slide back to yours, that smile still on his face, and the fear from before comes back tenfold at his unspoken intentions. “Now.”

“You don’t have to look so scared,” he laughs lightly, and you jump when you hear your mother call out to you.

“Who’s that at the door, sweetie?” You hear the sound of her shuffling towards you, and your heart lurches up into your throat as you freeze. What do you do? What can you do? Tears well up in your eyes when you come to the realization that whatever you did would be pointless in the end. If he wanted your parents dead, then they’d be dead.

“Please, Suguru.” The floorboard creaks behind you, and his smile widens further at the desperation in your voice. Please don’t hurt them.

“Honey, who are—oh! Getou? I haven’t seen you in ages! How’re you doing, hun? I thought you were still overseas.” Your mother sidles up beside you, a pleased smile on her face as she takes him in. Getou looks to you, clearly wondering when he had gone overseas, and you think back to the lie you had told when your mother kept questioning you about where your ‘handsome little friend had gone’.

“I’ve just gotten back tonight, actually.” He smoothly lies, hands disappearing into the sleeves of his robes, and your heart rate skyrockets as your brain conjures up various scenarios, scenarios in which all end the same exact way. “I missed your daughter so much that I just had to come and see her.”

Your mother swoons.

“H-He’s leaving, actually.”

“I’m not, actually.” He retorts, and your mother throws a glance your way, and you meet her gaze, hoping and praying that she’d realize the gravity of the situation by the look on your face. She’s your mother, she raised you, she knew all your moods, good and bad, surely she should know when something was seriously wrong with—

“Why don’t you come inside then and get out of this cold? You can tell us all about your stay overseas over some tea.”

Nonononono.

“Oh, how kind, I’d love to.”

-

“How are your parents doing, Geto? I haven’t heard from your mother in a while… she missed out on the market’s half off deal last Saturday.”

Dead. He killed them. He killed them and he’s going to kill you, too.

Your stomach gives another lurch, and you press shaking hands in between your thighs and squeeze them together tight. I can call Gojo, you think. He’d get here in seconds thanks to his teleportation, and in a battle of strength between him and Getou, he came out on top every time. Of course, somehow being able to sneak away to grab your phone would be a risk. But you had to try, you couldn’t just keep sitting here and prolonging their death while they chatted about an overseas trip that never happened, and parents that had long been murdered by their own son.

“…find yourself a partner yet, Getou? I’m sure you have, with your good looks and all.” Your father gives his wife a raise of his brow, but otherwise keeps his attention on the television. “Oh, it’s a pity. You know…” Your mother gives you a sly look, and you narrow your eyes at her as you give a firm shake of your head. “I always thought you two had a little spark going on.”

“Mom.”

Getou grins like the chesire cat, and you wonder if he’s always looked this devious and you were just too blinded by…whatever to notice. “I actually haven’t found anyone yet, although I do have someone in mind.”

“Oh.” She jovially laughs, her hand softly batting at your shoulder as she throws you another look, and you couldn’t keep the grimace off your face if you tried. “It wouldn’t happen to be my lovely, sweet, beautiful, hardworking, amazing cook—”

“—I’m not listening to this.” You shoot to your feet, using the excuse of this embarrassment of a conversation to your aid. It’s a good enough reason to make a swift exit —a mother trying desperately to set her daughter up with the man who’s plotting to kill her and her husband— and swift it is, your feet quickly carrying you up the stairs and down the hall.

“—oh, come on, honey! I’m just playing around!”

Your mother’s voice fades out as you push open your bedroom door and immediately lunge for your phone that’s lying on the bed. You grab it with shaking hands, fingers frantically tapping in your password, and your eyes dart between the screen and the hallway.

A silence falls over the house, and you make a choked noise as your mind jumps to the worse. He’s killed them. He finally got tired of playing nice and killed them. Oh God, he’s killed them.

“…just down the hall and to the ri—well, you’ve been here plenty times! You know the way!” A wave of relief washes over you at the sound of your mother’s voice, only for a surge of panic to rise when you realize he’s on his way and you’ve still yet to call Gojo. You’d have to settle for a text, then.

Your fingers fly across the screen as you move to the text chain you have with Gojo, and you begin to type a message. Getou is here please help, quick and to the point. Your thumb moves to send it, only for a blob of something black to suddenly engulf your hand.

You suck in a sharp breath, eyes widening and arm flinging to the side as you try to fling whatever the hell is on you away, and go to release it in a scream, only for a hand to clamp around your mouth from behind, nails painfully digging into the fat of your cheek. There’s a numbingly cold presence at your back, and your ears twitch at the ragged breathing in your ear.

You know before you look down and see the dark, ghoulish hand that it’s a curse, and you gag as the scent of rotting flesh floods your nostrils. The sound of your bedroom door lock clicking into place reaches your ears, and your eyes snap up to see Getou leaning against it, hands clasped in front of him as he looks at you through his lashes, head tilted down so his chin reaches his chest.

“Your mother doesn’t know when to shut up.” He sighs, and then he’s pushing away from the door and sheathing his hands back into his sleeves, eyes slowly taking in your room. “A second longer and you would have gotten that text off. To Satoru, I’m assuming?” The blob that had engulfed your hand plops down to the floor, and you gag again at the sticky liquid that drips from your palm and onto the carpet.

Getou splays out his palm, and then the phone is spat out and up from the curse before landing in his hand. He glances down at the screen and tsks. “I should kill them right now.”

You scream into the curse’s palm, your head frantically shaking wide to side as best it can. The nails dig in deeper, and you moan in pain, your own hands moving to attempt to free yourself, only for the thing’s other hand to snag ahold of your wrists and wrench them behind your back.

“They were supposed to be dead two hours ago, but I figured I’d let you have a few more moments with them for old times sake.” He smiles as he stoops to look at a picture on your bedside table — it’s one that you had taken the winter before Getou had turned into what he was now. You were sandwiched between him and Gojo, a grin on the white haired man’s face as he leaned his elbow on the top of your head. You were in the middle of sending your fist into his stomach (that of which had been blocked by his infinity, you faintly recall) while Getou watched the two of you with a small smile on his face.

It was the last picture that the three of you had taken together, and you had thrown it away countless times, only to later find yourself rooting through the bin as you frantically searched through it.

Your eyes fill with tears once again.

“Those were fun times, yeah?” He comes to a stop in front of you, and the curse that had been restraining you suddenly lets you go. It steps around you, and you watch, frozen, as it takes hurried steps out of your room. You gasp in a breath, your hands flying to his robes as you clench them in your fists.

“I’m begging you,” you croak, the tears freely falling down your cheeks. “Please don’t do this, Suguru. Please don’t hurt them.”

“They have no place in my world.”

“Honey…do you see that? Oh my God, do you see that?”

“Suguru!” You wail.

“But you…” His hands move to cup the sides of your face, and you sob when you hear the first scream. “You do.”

#getou x reader #geto x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader