#Floor solo career

[a-silent-symphony]

Floor Jansen by © Laura Zalenga

[the-save-place-art]

Floor Jansen talking about her debut solo album, self - knowing and happiness on FaceCulture interview.

[readwritealldayallnight]

(part of the ‘Wife at First Sight’ series)

The newlyweds hold each other close, bodies swaying in time with the music that plays through rented speakers in the dance hall, their loved ones gathered around to watch their first dance.

Every guest in attendance is sporting a smile as they gaze upon the happy couple, some even have tears brimming close to their lash lines, threatening to spill over. There is no doubt that today is a day every in attendance will remember for a long time.

You and Simon however…

Well, the two of you are happy for the newlyweds, of course, no doubt about it. You’re very grateful that your sister included you in her wedding party. But when one of Simon’s large hands happened to slip into yours when the DJ asked everyone to gather around the dance floor to watch the couple’s first dance, he hardly had to give you much of a tug to steer you towards one of the darker corners of the decorated space.

Turning to face you, he offered you his extended hand along with a raised brow in question. Slipping your smaller hand into his bare palm, both of you pointedly ignoring the spark that shot through your nerves at the slight touch, you allow him to hesitantly pull you closer and closer, until there isn’t any air left between your bodies, your figures moulding together as though you were simply chunks of clay on a pottery wheel, two separate pieces becoming one.

Instinctually, as though the two of you have held each other like this countless times beforehand, your arms snake around his neck while his large palms come to land on the small of your waist, the room too dark for you to see how his hands hold the slightest tremble to them

Simon can’t recall if his hands have ever shaken while on duty, and if they have, it was in the very early days of his career, too long ago to even be remembered. His confidence in himself and his abilities too strong to allow for any nerves to seep through and put a tremble in his steady hands. With you however…

When it comes to you, Simon finds himself in uncharted territory, in unfamiliar waters. He doesn’t have anyone on comms to tell him how to do this, no briefing to go over the plan, no Captain giving him orders he can follow to a T like the good soldier he is. For someone who had become so used to working solo for years, he’s finding himself at a constant loss when it comes to pulling the trigger with you.

But now, with your smaller body held so gently but firmly in his strong arms as you sway together to the melody, no one else aware to the private moment you two are having in the shadows, he can’t imagine going on any longer without this being his reality. No more pretending, no more charades, he wanted the real thing. And that alone terrified him more than any RPG or close combat fight ever had.

As the night wraps up, Simon hangs back and watches you hug your sister and new brother in law, watches you bid your goodbyes to fellow friends and family members, watches you fetch a coat for an older aunt who’d misplaced it, watches you ruffle your young nephew’s hair as he sleeps on his mothers shoulder, watches you spin and stroll and saunter about the space leaving everyone you interact with wearing a smile, all while he thinks to himself, wife wife wife wife wife wi-

My wife

If you would have asked him, he planned on blaming the slight breeze outside during your walk from the venue back to the car, as to why he removed his blazer and draped it over your shoulders. But like everything else that happened between the two of you, you didn’t question it, instead choosing to enjoy the warmth that the jacket emanated, along with the lingering smell of Ghost clinging to the fabric

Nor did you have anything to say when you felt his pinky finger brush yours once, twice, three times before he was threading his thick, calloused fingers together with your softer ones, each of you silently relishing in the others touch

As he did every time the two of you happened to drive together, he opened your door for you, still holding onto your palm as he helped you in. Tonight however, unlike any other time, instead of shutting the door and coming around to the drivers side right away, Simon instead grabbed ahold of the seatbelt before you had a chance to, slowly reaching over you to buckle you in, your cheeks warming at the gesture

The drive back to base was quieter than usual. Already known for being a man of few words, you had grown accustomed to the way you apparently brought the fearsome Lieutenant out of his shell for you and you only. You occasionally filled the otherwise comfortable silence with comments about the wedding, remarks about the decor, complaints about the music choice, joking about how much fun you’d had introducing everyone to your husband, all while he sat quietly in the drivers seat

Though his ever stoic expression did not betray his inner thoughts, his mind was racing a mile a minute, trying to figure out how to open his mouth and just say what he wants to say. He remembers learning somewhere that car rides are often a useful environment for having difficult conversations, as it is easier to talk and let things out without having the pressure of someone watching you, and you looking back at them.

He has to do it. He will do it. If he doesn’t do it now, when else will he ever work up the courage to say what he’s been feeling since the very second he laid eyes on you and knew who you would be to him

“-honestly though, I don’t think anyone was expecting my uncle to start dancing like th-”

“Love, can I-” Simon interrupts you, his hands tightening around the steering wheel as he takes a steadying inhale and braces himself. You glance at him for a moment, not minding that he’s cut you off, as you’d been wondering what was going on in that head of his, almost able to hear the gears turning in his brain as he drove. “I need to say somethin’.”

“Okay.”

“And I don’t-” He can’t help but take another deep breath, unsure of how to go about this. “I don’t know how to-”

This time, it’s you who cuts him off, when you shift in your seat and reach a delicate hand out to rest on his bicep, offering the slightest squeeze of reassurance. He takes his eyes off the road just long enough to glance down at where your hand lays on his muscle, feeling as if his he’s been shocked where you touch him, even with the clothing separating your skin from his, the simple gesture giving him just enough confidence to say what he needs you to hear

“I don’t have much to offer you, love.” He begins by saying, his death grip on the steering wheel loosening more and more every second he feels the weight of your hand still resting on him, letting him know you’re there. “My job- it’s dangerous. I know you know that, but I haven’t a family member left alive because o’ what I do. I haven’t a single friend outside o’ my own bloody task force. I’ve got a small flat in the city I only see maybe five times out o’ the year. I don’t- I don’t have much, love.”

Simon takes another breath, grounding himself as he feels your thumb stroking his arm through the fabric of his button-up, still listening to him, still here with him.

“But if I had you, swee’heart. If I really had you, had you as my wife,” he has to stop to clear this throat, his emotions seeping through into his words. “If I had you as my wife, I’d have the whole world. That’s all I want. All I need.”

It’s your turn to stew in silence for what in actuality is only a few moments, but for Simon it feels like an eternity and a half, every possible worst case scenario he’d ever thought up flashing through his mind with every passing second you don’t say anything.

“Wait,” you finally reply, the storm in his head halting at the sound of your voice. “Simon, do you- are you- are you saying you like me???”

That… that was not what Simon was expecting you to have to say after all that

“Er- yes.”

“Simon!” You squeal, the gentle hand on his arm now swatting at him repeatedly. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?! I had no idea!”

Were it anyone else, Simon would be downright bewildered with how truly and utterly blind you’ve been these past few months, only now putting two and two together as to his true feelings for you. But because it is you, he can’t help the light chuckle that slips free from between his lips

“You know what, you’re right lovie. I should’ve been more clear.” He says, only half-joking.

“But wait, I- I don’t understand. You- isn’t there someone else? I mean- I helped you pick a ring for someone-”

You watch as Simon readjusts his grip on the steering wheel so that he’s driving with one hand, the other reaching across to the glove compartment in front of you, pulling it open to reveal nothing out of the ordinary; the car’s starter manual, a flashlight, an extra pair of gloves, a ring bo-

A ring box

But not just any ring box

You know it as soon as your eyes land on it, and you can’t help the gasp that comes out of you, even this late at night in the darkness of the car with shadows whooshing past constantly, you recognize that box right away

You helped pick it out after all

“It’s your ring, love.” You hear Simon whisper, his outstretched hand hesitantly reaching out to smooth over your knee, recognizing that things are starting to make sense to you after all this time. “It could only ever be for you. There is only you.”

Your trembling fingers pull the box from its hiding spot, bringing it to rest in your palms on your lap, cradling it as though it were the most precious thing you ever held

You don’t realize that Simon is pulling the car over to rest on the curb, until you feel the parking brakes being put on, your eyes finally glancing up to meet his own steady gaze. Gaze locked with yours, he slowly reaches out to pluck the box from your hands, tilting the top open to reveal the very same piece of jewelry you’d unknowingly chosen for yourself. But your eyes never drift down to catch the diamond sparkling in the light, instead staying directly on his, something much more precious and priceless unfolding between the two of you

You’ve known Simon for months now, have spent countless hours talking, laughing, getting to know each other more deeply than anyone else has known you in years. In all that time, never once did you question his mask, nor did you ever ask to see what was underneath, respecting that it was part of what made him him

Now however, your eyes widen as you watch his fingers slip beneath the ear loops of his simple black medical mask, before he slowly brings it down, revealing a scarred, pale, vulnerable, and handsome face beneath

The gesture is not lost on you; Simon is truly baring himself completely to you, no more hiding behind jokes or masks or anything

“Love,” he begins, clearing his throat once more before he asks the most important question of his life. “Would you make me the happiest man alive and marry m-”

You’ve cut him off again

But not with your words, nor your reassuring touch

No, this time you cut him off by reaching forward to grasp the collar of his shirt and pulling him towards you, lips meeting in a passionate crash that feels as though time has stopped and the earth stands still, a feeling that leaves you certain that no one else on the surface of the earth has ever felt something as deeply, as world shattering as this

You’re finally kissing Simon

Simon is finally kissing you

Pulling back for air, you don’t dare go any farther than where you can lean your forehead against his, each of you panting, with grins stretching across your kiss-swollen lips

“Take that as a yes.”

“Oh my gosh,” You laugh along with him, your shared breaths warming the others reddening faces. “Just wait until we tell everyone!”

Simon isn’t sure how to break it to you, that you might just in fact be the last person to find out about this

If you’ve made it this far into the series, I wanted to say thank you so so so much for reading and thank you for your patience between uploads!!!

This will not be the last part to Wife at First Sight- I’m hoping to make one last NSFW part to wrap it all up, but I wanted it to be separate from this upload in case anyone wasn’t wanting to read the 18+

- M 🫶🏻

[seiwas]

you're the reason (i got a weakness) | miya atsumu

wc: 2.9k

summary: it’s not that atsumu doesn't like you dressing up like this—in fact, he loves it. just not when you're fighting. not when he can't even call you "baby".

contains: post-timeskip atsumu, arguments and atsumu feeling really sorry, flashbacks, uses the nickname “baby” & “my love”, reader is described as “pretty” and wears heels, hurt/comfort.

a/n: atsumu isn’t a sucky boyfriend he just gets carried away sometimes. song inspo: can you blame me? - kehlani, lucky daye.

part of the in's and out's new year/birthday event | request prompt: making yourself look good to feel good (your partner has something to say to you)

sponsored by @itskilau and @tasoyoru for the @ficsforgaza initiative. please check it out and support if you can!

“Bab—”

Atsumu lingers by your bathroom door, eyes drooping lower and sadder than they ever have. The steam makes the bleached strands of his hair cling to his forehead, his thick eyebrows now damp and flattened. 

You sigh, the big, heavy, and deep kind, shoulders dropping as you clasp the lock of your necklace.

He stares. 

That’s his job. You always ask him to do it the moment you step out of the shower. 

His lip trembles, eyes watery.

“Not now, Atsumu.”

You walk past him as you adjust the towel around your chest, your arm brushing against his. It’s a small thing, a sensation ingrained so deeply into the past two years you’ve been together, but he feels it like it’s the first time you ever touched him—and in a way, it is. Since yesterday, at least. 

The silence that trails after you is so deafeningly still, he thinks he can hear his heart breaking. 

“Atsumu,” your voice rings. 

Who the hell is “Atsumu”? 

He’s not supposed to be “Atsumu” to you. He’s “Tsum.” He’s “baby.” He’s “my love.”

Anything but “Atsumu.”

When you close the door of your walk-in closet to change, the metaphorical volleyball of hope floating right into the palm of his hand misses and drops straight to the floor. 

It started with volleyball, as all things with Atsumu do. 

You’d met him at the rise of his career, just a few years of him being pro. You were friends first, but if you ask anyone around Atsumu, they’d tell you you were never just a friend to him; he’d invited you to all his games and practice matches, spent a bit more time in the locker rooms before going out for dinner with you and the rest of the team. 

Osamu has the receipts of all the extra orders of onigiri Atsumu started adding to his regular weekly subscription since meeting you. 

Your first ‘date’ was Atsumu treading the very fine line between teaching you how to play volleyball and teaching himself self-control. Keeping an eye on the ball is hard enough, what more when he has to resist staring at you in very cute volleyball shorts too? 

As MSBY’s success skyrocketed, so did Atsumu’s—brand deals left and right, solo work trips during off seasons, commercials; the whole thing. When Atsumu wasn’t training, he was either traveling  or attending events and photoshoots. Always on-the-go. Moving. 

And he knew you understood, knew you knew him and his tendencies to overwork; knew him, and his habit of getting stuck inside his own world. You’d driven to late practices with bento boxes to share, and you’d packed his gym bag more than a few times, brought in extra clothes without him having to say a word.

You’ve managed his lifestyle better than anyone could.

But, Atsumu has a bad habit of promising more than he should, of serving white lies just as easily as he does volleyballs behind the service line. 

“Won’t take long, baby. Swear it,” he holds on to the wall by your door, slipping his feet inside his dress shoes. “Pick ya up at 6:00?” 

He’d winked at you then, kissed you between your eyebrows and nose before sneaking one more right at that spot underneath your ear.

What he’d give to be able to do that right now. 

“Okay,” you giggle, swatting his chest as you nod, “better hurry then, you might be late.” 

When Atsumu remembers that moment, the way you’d agreed so doubtlessly, he hates himself even more. You trusted him, have trusted him so wholeheartedly this entire time, so maybe you’re right—

“Would it hurt for you to just be honest?” 

—Atsumu has no excuse standing you up on the date he promised you weeks ago all because he lost track of time in some brand event, listening to a potential collaboration on volleyball shoes. Atsumu has no excuse agreeing to “some drinks” right after just to meet the executives of the company. 

There are meetings for those things, ones that can be scheduled and agreed upon. Ones that don’t compromise or add on to the already long list of missed dates with you. 

“I know you’re busy and I understand,” you sigh, turning the knob of the kitchen stove as you heat up the kettle, “you know I do.” 

He stands before you a quarter past 11:00 p.m., cologne long faded and the smell of alcohol spilled on his sleeve. The kitchen island stands like a net on the court, the ball being sent over to his side. 

“Baby, I—”

He passes it back.

You turn from the stove, face fresh and hair tied into a messy low bun as you look at him—how could he have ever stood this–you–up?

You take the ball, “Can I finish what I have to say first?” 

He nods. The kettle begins whizzing.

“I’m happy and so, so proud that you have all these opportunities,” you reach for the cupboard above head to grab a mug. The box of tea bags sits to your right, a mix of Lemon Balm and Chamomile that Atsumu swears keeps his anxieties at bay during the night. “But at least tell me if you can’t make it.” 

You tear open a tea packet, dangling it inside the mug. The kettle whistles, and he feels the onset of a spike. 

“Please don’t keep my hopes up every time.” 

You turn back towards the stove, turning the burner off as you pour in the steaming water inside the mug. 

“Baby, I swear, they just–they started talkin’ ‘bout these shoes, ‘n I thought t’was cool, ‘n the execs–they said the execs’d be there in the afterparty, and—” he breathes, “won’t happen next time, baby. ‘M so—” 

“Can I really believe you next time?”

You approach the kitchen island slowly, holding the piping hot mug carefully as you set it down in front of him. 

Atsumu stood you up on your date, and you still made him tea. 

You hold his stare for a brief moment before you walk away, sadness and disappointment all-in-one.

It is now that Atsumu knows, he’s fucked up.

The ball lands on his side of the court. 

And so, he’s spent this entire day trying to make it up to you—breakfast in the morning, right before training (which he absolutely tanked because all he could think about was how sad you looked the night before); flowers that he brought home after lunch time, just to find the apartment empty. It’s only after a full text thread and three missed calls to your phone that he finally gets a response.

“Nail appointment. Going out tonight,” is your reply (using speech-to-text too, he suspects, with how formal it sounds). 

Which is fine and dandy to him; you should do everything that makes you feel better after he practically took you for granted. It’s just—he hasn’t even said sorry yet, can’t even call you “baby”, can’t even touch you even though he really, really, really wants to. 

And now, with you closing the door on him while you’re changing—there’s nothing else he can do, really, but to walk away and give you some space. 

He shifts his feet, dragging them lightly against the wooden floors of your bedroom.

The moment he hears the door of your walk-in closet slide open, he hurriedly sits down on the edge of your bed, acting as if he wasn’t just anxiously pacing, waiting for you to come out. 

He feels like shit, if he’s being honest—like how he does when he misses a serve; if not, worse. 

You look good. Make-up done to only emphasize the features he loves (which is your entire face, really), and your outfit perfectly accentuating the dips and curves of your body. 

He follows you as you exit the room, tailing after you like a lost puppy. When you stop by your entryway, all he can do is watch as you bend down to put on the straps of your heels. And it sucks, because if you weren’t fighting, Atsumu would be right by your feet, crouched low so that you wouldn’t have to. 

It’s pathetic and a little helpless of him to just stand and stare in the middle of your living room. He should say something at least, but, you just look so good, and his throat feels dry; his heart all achy and stomach twisty. 

He doesn’t want to be away from you. 

And it’s not that he doesn’t like you going out looking like this—he loves it. But as soon as you step out the door with a soft “don’t wait up for me” mumbled from your glossed lips, Atsumu can only taste bitter regret at the fact that he wishes he were coming with you. 

He couldn’t even give you a goodbye kiss. 

The blond groans, pulling at his hair as he rests his elbows down on the kitchen counter. 

“Don’t wait up for me,” you said. As if he can even sleep without you around. 

.

.

.

The hours go by but they feel like days. Atsumu’s done every possible thing he can do in this apartment and it still hasn’t breached 11:00 p.m.. He’s cleaned down the kitchen (twice!) and arranged the food inside the fridge like those ‘stock up my fridge with me’ tiktoks he’s seen on Sakusa’s phone. The clothes on his side of the closet have been arranged by color and length, with all the ones in his dresser refolded, Marie Kondo style. He’s also pretty sure he’s scrubbed the bathroom down enough that you can probably see your reflection on the tiles of the damn thing. The laundry baskets for both your clothes are now empty, and he’s changed the bedsheets too and—

He’s still restless. The numbers on the clock taunt him, moving up agonizingly slowly. He can’t stop looking at the time, itching for you to come home. 

Atsumu is sorry, so so so incredibly so, because you’re right―he hasn’t been fair to you at all, and he needs you to know that he knows it, too. 

His eyes go over the clock again, only a minute having passed since the last time he checked it. 

Is this how you felt? Every time you waited for him to come home for a date he promised you? 

He squeezes his eyes; it hurts him just thinking about it. 

That’s it, he decides, grabbing his phone and wallet as he walks out the door. 

. 

.

.

Atsumu doesn’t check your location often (maybe only a few times). It’s not a trust thing, he swears; it’s just for when he wants to make sure you’re somewhere safe, or in a place he can reach you should you need him there. 

And, you clearly don’t need him right now, but, Atsumu is a little selfish, he admits. 

Sitting at home with all his regret feels worse than seeking you out to beg for your forgiveness, whether you want him to or not. 

He’s barely dressed for the venue as he steps inside the bar, a pair of sweatpants and a white t-shirt with those fashionable Birkenstock clogs on. A few people seem to recognize him, tilting their heads and murmuring among themselves as he walks through door, but none of them approach him, thankfully, except for a server asking if he needs assistance. 

His eyes scan the tables first, searching for any semblance of the outfit he’d seen you leave in earlier. The dim lights make it increasingly difficult for him to look for your properly as he squints his eyes some more, narrowing his vision to the people at the front bar this time. It’s after the fourth person he dismisses that he feels himself getting desperate, nearly turning towards the server beside him to ask for help.

Until he spots you—tucked in the corner of the front bar, sitting on the barstool with your legs crossed as you swirl around your drink. 

You look bored, and a little sad, chin resting in your hand as you lean your elbow on the table. 

He frowns, thanking the server on the side as he makes his way to you slowly. You barely notice him as you bring out your phone, tapping on the screen as you stare at it almost longingly―a photo of you and him some time ago after one of his games. He knows it well, can still remember that day so clearly: when he became a PR nightmare because he couldn’t help but announce your relationship by kissing you in front of everybody. 

It makes his chest hurt. 

Then, you swipe it open, and he’s close enough now to be able to catch a glimpse of what’s on your screen: your text thread with him, his last message being, “Did you make it safely?” 

(You pout, eyes pricking with tears. You didn’t reply to him then because you weren’t ready to fully talk to him yet, still upset and disappointed. 

It was easy to make yourself feel better by dressing up and stepping out of the apartment earlier, the promise of good drinks and good company awaiting your arrival; you couldn’t think about how you felt if you were busying yourself with others. But now that all of those feelings have died down and most of your friends have started chatting up other people they’ve found, it’s beginning to hit you all at once just how much you still prefer Atsumu’s company more than anything else.

Your fingers hover over your text box, typing and deleting. Typing and deleting.) 

He’s two stools away from you now, and he can barely contain it―

“Baby,” his voice trembles, unsteady. 

Recognition fills you as you turn to the sound, half-confused at whether you’re hearing things; whether―

(“Tsum,” you mutter, eyes catching a pair of familiar warm brown staring back at you. His bottom lip quivers, the embodiment of a dam starting to crack, vibrating.

Your emotions are a mess, your breath on hold as you feel tears welling up in your lashline too. You still feel upset, still a little sad, and a tiny bit disappointed, but what coats them all is a sense of relief because—)

―he’s here, standing in front of you like he just rolled out of the house with barely enough time to get dressed (which, you’re sure is exactly how things went), and you’re sliding off the bar stool in the prettiest outfit, looking like the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. 

“‘M so sorry,” he breathes out, stepping closer as he grabs your hand, “Don’t ever wanna make y’feel like that again.” His knee gives way as he starts sinking to the floor, “I won’t do that anymore―” 

“Tsum,” you try to call his attention.

He’ll beg for your forgiveness whether you like it or not. 

(The interaction is causing nearby tables to look, murmurs and whispers in your periphery as you catch vague sentences here and there. He still is a public figure, after all.) 

But Atsumu is unaware, looking at you and you alone as he pleads, “No, please hear me out first. I promise I’ll tell ‘em they can speak ‘ta―” 

“Tsum,” you squeeze his hand, whispering more firmly as you try to pull him up. 

“Baby, please. Gimme the chance ‘ta show ya that I―”

(You look around and notice even more eyes on the two of you, fond looks on their faces as they prepare their phones for what seems like something momentous. Then it hits you, how this looks―)

“Tsum, please stand up,” you tug at his hand strongly, urging him to stand. His eyebrows furrow as he obliges, only comprehending why when you explain it to him softly, “people were starting to think you were about to propose.” 

He pauses for a moment, a slight, “Oh,” as he ponders on it. “Well, if that’s what’ll prove it t’ya, then—” 

You roll your eyes, the corners of your lips curling slightly as you hit his shin with your foot and squeeze his hand again, “Don’t joke about things like that.” 

Well, it’s not the first time it’s crossed his mind, if he’s being honest. 

He sighs, sitting on the stool beside you as he rubs his thumb over your hand again, bringing it close to his lips to kiss softly. 

“‘M really sorry, baby,” he mumbles against your skin before moving your hand over his heart. “Don’t ever want ya feelin’ like this again.” 

“I know,” you give him a small smile, patting down some of the strands of his hair that stick out, “you didn’t have to come out here though, you know. I was about to go home soon, anyway.” 

“Can ya blame me? Seein’ ya off like that?” he grips your hand tighter as his voice softens. “Y’re too pretty to be sad,” he plays with your fingers, intertwining them with his.

You hit his shin again, feeling shy. You always do when Atsumu likes to sweet-talk you. 

“Do ya forgive me?” he asks after some time, as you take the last few sips of your drink. 

You hum, looking him in the eyes as you nod, pouting, “I don’t like being mad at you, you know.” He lights up, beaming, but you add on, “We still have to talk about it properly, though. Later, when we get back.” 

He nods in agreement, holding your hand as you slide off the barstool, guiding you out of the bar and into the car. 

. 

.

.

(You both do talk about it properly, and the next time Atsumu promises you a date, he blocks it out of all of his calendars, sending the date to his manager even, just to be extra sure.) 

a/n: this has been such a long time coming, i'm sorry to those who waited! i hope you enjoyed even though this simmered with me for way too long 😭 i love writing atsumu a little lovesick but i also think he deserves someone who is equally as in deep as he is 🥺

thank you notes: to 🍧 anon for helping me figure out "what would make you mad at atsumu?" and to @ceroseis and @mieiri for always listening to my shenanigans pre-writing!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[thoughtfulfiction]

Carpe Diem

Author’s Note: We all miss him. So I wrote the most romantic thing I’ve ever written.

A glass of chilled Savasana California Rosé sat in front of you, its diluted pink hue a stark contrast to the sweet yet crisp taste. With a fork in hand you begin to dig into the chicken parmesan with strozzapreti pasta, the chunky tomato sauce brings a rich and comforting smell that shifts your attention from the constant hum of the plane's engine. Eating dinner on a plane like this—silverware instead of plastic cutlery, wine served in real glass—felt oddly surreal. This whole trip did, like you’d stumbled into someone else’s life.

You hadn’t always pictured yourself in this life—a corner office in Berkeley, managing accounts worth millions and rubbing elbows with executives. The internship you’d applied for during your junior year of college was meant to be a stepping stone, a way to pad your resume and have something cool to look back on the future. You hadn’t expected it to become the foundation of a career at a place ranked 7th among the largest biomedical companies by revenue in the world. And here you were sipping rosé in first class on your way to a solo vacation in Greece. Somehow, it had all come together. Your first year making six figures was surreal enough, but now the freedom to spend it on something like this felt even more unbelievable.

The hotel room you would be calling home for the next few days was stretched out like it came straight out of a travel magazine. Everything about it screamed neutral paradise, highlighting the warmth of the space. Plush pillows stacked neatly atop the Temper-Pedic king sized bed that earned the hotel all five of its stars with just one glance. The open layout gave the impression of a private condo, complete with a sleek mini bar and an espresso machine that practically begged to be used. The view from the top floor was breathtaking, floor-to-ceiling glass windows that made way for the vibrant blue skies that allowed the sun to shine at it's greatest capacity, reflecting off the marble from the streets of southern Athens below. And the colors were so dynamic; olive groves, fields of breathtaking wildflowers and citrus trees brought the city to life. Everything reminded you of a landscape painting, it was all so perfect you almost had to pinch yourself to make sure you were really here.

But before your Athens takeover could really commence, you needed a nap. Or three.

Day one passed in a blissful haze of recovery. After a nap that could have doubled as a small coma, you walked by the hotel’s pool, taking in the sparkling water and the soft chatter of other guests lounging under striped umbrellas. Breakfast that morning was a feast fit for royalty, an omelet folded to perfection, fresh fruit that tasted like sunshine, and Moustokouloura, a pastry so rich and sweet it felt like dessert at dawn. The concierge insisted you try Greek coffee, and when the steaming cup arrived at your door, its strong, earthy aroma greeted you like a wake-up call from the gods. You took it to the patio, sipping as you let the city below slowly introduce itself. This is exactly where you're supposed to be. Athens was filled with color, sound, and possibility. This was freedom, pure and simple.

Feeling refreshed on your second morning after some extensive Tik Tok research about things to do in Athens, you walked around the streets of Plaka, by far the most recommended place on the site. And it didn't take long for you to understand why. The neighborhood was a collection of some of the most beautiful brick buildings, an array of restaurants with uniquely placed outdoor seating. The air carried the mingling scents of fresh pita, grilling souvlaki, and blooming jasmine. Laughter and snippets of conversation floated from café tables spilling onto the sidewalks, where diners lingered over plates of mezes and glasses of ouzo. You walked slowly, admiring every square inch of the place like you were going to commit every detail to memory, stumbling upon a store with random trinkets you figured you could take home to your friends and tell them what they were getting themselves into when you all would be in Greece together eventually. Now that you'd experienced this on your own, you couldn't wait to share this experience with them next time. The first person you spotted when you walked in was a tall man, well over six feet, broad shoulders with his back facing the door. He was sexy from the back which meant...no. You shook yourself out of the daydream about what this man could possibly look like because of course men in Greece looked better. That was some sort of law or something based on every movie you'd ever seen. The book shelf at the front of the store caught your eye first, a Greek guide book with common phrases for tourists to know, things that maybe Duolingo wouldn't think of so you grabbed it, scanning the pages for useful information. You tried to focus on the guidebook in your hands, but your nerves betrayed you. An older man’s gaze prickled at your skin, a quiet warning sounding in your mind. Maybe it was nothing, you told yourself. He could just be a curious local. But by the third lap around the shop and you could still feel his eyes in you, the goosebumps on your arms had turned into a full-blown alarm.

The man was closer now, his steps too deliberate to be a coincidence. By the time he spoke, his voice was low and overly familiar, the kind of tone that made your stomach twist. “Hi. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “I just... couldn’t help noticing you.”

You swallowed thickly, hoping to keep the conversation short, sweet and with as little personal information exchanged as humanly possible. "Yes. Just visiting," you force out a smile.

"Ah I see, those are pretty," he gestures toward the necklaces in your hand, "pretty necklaces for a pretty lady. Does the pretty lady have a name?"

"Um," you wanted to take a step back, you wanted to walk away, but there was literally no way out of this situation because he was standing in between you and the exit. And for some reason you couldn't think of a fake name off the top of your head to give him. "It's—”

“Oh hey, babe. There you are,” a deep voice interrupted. Your head whipped around, and there he was—broad shoulders, a jawline sharp enough to rival a Greek statue. He had the kind of easy confidence that made your heart skip a beat. Mr. Broad Shoulders slid his arm around you, his touch casual but protective, the warmth of his hand anchoring you in place but doubling your pulse rate for a different reason. “Thought you wanted those charm bracelets, but you disappeared on me.”

“I got distracted.” Your gaze flickered upward, caught on the sun-kissed curl falling across his forehead. He smelled faintly of cinnamon, like he’d been leaning over a freshly lit candle moments before swooping in to save you.

The man takes a look at the two of you and apologizes, walking away without a second glance. You let out a sigh of relief, "thanks for the save, I really didn't know what to do and you just-I really appreciate it."

"No worries, I saw him following you around and thought it was weird. Glad I could help."

You look around to make sure the man from before, spotting him circling the back area with the pasties. "It's...very weird. He didn’t seem like he’d back down that easily."

“I’m Joe, by the way. Since I’m your boyfriend now, that seems like something you should know.”

You laughed, the tension in your chest finally easing. “Yeah, probably. Nice to meet you, Joe. I’m Y/N, your very grateful girlfriend.”

Joe leaned down slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper meant just for you. “He’s still watching us. Mind if I sell this a little more?” Without waiting for an answer, he adjusted his grip, his arm tightening around your shoulders like he’d been holding you this way forever. It was seamless, effortless, entirely too convincing. And it left you speechless. All you could do was nod, looking up at him, thinking about how this guy might be the most gorgeous person you've ever seen.

The two of you moved around the store aimlessly, the conversation flowing like you’d known each other for longer than half an hour. Joe explained he’d been in Greece for a few days, taking time to decompress after a grueling work season. “Sometimes, I just need to step away,” he said, his voice carrying a quiet sincerity that struck a chord.

“I get that,” you replied, sharing your own story of navigating your career and this newfound independence. You admitted, almost sheepishly, that sometimes your job didn’t feel like work because it aligned with your passions so perfectly. Joe nodded, his expression softening. “That’s how I feel,” he said. “I mean, this year it really magnified that for me. But sometimes when things don't go the way you hoped or planned, it makes the sacrifices worth more. Like not having as much free time when I'm working. Now, I have endless free time."

There was something magnetic about him—not just the broad shoulders and effortless charm, but the way he seemed so present. Every touch felt intentional, whether it was his hand on your back as you navigated tight spaces or his offer to buy the travel book you’d been thumbing through. You felt a strange sense of familiarity, like you’d seen him somewhere before but couldn’t quite place it.

After carefully deliberating over the trinkets, you settled on matching necklaces for your friends. On your way to the register, a woman approached, her expression warm and animated.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she began, “but I just had to tell you—you two make the most stunning couple. The way you look at each other, it’s just... beautiful. Are you here on an anniversary trip?”

“One year,” Joe answered without hesitation, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he squeezed your hand.

“That’s incredible! Congratulations!” the woman gushed. “Athens is the perfect place to explore as a couple. Do you have plans yet?”

You chimed in, “Not really. We were just going to see where the day takes us.”

The woman nodded enthusiastically and rattled off recommendations, from must-visit landmarks to hidden culinary gems. You took notes on your phone, her suggestions igniting your excitement for the day ahead. Out of the corner of his eye, Joe watched you with a kind of awe. The way your face lit up when you talked about exploring the city tugged at something deep inside him.

He’d spent the last four days locked away in his room, trying to process a season that had been equal parts triumph and heartbreak. It wasn’t just the physical toll of the game—it was the sting of being so close to the pinnacle and falling short. They had gone from 4-8 to 9-8 in what felt like the blink of an eye. The unmet expectations that he had for the team dulled his personal success a bit and he needed to escape after watching other teams prepare for their playoff runs while he cleaned out his locker. He just wanted to recharge and regroup…alone. And here you were, an unexpected spark in the midst of his self-imposed solitude.

When the woman finally bid you goodbye, you hesitated. Should you ask him to join you? The idea of spending the day with a stranger—no matter how kind and gorgeous—felt bold, maybe too bold. But being alone again felt... unbearable. You decided against asking because the thought of rejection was a step above unbearable, if at all possible.

“Well,” you began, your voice faltering slightly, “I guess this is it. I should probably head to my next stop now that I have a to-do list.” You forced a small laugh, keeping your gaze on the floor.

Joe nodded, his smile tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. I hope you check off everything on your list.”

He watched you walk away, his chest tightening with each step. He wanted to stop you, to ask you to stay, but the words wouldn’t come. All he could do was stand there, frozen, as the door swung open.

You paused just before stepping outside. Something tugged at you—a feeling that walking away now would be a mistake.

Turning back, you smiled shyly. “I just realized... how am I supposed to experience Athens to its full potential without my boyfriend? On our anniversary trip, no less?”

Joe’s laugh was warm, easy. “No idea. Luckily, I think I know someone who can help.”

“You’re always so helpful. I feel like I won the dating lottery.”

“Can’t disagree,” he teased, his grin widening.

“Alright,” you said, nudging him playfully, “let’s get out of here before your head gets so big it doesn’t fit through the door.”

He walked out with you, allowing you to lead the way to your first stop.

Fairytale Athens looked like an intense mix between the Garden of Eden and Alice in Wonderland. "This is...wow," Joe quips, the vast array of flowers on the ceiling, the pink bar area and the flamingos. So many flamingos.

You could tell by his tight expression that this place isn't really his scene. "We're not here for two hours of afternoon tea or anything," you reassure him with a smile, "Dimitra said that we should grab drinks before walking around Acropolis and that..." you glance at the menu in front of you, "...strawberry ginger lemonade? That might be calling my name." He shakes his head and orders a mint and cucumber lemonade for himself, your lemonade and two waters as you walk around the princess castle, taking as many pictures as possible before Joe walked back over with all four drinks in hand before heading to the incredibly famous tourist attraction.

The package you paid for allowed you to skip the line and head through a side entrance, your tour guide walking you through the history of the ancient sights along with details about the architectural styles, construction techniques, and the symbolism of the monuments. The faint echo of the voices highlighted the rich history of the place you were standing in, the warm air a stark contrast to the cool lemonade in your hand. It seemed like Joe was hanging onto every word as he helped you up some steep ancient steps, his eyes lighting up as the guide drove you over to the museum, going into depth about the Gods.

"This exhibit is Gods, Worship and Magic, one of the most popular sites this year. You guys can walk around and read about the different deities featured." Artemis' exhibit, caught your eye first.

Glancing down at the steel plaque, "goddess of the hunt, devoted to nature. Were you ever a Percy Jackson fan growing up?"

"I was more of a SpongeBob guy. And Star Wars. Definitely had a dinosaur phase that lasted a lot longer than I care to share," he looks up, wondering why in the hell he just told you that. "Do—do you have any humiliating stories you'd like to share with the class?"

He nudged you as you walked alongside him, his hand so dangerously close to yours. You had the biggest urge to reach out and touch him. So you did. Reaching out maybe an inch, you interlocked your pinky with his, making his heart take a leap in his chest, swinging your hands happily towards the Eros exhibit. "The god of—”

"Love and desire," he finishes for you. Just because he wasn’t a Percy Jackson fanatic, doesn’t mean he didn’t pay close attention to the Greek mythology unit in school.

"Look at the hands," you said softly, leaning in closer. "It's like they're...perfectly fit for each other, you know?"

Joe's breath hitched almost imperceptibly. He was standing so close now, the faint scent of mint and cucumber from his lemonade mingling with the earthy air of the exhibit. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice warm and low, "I know what you mean."

Your pinkies were still hooked, but now the little space between you felt electrified. You didn't dare turn to meet his eyes, afraid of what you might see—or what he might see in yours.

"I do have an embarrassing thing to share with the class," you turn to face him and admire the excited look on his face, like what you're about to say is the most important thing in the world. "When I was little I was obsessed with Mama Mia." He gives you a puzzled look. "It's a musical that they turned into a movie. Anyway...it's about a girl that's getting married in a small town in Greece and the views just..." you pause, smiling at the memory, "...changed my life. I've always wanted that magical movie moment feeling. The music, the views, the…”

"Romance?" he finishes softly, a knowing look in his eyes.

You exhale, your cheeks warming as you nod. "Yeah...the romance. It was nice too." You hesitate, the words catching in your throat. "Doesn’t really compare to the real thing, though," you add, barely above a whisper.

The weight of the moment lingers between you. His gaze searches yours, his expression softening like he wants to say something but can’t quite find the words. Your heart stumbles, and suddenly you feel too seen. You clear your throat, breaking the spell. "I'm, uh, getting kind of hungry. We should grab lunch and head to the next spot."

Joe blinks, a flicker of surprise crossing his face, like he wasn't ready for the shift. "Yeah, sure," he says, his voice gentler now. He watches you for a second longer than you'd expect, then nods. As you walk back to meet the tour guide, Joe finds himself wondering how you’ve managed to unravel him so quickly, leaving him wondering why he already feels so invested in figuring you out.

When you get into the Uber it's like a weight has been lifted off your chest. The museum, which was supposed to be a calm and educational experience was too stuffy and intimate by the end of the visit. In the car, you could have your own space, sitting as close to the door as you could to gather yourself and your thoughts. The driver was nice enough, he had chargers in the car and gave you water bottles, noting that the heat would steadily increase throughout the day. You noticed him stealing glances at Joe in the rearview mirror, his hands tightening on the wheel like he was holding back words. The silence stretched until finally—“I’m sorry, man. I just gotta say…” he finally utters out, "I've been a Bengals fan since I was 8. And I woke up at ungodly hours to watch you play every week. Huge, huge fan."

You laughed at yourself in your seat, the pieces of the puzzle being put together. All of your focus had been on the day, spending every waking minute together and you didn't even fully process why he looked so familiar because the odds of that just sounded too insane to be real. Joe managed a polite smile, his usual ease replaced with a flicker of discomfort. You glanced at him, watching his jaw tighten just slightly as he signed the hat, the faintest blush creeping up his neck. Did he worry you’d see him differently now?

The car stopped near a bustling square lined with food trucks and small cafes. The aroma of grilled meat and spices wafted through the air as you wandered, your eyes drawn to colorful menus. It didn’t take long for the debate to begin.

"Joseph, the mini burgers are definitely better than the souvlaki cones. Be serious."

"No they aren't!" He argues, "you just need to try another one, here."

The souvlaki cone was tender and smoky, the tzatziki tangy and cool against the heat of the pork. But the burger—crispy bacon, the creamy richness of the mayo—felt indulgent, almost sinful. You savored every bite, laughing at Joe’s mock-offended gasp when you declared it the winner. "I hear you and I respect your wrong opinion. But the burger is just better I'm sorry. Do you want another bite?"

He shakes his head slowly, admiring you while you did such a mundane task, silently cursing himself at the fact that he chartered a plane to leave early the next morning. The two of you needed more time together. One day just wasn't going to be enough and the more time he spent with you the more apparent that fact became.

And then you took him on a boat.

It rocked gently, but Joe’s hands gripped the edge of the seat like the waves were threatening to tip them over. His gaze darted toward the horizon, avoiding the churning water below. “You’re really not a boat guy, huh?” you teased, your voice softening when his fingers tightened further. "I'm so sorry I had no idea. But Joe? We're literally in Greece, it's like, treason not to get on a boat here."

"Exactly, so I'm abiding by the law. Doesn't mean I have to enjoy it."

Your hand found his thigh in a quiet attempt to reassure him, and you felt the tension slowly drain from his muscles. He glanced at you, his expression unreadable, but the way his leg leaned ever so slightly into your touch sent a warmth through you that lingered long after. Aegina’s coastline unfolded before you, the white-washed buildings glowing under the sun, expansive trees swaying in the breeze. Joe stepped out first, offering his hand. His grip was firm, steadying you until your feet found the solid ground. You smiled up at him, the unspoken connection between you stronger than ever.

Just as Dimitra had described to you before, the pottery studio was tucked in a quiet corner of the island. Inside, the walls were lined with vibrant pottery, each bowl and vase a testament to countless hands shaping their stories, their glazes gleaming softly in the sunlight as you and Joe grabbed seats toward the back of the room. The instructor's notes were simple, to mold an item of your choice to keep at the end of the session, giving everyone creative freedom to produce a piece of their heart's desire. The clay felt cool to the touch, it's sticky and wet texture balanced wonderfully with the earthy smell that made your experience all the more relaxing and fun. Joe on the other hand, was creating a bowl with a lopsided shape, "it's supposed to look like this," he said firmly, biting back a laugh as you tried (and failed) to keep a straight face.

"Abstract art is still art. I just thought maybe...a quarterback would be better with his hands," you teased.

"Oh yeah? Let's see your work, Picasso." He took a break from his work station to scoot closer to yours, "shit, that actually looks pretty good."

You clean your hands off and move over to his station when he sets his chair back down. "I worked at my uncle's ceramic shop when I was little. It was his passion project so we all had to pitch in as a family and take turns," you helped guide his hand along the bowl, allowing him to smooth over the ridges efficiently evening out some of the misshapen parts. "I'm not saying I’m an expert by any means but I can get you to a point where your bowl can sit up by itself." Your fingers brushed his as you guided his hand, the soft pressure of your touch steadying his movements. Together, the ridges of the bowl began to smooth, though neither of you seemed in a hurry to let go. By the end of the session both bowls were done to the best of your ability, sort of bowl shaped, sort of not and full of personality.

"You’re good at this," Joe says, watching as continued to shape your bowl.

"Good at pottery?" you ask, laughing.

"Good at making things feel...easier," he replies softly. The pottery, he thought to himself, sort of mirrored your time together-unpolished, imperfect, but full of potential and that was both exciting and daunting. After your hands were clean, he grabbed your phone and snapped a picture of the two of you showing off your bowls.

"I was scared when you mentioned doing this at first, but I actually really enjoyed that. This," he gestures to his masterpiece, "is going up somewhere, maybe next to the trophy case at my parent's house. Funny enough, they also live in Athens. Ohio, not Greece," he clarifies.

"You might've missed your true calling," you tell him with a laugh, "here you are wasting your talents on football when the art community needs you."

"Yeah...sure," he laughs, holding onto the bags with your now fully dry bowls in them. "Unfortunately, I don't think I'm ready to quit my day job. Quite frankly, I don't think the art world is ready for me yet. Although working that clay could have been really good wrist rehab."

There it was, that can of worms you'd been trying to navigate. You didn't want to push him to talk about the season or his job if he didn't want to. And now the door was open for you to ask. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to but...was it scary? You know, putting your entire life, all of your free time, your dedication to this one thing that you're obviously really good at. Putting in all that work and then one day it's all just...taken away from you?"

He stops walking for a bit and your breath hitches in your throat, fearing that you've pushed him too far. At the end of the day you were still a stranger to him and maybe that was too personal?

You could tell the question was kind of eating at him, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—”

"No it's fine. I just…yeah. I was terrified for a little bit. No one had been through this before—not at my position, not at this level. I had no blueprint, no one to turn to for advice. It felt like— walking on a tightrope in the dark, hoping I wouldn’t fall.

“The scariest part wasn’t the pain or the rehab," Joe admits. "It was not knowing if I’d still be...me when it was all over."

You tilt your head, searching his face. "You mean, the quarterback?"

He hesitates, then shakes his head. "No. Just...me. Without football, I really didn’t know who that was, how I was going to navigate fame and my private life and everything in between that comes with being me. Whatever that means. And I had an uncomfortably long amount of time to figure it out. Now that the wrist and my health is not an issue anymore and with everything that happened during the season I just felt drained afterwards. Exhausted honestly. And today's been exactly what I needed.”

"Today's been a breath a fresh air for me too. Obviously I didn't have 500 pounds of man laying on top of me but I get it on a smaller scale. Feeling like work is drowning you and nothing you do is good enough so you need to escape. This trip isn’t just a celebration," you confess. "It’s a reminder that I’m more than my deadlines and titles. My boss once called me at 11 p.m. on a Sunday, and I didn’t even blink before picking up. I guess I forgot what it felt like to just...be. I really needed a—”

"Reset," the two of you say at the same time, a comfortable silence washing over you as you continue to walk. "That’s kind of why I came here," you confess. "Not to figure out who I am, but...to remind myself I’m more than my job. More than what other people expect of me."

"Feels like everyone’s always watching, doesn’t it?" Joe says, his voice quieter. "Waiting for you to fail or...prove them right."

"Yeah. But I think we deserve more than that."

Joe sighs, nodding quietly, "We do," Joe says with a small smile. "And one day, when we get it, we’ll look back on this trip as the start of something different." He didn’t say everything he was thinking—some things needed more time to come to the surface.

"Sounds perfect, lead the way."

After you shared the world's greatest chicken gyro, you walked around Aegina a little more, realizing that you had no time to change before dinner and you'd been wearing the same clothes all day long. You walked into a small store, grabbing things off the shelf to try on. Joe was easy, settling for gray cargo pants and a blue striped knit top. Rummaging through clothes and anything that wasn't instant online shopping had become a bit of a chore and you were on a time crunch which made you feel even more rushed. You grabbed three or four dresses and had Joe sit outside the fitting room while you tried the stuff on, only stepping out to show him your favorite.

"What do you think about this?”

The baby blue square neck A-line dress hugged your body like it was created just for you to wear, it's length accentuating your curves in a way that almost had him physically picking his jaw up off the floor. He didn't think you could look any better before but you'd just shattered his expectations. "You look absolutely amazing," he says sincerely, his mouth feeling dry.

You glance at him, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. Compliments weren’t new, but the way he said it—like it was the only thing in the world that mattered—left you speechless. You managed a soft laugh, pretending to study your reflection. "Thanks." After heading back to the fitting room to change, you grabbed all of your items and headed to the front to pay with Joe standing behind you in line. The cashier rung up your items and was getting ready to bag it when Joe added his clothes to the mix.

"Joe what are you doing? You're not paying for my clothes."

He handed over his card without hesitation, ignoring your protests. "I’ve got this," he said, his voice casual but his eyes portraying something deeper, like this was the most natural thing in the world to him. "Boyfriends are supposed to buy things. I think it’s in the constitution.”

"It's definitely not. And seriously, you don't have to do this."

"I got it, don't worry babe." The word slipped out so effortlessly that for a second, you wondered if you’d misheard him. But the way his eyes flicked to yours, briefly widening, told you everything. He realized it too—and yet, he didn’t take it back.You thanked him the entire walk back to the boat, his soft laugh sending warm and fuzzy feelings in your chest.

You were starting to acknowledge the growing warmth between you two, the way Joe’s presence seemed to make every moment feel right. The idea of saying goodbye felt heavier than it should after just one day, but somehow, it seemed inevitable. The next spot was inside a resort, they allowed you to change your clothes and head upstairs to the rooftop bar to watch the sunset. The drinks and the view had nothing on you, he quickly realized, finding himself unable to tear his eyes away. Everything just made sense today, the museum walk, the easy conversation, the boat ride. He didn't want to leave before but now the mere thought of packing his suitcase tonight made him upset.

"What are you thinking about over there?" Your words snap him out of his thoughts.

"Nothing, just how much I'm going to miss it here. The peace, the incredible sunset..."

You. The word hung in the air for a while before he pushed it down and tried to move on.

"We should head over to there and get closer to the view, you can literally see the entire city from glass railing." You stood up first and grabbed his hand, practically dragging him over there. Luckily there wasn't anyone else in the area. "This is the most insane scenery. I don't get how anyone could get tired of seeing this everyday, I'd never be inside. I feel like we’ve been the physical representation of carpe diem."

He looks at you confused, "what does that even mean?"

"Carpe diem? It’s Latin for 'seize the day.' Basically saying not to focus too much on the future and live in the present to the fullest capacity.”

"I like that," he chuckles.

Long after the sun went down and most of your dishes were cleared from the table, the lingering sweetness of caramel on your lips was all you could think about, a fleeting pleasure that only made the impending goodbye sting even more.

"Joe I have to tell you something," he looks at you as you head over to stand in one of the private lounge areas, giving you his undivided attention. "I saw you this morning in the store. Your back was facing me but I don't know, you caught my eye. And I told myself I wouldn't say anything, I wouldn't go up to you and make small talk because I'm here on a solo vacation to be one with myself and-now I'm really glad that I know you."

A smile forms on the corner of his mouth, "I've been telling myself all day that this isn't real. That I could just let my guard down because in Greece, I don't have to be Joe Burrow. I can just be...Joe. You let me be exactly who I am, nothing more, nothing less. And honestly? This might've been the single greatest day of my life. I've had good ones, really good ones. But today is up there for sure." You hadn’t realized how close you’d gotten until you could feel his arm against yours, his breath soft and warm on your cheek. His eyes dropped to your lips again, this time lingering a moment longer, as if the air between you had thickened. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, his breath just a whisper away, as his hand hovered near your cheek. His fingers brushed against your skin, sending a spark through you, and for a moment, you thought he might pull you in.

You couldn't allow yourself to go there. This wasn’t supposed to happen, not now, not like this—but the way he was looking at you, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered, made it hard to think clearly. As much as you wanted this, to feel him close, to taste the sweetness of that kiss, the weight of knowing how fleeting it all was crushed down on you. This wasn’t just a kiss—it was everything you were afraid to want, a piece of yourself that you couldn’t let slip away so easily. If you already felt this strongly about him after a day, how were you going to make it through the rest of the vacation without him knowing how his lips tasted and how his strong hands pulled you in close, holding onto you like he'd rather lose everything than let you go. There was no way in the world you'd recover.

"We can't," you whisper, watching him drop his hand that had just been lightly caressing your cheek. "You're gonna leave tomorrow and I'm gonna be thinking about this kiss for a long time. And I can't," your voice trembles. "I don't want you to go, so I can't kiss you. I'm sorry."

"No don't—don't apologize. I get it." He still hadn't taken a step back, biting his lip to keep his emotions in check. "I can walk you back to your hotel? I haven't packed yet and I need to.”

"Sure, yeah that's fine."

The 15 minute walk felt like three seconds. You didn't want him to go. He no longer wanted to leave. "Y/N I—”

You wrapped him up in a bone crushing hug, silently begging him to stay, just for a few more days. His grip on you was just as strong, his heartbeat thumping rapidly against your body. There weren't enough words in the English, or Greek dictionary to describe how much you were going to miss him. To miss this day. "Bye Joe." That was it. That was all you could manage. The moment you let go of him felt like a piece of your heart stayed in his arms. There was no way to explain the ache in your chest as you watched him turn away, the pull to stay stronger than any rational thought.

Going to sleep that night sounded impossible. The day had started out so innocent and special and the adventure and emotional rollercoaster you'd been on during the day made it feel like you'd experienced a series of days all wrapped into one. You set your bags down on the ground when you got to your room, too tired to change out of your clothes and falling asleep on top of the covers as soon as you laid down.

The next morning you checked the time on your phone, it was 8am. Joe had told you yesterday he was leaving at 10. That meek little goodbye wasn't going to cut it. You didn't even have his number. After your teeth were brushed and your clothes were changed, you rushed out of your hotel and got in an Uber, on your way to Joe's resort. The 46 minute ride allowed you to come up with everything you wanted to say, how this was only meant to be for a day but maybe it could be more? Maybe you could come see him in Cincinnati or he could come to Berkeley or someway somehow you could figure out a way to make it work.

You thanked your driver, opting to speed walk into the lobby. The person at the front desk couldn't give you access to the room without a reason, even when you gave them the name Joe used for his reservation. Pulling out your phone, you showed her the picture of you and Joe that he took at the pottery place and she finally believed you.

"I'm sorry ma'am, he actually left this morning a bit earlier than planned. He checked out at 7am to get on the plane."

Your chest tightened as the words settled in—he was gone. Just like that, in the span of a few hours, everything had shifted. The chance to say what was left unsaid, the connection you had just begun to explore, all slipped away before you could even hold onto it.

It felt like a dark cloud loomed over you throughout the rest of the day. The sun, once so warm on your skin, now felt distant and cold. The flowers that had seemed so alive that morning now appeared dull, their colors muted, as though even nature understood the weight on your heart. While you ate lunch, you tried to people watch, although you quickly discovered that there were only couples surrounding you, sharing meals and laughing at each other's jokes which made you miss him even more. The only real bright spot of the day was your flower garden excursion, taking pictures of the newly bloomed bulbs and taking in their fresh scent. As the hours passed, you allowed yourself to breathe a little deeper, letting the moments of regret slip away as you focused on the simple joys of your surroundings. The beauty of the flowers, the calm of the gardens, it all reminded you that there was still peace to be found in this unexpected chapter of your life.

You were just beginning to let go of the weight on your chest, convincing yourself that maybe, just maybe, this was how things were meant to be. But as you laid your phone down beside you, the familiar ping of a message broke the stillness.

It was an DM request on Instagram. The message had two simple words.

Carpe diem.

For a second, your heart skipped, and you couldn’t help but smile. That phrase, so simple and yet so loaded with meaning, sent a wave of warmth through you. It was him. In a way, he had left his mark on you after all, even if he wasn’t here to say the words aloud. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the end. And though you didn’t know what tomorrow would bring or if this connection would ever evolve beyond this brief encounter, in that moment, with his words glowing on your screen, you allowed yourself one final thought: Maybe this was only the beginning.

[harryssyndrome]

Best Brother Ever | h.s

Pairing: Husband!Dad!Harry x Wife!Mom!Reader

summary: a sweet Sunday afternoon with the styles family and Alex being the best big brother.

Word count: 2.6k || MASTERLIST 𓇼🌊⋆🐚🫧

Posted On: November 7th, 2024

I got really inspired by a cute reel I saw on Facebook and since then this sweet fluff has been sitting in my drafts for months and I’m really happy with how it turned out! I hope you enjoy it as much as I do ♡ let me know your thoughts in comments! Like & reblog are truly appreciated 🥰 REQUEST ARE OPEN.

It was a peaceful Sunday morning in the Styles household, and the cozy, familiar sounds of home filled the air. In the kitchen, YN moved around with practiced ease, stirring a pot, chopping vegetables, and tasting spices with a focused concentration. She’d been at it for a while now, determined to make Harry’s mom, Anne, feel right at home with her favorite dish. In the background, 18 by One Direction played softly, and YN found herself humming along, her voice a gentle echo to the lyrics.

Though the band had gone on indefinite hiatus years ago, and each of the boys had branched off into their own solo careers, YN hadn’t stopped listening. She was a Directioner through and through, and she knew in her heart she’d never let go of those songs—they were part of her story, her history with Harry, and her dreams.

Meanwhile, in the living room, their six-year-old son, Alex, was lying on the mat with Berry, their playful family dog, gently scratching behind Berry’s ears. Berry’s tail thumped in delight, and Alex giggled as the dog rolled over, waiting for belly rubs. The two were inseparable, each one the other’s partner in mischief.

After a few minutes, Alex felt a tickle of thirst, and with his usual burst of energy, Alex stopped scratching and said, “Oh Berry didn’t you get tired of all the scratching? I know, I know you were enjoying it but it’s time for a break, I’m thirsty. You don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone! Granny likes it when you’re a good boy.” He then sprang up and ran to the kitchen, tiny footsteps echoing across the hardwood floor.

“Alex, no running in the kitchen, remember?” YN gently reminded him, glancing over her shoulder with a smile.

Alex skidded to a stop, giving her an innocent look. “Sorry, Mama.” He then carefully walked to the fridge, his small hand reaching for a water bottle. After unscrewing the cap and taking a long sip, he paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face.

Looking up at his mom, he noticed how she’d been working by the stove for a while. The warmth from the flames made the kitchen a bit stuffy, and in that moment, his little mind put two and two together. Carefully holding out the bottle to her, he asked, “Mama, do you want some water too?”

YN paused, touched by the thoughtful gesture. The little boy was caring just like his father. Her heart swelled with pride and warmth at her son’s understanding, and she leaned down to pull his cheeks before pressing a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Thank you, sweetheart. That’s very thoughtful of you.”

Alex beamed up at her, delighted by her kiss, and handed her the bottle with a shy smile. YN took a small sip, her heart feeling full in the best way possible. Moments like these, simple and unassuming, were what made her life feel so complete.

YN glanced around the kitchen, realizing she hadn’t seen Harry in a while. She turned to Alex, who was still grinning from her earlier kiss, and asked, “Where’s your daddy?”

Alex paused, looking thoughtful. “He’s giving Amelia a bath!” he replied brightly.

YN chuckled, wiping her hands on a towel. “Don’t you think he’s taking a little too long?”

Without another word, Alex took off down the hall, announcing over his shoulder, “I’m gonna check!”

YN shook her head, smiling to herself as she continued stirring the pot. But barely a minute later, she heard Alex’s laughter ring out, loud and delighted, carrying all the way back to the kitchen. Curious, she wiped her hands and followed the sound down the hallway, wondering what on earth could have him so amused.

When she reached the bathroom, she found Alex standing at the doorframe, giggling uncontrollably. YN peeked over his shoulder, and the sight before her was too good not to laugh herself.

Harry stood by the sink, almost drenched, his shirt soaked and clinging to him, while his hair, wet and messy, hung down in front of his eyes. Amelia, their 15-month-old daughter, squirmed in his arms, wrapped in a fluffy towel that he was struggling to keep around her tiny, wiggling frame. Amelia, completely entertained, let out a series of squeals and giggles, delighted by the whole chaotic scene.

Harry looked up, his eyes meeting YN’s as he tried—and failed—to blow a strand of wet hair out of his face. “She’s, uh… a slippery one,” he said with a helpless smile, shifting Amelia as she kicked her tiny feet, clearly thrilled by all the attention.

YN chuckled, stepping into the bathroom to take over. “I think you’ve gotten just as much of a bath as she has,” she teased, reaching for Amelia.

“Believe me, I know,” Harry replied, surrendering his squirming daughter into YN’s arms. As soon as she was safely in her mother’s embrace, Amelia nuzzled into YN, her little face lighting up with another round of happy giggles.

Alex, still laughing, tugged at Harry’s soaked shirt. “Daddy, you’re all wet!”

Harry ruffled Alex’s hair, a lopsided grin on his face. “Well, that’s what happens when you try to bathe a little mermaid,” he joked, winking at YN.

YN smiled, cradling Amelia close as the baby snuggled into her, finally calm. Glancing up at Harry, she added with a playful grin, “Maybe next time I’ll leave the bath duty to you again. You look like you’re having way too much fun.”

Harry raised his hands in surrender, laughing. “Only if I get a raincoat next time.”

With everyone still giggling, the air filled with warmth and laughter. For YN, it was yet another reminder of how these simple, unplanned moments held the truest joy.

After drying Amelia’s soft curls and dressing her in an adorable denim overall dress, YN gave her a little pat, sending her off with Alex, who eagerly took her tiny hand. “Come on, Amelia! Let’s play in the backyard!” he declared, guiding her to the door as she toddled along, wide-eyed and giggling.

Meanwhile, Harry changed out of his soaked clothes and slipped into a comfortable hoodie and shorts. Feeling refreshed, he wandered back to the kitchen to find YN putting the finishing touches on lunch. She was focused, stirring one last pot, her face glowing with that contented look he loved.

“Smells amazing,” he murmured, slipping his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. She relaxed into him, smiling as she gave the pot one final stir.

“Thank you,” she replied, turning her head slightly to meet his gaze. “I wanted everything to be perfect for your mom.”

Harry pressed a light kiss to her cheek. “It already is perfect. Besides, Mom’s really coming to see you and the kids. I’m just… here for decoration,” he joked, earning a laugh from YN.

She turned to face him, resting her hands on his chest. “Pretty good decoration, I’d say,” she teased back, her eyes sparkling. “Can’t say I mind having you around.”

He grinned, taking her hand in his. “And I can’t say I mind this whole thing… you, me, the kids, Sunday lunches. I think we’re doing alright, don’t you?”

YN’s smile softened, her heart warmed by his words. “I’d say we’re doing better than alright.”

When lunch was ready, they carried everything to the living room and settled comfortably on the sofa, filling their plates and savoring each other’s company in the cozy quiet. Berry, their loyal dog, lay stretched out on the floor nearby, watching them with sleepy eyes, as though content to be part of their little family moment. But the peace didn’t last long; as soon as Berry heard the sound of laughter from the backyard, he was on his feet and bounding toward the door, ready to join Alex and Amelia in whatever adventure they were up to.

Harry and YN shared a glance, amused, and Harry sighed with a laugh. “Should we go see what they’re getting into out there?”

YN nodded, grinning. “Definitely.”

Hand in hand, they headed toward the backyard porch deck, hearts full and laughter on their lips, ready to join in on the joy of the afternoon.

Harry and YN strolled out into the backyard, enjoying the sight of Alex and Berry playing an enthusiastic game of chase. Alex was giggling as he kicked the ball across the grass, Berry hot on his heels, barking and wagging his tail, clearly in his element.

But their attention quickly turned to little Amelia, who was standing by the swing set, her tiny fingers gripping the seat as she attempted to climb up. She’d tugged it down a few times, her determination evident in her scrunched-up face, but every time she tried to lift her legs, they just didn’t reach. She let out a tiny, frustrated squeal, her cheeks pink with effort.

Alex spotted her from across the yard and immediately abandoned his ball game, trotting over with Berry following close behind. “I’m coming, Amy! I’ll help you,” he declared, a serious expression crossing his little face. The way he spoke, it was as if he were preparing to climb a mountain, not help his baby sister onto a swing.

He placed a comforting hand on Amelia’s shoulder, patting her gently. “Don’t worry, Amy. I’ll get you up there,” he reassured her. Berry sat down nearby, tilting his head as if watching the scene unfold with keen interest.

Alex held the swing steady, lowering it slightly to make it easier for her to grab. Amelia gave it her best shot, tugging herself forward and then clinging to her brother’s back, her small legs kicking as she tried to hoist herself up. But she kept slipping back down with a tiny thud, her face scrunched in concentration.

Seeing her struggle, Alex crouched down thoughtfully, tapping his chin with one finger like he’d seen his dad do when he was deep in thought. “Okay, hm… maybe try to use my back like a lil’ stool?” he offered, glancing up at her with a hopeful smile. “I’ll be like a step!”

Amelia’s eyes lit up, and she gave him an excited nod, as if this was the most brilliant plan she’d ever heard. Alex crouched down in front of the swing, bracing himself. “Alright, Amy, climb on!” he called out, his voice full of determination.

With a delighted giggle, Amelia leaned onto her brother’s back and clutched his T-shirt with her chubby little hands. She climbed as best as she could, trying to pull herself up—but her grip on his shirt only tightened as she clambered, her arms slipping around his neck. Alex winced, his voice coming out in a slightly strained laugh. “Amy… you’re kinda… choking me,” he gasped, though he kept steady, determined to help her however he could.

Harry and YN watched from nearby, biting back their laughter as Alex tried to be the perfect big brother, his determination and care making them both melt a little inside. Berry, still sitting close by, tilted his head again, ears perked as he followed every bit of the action.

Eventually, Alex, catching his breath, stood up, looking down at his sister with a thoughtful frown. “Alright, Amy, let’s try it another way,” he said, more determined than ever to help her reach her goal.

He pointed at the swing seat with a very serious expression, bending down to her level. “Just try to sit on it. Right here,” he said, gesturing to the exact spot where she should aim. “Watch, I’ll show you.”

With exaggerated care, he climbed onto the swing himself, wiggling around on the seat to demonstrate how to sit properly. Then he hopped off and held the swing firmly in place again, giving her an encouraging nod. “Okay, now you try.”

Amelia looked at him, wide-eyed with admiration for her big brother, and then turned back to the swing. She grasped it carefully with both hands, her face full of concentration, and this time, after a few wobbly attempts, she managed to pull herself up, finally plopping down on the seat with a triumphant squeal.

Alex’s face broke into a huge grin. “You did it, Amy!” he cheered, clapping his hands. “You’re a big girl now!”

Amelia giggled, her cheeks flushed with excitement, and Alex gave the swing a gentle push, sending her gliding back and forth, her delighted squeals filling the backyard. Each time she swung forward, she let out a little giggle, her laughter filling the air.

Harry and YN stood side by side, their arms wrapped around each other as they watched Alex carefully push Amelia on the swing. Her joyful squeals mixed with the gentle creak of the swing, and Alex’s steady encouragement filled the air. Berry trotted nearby, tail wagging, occasionally glancing up as if to make sure everything was under control.

Harry tightened his arm around YN’s shoulders, pulling her close as he shook his head in admiration. “He’s… he’s really the best big brother, isn’t he?” he said, his voice soft with awe. “Look at him—so gentle with her, so patient. I can’t believe he’s only six.”

YN beamed, her eyes fixed on their son as she watched him push Amelia with such care, his face serious with concentration, as if he were on an important mission. “I know,” she replied, her voice warm with pride. “He’s amazing with her, isn’t he? Always looking out for her, always so sweet. I feel like we’re really… doing something right.”

Harry looked down at her, a playful glint in his eyes. “Well, I think you’re doing most of it right,” he teased, bumping her shoulder with his. “I’m just here to make sure they know how to make a mess and have fun.”

YN laughed, nudging him back. “Oh, please, Harry—you’re their hero. Every time you walk in, they light up. You’re like their personal superhero.”

Harry chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t know about ‘superhero,’ but… seeing them like this, watching them take care of each other? That’s everything.” He paused, his gaze softening as he looked back at Alex and Amelia. “They’re so lucky to have each other. And I think… we’re pretty lucky to have them, too.”

YN nodded, her heart swelling as she took in the scene—their two little ones, working together, supporting each other in their own innocent, unfiltered way. “It’s moments like these that make it all worth it, don’t they?” she murmured, leaning her head against his shoulder. “All the late nights, all the messy meals and chaotic mornings… all of it. Seeing them happy, and kind, and just… them.”

Harry gave her a soft smile, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “We’ve got a good thing going, don’t we?” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I couldn’t imagine a better team than this. You and me… and these two.” He gestured toward Alex and Amelia, his eyes crinkling with pride. “We’re doing something right, YNN. I know we are.”

Just then, Alex looked over his shoulder and spotted his parents watching. His face lit up with pride, and he called out, “Look, Mum! Dad! Amy’s swinging! I got her up here all by myself!”

YN and Harry exchanged a warm glance before waving back, beaming with pride. “You’re the best big brother, Alex!” YN called out, giving him a big thumbs-up. “Amy’s so lucky to have you.”

Alex’s cheeks flushed with pride, and he turned back to Amelia, giving her swing another gentle push. “Did you hear that, Amy? Mum and Dad said I’m the best big brother ever!” he whispered to her, smiling from ear to ear.

Watching him, Harry gave YN’s hand a gentle squeeze. “We’re raising some pretty great kids, aren’t we?” he murmured, his eyes sparkling with pride. “If nothing else, I’d say we’re getting that part just right.”

YN looked up at him, her eyes shining. “Couldn’t agree more.”

[lostinlovingrevery]

Somnolent

Trilogy! Logan X F! Reader

A/N: I started writing this while half asleep last night so if there's some parts that seem odd. No there ain't...

Plot: Logan comes back home to you late at night...

Warnings: SMUT, 18+! MDNI, sleepy sex, unprotected PiV, creampie, light cockwarming at the end (watch out for UTIs), fingering, there's some fluff too!

Word Count: 2497

The mansion late at night was always a bit unsettling.

The halls usually filled with kids and teenagers, chatting, laughing, and running about, were empty and quiet. Lights throughout the school dimmed to a lower level, making the halls and most rooms shadowy and dark. It didn’t mean everyone was asleep, but for the most part, the school was tucked in.

Logan quietly stepped inside. He has come back from a solo mission, something to do with getting some info regarding a young mutant that has taken up cage fighting and using the advantage of their powers to win fights. 

Sounds eerily familiar. 

Except for the young part. 

Charles thought Logan would be perfect for the job, considering he had a “career” cage fighting even though Logan insisted that no, it wasn’t a career it was just a way to make some money. Nonetheless, considering Logan had agreed to stay at the mansion and help out after some…various incidents, he told Charles he’ll see what he can do. 

Kid was just some misled youth, believing he was some freak of society and ran away from home. Logan wasn’t really good at helping people through life crisis- considering he was in his own. Gave him some honest advice, and in the end kid ended up deciding to go back home to his parents. Job well done. He did invite him to join the school- purely because Charles told him to offer the invitation, but he declined. One thing at a time.

Hearing the sound of the tv playing, he peeked inside to see the same boy as usual - who claims he doesn’t sleep, watching tv, flipping channels with the blink of his eyes.

“TVs gonna rot your mind bub,” Logan mutters as he watches the channels flip through. 

“Nuh uh.” He mutters. 

“Couldn’t you just read a book?” 

“I read in the day.” He says. He blinks again, and an old cartoon is playing, which Logan recognizes to be ‘The Flintstones’. The boy settled deeper in the couch, seemingly satisfied by the channel he was watching. He scoffed, a grin coming across his face as he shook his head, turning back to go towards the stairs. The wooden steps creaked under his weight as he walked up the stairs. 

There was one thing that had been on his mind the entire time he was gone. The sweet little thing that has really become the sole reason he decided to stay- although he hasn’t told you that yet. 

He stopped at the door that belonged to your bedroom. Cracking it open silently as he peered inside, and he could make out your sleeping figure under the sheets. Stepping inside, he dropped his bag to the floor silently and closed the door behind him. He walked around the bed, his eyes not leaving you as he got closer. 

You were sleeping peacefully on your back, one arm resting across your stomach, the other, folded behind your head, which was turned to the side- facing him. Your hair was messy, your lips slightly parted and your breathing was slow and even. 

You looked beautiful, so peaceful. Different from your usual chaotic self when you are awake. Part of the reason why you grew on him so much. You knew how to push his buttons, but you also knew how to calm him down (Especially when Scott gets on his nerves). You’d been his grounding force since the first day he showed up. 

He leaned over her, his arm bracing himself above you, resting on the headboard as he took in your features. For a long while, he’d been lost in himself. No memories of who he was, or what had happened to him so many years ago that haunts him in his nightmares. Through a series of unfortunate events, he got to discover what happened to him- and you held his hand the entire time. 

Stirring, you slowly opened your eyes, blinking a few times at first being unsure of what you were looking at until Logan’s face came into view. You smiled sleepily, 

“Lo.” 

“Hey baby.” He greets coos. It was then how it occurred to him, how lucky he felt to be able to have you to come home too. Home?

“Mm..” You groaned, stretching your arms above your bed, arching your back in a big stretch. 

“Hm, someone's sleepy.” 

You nodded, closing your eyes with your arms folded behind your head. Logan's eyes lingered downwards, noticing the strappy nightie you were sporting. “What time is it?”

“Late.” He says, his hand coming down to gently pull the blanket from you, exposing the upper half of your body to him, and he felt himself getting hard. The nightie you were wearing, a cotton white, with lace along the hem of the collar, a sweetheart neckline that perfectly accented your breasts. The nightie you had on wasn’t particularly sexy, but Logan was pent up. He’s had to use his hand, getting himself off to the thought of you nearly every night since he’d been gone. 

“How was your trip?” You asked, your voice pitched higher due to your sleepy state, a small yawn escaping you. He looked down at you with half-lidded eyes, 

“Fine. I missed you.” He mutters, leaning down to bury his face in the crook of your neck. Sounds of your sleepy mirth made him smile, and he began to press kisses over your shoulder. 

“I missed you too.” 

“Course ya did.” he mutters, and your hand smacked his, eliciting a warm chuckle from him. His hand came up, fingers hooking under the strap of your nightie, sliding it down your shoulder, as he pressed kisses downwards towards your chest. “This is a cute lil thing you got on bub. New?”

“Bought it for you.” You hummed. He sat up, looking down at you with a grin, and you were looking up at him with a sleepy smile. 

“That so?”

You nodded slowly, closing your eyes again, struggling to stay awake. He felt his dick twitch, watching your dozy form attempt to stay awake for him. He chewed on his lip, before returning to press kisses over the top of your chest again. One of your hands came up to curl into his hair, encouraging him to keep going. His lips pressed in the space between your breasts. 

“Baby, can I show you how much I missed you?” He asks, his voice low- tittering into begging. He looked up, watching your reaction and you nodded. 

He excitedly stood up, shedding his jacket- dropping the leather to the ground, and kicking off his boots before his hands came to unbuckle his belt, and unzip his pants. He pushed your comforter off, and you spread your legs for him, as he eagerly climbs onto the bed between them. He didn’t even bother taking his clothes off, as his lips met yours. 

He kissed you languidly, as you attempted to return the effort, but being half asleep as you were- it was fairly messy. He chuckled against your lips, nipping at them gently. “Someone sure is tired.”

“Uh uh.” You shook your head, brows creasing angrily with a small pout- but your eyes, shut tiredly, fought against your denial.

“Don’t worry about it bub, just enjoy the ride, I’ll take care of you. Show you how much I missed ya.” He purrs, pressing soft kisses to your cheek and back down to your neck. He nipped and sucked at your neck, creating small purple bruises, as his hand trailed down your side, lifting the hem of your pretty nightie up and his fingers traced your inner thigh, before reaching your folds. “Hm, no panties. Dirty girl.” 

“Mm. I did that for you. In case you came back.” You mutter. 

“You spoil me doll.” He mutters, leaning to press open mouth kisses along your jawline, up to your chin, as his fingers began to circle your clit, gathering wetness on them, as he rubbed you and opened you up. You took a sharp breath, as you felt pleasure begin to envelope you. You brought your hands up to your pillow, softly gripping them as you bit your lip. His fingers traced down your folds, reaching to your hole, and he carefully slid one finger inside you. “So tight baby, gotta open up for me.” 

Your hips lifted involuntarily as he began working you open, stroking his finger in and out of you, curling it to hit that sweet spot inside of you that made you moan, and your grip on your pillows tighten. 

“Lo-” You whined, 

“Shh, I know.” He hushed, pressing a kiss to your pouty lips. He slid another finger inside, moving them inside and out in a thrusting motion, before scissoring them open inside you, stretching you open and you gasped. 

“Lo,” You moaned again tipping your head to the side. He grunted, pulling his fingers out and sitting up. He pushed his jeans down, his hard cock came out, popping against his stomach, with dribbles of pre-cum rolling down it. He took himself in his hand, lubing himself up with your arousal and his pre-cum together as he stroked himself. 

“Fuck, hadn’t stopped thinking about you all week baby.” He groaned. 

Your relationship, while still new - had been nothing but passion, and trust. You and Logan just seemed to get each other without having to say a word. Communication wasn’t Logans forte, never was as he began to realize as memories of his long life slowly come back to him. A random scent triggers back to something distant, his childhood home. A song that reminds him of his time in the 70’s, with a woman who led him to become like his now, long since dead and gone. A sound of a low flying plane, reminding him of the wars he’d been apart of. It was a lot- the mind can only remember so much. You always were patient with him though, talked him through everything. He’s addicted to you.

Climbing forward, he pushed your thighs wider,  and lifted the skirt of your nightie to your belly, exposing your lower half to him. He felt saliva filling his mouth, the urge to taste you crawling up his spine, but his cock throbbed painfully and he decided that eating you out like you were a rare delicacy was going to happen later. He leaned over you, an arm braced by your head, his free hand pressing the tip of his cock into your hole, slowly pushing inside- a loud hiss escaping him at how tight you felt. 

“Mm!” You moaned biting your lip, you turned your head to the other side. You were still half asleep, aware of what was happening, but your sleepy state made all the pleasure Logan was giving you 10 times more intense, as you drifted in and out of falling asleep and waking up again. Your body felt limp, Logan resting over you keeping you warm like a blanket. If you hadn’t been talking to him first- you would’ve thought this was a dream.  A very wet dream.

He continued moving deep inside until he bottomed out, and he buried his face into your neck, his arms moving to wrap around you and hold you while he fucked you. His pace was slow at first, pulling out almost to the tip, before pushing back in - molding space for his cock inside you.

Your arms lazily wrapped around his neck, one hand burying into his thick curls, as you bit your lip, small whines escaping you with each thrust. You felt incredibly relaxed, being surrounded by him- his voice cooing in your ears, his scent overwhelming your nose, his cock stretching you open so wonderfully. Hitting that spot his fingers were rubbing just moments ago. You brought your legs higher up, wrapping them around his waist- desperately wanting him to stay buried deep inside you as he thrusted slowly. Being around Logan felt nothing but safe, which was something you’d always yearned for. Safety in your life, due to living in a world that hated who you were. 

Harsh pants escaped Logan, his hot breath on your neck as he began to thrust faster, he wrapped his arms around your waist, your hands burying into his hair. 

“Goddamn baby- you feel so good. So fucking good.” He groaned. He was rutting into you, barely pulling out. “So damn wet and tight- you’re all for me aren’t ya?”

You whined, desperately nodding your head as he kept hitting that spot inside you over and over. Your nails dug into his scalp, pulled at his hair, making him moan- then pain of your nails scratching him spurring him on as he began to go faster, his hips slamming into your thighs, lewd wet noises filling the room. 

“Logan-” You whined tipping your head back onto your pillow. He grunted, pressing his forehead into your shoulder. 

“Fuck.” He hissed. “Cmon baby, cum for me. I need you to cum- please-” He whined. Your legs were trembling, his deep thrusts leaving your body to start going numb. “You’re all mine, you know that? All fucking mine-” 

The tight thread pooling in your lower tummy snapped, as waves of pleasure shook your body, wetness splashing onto him, effectively soaking the both of you. You whined his name, arching your back towards him, and he bit down on your neck, thrusting inside you once more, before he let out a loud- very loud, cry of pleasure, panting as he came deep inside you, his warm cum painting your walls, so much of it that it begins to spill out of your hole, still stuffed with him. 

He collapsed against you, his cheek pressed against your chest, a small bit of drool escaping him as he recovered from the waves of euphoria that was still crashing through him. You body went limp, legs unwrapping from his waist, hands falling to either side of your head. 

“Fuck.” He hissed. “See what you do to me bub?” He slowly pushes himself up. Leaning forward to press his lips over yours. You hummed in response. He brushed some hair out of your face, pressing another kiss to your lips. “Lets get some sleep.” He mutters and you nodded. 

He started to pull out of you, but you whined. “Stay in.” You say. He chuckled. 

“You sure?” 

“Mm.” 

“Alright.” He wrapped his arm over your waist, turning to his back and bringing you with him, lying on his chest. “Comfortable?”

“Mm.” You nodded, now more sleepy than ever in your post-coitus haze. He pulled the comforter over the both of you, his hand softly scratching up and down your back, his other hand resting on your hip. Your cheek pressed to his chest. “Lo?” You mumbled. 

“Yeah?”

“You’re mine too, right?” You asks, you were drifting off to sleep, your voice barely a whisper, but he understood you.  

He smiled. “Yeah sweetheart. I’m all yours.” 

[chukys-mouthguard]

nights like this

3.3k words

featuring: auston matthews x female reader

genre: fluff, suggested smut

summary: Auston has just been named the newest captain of the Toronto Maple Leafs, and while you worry about pulling off a surprise dinner, Auston has his own surprise in store for you

Watching from the front row with Auston’s family, you tried your best to not get emotional. Partially because of not wanting to ruin your makeup, but the other half of you knowing Auston would surely laugh at you for it.

Auston had just been named the newest captain of the Toronto Maple Leafs, which was such an amazing accomplishment for him still so young in his career. John Tavares shook his hand as he presented Auston with the jersey, the two of them posing together before Auston did a few solo shots.

You smiled at him as you clapped along with the crowd, his eyes finding yours as he shot you a wink. His smile was bright as he held the jersey proudly. The news was not something he’d necessarily expected, but he was so honored to accept.

He’d come home from meetings earlier in the week, to which you assumed were standard team business. But as he greeted you in the kitchen asking to sit you down, you had grown nervous that he was delivering some bad news.

-

“Hey baby, smells good.”

Auston kissed your lips as you were preparing lunch. Wrapping his arms around your waist as he rested his head on your shoulder. Watching your hands as they were busy chopping up some veggies for the dish you were making.

“Is it too much to ask you to pause for a quick second? I’ve gotta talk to you.”

You’d dropped the knife almost immediately, his tone of voice catching you off guard as you grew nervous fast. Turning in the grip of his arms to face him you wiped your hands with a towel.

“Is everything okay?”

He softly smiled as he took your hand, leading you to the couch as he sat you down before taking a seat on the coffee table in front of you. His hands held tight to yours as he looked at the floor.

“Auston, baby, hurry up I’m freaking out inside! And lunch is gonna burn!”

He chuckled as he brought your hands to his lips, kissing them both before he finally opened his mouth to speak.

“So, as you know I had several meetings recently with the team, and it’s nothing bad. It’s actually pretty amazing, honestly. And today, they let me know that they are looking to take the organization in a new direction this season. That new direction is gonna start with me.”

Despite him telling you this was good news, it hadn’t yet sounded like anything good. It started to sound like somehow Auston was being traded with the way he chose to phrase this.

“You’re looking at the newest captain of the Toronto Maple Leafs.”

Your jaw fell to the floor as you stared at him, his smile grew from ear to ear as he watched your reaction. The tears subconsciously welled in your eyes as you were overcome with emotion, wanting to scream and run around the house. But also just wanting to hug him tight and never let him go.

“Auston, stop. You’re serious?”

He nodded his head laughing at your disbelief, “yes, hand to god baby.”

“Babe! I’m so proud of you!”

Jumping up from the couch you wrapped your arms around him as he stood up, lifting you off your feet as he hugged you. Your legs wrapping around his waist as you peppered his face with kisses. Auston just laughed at your reaction, carrying you back towards the kitchen as he saw a pot of water boiling on the stove.

“Auston this is amazing! Oh my gosh, we have to celebrate!”

He set you down as he tended to the boiling pot, stirring the water that was tasked with cooking some rice before he turned down the flame.

“Well, not yet. It hasn’t been announced yet. So we have to wait until next week to do any celebrating after the official reveal and announcement by the Leafs.”

You playfully groaned with a roll of your eyes as you wrapped your arms around him, hugging him tight as you were so in awe of him.

“Fine, I guess I’ll wait a week to let everyone know how amazing you are and how proud I am of you. I love you baby, and I’m seriously so fucking proud of you!”

-

Now the day was finally here to celebrate.

As Auston came down from the stage, the press conference now over, he stopped to hug each of his friends and family in the front row. Leaving you for last as he walked up with the biggest smile on his face.

“I told you no crying allowed today, you’re such a softie baby.”

He wrapped his arms around you as he chuckled, his teasing just making you smile as you couldn’t help your emotions. He kissed your lips before taking your hand in his as he continued through the room to greet and thank other familiar faces for coming.

Auston had kept you by his side for the remainder of the post-press conference festivities, his arm wrapped around your waist as his thumb traced circles over the fabric of your dress. You found it hard not to be in awe of him. To know all of these people were there to support him, to support this new chapter of the organization that was starting with him. To know they believed in a future with him as captain, it made you so proud to call him your boyfriend and get to the by his side throughout this new journey.

“You look stunning tonight baby.”

Auston pulled you in for a kiss as the two of you waited for the elevator, the press conference finally coming to an end after much media attention and thank you’s were expressed to the guests.

“And you look so handsome, Mr. Captain.”

You jokingly teased the nickname, still feeling like it wasn’t real as Auston simply rolled his eyes with a smile. Knowing that were surely going to enjoy that nickname a little too much, but he’d get over it.

The two of you took the elevator down to the parking garage, climbing into Auston’s car as he quickly replied to a couple texts before starting it up.

“Where to for dinner babe?”

You hadn’t told Auston but you planned a surprise celebratory dinner at one of his favorite restaurants for his family and closest friends. The secret was not an easy one to keep as he could usually sniff out a surprise from a mile away, and you were worried he had possibly found out from a teammate to ruin it.

“I actually arranged dinner for us tonight, as a little surprise for you.”

Auston looked at you with a smirk before backing out of his parking spot, it wasn’t that he didn’t like you making plans, he just loved being the one to spoil and take care of you so it never ceased to shock him when you did the same for him.

“Really? You arranged dinner? That’s a nice surprise, where to?”

You’d plugged the directions into his GPS for the restaurant, growing nervous that maybe he’d found out from someone about the surprise. Trying not to give Auston any sign that you were nervous as you sat in the passenger seat as his hand rested on your thigh, the only thing keeping you calm.

“Wow, I forgot how beautiful this place is. We haven’t been here in awhile, I’m excited.”

He leaned over giving you a kiss before you exited the vehicle for valet, Auston taking your hand in his as he led you up the small set of stairs to the restaurant. The hostess greeted you as you gave her the name of your reservation, soon following behind as she led you to the private back room.

You could feel your hand beginning to sweat in Auston’s grip, knowing that it wasn’t the end of the world if the surprise flopped, but you wanted to do this special for him.

Pulling him close to you as you approached the doors to the secluded dining room, you took a deep breath, anticipation slowly building to see his reaction to the room of people.

“Here you two are, right in here!”

The hostess beamed with a smile as you two turned the corner, the small group of friends and family instantly cheering as you came into their view. Auston immediately rolling his eyes with a smile, completely caught off guard by the surprise as he looked at you laughing.

“You did this? Baby, you’re amazing. Oh my gosh.”

He pulled you in for a kiss, wrapping his arms around you to be sure and let you feel how appreciative he was for the surprise. His hands cupping your face as he kissed you once more.

“Thank you baby, this is so special. I love you.”

“I love you too, Aus.”

Auston moved to mingle with the group which included his family, a handful of his teammates that were at his press conference, and a few close friends both from the league and from back home.

You took a seat next to Auston’s mom as you finally felt you could relax, a glass of wine immediately in hand as she offered you cheers in congratulations.

“You did it! Now you can relax and enjoy the night.”

A sigh leaving your lips as you nodded in agreement. So thankful that you’d managed to pull off the surprise, despite it being something small and intimate. You watched as Auston greeted his friends that flew into town, a big smile on his face as they all congratulated him on his captaincy. The only word to describe how you felt in the moment was proud, and you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world than by his side.

“Everyone, if I could just take a second of your time before we wrap up the night.”

Auston stood at the front of the room as he gathered the attention of the group, smiling as some of his teammates were chanting for him to make a speech. To which he just playfully shook his head.

“I just wanted to thank each and every one of you for coming tonight, this means so much to me and it was such a pleasant surprise. I’m really excited for this new journey, and honored to be given this opportunity to be captain and I hope I can make the city proud, the fans proud, but also each of you proud so thank you. Lastly, y/n.”

Auston wasn’t an emotional person, but as he looked at you, you swore you saw him getting choked up or teary eyed.

“I don’t know how you pulled this off, mostly because I’m the biggest snoop and always ruin surprises. But this is incredible, and it means so much to me. You have been my rock for so many years, and to know I get to have you by my side as I navigate this new journey, I know that no matter what happens, I’ll be great as long as I’ve got you. So thank you babe, I love you.”

Auston raised a glass to you and the room as everyone reciprocated, all talking a drink together before a final cheer of the room erupted and everyone gathered their things to head out.

You and Auston had stayed to see all of the guests out before leaving, making sure to thank everyone individually once again. Finally heading home after what felt like the longest day, but one you would never forget.

You’d been quiet on the drive, Auston knowing it was a mixture of wine drunk and being tired, so he didn’t bother you much. His hand resting on your thigh as his thumb traced circles over the fabric, a smile on his face as you eventually laced your fingers with this.

“I’m so proud of you baby.”

He chuckled at your somewhat slowed speech from the wine, pulling your hand to his lips as he kissed the back of it. Before resting it on his thigh for the remainder of the drive.

“Thank you, for that, and for tonight. It was amazing, you’re amazing. Tonight was definitely nothing short of amazing.”

The fingernails of your free hand traced up and down his forearm as he pulled into the driveway of your shared home. Parking the car in the driveway before heading over to your door to help you out, but he’d soon realize the wine had certainly kicked your ass tonight.

“Aus, I cannot get out of this car. My heels won’t let me.”

He shook his head as he reached for your hands, helping you out of the car with a chuckle, the reaching back in to grab your bag that was sitting on the floor.

“Seems like someone calmed their nerves with a little red wine tonight huh?”

Pouting your face at him playfully you let out a sigh, doing your best to get yourself into the house on your own as a protest to his joking. Though only making it two steps before stumbling and needing Auston to steady you.

“Gosh baby, falling for me all over again?”

He playfully winked as he helped you regain your composure, laughing as you rolled your eyes at his awful joke.

“Auston Taylour Matthews I swear to-Ah!”

Without warning he scooped you off your feet, earning a slightly shocked yelp from you. A chuckle of embarrassment followed as he carried you inside, taking you into the kitchen where he set you onto the island as he began to work at figuring out the straps on your heels.

“Aus you’re never gonna get them off, just let me.”

“Hush, if I can figure out a bra strap one handed I can get a strap off on a heel.”

You rolled your eyes laughing at his choice of words, watching as he miraculously got the heels off in record time. Tossing them to the side, then resting his hands on either side of your hips as he smiled down at you.

“You were saying?”

He playfully pecked your lips as your fingers played with the chains that were peeking out from under his dress shirt.

“To be honest, you don’t always figure out the bra straps, you’ve definitely just ripped a few bras off of me from time to time.”

Auston rolled his eyes as he discarded his suit jacket, tossing it into the back of the couch before rejoining you in the kitchen.

“Semantics!”

His fingers played with the fabric of your dress at your hips as he placed kisses along your exposed collar bone. His demeanor becomes a bit more timid before you as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest.

Your hands now resting at the back of his neck, fingers playing with his hair as you both just sat in this moment, enjoying the first real opportunity to just be with one another after such a long day.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?”

As you hummed your response, Auston pulled himself from you as he let out a sigh. The look on his face makes you nervous despite your wine buzz that has overtaken you. His expression was one you couldn’t exactly read as he took your hands in his, the anticipation causing your heart to race.

“Aus, what is it? You’re making me nervous!”

You giggled to hopefully calm his nerves, to which he apologized, not trying to scare you. With another sigh, he took your hands in his as he smiled at you.

“I’m just so incredibly thankful for you. For this night, and every night I get with you. Today was such a long day, of course exciting, but also tiring. And to be able to come home and spend moments like this with you, it’s the best thing in the world.”

You wanted to blame the wine for the tears you felt forming, but knew that would be a lie, your emotions always so easy to elicit when it came to Auston.

“Auston, thank you baby. That means so much to me, I’m so thankful to get to do this with you and be by your side.”

He nodded at you as his own tears were now in his eyes, catching you off guard as he was rarely one to cry. Your hands immediately went to his face to wipe his tears, making him laugh as he could barely get any words out.

“I’m okay, I just. I’ve realized over these last few weeks, that you truly are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You are by my side through the best times, but more importantly the worst times and the toughest times. And in this new chapter, being captain, I have no idea what that will bring for me. But I know that I can’t do any of it without you by my side.”

You were hanging on every last word as he spoke, trying not to ugly cry at the kitchen island as you knew he’d surely poke fun at you for it, but the moment was certainly getting the best of you.

As Auston paused, he opened up the drawer at the counter behind him, taking a deep breath before he turned back to face you. Your eyes immediately searched for what he’d pulled from the drawer.

“Y/n, baby, I know now that you’re my person. I’ve known from the day I met you that you were it for me. You have made me a better man, and I want to continue to be that man for you now and forever. I’m ready to start a new journey with you, to make a promise to love and cherish you forever, to start a family and grow old with you. So, y/n—“

Auston’s arm moved from behind his back to reveal a small black box, with the most amazing ring you’d ever seen. A gasp leaving your lips as you were now certainly ugly crying, but you didn’t care. The emotions overtaking you as you were too stunned to speak.

“Will you marry me?”

Without any hesitation you nodded your head, nervous that if you went to speak you’d say the wrong thing or no words would come out. Auston jokingly confirming with you that you did in fact want to say yes, you simply couldn’t form the words.

He slid the ring on your finger as you could barely hold still, shaking at the sight of the symbol that represented everything he’d just spoken but also so much more.

You immediately pulled him in for a kiss, never wanting to let him go. To stay in this exact moment forever and ever, feeling so in love and on top of the world.

“Oh my god, Auston I can’t believe this!”

You shrieked as you threw your arms around his neck, Auston picking you from the counter as he spun you around. Peopering your face with kisses as he carried you down the hall and towards the staircase to head upstairs.

As he laid you down in bed, you couldn’t stop staring at the ring, earning a sarcastic groan from him as he began to discard his dress shirt. Soon climbing into bed as he hovered over you, peppering your face with kisses before moving down to your neck. His eyes looking up to see you still stealing glances at the ring while you tried to enjoy the moment with Auston.

“Babe, if you can’t stop starting I’m gonna take it away.”

You quickly averted your gaze from your hand, pulling his face up to yours in a kiss that was at first soft and apologetic but soon turned deep and passionate as Auston’s hands snaked up your dress and explored each and every one of your curves. A hand stopping to cup your cheek as he took control of the kiss, his tongue fighting yours for dominance to which you obliged. Smirking against his lips as he slowly pulled away, but not without a playful nibble at your bottom lip.

“I love you Auston Matthews.”

“And I love you, Mrs. Auston Matthews.”

[sadiestarrs]

Cherry Red

Warnings: swearing, mean ellie, mentions of sex

A/N: i got this idea from another fic umm. it is proofread, but criticism is always accepted!! this one lowkey hurt. also i made edits to this fic but tumblr decided to glitch and delete them all so if this is bad, my apologies 🙏😞

Plot: ellie is a guitarist and the most popular in her group, but the attention has become too much, especially for you

Word count: 1115

Standing in between hundreds of screaming girls was not where you imagined yourself five years ago, especially not when you got with Ellie. Back then, she was practising guitar, doing small gigs at cafés and jazz bars late into the night. You attended everyone, that’s how you met her. Your friends had invited you on a night out, and she immediately caught your eye, playing one of your favourite songs.

From that day on, you’d showed up every night you were free and soon started to get noticed. One thing led to another, going on a few dates, sharing mutual friends, watching them create a band, and finally seeing them achieve their goals, a sold-out stadium. But now was when it set in. You were never claustrophobic, but your position made you think otherwise.

Bodies swarmed around yours, the screaming increasing when Ellie started her solo. You weren’t mad at how many people liked her, not at all – even though you were technically her first fan.

Something wasn’t right about this concert, but you couldn’t put a finger on it. You felt it in your core. A strange, sickening feeling.

Your vision tried to steady on Ellie, who was focused on each chord and strum of her guitar. The guitar you bought her. Despite being a broke college student, you still wanted to show Ellie that you cared and believed in her career, so you bought her the same cherry red guitar she held in her hands at that moment.

It was as if she loved the guitar more than you, funnily enough. It hung on the wall above your shared bed. She would dust it regularly, making sure that the strings were tuned, only using it during concerts. When she practised, it would be her older guitar, the same one she used the night you met her.

Now as you watched her kill the solo, like she did every time, you waited for the end, the moment when she would find you in the crowd during the last chord, almost dedicating the song to you. But it didn’t happen. Her eyes scanned for someone else. Her hand reached for another girl.

Up on stage was someone you had seen before, long jet-black hair, dark eyeliner, ripped jeans and a crop top. Her ex. She had brought her ex on stage. The band knew about you, how could they let this happen? How could they–how could she embarrass you like that?

Her ex takes the guitar and begins her own riff, something they had definitely planned behind your back. Questions rampaged through your mind. You were at almost every practice and rehearsal. Were they meeting up separately? You choke up, watching the scene unfold in front of you.

Ellie whispers something in her ear, holding her by the waist as she nods in response. The crowd goes wild, screaming and cheering. It was meant to be you on stage. She was meant to hold you. Her ex takes the neck of the guitar, turning it upside down and smashing it into the floor.

You lose count of the number of times they pass it between them, causing more damage than the last. A strong urge to empty your guts washes over you, pushing through the crowd, not caring who gets elbowed in the face.

The dressing room is filled with buzzing from outside, but it’s 100% better than watching your girlfriend smash a prized possession you bought her. Every answer your mind came up with wasn’t good enough. It didn’t make sense. Why? Why? Why?

Why would she do that to you? Your relationship had been strained for a few days after an argument over rehearsals. You barely spent time together any more, she was always out practising, even missing the dates you had planned.

This started a conversation about whether she cared about her career more than the relationship. You didn’t want to believe it but all your worries seemed to come true. Her added fame and success made things more difficult.

The time when she gave a group of VIP fans a tour backstage and bonded a bit too much with one of them sparked through your brain. It reminded you of what was happening on stage before you left. And now the show was over.

✦

Her bandmates come into the room before her, filling the space with awkwardness when they see you. None of them speak, going through the motions of drinking water, packing away instruments, and checking their phones without so much as an apology.

All of them knew about this but didn’t feel the need to tell you. You blamed them as much as you blamed Ellie. To think that you were the reason they were in that position now. If it wasn’t for you bringing them together, another band would be in their place.

“So no one wanted to tell me what Ellie was planning?”

Your question is met with even more silence, everyone looking awkwardly between themselves.

“We didn’t know—”

The door is pushed, followed by Ellie, now smiling with her ex directly behind her. She senses the tension in the air and motions for the others to leave. The three of you stand in silence for an eternity before Ellie finally says, “I can tell that you’re mad.”

Mad? That was the biggest understatement. Her ex doesn’t make eye contact, still standing behind her, hands folded across her chest.

“Are you fucking stupid?”

Maybe it was harsh, but there was no other way to convey your emotions. “Can I explain myself before we start throwing insults around? It was a prank. That wasn't the actual guitar.”

From a supply closet, she brings out the case and unzips it to reveal the guitar, still in perfect condition. No thought formed properly in your mind. Nothing made sense. It was a sick prank, something that made you physically ill.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Ellie?”

“This conversation won't go anywhere if you keep insulting her.” She had the audacity to speak to you. This was her fault, not just Ellie’s. What sane person would do something like that?

“This conversation is between me and my girlfriend. You know what? You two can have each other.” You push past them, slamming the door in the process.

Why was this happening? Did you piss off God? Were you paying for a mistake you made years ago? Whatever it was, it didn't make sense. What went through Ellie’s head to do that to you?

No one bothers going after you. Fortunately, you're able to grab a cab and go back to the hotel.

Where you were staying with Ellie.

[bbydoll18xx]

This Is Me Trying

'I just wanted you to know that this is me trying.'

Azzi Fudd x Reader

Based on this request (sorry it took forever lol)

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.1k

Themes: depression, mild alcohol abuse, hurt/comfort

A/N: hiii so here i am trying out writing for someone other than Paige, and I really hope you like it! If this is a decent success I may write for other people as well :) And of course it was time to write a fic to go along with my most favorite song of all time (folklore stans rise up)

Lets do thisss

also sorry this is lowkey kinda depressing i am a sad girly

~

Your lack of sleep was showing in deep purple bruises under your eyes that no amount of even the heaviest concealer could adequately cover. You haven't slept well in days, and today’s shift had not helped your exhaustion. The day was filled with incessant neediness, people cussing you out, and an endless amount of shit.

Literally and figuratively. 

You walk into your apartment, just wanting nothing but to fall into Azzi’s warm and loving arms, but you’re met with the still darkness of an empty home. Your girlfriend was in Las Vegas playing against the Aces, and she would not be home until tomorrow afternoon. 

She had promised to call you after the game, but you weren’t sure if you would even make it through your shower, much less wait up for her by the phone for another three hours. 

Your eyes fill with tears, the feeling of overwhelming loneliness mixing with your exhaustion, and as you throw your stuff on the floor, dredging your body into your bathroom, letting the downpour of water drown out your own tears. 

You had become quite accustomed to hiding your feelings behind bright smiles and fake laughs, desperate to clutch onto the need to prove to everyone that you were okay.

Even if you really weren't.

Your girlfriend had enough stress on her, and the idea of her needing to worry about you, too, was enough to send guilt shooting through your entire body. 

You had kept up your facade all throughout college, choosing to take long, solo car rides until you had to pull over, the tears swimming in your eyes nearly blinding you. And when you were strung along to the bars with Azzi and the rest of her teammates, you drowned your sorrows and fears with liquor, numbing your thoughts and your body until you were delirious. 

You were the golden girl. 

You knew what jokes to crack for which group of people you were around at the time. Your grades were stellar. And you had bagged the prettiest, sweetest girl in probably the entire universe. 

So, you resented yourself for feeling anything other than being on top of the world, because it was actually quite the opposite.

It got worse once you graduated. 

Azzi was often gone, traveling for away games, and that left you alone to process the unimaginable emotions that came with your budding nursing career. Feelings of loss and incompetence clouded your brain constantly.

Today was no different. 

You had lost a patient, a kind, gentle woman who finally let go, taking her last breath while gripping your hand, completely alone. 

It broke you, and the devastating reality had sunk into your chest, crushing all of the air out of your fragile lungs. And you were now gasping for air, leaving you feeling bereft and vulnerable, like an open wound. 

Maybe that’s all you’d ever really be, and you could not help but think that you were the festering wound in yours and Azzi’s relationship, threatening to slowly tear it apart until the two of you were left standing in the tattered shreds of what used to be. 

You wanted things to be okay so, so badly, but the overwhelming feelings of loneliness and longing had set in, chilling you down to the bone. And you were scared. 

So you would just continue on pretending. 

Azzi comes home the next day, and you put the mask back on the second she walks through the door. You’d be lying, though, if her presence didn’t make you feel the tiniest bit whole again. You melt into her arms, drinking in her presence, as she rubs your back soothingly, her face pressed into the crook of your neck. 

Maybe everything would be okay, if only you could be honest with her.

~

Azzi lays in bed next to you, and you indulge in the way her smell has permeated the soft bedsheets again, after days of the scent slowly becoming less and less potent. She smells warm and comforting, and you nuzzle into her, desperate for her to fix every little part of you that was screaming out in insecurity and despondancy.

A low sigh escapes your throat, secretly wanting your girlfriend to pick up on your mood, and because she knows you better than anyone else, she does. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” She questions, her tone filled with concern and worry. She places a hand on your cheek, coaxing you to look into her eyes, and the glow of the lamp on the bedside table illuminates the kindness emitting from her deep brown irises. 

“I–” You begin, taking a deep breath and then stopping. Trying to put all your emotions into coherent words was quite the task. And honestly, you were terrified of how Azzi would react. 

Her thumb strokes your cheek, as she sits up fully next to you in the bed, eyes still peering into yours. 

“It’s okay, it’s just me,” she murmurs gently, and something clicks inside of you.

It was Azzi. You could tell her anything, and it would never even come close to dimming any of the love she felt for you. 

In that moment, all the anxiety you felt about coming clean seemed silly, like it had been built up in your head to great heights, and here it was now, crashing down all around you.

“I’ve been really depressed,” you mumble, your cheeks feeling warm from her touch and the prickling of shame. “For a long time, actually. And I really fucking miss you. I hate feeling like a needy girlfriend, but I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this.”

The confession pours out of you, and as the air stills between you, your heart races as you watch Azzi’s face contort into a look of hurt and confusion.

“Oh, baby,” she breathes, scooping you up and setting you into her lap, legs draped over hers as she interlaces your fingers with hers. 

“I’ve been missing you, too. And I didn’t want you to feel like you had to sacrifice your career for mine,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss onto your temple. 

Your shoulders sag in relief, and you connect your lips in a kiss. There were numerous unspoken words shared as your lips entwined in a sheer display of passion.

As you break apart, you gaze back into those dark brown eyes, pupils now blown wide. “Guess this means we’ll have a lot more time to be doing this,” you giggle, wagging your eyebrows at Azzi.

She shakes her head fondly. “Just want my sweet, happy girl back,” she whispers in your ear.

Little did she know, you already were.

~

I really hope everyone enjoyed this. I have been toying around with a lil Pazzi fic, so let me know if you'd be interested :)

xoxo katy

Taglist:

@fullladypanda-blog, @omg-imtumbling, @tenaciousglitternerd, @oldcrdigan, @paigebuxkets, @the-other-half , @patscorner , @dietcokesmom , @tndaqltoifwy

Want to be added to my taglist? Comment or send me a message!

[a-silent-symphony]

Floor Jansen (photoshoot for her debut album ‘Paragon’)

[the-save-place-art]

A valkyrie…

[bchan95]

Sincerely, Me (Bang Chan x Reader)

Chan dedicates a song to you publicly to announce your relationship.

You shuffled into the aisle right behind the V.I.P. section. As you sat down, you looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. The blaring overhead light slightly tinted in your big sunglasses, and your arms crossed your chest, holding yourself into place as yelling fans filtered in on both sides of you.

Seeing Chan live was always a hassle. He wanted you to be protected, to have bodyguards around you in the crowd to keep you safe, but since your relationship was still a bit more on the low, you didn't want to appear too out of place in a sea of his biggest admirers. The two of you settled for a guard strategically placed with you in sight and his stylist on speed dial.

"Baby, call me when you get to the car after the show okay?" Your boyfriend said hastily as he downed another glass of water while waiting for his turn in the makeup chair.

"Chan, I always call you. I'll remember," You said with a giggle, letting your hand fall into his as he rubbed small circles onto the top of it.

"I know baby, but... just make sure you do okay?" His smile beamed up at you, a flight of pearly white.

You nodded, leaning in and kissing his forehead and then his lips before letting go of his hand and walking out of the dressing room. You were quickly whisked into a side door and dropped right past security. You slyly flashed them your badge in your pocket before walking down the stairs to the floor seat your boyfriend purchased.

Even though you'd seen this show twice already this run, your nerves were through the roof. Suddenly you were taken back to the moments in your teens, waiting for your favorite celebrity to jump on stage. You felt your heartbeat quicken as the music boomed through the speakers, mixtures of squeals and singing ringing through the rows as the fans hyped themselves up for the upcoming performance.

You admired the rows of bracelets that lined their wrists, the way they linked arms and sang at the top of their lungs together, crying tears of joy as they waited for the boys you know so fondly moved around the stage in a hurricane of speed and sound.

You felt oddly comfortable in this moment. Able to blend in so seamlessly with everyone else. You knew better than to think it would always be this easy. You knew that if you and Chan lasted as long as you hoped you would that eventually he'd have to tell everyone.

Part of you yearned for public acknowledgment. The thought of being able to hang on his arm in clubs, at awards shows, and even on vacations without the fear of being seen was tempting.

Another part of you worried about what would come with confirmation. Your boyfriend gave up his whole life for this career, and you didn't want to be the one to tear it apart. You wanted him to be successful, to continue to be able to produce songs he loved with the people he cared about the most.

You must have been lost in thought for a while, as the only thing to bring your eyes back to center stage was the sudden dimming of the lights and the loud screams tearing through your eardrums. Your breath caught in your chest as you rose out of your seat and joined them in their screams.

The booming sounds of the song rang through the speakers and you heard the familiar howl of your boyfriend. You giggled, clapping with everyone as they cheered them on. Chan found his place in the center of the stage to greet the crowd.

"What's going on Sydneyyy?" He smiled as they met him with a big smile. He nodded at them, throwing up a thumbs up to show how impressed he was.

Your eyes met for a second and you swore he winked at you. You shook your head, thinking that he wouldn't be that careless tonight. Still, your heart warmed at the thought of his risk and you yelled out their names in time with the rest of the crowd.

The set moved quickly, and as they ran through their solo sets you could feel your feet wearing on you. You sat down as the stage flipped over to black for a moment. You cursed the moment you decided to quickly throw on your Converse instead of your Docs, feeling your toes throb through the thin material of the shoe. You rolled your ankle back and forth, pressing your thumb to the side to release some pressure. Your efforts were put on pause as you heard a voice from above.

"Ma'am, follow me."

You looked up to see the smile of a bodyguard that you know well. You looked up at him in confusion, a furrow in your brow. He didn't say anything more but just stretched out his hand to you. You took his hand hesitantly and let him guide you out of the aisle. You watched as fans eyed you down as you moved closer and closer to the stage. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat as you followed his lead to the front row in a center seat next to his parents.

Chan's mom smiled at you as you moved closer to her. You nodded and smiled back at her. Why were you moved to the front so suddenly? Surely fans took videos of this girl being taken directly by Stray Kids security to the front of VIP. Chan's dad's giggle shook you back to the present, him chuckling over your shell-shocked reaction.

You opened your mouth to speak, but you were quickly drowned out by screams as someone reentered the stage. You heard a familiar accent yell out to the crowd again.

"Ahhh so it's time for my solo stage..."

You looked up and watched your boyfriend take the center once again. He looked over at you with a wide smile, clear as day in the summer sun. You felt shivers take over your whole body as he maintained eye contact as he spoke.

"I have a special song that I wrote..."

The crowd screamed again and you could feel his parents' eyes on you. You could have sworn you felt the flash of his mom's camera on your cheek but you were too focused on his dark brown eyes to fully notice anything else anymore.

"I wrote it with someone special in mind," his eyes comb through the crowd before landing on yours again. He winked in your direction.

"This one's for my baby."

You could have sworn you felt your heart leap out of your chest as gasps and screams took over the crowd before the base kicked in. Your boyfriend places on his big sunglasses, a big smirk stretched across his lips. You felt frozen as you watched a performance you've seen several times before with a new perspective.

A song you thought your flirt of a boyfriend wrote just to make his fans go crazy, was about you? You caught him giggling on Bubble, and bringing the fantasy to life with fans every night... why wouldn't he tell you?

Despite your racing thoughts, you managed to bring a small smile to your face, clapping along to the familiar beat. Chan continued to put on his same charming choreography as he sang so sweetly. He pointed out in the crowd to several random fans before returning over to your side of the stage, beaming ear to ear.

"Baby I'll show that you’re the one," he sang, almost giggling through the lyrics. "Like a diamond ring such a pretty little thing you’re blinding everyone."

You felt yourself blushing as he winked at you before quickly moving back across the stage. Your nerves were swapped for a swelling amount of warmth in your chest as you sang along. You finally looked over at Chan's mom, her phone in hand as she filmed you. Your cheeks burn red as you shake your head and return your gaze to the stage.

Watching your rockstar of a boyfriend was always a treat, but something more bubbled to the surface when you knew he was singing directly to you. You have a lot of things you want to say, but you aren't really sure where to start. Ignoring the flight of what-ifs, you just allow yourself to enjoy the rest of the set.

As Chan ended his song, you quickly heard the sounds of disgust coming from the members reentering the stage. Filled with "oohs" and "ewws," they relentlessly teased Chan, shoving him back and forth like a ping pong ball.

Finally, they let him go, moving on to the next song with ease. You let yourself settle back onto your feet and simply just enjoyed the rest of the show. You sang with his mom, danced around with Hannah, and giggled at his dad's failed attempt at singing as you celebrated the boys.

As the final song ended the boys came back to the center of the stage to do their ments. You held back tears for everyone until it came to Chan. He came to the side of the stage and stood right in front of his family.

"...And I want to thank the ones I love the most for coming to the show tonight. Mom, Dad, Hannah... and my baby you know I love you. Thank you for making tonight even more special to me in one of my favorite places in the world," Your eyes widened as he continued. "I truly couldn't do it without you all."

He bit down on his lip as you stared at him. He had just done it. So casually in front of thousands of fans. He did what you never thought might not happen until you had announced an engagement. If even then. This acknowledgment brought tears to your eyes, as you smiled into the pink sky.

The set went dark and you hurried to grab your belongings and follow his family out of the venue doors and into the hallway below the stage. You finally let yourself fully take in the moment when away from all of the people and the cameras. Hannah's arm wrapped around you as you quietly wiped tears from your eyes. You look over at her to find her smiling.

"You guys are so sappy..." She joked, leaning into you as you two walked.

The family followed security to their car and you made your way to the tiny black car Chan called for you. As you felt the air conditioning hit your face, you brought the phone up to meet your gaze. You typed in the number you knew as well as your own and pressed it to your ear. It rang twice before you heard a familiar laugh.

"Baby, so what did you think?"

[djmaliksmix]

Matilda ~ Harry Styles x reader

warnings: fluff, crying

a/n: hey lovesss! Ik I said I would be coming out with the 2nd part to “where the light enters” but I’m still trying to perfect it so give me some time but it will come I promise!

For this fic I wanted to write abt Harry and his song Matilda bc it’s my fav Harry song. I actually came up with an idea for a fic as I was listening to it LOL so I hope you enjoy! 🤍

Summary: Y/n and Harry have been best friends since he started his career in one direction and they’ve always had feelings for each other but it just has never been the right time. The band has went on their hiatus (but they still talk) and Harry has been in his solo career for a while now. He writes Matilda for the reader and she loves it. Then they hangout with the boys (Louis, Liam, Zayn, and Niall) to just catch up and Harry and y/n tell them about the song and what happened when Harry showed you.

The late afternoon sun filtered through the studio windows, casting long streaks of light across the floor. Harry sat at the mixing desk, headphones hanging around his neck and a pencil balanced between his fingers. The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the equipment, and yet his mind was anything but quiet.

He’d rehearsed this moment in his head a hundred times—showing her the song, watching her reaction—but now that she was here, he felt a familiar nervousness creeping in.

The door creaked open, and there she was, her curly hair slightly frizzy from the wind outside and a coffee cup in her hand. She paused in the doorway, her gaze settling on him with a smile.

“You’ve been holed up in here all day, haven’t you?” she teased, stepping inside and closing the door behind her.

Harry smirked, spinning his chair to face her. “What can I say? A genius doesn’t take breaks.”

“Modest as always.” She rolled her eyes playfully She crossed the room to sit on his comfortable couch that he had in his studio. Her presence grounded him in a way nothing or no one else could.

They fell into an easy rhythm, talking about her day and the book she’d been reading, and Harry and how his studio hours have been going, but Harry could feel the weight of the song pressing on him. Finally, as her laughter trailed off, he cleared his throat.

“I, uh, actually have something I want to show you,” he said, his voice quieter than usual.

Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Oh? Is this the big secret project you’ve been working on?”

“Something like that.” He reached for a pair of headphones on the desk and handed them to her. “It’s called Matilda.”

She nodded. “Oh! Like my favorite movie!”

He smiled, “yes, we used to watch it all the time together when we were younger.

She laughed to herself, “yeah! I remember that!”

“I wrote it for you.” He said with the upmost intent in his tone. He smiled softly.

Frankly, he was nervous out his mind on how she would react to the entire song but he was even more nervous on how she would react when he told her he wrote it for her.

“Oh Harry! Really?!” She said smiling, genuinely happy that he would even think of her in the very tight scheduled work that he does.

He nodded. “I wanted to show it to you first though. Before I put it on the album so it wouldn’t be a surprise.” He said thoughtfully.

“That’s so sweet! Thank you Harry!” She said getting up to hug him. He always loved when they hugged.

Harry watched her carefully, his heart pounding as she slipped on the headphones. He could feel the weight of this moment pressing down on him—Matilda wasn’t just a song. It was a piece of her story, a mirror he hoped would reflect how much she deserved to let go of the pain she carried.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual.

She nodded, her fingers gripping the edges of the headphones like they might anchor her. “I think so.”

Harry pressed play.

The soft opening notes filled the space between them, and he leaned back, his chair creaking faintly. At first, her face was neutral, her head tilted slightly as she took in the melody. But as the lyrics began—“You were riding your bike to the sound of ‘It’s No Big Deal’...”—he saw the shift. Her lips parted slightly, and her brows knit together in recognition.

By the time the first chorus came around, she was leaning forward, her elbows on her knees. Harry watched as her fingers curled into the fabric of her jeans, her breathing slow but deliberate. The words were sinking in.

When the second verse began, her hand moved instinctively to cover her mouth. The tears started slowly, one sliding down her cheek, then another. She closed her eyes briefly, as if to steady herself, but it didn’t stop the flood.

Harry’s voice carried through the headphones, soft but resolute:

“You can let it go, you can throw a party full of everyone you know. Not invite your family, ‘cause they never showed you love.”

Her shoulders trembled slightly, the weight of the song pressing down on her. She pulled the headphones off for a moment, her eyes wide and glistening with tears.

“Harry…” she whispered, her voice breaking. “This is—”

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “Take your time.” Harry said kindly.

She nodded, wiping her cheeks quickly, before slipping the headphones back on. Harry moved from his chair at the table to sit next to her on the couch. His heart in his throat as he watched her listen.

He held her hand in support.

And then came the part he had worked on the longest, the part he had poured his soul into.

“I don’t believe that time will change your mind…”

She froze, her breath hitching audibly.

His voice rose, raw and full of emotion, carrying the words with a conviction that made the room feel alive.

“In other words, I know they won’t hurt you anymore as long as you can let them go…”

The multiple layers of ranges his voice went into on this one line was like an angel’s cry.

It was beautiful.

Her reaction was instantaneous. Her hand squeezed his. Her lips quivered, her eyes squeezed shut, and her body moved lightly with silent sobs.

That single line shattered her soul. It wasn’t just the words—it was the way Harry sang them, the way his voice climbed higher, breaking slightly with the force of his emotion. He wasn’t just singing; he was pleading with her, telling her with every note that she could be free of the pain she carried.

She pulled the headphones off again, setting them down carefully on the armrest of the couch before covering her face with her hands.

“Hey, hey,” Harry said softly, moving closer to her. He held her face in his hands. His green eyes piercing through her soul. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she shook her head, her voice trembling. “It’s like you took every part of me I’ve tried to hide, every part I thought no one could see, and you…you put it into words. Into music.”

Harry’s eyes glistened, but he smiled softly. “That’s because I see you. All of you. And I want you to know you don’t have to carry it anymore.”

Her breath hitched, and she leaned forward, resting her forehead on his neck. “You have no idea what this means to me.”

“I think I do,” he whispered.

The moment stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words. Then, as if by instinct, she leaned in, her lips brushing against his. Harry stilled for a heartbeat before kissing her back, his hand moving to cradle her cheek. The kiss was soft and unhurried, filled with all the emotions they hadn’t yet put into words.

When they pulled apart, her cheeks were flushed, and his thumb brushed away the tears that lingered.

“You’re not alone anymore,” Harry said, his voice steady but gentle. “Not with me.”

She gave a small, tearful laugh, her smile finally breaking through. “You’re too good at this, you know, making me vulnerable, breaking me open.”

He chuckled, resting his forehead against hers. “If it means you’ll finally believe how amazing you are, I’ll keep doing it.”

He got into a more comfortable position on the couch and she lay on his chest, hearing his heart beat. He ran his fingers through her curls. And she had her arms around his chest. Holding him tight, she wished that she could stay like this forever.

This is where she wanted to be.

Where she was always meant to be.

She didn’t feel lost anymore, she felt whole.

It was the most beautiful experience they both have had in life. Harry was forever grateful that she was the one he could show it to first.

And for her to have all the emotions with just them two in the room is a memory only they’ll have.

And she loved it.

They stayed like that for a while, the song still playing softly in the background, its message now woven into the quiet, shared understanding between them.

~~~~~~~~~

A week later, Harry found himself standing outside Louis’ house, a bottle of wine in one hand and a small gift bag in the other. The boys had decided to get together, a rare occurrence now that their solo careers had taken them in different directions.

Y/n now officially Harry’s girlfriend,had been one of Harry’s best friend for years, and though she hadn’t joined the boys for many of their previous hangouts, she’d agreed to come this time. After all, Harry had invited her, and they both knew the boys would be pestering him about the song—and why he’d been so secretive about it.

He walked back down the sidewalk to open the car door for y/n. “Why thank you Mr. Styles.” She said playfully and smiled. He smiled softly, “Anything for you my love.”

He put the gift bag in the same hand as the wine and held her hand.

She could tell he was nervous, his palms were sweating and he was moving his hand a lot.

“Nervous?” she teased, nudging his arm.

“Not nervous,” Harry said, though his voice shakes slightly. “Just…prepared for the shit I’m about to get from my best mates.” Harry said, fake smiling.

“They’ll be nice,” she said with a grin. “Maybe.” He said under his breath.

The door swung open before they could knock, and Louis’s familiar grin greeted them. “Look who finally decided to show up! Come on, you guys, we’ve been waiting.”

Inside, the living room was a flurry of laughter and conversation. Niall was perched on the arm of the couch, already halfway through a bag of chips, while Zayn leaned back on the other end of the couch, propping his feet up on the ottoman. Liam was pouring drinks, his usual calm presence grounding the chaotic energy.

“Harry!” Niall called, waving him over. “Y/n!” Niall said bringing you in for a hug. “It’s been years! He said in the same kind voice you remember him having.

“Hey Niall!” You said hugging him back.

She walked to the kitchen to greet Liam. He smiled. “It’s great to see you again love.” He said putting down the drink he was pouring into a cup. You smiled at the warmth of his voice. “You too, Liam.” You whispered.

Liam always had a welcoming demeanor.

She walked back to the living room where Zayn and Niall were sitting.

Y/n sat on the cushion next to Zayn and Harry sat right next to her.

Zayn smiled, “hey y/n, it’s been too long. He side hugged her.

“Hey Zayn” you said smiling trying to match his mysterious tone and presence.

“Ahh, the lovely y/n finally graces us with her presence,” Louis chimed in, exaggeratedly clutching his chest. “I feel honored.”

“Please Louis, don’t make it sound like I’ve been living under a rock,” she replied with a sarcastic smile. “We’ve known each other for years. We just haven’t seen each other in so long.”

“Well, you were always with him,” Niall teased, gesturing toward Harry.

“Oh, that’s what it was,” she said, smirking at Harry. “You just didn’t want to share your best friend with the rest of them.”

Harry’s cheeks flushed, “I- I- well-“ he said stuttering. He wasn’t rly good at showing his emotions outwards, only to the one person privately.

Louis laughed and said, “Look at ole Harry getting flustered by his girl!”

Zayn, Liam, and Niall, smiled and looked at each other. They were really happy that Harry was happy and in a good place.

Harry rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress the grin on his face. “You’re too funny.”

The guys launched into their usual banter, with Niall and Louis cracking sarcastic jokes at Harry’s expense, Zayn occasionally chiming in with minimal but pointed remarks, and Liam attempting to play the peacemaker. She slipped into the dynamic effortlessly, throwing in witty comebacks and keeping up with the lighthearted teasing.

But then, as the laughter died down, Louis turned to Harry with a knowing grin. “So, come on, mate. We’re dying to know—what’s up with this Matilda song? You’ve been all mysterious about it.”

Harry shot him a playful glare. “No one said you could know about it.”

“I think it’s a bit too late for that,” Niall quipped. “I heard you were all emotional in the studio. I bet it’s one of those ‘weepy ballads’.”

“Wouldn’t be the first,” Zayn added dryly from his chair, not looking up from his phone.

“Hey, there’s depth to a good cry,” y/n chimed in, glancing at Harry with a teasing smile. “Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve heard it.”

Harry sighed dramatically. “It’s not just a ballad.” His voice softened. “It’s…well, it’s for her.”

The room fell quiet. She met Harry’s gaze and smiled softly, her heart swelling at the way he cared for her.

Louis raised an eyebrow, leaning forward. “Go on then, tell us. What’s this ‘Matilda’ really about?”

She turned to the group, not missing a beat. “Harry wrote it because he knows what I’ve been through. It’s about… letting go of the people who hurt you, specially your family/people that should be supporting you, and choosing to be your own person.”

The guys exchanged looks, their expressions softening as they listened.

“I cried when I heard it,” she continued, glancing at Harry. “It was like he knew exactly what I needed to hear. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so seen in my life.”

There was a collective silence before Zayn said simply, “She’s not wrong, though. Harry is one of the most understanding people.”

Niall blinked. “Wait, hold up. Harry? Mr. ‘I Can’t Let My Feelings Show’ Styles?”

“Yeah,” she replied with a teasing grin. “Turns out he’s got layers.” She said sarcastically.

“Who would’ve guessed,” Louis muttered with a playful eye roll.

The moment of levity didn’t take away from the underlying warmth in the room, the connection between the group stronger than ever. Harry squeezed her hand, his gaze soft but full of affection, grateful that, with these people, they had a family—a family that saw them, truly saw them, for who they were.

“Well, there you have it,” Harry said, chuckling as he leaned back. “I guess I’m showing feelings now.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Liam added, raising his glass.

They all clinked glasses, a toast to old friends, new bonds, and the kind of love that made you feel like you could finally breathe.

This is your family.

[muntitled]

𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐃: 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐳𝐢 𝐚𝐭 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐲!?

Didn't anybody tell him being back in the booth will leave him singing solo?

Pairings: Lee Jihoon x Fem!reader | Slight!Kim Mingyu x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: A kink confession in couple's therapy might just save your relationship

Warnings: Established Relationship, Insecurities, Gender Roles, Slight!Toxic Relationship, Fluff, Slight Angst, Smut (+18 Minors DNI), Masturbation, Dom/Sub undertones, MeanDom!Jihoon, Sub!Reader, Innocence Kink, Slight DDLG, Ownership Kink, Hair Pulling, Spitting kink, Massive Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Slight Humiliation, Submission Kink, Dirty Talk, Grinding, Oral Sex (Male rec), Breeding Kink, Slight!Hate sex

Word Count: 3.9k

Song: Mine | Beyonce

Woops

"I'm aware that I'm on this mission to get my boyfriend to actually want to fuck me again but why does it feel like I've already failed on the very first step?" A whine so childish, and so petulant rips itself from the depths of your throat but Jihoon's running shower silences the pathetic noise.

While he showers, you're left sitting on the floor surrounded by a graveyard of designer lingerie. A too small Victoria's Secret set is immediately abandoned in its box, leaving you howling into the phone as you wriggle yourself into the complicated underwear.

Your confidence wanes as you adjust to the intricate bows and string of the set, wincing as you pull up the pink garter belt until it's clasped around your thighs. Soon enough, you're padding across the floor of your walk-in closet, hesitantly approaching a mirror.

"I mean, this says 'slut' but what if 'slut' isn't what he's attracted to?" Your hand curls tightly around the width of your phone, "Jihoon is an anomaly! What if I end up making a complete and utter fool of myself?" The mirror is nestled between Jihoon's clothing rack harbouring all his neatly pressed designer pieces. You let the sight of his intimidating fashion waver your already fragile confidence. 

"Are you hearing yourself?" Scoffs Mingyu through your phone's speakers, "What man has ever in the history of the universe not been attracted to 'slutty'? I feel like that might be a prerequisite in terms of the origins of the word." He says in a lax, calm manner, "Woozi'll just be happy to see boobs and ass becuase that's usually how a guy's brain goes. Or how mine goes at least."

Despite Mingyu's assurances, your arms are still folded over your scantily covered breasts while you cradle your phone in the air. "I don't know," your bottom lip finds its way between your teeth. "You didn't hear him today at counseling, Mingyu. I feel like our therapist might actually hate us." You continue to cradle your torso, forcing yourself not to flinch at the memory of your earlier session of couples therapy. 

How far away Jihoon had felt despite being seated right beside you, like a gleaming, stoic-faced monolith. You feel as though you have been living in nothing but a perpetual winter, forever trying to please Jihoon, your boyfriend, but always falling short in front of Woozi, the entertainer. Work, work, work, on his mind meant that you were left to entertain your own wants by your lonesome. Even more harrowig, is the excuse he had given your therapist.

"She's always in boss mode," Jihoon's tone was as cold as ice, refusing to spare you even a single glance as he faced the therapist ahead, "And that's one of things I love about her, yes. Her drive and determination makes us compatible because I know I'm the same-"

A scoff slips past your lips at that point, making Jihoon's fist clench on the arm rest as you snootily interjected, "Don't misconstrue." You said, "He works more than me," and it was the truth as far as you believed it. Yes, you would gladly admit to neglecting a few key elements of your relationship in the face of your career, but never had you ever made Jihoon feel microscopic in your pursuits. Not like how he made you feel.

"It's important to listen to each other without interjecting." The therapist calmly scolded, leaving you grumbling in your seat, "You'd be surprised at how much could truly be accomplished by simply listening to each other,"

You were truly ready to tell that old lady to go to hell but something strange happened, and Jihoon finally opened his mouth, unburdening himself with what has truly been bothering him in his relationships as of late.

"It's just," He swears lightly under his breath, which does a terrific job in garnering yout attention. You peek up from underneath your lashes and you're stunned to hear him say, "I just wish she'd understand that it wouldn't burn down the foundations of feminism if she'd just," Jihoon's jaw ticked as he displayed the very first signs of emotion, "-Just let me take that load off for a bit…"

"In what way?" The therapist asked, sensing the nearness of a eureka moment. She treaded carefully, in fear of scaring Jihoon back into his shell. Thankfully, he made himself clearer because by now, you needed to know as well.

"She's the boss in her day to day and I respect that," he says, "But all I'm saying is that it wouldn't hurt to leave all that shit at work..."

The therapist nodded with grave understanding, although even you could see the trepidation easing onto her face. There is no hiding the conflicting emotions displayed on your face.

"You're asking her to become more…" The therapist cleared their throat, "Submissive?" Jihoon had not responded after that, letting the pregnant silence act as his megaphone.

"I'm submissive," you had whispered, nodding as if trying to convince yourself of your words. "I'm like… so submissive," before you could decorate your lie with even more lies, Jihoon finally turned towards you. 

"Really?" He asked, "Where?"

You let an incredulous chuckle escape from your throat as you shot back, "Where what?"

Jihoon did a show of looking around the therapist's clinical office, delving deep into his petty theatrics as he calmly, "Where are you being submissive, because it hasn't been with me?"

The session had ended with you wracking your brain at Jihoon's admittance of what you suspect to be a kink. His words haunted you on the silent drive home. They had piqued your interest considerably, filling the atmosphere with a tense warmth, as if a tempest was brewing. One that neither of you was quite aware of how to deal with yet.

It was a feeling that led you into the deepest confines of your closet, until you pulled out the Savage x Fenty lingerie box, immediately calling Mingyu in a fit of panic while Woozi was in the shower. He was, after all, your best friend way before you even knew of Lee Jihoon.  

Ripping your arms away from your torso is a mission on its own, one you succeed with immense reluctance as you finally gaze at your reflection in all her half naked glory.

You commence a hesitant twirl in front of the floor to ceiling mirror.

Very hesitant. 

The lace bralette is digging into your ribs, and the matching pink garters are cutting into the skin of your ample thighs. It is all so painfully uncomfortable that you're threatening to take it off, no matter how much of a wet dream you may look like.

But there is excitement there too, bubbling beneath the surface, awakened by Jihoon's confession. You are almost excited to try this with him. Submission, sexually, was never on your cards previously but maybe this is something you should have noticed long ago. You pride yourself on being observant so why didn't you notice it before?

The soft affirmations of "Say my name," while he was steadily bringing you to orgasm with his fingers alone. The unmistakable need to have his hand locked around your throat whenever he was on the verge of cumming.

Even the non sexual stuff.

Ordering for you. Making sure your hand was always locked inside his when you found yourselves wandering the city. Forcing you to pay with his card despite knowing you made more than enough to sustain your lifestyle. 

How didn't you know?

Keeping a hesitant grip on your satin nightgown, you tilt your head at your reflection skeptically.

"Imagine how embarrassed I'll be if he just ignores me," The insides of your mouth is bleeding non stop from the way you've been gnawing at it, "Maybe I should just accept that work is the only love in Jihoon's life."

Mingyu's voice is diabolically soothing as it bleeds through your speakers, "No, no," he says, and you can imagine him swatting away at the air in the process "Jihoon acts like a prude but he's one of the biggest sluts- if not - the biggest slut I know."

"Besides yourself of course," you murmur,

"Besides myself of course" Eventually, Mingyu comes up with what he suspects is his big master plan.

"Perhaps you should send me a pic of you in it, that way when the little guy gets out of the shower and sees you, then you'll be far more relaxed in the knowledge that someone else has already seen you in it." 

It truly was Neanderthal mathematics. 

However, there is an underlying veneer in Mingyu's tone bleeding in through the phone's speakers that makes you believe your best friend is far from joking. Despite it infuriating Woozi to no end, Mingyu might never stop flirting with you ever. In respect of your dynamic.

"Surely, I shouldn't have to tell you that I'm not sending you a pic of me in my lingerie for you but I guess I have to put that into words you would understand maybe?" You hold up your fingers and clear your throat as you monotonously say, "how dare you," 'have you no shame, Mingyu," You ask, "Need I go on?" 

In the midst of Mingyu's petulant whines urging you to just 'leave your man' Jihoon's shower silences, and you right your bad posture immediately. You suddenly have no idea what to do with the drawstring of the nightgown. Somehow, this seemed like the make it or break it moment. The moment where you would decide to dive headfirst into your plans of winning back your relationship despite the possibility of being met with Jihoon's hostility and coldness that you had grown so accustomed to.

The pool of dread and anxiety is deep, and your hands are nearly shaking as your fingers gloss over the lacy pink garment. "I have to go," you whisper into the receiver, vaguely aware that you've already clicked the button to sever the line before your sentence even ends. All while you awaited the footsteps from Jihoon. But they never came.

Courageously abandoning your fear for the sake of actually getting laid, you walk up to the door of your shared bathroom and knock hesitantly.

"Jihoon? Honey, are you okay?" But he is not okay, in fact, Jihoon might venture to believe he may never be okay because your voice is just so pretty, even when muffled by a closed door. His eyes are squeezed shut, and his forearm is leaning against the shower glass, and you just called him honey and fuck, if he didn't start tugging at his dick faster. He feels pathetic, having to get himself off when you were right there but the nuances and complexities of fighting with your partner introduced the need for such things. 

Jihoon's jaw is locked tight as he succinctly and suspiciously responds with a rumbling and groaning "Fine."  His brows are furrowed, and his teeth locked tightly together as he fights to get off easily and succinctly.

He hopes that you would take the hostility in his voice as a sign to make yourself scarce. Jihoon already fucked up when he let the 'submissive' thing slip but he cannot bear to imagine the utter humiliation he would be subjected to if you swung that door open right now, catching masturbating in the shower, as if he did not have a girlfriend able to meet those needs… It bruises him like nothing else could. He did not want you to see him like this. He did not want you to know that even in the midst of your fights, you were the only woman he ever really thought of.

His palm skates over his soaked cock as his mind is filled images of you on your knees in front of him, head tilted back and tongue sticking out like a-

"Good little slut," It was intended as a whisper to fuel the violent pool of heat bubbling in his abdomen and make him cum quicker. A whisper that you weren't supposed to hear but your ear is on the door now and you shout back, 

"Did you say anything?"

He cannot reply because his cock is aching and heavy with the weight of his fantasy. A fantasy in which you were his to hold, his to fuck, his to cum inside of until you were completely and utterly full of his load-

"Fuck-"

He rushes to squeeze the base of his dick, edging himself even though he's not quite sure why. This had been his moment to just cum all over his hands, wash off his spilt seed and be done with it, but you're knocking much more fluidly on the door, and you're becoming impatient. 

"Honey, you're scaring m-," You venture to say, despite already pushing the bathroom door open. You're both left momentarily stunned by what the other is seeing in front of them. He is left paralyzed by seeing you in so little clothing… and wearing pink. 

While you did not anticipate seeing Jihoon naked in the shower. Why had you not anticipated that? That’s so silly. Your mouth hangs open with the shock of his beauty perhaps.

Has it truly been that long? 

In the same breath, Jihoon's lungs are wiped clean as he stares at you through the glass. His breathing is heavy, ghosting over the glass while his broad chest rises and falls. He is nothing but darkened hooded eyes. Eyes that ravage the sight of you in your lacy pink underwear, underwear that he had not seen anywhere. Where did you get that? When did you get that? Myriad thoughts swirl in Jihoon's mind, each more sinister and lustful than the last because you look so completely innocent and so soft standing by the door, arms at your side while the dressing gown hangs lazily off of your shoulders.

After a moment of silence, Jihoon decides to stop this nonsense by leaning back slightly. His long black hair still dripping down the sides of his face and his tongue skates over his bottom lip as he says,

“We should not be this surprised to see each other naked,” He says, a deep voice ringing out through the acoustics of the bathroom, “We are a couple, last I checked.”

When you do not respond, he tilts his head downward, letting an even deeper shadow cast over his eyes as he scans you from head to toe. For an innumerable amount of minutes all is quiet. It feels as though the world had been rid of noise, like you had teleported back in time, to a Charlie Chaplin motion picture. A world of absolute silence. 

You begin to wonder how you might respond because surely, you cannot stand here, gawking at him for the rest of your merry life.

Before you could even think of adding to the silence with anything, anything at all, Woozi keeps his ice cold gaze on you, as he leans his head against his forearm, the one still positioned against the shower glass and he resumes his movements of languidly stroking his thick cock buried in his tight fist. 

Your mouth runs dry as your eyes betray you, finally venturing down to watch him. You seem to have forgotten just how beautiful your boyfriend truly was, taking in his damp locks kissing his shoulders. He is all solid lines with a sculpted torso and you feel as  if you never even knew him at all.

"Jihoon," Your voice quivers with immense passion but he silences you immediately. 

"Don't ruin this. Please don't-"

"I wanna help." His mouth snaps shut but he can feel himself twitch in his palm. Jihoon's breath grows hot as you step closer and closer and he squeezes his cock, as the overall scent of you forces its way through his nose and into his brain. You're so utterly addicting, Jihoon's hand strokes almost instinctively, his hips even venturing to push his cock into his palm as he follows your every movement.

"I want you to tell me what to do," You finally say, letting the silk gown fall to the floor as you step into the shower, lingerie and all. Jihoon's mind has completely descended into lechery while his hooded eyes watch you with nothing but adoration.

"Your knees." Is all he is able to force out, "I need you on your knees," He whispers an incredibly hoarse, "Please," that has you falling to his feet automatically. The movement immediately had Jihoon's reeling. 

"Fuck," He whispers, the sound of complete awe rushing straight to your core as he finally let's all his inhibitions wilt away with the rest of his manners. Jihoon is quick to bury his fingers into your hair with a roughness you're surprised to see. Surprised but far from disappointed.

"Open your mouth," He instructs, despite already prying your mouth open with his thick fingers, forcing your teeth open as if you were his plaything all while craning your head backwards. 

Once he gets your mouth open, Jihoon is insatiable. He immediately bends down and crashes his lips into yours, letting his tongue invade the inside of your mouth like his life depended on it. It's a manic, passionate and domineering kiss, neck that had you moaning into his open mouth as your tongue wrestled with his.

"I'm gonna fuck your mouth now, okay?" His tone however, lets you know that he is not asking, not really, but you nod anyway, unsure of who or what has come over you. All you're really sure of is that you want to make him feel good. The goal, the satisfaction of it is building so fantastically inside of you, pushing through your arteries, steadily soaking your panties with arousal and eliciting a slightly wayward kind of dizzying emotion inside of you all at once.

"Tell me," he says, and you're forced to crane your head back as he straightens his form. "Tell me to fuck your stupid little mouth. Tell me it's what you want." His jaw is locked tight as his hand once again encloses around his sensitive dick. He refuses to give you anything, however, unless he hears you submit to him fully and completely. He feels like he needs to hear the words. Some part deep in his monkey brain needs the confirmation from the source, as if hearing you say such nasty, horrible things would increase his already heightened arousal.

"Please, Fuck my mouth, Jihoon!" In any other instance you might have been shocked at the words flowing out of your mouth, but your cunt is absolutely dripping through the fabric and your hand immediately dives down to cup your pussy through your panties as you look up at him and say, "Please fuck my slutty little mouth, Jihoon! I fucking want you to, pleasepleaseplease-"

"Such a slut- such a pretty little slut-" you'd never heard Jihoon's voice crack the way it just did and you really wish to hear that beautiful sound again. His hand is once again in your hair while his other hand is on your jaw. He pushes a finger inside until he's flattening your tongue and craning your neck even further back. You're momentarily confused, trapped in a haze of stupid lust before Jihoon hovers above you and spits directly into your mouth. 

You're moaning, and keening and Jihoon is already forcing his cock all the way inside your mouth.

"Your mouth-" His voice is hoarse as he eases his cock inside the warmth of your mouth. He cannot take his eyes off of you, his beautiful, brilliant girl taking his cock so far into your mouth while you had taken to humping your own hand like an insatiable little slut.

"Fuck baby," He murmurs, letting the tip of cock meet the very back of your throat before inching out again, "is my little girl really getting turned on from sucking cock?" His humiliation is punctuated by a sharp and powerful thrust, one that has you seeing stars and your vision blurring as you fight to keep him inside your mouth. "You don't even have to do anything," He says through gritted teeth, "I'm doing all the work fucking this tiny little mouth of yours, aren't I?" You can feel how turned on he is. He's fucking huge inside your mouth as he slides himself to and fro like his life depended on it.

"God you're so beautiful like this," He whispers, "You're so fucking beautiful taking my cock like a good little whore."

Jihoon's gaze lowers down to where your hand has taken to pushing aside your panties and rubbing swift wet circles on your clit.

"You're not gonna cum like that," He says, almost immediately stilling his frantic hips, "when you cum, it's gonna be because of me, understand?" His grip on your forearm is solid as he pulls you up from off the shower floor. You're absolutely limp in his hands, breath heavy as he brings you close to him. There is a silent, almost tender exchange, with him breathing heavily in your face while you stare wide eyed up at him.

Soon, he's spinning you around with his hands digging into your sides as he presses your front against the fogged up glass. Letting your tits push against the cool, wet surfaces, he draws your hips to his. 

Before he sinks his cock into you, a very strange thing happens. Soft pillowy lips brush against your shoulder blade, eliciting a sharp gasp from you.

"Thank you," He whispers before sinking his cock into you with determination. He bottoms out faster than you anticipate, all while you've taken to moaning and whimpering like a mad woman. Your sounds egg him on, until he's rutting his twitching cock inside of you, desperately searching for the alleviation of a budding and aching need inside him.

"You feel so fucking good, you know that?" You hear him behind you. Feel him behind you. Your walls stretch and contract around his cock who continues to bully your insides.

"F-Fuck, Jihoona-" 

"Fuck, you're squeezing me, Princess," Your orgasm sneaks up on you pile the devil himself, stripping you of your dignity as you push your hips backwards, almost instinctively forcing his cock deeper as you fucked yourself back onto him. Jihoon's mind is absolutely deranged with lust. He sinks his nails into the softness of your sides and he pulls your hips impossibly closer. He fucks you like a madman, his cock is fluid and quick, pushing against that particular cushion of nerves that has your orgasm feeling like an absolute lifetime. Your panties that had been carelessly pushed aside creates a second later of friction that has him so dangerously close to the edge.

"I'm going to cum inside you." He states while never letting himself stop fucking you, "Fuck- I'm going to cum inside you-" It's the hardest you've ever seen him cum before. His hair is messy and a darker shade under the wetness of the shower, his eyes are hooded and glossy and his body is shuddering against you, overcome by a wave of vicious shocks as he stutters and empties his balls deep inside of you. His cock is forced deeper than it's ever been and you're made completely full of his load. Jihoon is utterly spent as he lowers his weight onto your back. Letting a sea of kisses reign down on your back as your heavy breathing fills the warm and damp air.

"You look so fucking beautiful," He says, never letting his pecks against your back stop, "so fucking gorgeous." That seems like apology enough, on both parts.

[callahanisms]

body talk

seeing challengers was a mistake guys because all i can think about is challengers and how much i love challengers and how cinema is back after people declared the death of cinema like three years ago and how much i wanna go see challengers again—

anyways uhhhh did challengers make me hop onto the mike faist train? yes. because i love a man that clearly worships his wife and kisses boys.

character: art donaldson

for vibes: "physical" by olivia newton-john

context: stanford university. 2007.

if you had a choice, you wouldn't be working as a receptionist in the gym. instead, you'd work in the infirmary. it was more in line with your desire to pursue sports medicine.

your father himself was an athlete who sustained a career ending injury and went into sports medicine. you wanted to follow in his footsteps.

but for now, you were working as a receptionist at the gym for your federal work study. college wasn't going to pay for itself unfortunately and your parents could only provide so much support.

art donaldson recognized you while you guys were at a party. "you're the person at the desk in the gym!" he sounded so excited. almost like a puppy.

"yeah..." you look down at your red solo cup. "you're like a regular. with tashi duncan."

"you know her?"

"well, i've talked to her a few times. she's great." who wouldn't like her honestly? you weren't the biggest fan of tennis but whenever tashi duncan played, she always managed to make it magical.

"you're also in my bio class, right?"

"you're in my bio class?"

"oh don't tell me you didn't notice."

you shrug. "i didn't. you're not very...noticeable, i guess."

art took personal offense to that statement.

okay not entirely. because to some extent, you were right. he wasn't as noticeable as some of the other people in class, like the lacrosse player on the guys team or the girl from the basketball team, both of whom you seem to be close with.

growing closer to art was just a matter of being in a lot of classes together, something you didn't realize during the first month of college.

to be fair, it was a lot.

but the good thing about having a lot of classes with him was that it meant you always had a go to person for group projects. and god were professors adamant about assigning group work.

at the very least, you had a workout buddy when you guys were free. sometimes, you were even joined by tashi duncan. so it was cool to be able to work out with a famous tennis player.

perhaps the gym is where you started to notice art's...physicality.

he wasn't entirely imposing, aside from being quite tall. but he had a surprising amount of muscle. perhaps the tank tops he wore didn't help much. it left little to the imagination.

because of your familiarity with the body and your desire to go into sports medicine, art called you when he was feeling a bit sore.

he opens the door with a smile, seeing you with your bag and clementines. "what's the fruit for?"

"just in case you get hungry." you step in and remove your shoes. "just lay down."

"bed or floor?"

"whichever you prefer. the bed might be more comfy. we'd have to move stuff around if you were on the floor. oh and take off your shirt."

"what?" he could feel his cheeks beginning to heat up.

"take off your shirt. a massage won't be that effective with your shirt on."

"alright. umm..." art just does what you ask of him, taking his shirt off and setting it aside on his desk chair. he gets on the bed and lays down, front side down.

you pull out a bottle of lotion and crawl onto the bed, straddling him at his waist. you are unaware of how red he is feeling you against him.

you feel around his back for bit, asking him where in particular is tight. once you got a good idea, you squirt some lotion onto your hands, rub it a bit, then begin to massage.

art would be embarrassed from the sounds that came out of him. but he was craving for the relief from his overworked and tired muscles. he could feel just how deep your hands went in, twisting and rubbing. your hands felt so good. they glided smoothly and your touch soothed him greatly.

"damn dude. when was the last time you massaged yourself?"

"don't know." he mutters, burying his lower face into his own pillow. he could feel himself growing warmer all over his body.

your palm pressing into him, dragging itself through his muscles, rubbing baby lotion into his skin so he's soft.

your hand reaches a part of his lower back, your palm rubbing through the muscle. and he moans.

you stop for a moment. "something wrong?"

"no...nothing's wrong..." he mutters.

"you sure?"

"yes. keep going."

he enjoys the way your hands move lower, and lower. he wants them to sneak to the front. massage him a different way.

your hands linger on a particular spot of his back though, feeling the defined muscle. there's something particularly...satisfying, about running your hands over his body. you were tempted to feel more. especially his arms.

art's arms were utterly gorgeous, as if sculpted out of marble by a renaissance artist themselves.

"i think you're all good."

"all done already?" he smelled like baby lotion. whatever that mean.

"unless you want me to massage elsewhere." you get off of him and he turns on his side to look at you.

the tank top you were wearing was a little bit tight.

art gently grabs your wrist. "magical hands you know."

"it's beneficial to learn how to massage. for your own betterment and health. though i will happily help you with the spots you can't reach."

he rubs circles into your wrists. "are they tired?"

"a little. it was because i took an exam yesterday. writing in those blue booklets is absolute torture."

"that's fair." his eyes flicker up to yours. the room was warm, the atmosphere right. "do you...like my body?"

"it's nice. you're very beautiful." you smile.

art pulls you forward, your legs hitting the wooden bedframe of the shitty college provided furniture.

"do you want to feel it?"

you bite your lip. "i think i do."