#I scanned it from my phone and played with the filters on it

[yami268]

So... I've been thinking about the Rezo/Master Anachris pairing and I figured it would be more like

[chososdiscordkitten]

Synopsis: calling the jjk men good boy's for the first time ^-^

Includes: 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨, 𝐇𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢, 𝐍𝐚𝐨𝐲𝐚, 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨, 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢, 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐨 >_< Content: GN!Reader, no explicit smut- mostly just soft stuffff, just one dick jump I think..? jjk men being simpppps

MDNI

Choso Kamo

The discovery that Choso liked praise was no surprise. If he had a tail, it would wag whenever you praised him; we know this. 

But finding out he liked this kind of praise- that’s what shocked you. 

It came out of your mouth so quickly. As though you had been calling Choso that more than you called him by his name. 

He was making dinner- pattering around the kitchen with your eyes following his every move. You found it endearing how he insisted he would cook, “All you need to do is sit pretty and wait.” he would demand. 

No objections coming from you, knowing if Choso didn’t cook- you would be eating takeout instead. 

And when he offered you a spoonful to see how it was tasting, you closed your eyes with a pleased hum. 

��Now there’s my good boy.” 

You swore it was instinct- like you couldn’t filter the words that left your lips. 

And as though time stood still- you opened your eyes with pinched brows, and your lips pulled to the side. 

The little glimmer that shined in his eyes was one you only see in wonderfilled children when they see a candy store. 

His cheeks blushed with a little smile forming at the corner of his lips, had his heart beat any faster in his chest you would have heard it. 

“I’m a..?” he whispered, looking at you and wanting to hear you repeat it. 

You got the hint he liked it from the moment you opened your eyes. Blinking innocently as his hand held the spoon tightly. “A good boy.” you smiled, trying to keep the embarrassed blush heating your cheeks at bay. 

“My good boy.” you reiterated, watching his cheeks become deeper pink.

Choso nodded- as though this was some standard compliment that didn’t make the appendage between his legs jump at the name. 

‘A good boy.’ he mouthed with a giddy smile as he continued making dinner. 

For sure this only drove him to keep showing his affection with acts of service- only to hear your lips call him by that little name. 

And you were happy to call him that if it meant he would keep looking at you with the same love drunk eyes. 

After that, he would do a favor to you- not expecting anything in return except the new found pet name he wanted to hear you say. 

So when he would bring you something you had asked for—the TV remote, a charger, or a snack on his way home—his heart would pound just waiting for the little name. 

His head would rest on your chest with your hands rubbing small circles on his back and the other playing with his hair. Intent eyes watching the film you had put on- as though you were able to feel the stiffness of his shoulders. Waiting for the name. 

You placed a kiss on his forehead, “My good boy.” you hummed against his skin- feeling him ease into your grasp with a soft exhale. 

Hiromi Higuruma

You were sitting in the apartment office, scanning documents with hazy eyes till your mouth suddenly felt very- very dry.

But then you remembered you had a perfectly able boyfriend sitting on the living room couches waiting for you to finish working. 

You picked up your phone- swiping through the useless apps and clicking on Hiromi’s contact- hearing his ringtone through the closed door before hearing the dial click. 

Taking on a slightly stern tone, “I’m only a few feet away from you-” he started, only for you to sigh dramatically. 

“I don’t think i've ever been so thirsty in my wholllleee life.” you sighed, pressing your forehead onto the desk and hearing a little chuckle rumble through the speaker. 

You could hear the smile in his words, “That so?” almost sarcastically. 

Humming a lazy ‘Mhm’ “How I wish I had a tall, strong, handsome boyfriend to bring me a glass of water wiiiittthhhh three- no. Four ice cubes.” You exhaled dramatically. 

Hearing another little chuckle, “If only.” he muttered, playing coy to your specific demand. 

You gave a frustrated exhale- “Hiromi, be a good boy and bring me a glass of water.” this time more demanding, no longer having the patience for his game of playing coy.

You furrowed your eyebrows- unable to comprehend just how tired you had to be to say that to him. The silence heard from the phone made your stomach fall. 

Hanging up the phone with a small curse. Wondering if you had crossed a line that hadn’t been drawn by either of you. 

You sat up and started working again- far too embarrassed to go out for your own glass of water and settling on the fact Higuruma wouldn’t bring you one. 

That was till you heard looming footsteps behind the door of the office, hearing the door knob jiggle and widening your eyes at the hundreds of scenarios that raced in your mind. 

There Hiromi stepped- casual as ever with a glass of water in his hand. Unbothered, and cool as a cucumber as he placed the glass on the desk with a little kiss on your forehead. 

This made you think the call was cut out at the perfect moment. 

You muttered a small ‘Thank you.’ still shy from the tired, unfiltered words that left your lips. Hiromi started walking out, his back facing you as he halted his steps at the door frame. 

“Honey?” he asked, not even bothering to turn around. “Did you call me a good boy?” Your heart plummeted to your stomach from the question as your cheeks started warming. 

You parted your lips to speak, watching his neck turn and peer back at you. “Depends..?” you squint your eyes, hearing a little laugh leave his lips. 

Irking his head, almost to urge you to finish. “On whether you liked it or not...?” you whispered, looking at his expression soften. 

His nose crinkled in the slightest- “I think I did.” he whispered back with a little crinkle formed on his nose. A nod from your warmed face in return, mindlessly accepting his confirmation and mouthing a soundless ‘ok.’ 

Turning around and taking a step out of the office and closing the door behind him. Knowing he would have to hear it a few more times to be sure he liked it or not. 

Naoya Zenin

Rare were the times when the want to call Naoya a good boy arose. 

He could be such a cunt sometimes- so the urge never really rumbled in your mind. 

But when he would be sweet- when his hands held a gentle touch when cleaning a scrape you got on your knee. Or when he would gently clasp your necklace on for you- knowing you wouldn’t be able to see. 

He would do those sweet things with a furrowed brow and a pouty lip- sure. But his hands showed his true feelings. How gentle they could be at times- that’s when the pet name would threaten to leave your lips. 

But when you would hold his head in your hands, looking at him like an idiot in love- “My good boy.” you murmered, watching a light grimace form on his face at the name.

“Good boy?” he asked, almost disgusted. 

You nodded your head- so sure that Naoya was as you said. “You’ve never called me that.” 

He was so used to the strange pet names you would call him just to get a rise out of him- and he was sure this one was no different. 

You shrugged, “You’re hardly ever a good boy. But when you are- I should tell you, shouldn’t I?” You murmured, being able to feel the warmth on his cheeks fill your palms- even if his expression said otherwise. 

“M’not a dog.” he muttered. 

“If you were- I would have trained you to be a good boy all the time by now.” 

That’s when Naoya pulled his face from your hands and looked away from you. Not wanting to continue the conversation, knowing his cheeks must be flushed by now. 

And the last thing he wanted was you on a power trip from making him blush. Especially from being called a good boy.

But when you started calling him that—Pavloving himself into thinking the little endorphins that would simmer in his brain would only happen if you called him that. And you only called him that when he was kind.

Naoya warmed to the name slowly- barely even grimacing at the callousness you’d say it with whenever he would be sweet. 

Unknowingly, he was being trained to be nice and polite with one ‘good boy’ at a time. 

Satoru Gojo

The times you would praise Gojo were always met with an, “I know.” smug and cocky in his actions to brush off your praise as just compliments. 

But the first time you ever spoke those words to him- a praise he had never heard before now, and eager to hear it again. 

Satoru had made a stupid comment about how you didn’t show your affections enough- “I’m deprived of kisses.” he murmured, complaining to you as though you didn’t spoil him rotten with your affections. 

And in retaliation, you denied him any kisses or hugs. Show him what deprivation really was. 

You were washing dishes, with a whiney Satoru behind you, his hands wrapped around your waist with his chin on your shoulder. “This has to be considered abuse!” another complaint as you denied his advances. 

“You said I was cold and negligent, so I’m showing you how cold and negligent I can be.” You smiled to yourself, turning off the faucet and drying your hands on a nearby towel. 

Hearing a stifled whine of desperation huff from his nose at your denial. “Jus’ gimme one kiss-” aiming his lips at your cheek only for you to pull away. 

Turning over to look at him- faces inches apart with his hands daring to tighten their grip on your waist. Tilting your head to the side with a snide smile. “Only good boys who don’t complain get kisses.” 

From how close he was- you could see the glimmer in his eyes become blinding at the pet name. 

His features going soft with parted lips- “I’m good-” he choked out, looking at you with goal-oriented eyes. “I’m soooo good-” he muttered, bordering on panicked from the idea that you didn’t think he was. 

Gojo’s hands gripped harshly at your hips. “Have you been a good boy?” you asked, almost sarcastically—as though you were speaking to a puppy. 

He nodded- eager to hear the new compliment leave your lips. Only you nodded ‘no.’

“I don’t think you have ‘toru.” you hummed, his lips coming closer to yours with a sad pout. As though the idea of him being good in your mind was the most important thing he needed to hear. 

He only placed his forehead onto the crook of your neck with a sad puff, your hand going up to his undercut, softly stroking the back of his neck in some feigned consoling. “Tell me i’ve been good.” he muttered quietly.

So spoiled from you caving with a little pout here or there. Practically putty in your hands as your other hand caressed the side of his face. 

Rolling your eyes with a playful sigh, “You’ve been good.” with a half-assed tone, only for Satoru to look at you with sad eyes. Expecting more than what you offered. 

Pressing a soft kiss onto his forehead and pulling away, “You’re a good boy.” you murmured, watching the light return to his eyes in sync with the little smile on his lips. 

Blinking rapidly as though he was trying to blind you, “My good boy.” and that’s when he got his fill for affection for the next few minutes. 

Then came the task of having to call him that whenever he wanted to hear it- looking at him with a displeased look, knowing you’ve created a monster that thrives on that special kind of praise only you could offer. 

Kento Nanami

We can all agree- Nanami is the one who deserves to be told he’s a good boy the most, right?

There were times when the urge blossomed in your mind- at the tip of your tongue and so close to calling him that pet name. But you never did. 

That was, until you got the guts to test the waters. 

Laying on your back, a few minutes before bed and unwinding while on your phone, and beside you; a hazy Kento that was waiting for you to turn off your side table lamp. Always waiting for you to get ready for bed before allowing himself to fall asleep. 

You let out a soft sigh before turning off your phone. Rolling onto your side with Nanami watching you from the side of his vision. Only this time you didn't reach for the little nob to turn your lamp off. 

You only stayed on your side with a pensive hum leaving your lips. “Scratch my back Ken,” you muttered, clearly tired with your eyes closed. 

Though you couldn’t see it- or hear it, you knew he had a little smile on his face as he shifted onto your side of the bed. A little shiver ran up your spine when his fingertips grazed the small of your back as he reached beneath your shirt. 

A satisfied sigh left your lips when his barely present nails started circling small scratches between your shoulder blades, your cheeks tingling from the words you dared say. “Such a good boy.” with a little smile on your lips, Nanami couldn’t see. 

Nanami didn’t fully process your mumbled words, only offering a hum in response as he kept up the gentle scratches. 

But when his brain started thinking about what you said- thinking if he misheard you. Slowing his hand with furrowed eyebrows, “Did you call me a-” he hesitated in what he thought he heard. 

“A ‘good boy’..?” bordering on a whisper from the nerves of being incorrect. 

Only the little ‘Mhm!’ that left your lips swatted those nerves away. “You’re such a good boy- always so nice to me.” you hummed, closing your eyes against the pillow with his hand still acting on your demand.

A pensive hum left his lips before slowly dragging his hand out of your shirt. You opened your eyes in dread, thinking he didn’t like it- only to hear him plop on his side of the bed with a throaty exhale. 

“Then be good and scratch my back.” he murmured, clearly too tired to process what he had just demanded- and the tone he used opened a whole other can of worms. But seeing as it was only fair- you did the same. 

Toji Zenin

He had been bugging you to finish your work for a while. Poking and prodding at you to stop working and pay attention to the film he put on to distract you. 

Toji had this thing where he pretended not to care- but you could see that it bothered him with every little side eye he made at you when you would stop typing for even a second. Hoping you were looking up at the TV instead of the screen on your lap. 

But every side eye he would make, Toji would find you still working. 

Going as far as nudging you with his elbow to mutter some bullshit lie he thought up on the spot. 

“M’hungry.” he muttered when you would look over at him. 

“Then eat.”

Only a few minutes of an action movie fight before another useless lure for conversation left his lips. 

“S’cold in here.” trying to bait any conversation he could think of. 

You scoffed, knowing exactly what game he was trying to play. “Get a blanket,” he quickly said, not even wanting to lose your train of thought. 

Then another, and another, and another. Till he finally spilled what he really wanted- “You don’t wanna go lay down or somethin-” with a pouty lip and furrowed eyebrows. You sighed and looked over at him.

“Or something?” sarcasm filled your tone as you looked back at the screen. 

Toji rolled his eyes with an exhale- another sassy trait he had learned from you. 

He parted his lips with an inhale. 

“Good boys wait politely, Toji.” you spat- pinched eyebrows and an avoidant gaze as he looked over to you. 

“When have I ever been polite.” he murmured- barely audible and in an annoyed tone. 

“When have you ever been a good boy?” you retorted, surprised he didn’t catch it the first time. 

He only let out a slight hum at your declaration. 

Toji didn’t really bring it up after that- and neither did you. As though the words hadn't processed in his brain till a week later. 

Looking at you across a metal table at an outdoor cafe- “Did you call me a good boy the other day?” almost with a little grimace on his expression. 

You pursed your lips- making Toji think you were going to deny it. 

“No. I said you’re never a good boy.” 

He only raised a brow at your proclamation- sucking his teeth with an inhale, “That’s not true- and you know it.” dismissing your words before taking a bite of the half sandwich you bought to share. 

Takuma Ino

One of the sweetest boys I can imagine. 

Always would he try to be as gentlemanly as he could- reminding himself that when it came to you, he would bend over backward had you asked. 

But there would be times when it would slip his mind entirely. 

Going shopping with him turned from just a quick pit stop- to an hour, then two hours. 

While ordering boba in line, your hands held shopping bags on each side. Ordering your own drink before Ino ordered his. 

He always found it offensive when you would even think of reaching for your wallet- so he would scoff infront of the cashier before tapping the chip of his card onto the little black screen. 

“How am I supposed to pay you back?” you muttered through clenched teeth, taking a few steps to the little wait area as they prepared the bubble drinks. 

He muttered something like ‘You don’t have to pay me back, what else am I here for.’ brushing you off with a little scoff. 

Ino didn't even notice the bags in your hands- his brain fried from how long you had been in the overcrowded mall. He only noticed when you moved the bags to one hand and shifted your stance slightly.

He looked over at you with a soft exhale- reaching for the bags, “Baby, don't tell me you don't have a ssssuuuuper strong boyfriend to hold these for you.” taking them from your hands and watching your expression soften. 

“What kinda boyfriend would let you walk around holding your own bags-” he scoffed, jokingly making fun of himself as you smiled warmly at him. 

Be it the general brain splitting headache you felt at that moment- or the heartmelting warmth you felt looking at him, “You're such a good boy.” you muttered- bordering on an illegable whisper, but Ino heard it. 

His eyes widened in the slightest and parted his lips at the name. “Me?” Ino whispered back, you only nodded ‘yes’ with tired eyes. Leaning in a little to you ear- too cautious for anyone to hear. “A good boy?” he whispered again. Watching the little smile on your lips widen with eager eyes. 

“The goodest boy.” you whispered with a smug tone- knowing he liked being praised in general. You knew he would like the little name. 

-

(a.n) does this count as smut? kinda a grey area me thinks. Didn't know how to tag it. (p.s) im so hungry rn and need to go spend wayyyy too much money on tile :(

[seokminfilm]

pictures of you — jeon wonwoo

PAIRING 𐂴 jeon wonwoo x reader

TAGS & WARNINGS 𐂴 non-idol au, fluff, short, shy wonwoo, strangers to ???, mutual pining, photographer wonwoo, wonwoo is a very good flirt, wonwoo and reader hold hands, they 'accidently' stare at each other for too long....you know the drill, they're so cute your honor

SUMMARY 𐂴 who knew a walk through the park after a tiring day at work would lead you to a cute photographer?

LYR'S SIDENOTES 𐂴 missing wonwoo terribly right now so here's a fic to maybe ease my aching heart 💔 simple and pretty short but i hope you enjoy it nevertheless!

NOW PLAYING 𐂴 orchard (omori ost)

WORD COUNT 814 𐂴 FOR @kstrucknet

"can i take a picture of you?"

the question brings you eyes from your phone to the voice who asked, and suddenly you're staring up at a male with dark hair, black frames, and a sheepish smile on his face.

he was cute—devistatingly so—and a blush came to your features as you stopped walking.

"i look terrible right now...i don't think you want a picture of this." you smile embarrassed, gesturing to yourself. you look like you've been through a war, eyes tired and hair slightly disheveled from your long day at work.

the male shakes his head, gentile smile growing even wider as he studies you. "you look fine. i wouldn't ask to take a picture of you if i didn't like how you looked."

that sentence made your heart flutter for a reason you couldn't quite place, and you couldn't help but agree to him as you shyly nod. "where do you want to take the picture?"

"since you're the subject, why don't you choose?" the male pushes his glasses further up on his strong nose, and you nod, scanning the area around you. the trees are showing signs of summer, warm sunlight filtering through the leaves as kids run and frolic in the park.

"how about that tree over there? if you don't mind walking, of course," you laugh softly, and the male shakes his head, eyes squinting just slightly as his smile grows even wider. "yeah, let's do it."

the two of you set off, sounds of children's laughter and birds' chattering in the distance blending into the picturesque scene. the mysterious man's camera hangs loosely around his neck, and he scans the area with sharp eyes, admiring the view.

"it really is pretty outside this evening." you say, noticing him stare at the clear sky. "it is. i'm glad you agreed to letting me take pictures of you. you'd fit this mood perfectly."

another compliment that doesn't go unnoticed by you. you're bighting back a flustered giggle, just letting your face flush instead as you offer a hushed 'thank you'.

"you're really too sweet to me." you say, looking up at the man. "i don't even know your name, and you're choosing to talk to me out of tons of other people who probably look way better than i do."

he laughs, the sound of his chuckle as one of warmth and sweetness. "i'm talking to you because i i think you look pretty. very very pretty." he's shyly glancing down at the ground now, cheeks heating up as he clears his throat.

"and i'm wonwoo, by the way. now..." wonwoo pauses, staring at you with a look akin to a boy realizing his crush for the first time before he continues to speak. "now you know my name."

silence stretches between you and wonwoo as you hold each other's gaze, awkwardly apologizing to each other after you realize you've been staring at him for too long. you've nearly memorized every line on his face by now.

once you reach the tree, wonwoo instructs you to drop your things by him and pose. nervous that wonwoo's watching you so intently, you start to fix your hair, but he shakes his head, looking at you with that inpenetrable gaze.

"please don't change anything. you look amazing."

the instruction comes with yet another compliment, and you suddently feel a surge of confidence, doing your hest to be natural and give wonwoo what he wants.

after looking through the pictures under the tree, the two of you conversate a little more, shock flooding through you as you finally look at your phone and see the time.

"well, wonwoo. i-i should probably be heading home." you smile nervously, and wonwoo nods, looking past you into the distance.

"do you need me to walk you to your car?" wonwoo steps closer to you, firm chest just inches away from you as you look up at him. your eyes hold his for a second too long to be natural, and you shake your head, smiling at him. "no, no—you've already done so much for me."

"thank you, wonwoo. for everything. i..." you trail off, studying wonwoo's eyelashes and full lips. "i really needed this."

he smiles softly, nodding. "and thank you for being my muse. these pictures are some of my favorite i've taken all day."

"will i...will i see you again?" the question spills from your lips before you can think about what you're saying, and wonwoo's eyes widen slightly before he hesitates for a moment.

after seeing his thoughts flash on his face, wonwoo takes your hand in his, gaze running over your body in a way that makes your skin feel like fireworks are running across it.

"only if you want to see me again."

safe to say, you gave wonwoo your number before leaving the park that evening.

[takimakiiiii]

spider?! where?

synopsis: ollie and y/n vs a spider, who will win?

pairing: ollie bearman x fem!reader

themes: crack, idk what else to put 😭

wc!: 1.6k

tw: spiders 😖, mentions of breaking up

a/n: i loved when ollie mentioned he was afraid of spiders cuz SAME GIRL, anyways enjoy ☺️

You gently hummed along to Uptown Girl as it played softly through the apartment speakers, setting the mood for the morning. It was finally the weekend, and you’d woken up early to make breakfast for yourself and Ollie. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting pools of light that danced across the kitchen floor.

After three hectic weeks of racing, you and Ollie could finally sit back and relax. Life in Monaco was something you hadn’t fully adjusted to yet. Compared to Chelmsford, it was more glamorous and high-profile. You’d quickly realized that going anywhere—whether with or without Ollie—was a challenge. Fans swarmed, bombarding your personal space every time you left the house. It was a big change, but you were certain you’d get used to it soon enough.

You hummed softly, flipping a pancake in the pan—until a loud shriek and a thump echoed through the wall. You jumped, your head snapping toward the sound. The door to the bedroom was closed, muffled noises coming from the other side. Slowly, you set the spatula down and cautiously approached the door. Eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Ollie?” you called, your hand resting on the doorknob. There was no reply. You pressed forward, and the door slowly creaked open.

The sight before you was nothing you expected. Ollie stood shirtless, still in his pijama pants, pressed against the back wall of the bed. His wide eyes locked onto you, filled with pure panic. You couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation as you walked into the room.

“What are you doing? Are you okay? I thought you’d died or something,” you chuckled.

“This is no laughing matter,” Ollie shot back, his voice unusually serious.

You raised an eyebrow in amusement. “So, are you going to tell me why you’re standing on the bed?”

His eyes darted cautiously toward the edge of the mattress. “There’s a . . . spider.”

Panic surged through you as you jumped onto the bed beside him. “What? Where?” you stammered, eyes scanning the bedroom carpet. If there was one fear you and Ollie shared, it was spiders. Big or small, they always made you both lose your minds.

“See? I told you this wasn’t funny,” Ollie muttered as you clung to him for support, your feet sinking into the dense mattress. “What are we going to do?” you wailed, looking up at him. He looked helplessly down at you, uncertainly. “Maybe we could call Kimi to come and catch it,” Ollie suggested, though he didn’t sound too hopeful.

“I highly doubt he’d do that. Plus, do you have your phone on you?” you asked flatly, already knowing the answer.

“Well, I don’t see you with yours,” he shot back defensively. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t shake the dread slowly creeping up your spine. “How big is it?”

Ollie’s eyes went wide. “About the size of my hand,” he said, holding up his palm for emphasis. You groaned, the awful sensation of tiny legs crawling over your skin creeping up your arms. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Ollie shook his head regretfully.

You hesitated, then edged toward the side of the bed, every nerve on high alert. Slowly, you peeked over the edge. A shriek tore from your throat as the spider emerged from under the bed. You scrambled back and crashed into Ollie, who’d been standing right behind you. The two of you collided and tumbled onto the bed in a tangled mess of limbs. You groaned, rubbing your forehead.

“Ow!” Ollie grumbled, and you smacked him lightly as you rolled off him.

“Why were you standing behind me?” you grumbled in return.

Sitting up, you debated whether to grab a shoe and squish the thing, but a twinge of pity for the spider made you reconsider. “Okay, I know what we have to do,” you declared with a determined huff, your forehead still throbbing from the collision with Ollie. He turned to you, desperate for a solution.

“We’re going to get a plastic container, and we’re going to catch it,” you announced. The room fell silent. Ollie stared at you, as though waiting for you to yell, “Kidding!”

“Are you crazy?” he broke the silence, his voice filled with disbelief.

“Do you have a better plan?” you shot back, glaring at him. He bit the inside of his cheek, finally muttering, “No…”

“Good. Now go,” you ordered, nodding toward the door.

“What?”

“I’m not going. You are,” you said firmly.

“I am NOT going,” Ollie insisted, pushing you toward the door. You resisted, pushing back against him. “What? No!” you protested. “I’m seriously considering breaking up with you right now,” you grumbled, shoving against his bare chest. Ollie looked down at you, you half considered slapping some sense back into him. He sent you a sly smile as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer.

“Hey, if you can get the spider out, I’ll marry you.” he teased with a wink, sending your cheeks flushing. You stumbled on your words, flustered. Before crossing your arms with a huff, “I hate you.”

“Love you too.” he sang playfully, his charm working successfully once again. He pushed you toward the edge of the bed and cautiously retreated to the safety of the wall, offering you a sheepish smile. You shot him a dirty look in return. Turning back to face the bedroom, you peered over the edge of the bed. There it was, the spider, calmly sitting in the middle of the floor. You turned to Ollie helplessly.

“No. Absolutely not. You agreed to do this,” he said, raising his hands defensively. Reminding you of the agreement you just made. With a resigned sigh, you turned back toward the spider, taking a deep breath. You were going to count down and run for the kitchen—that would work. You had to make it work.

In one swift motion, you leaped off the bed and sprinted out the door, slamming it shut behind you. “WHY DID YOU CLOSE THE DOOR?!” Ollie’s voice shrieked from inside the bedroom as you let out a sigh of relief. Slowly, you backed away from the door, making sure the spider wasn’t about to make an escape.

“Be thankful I’m not leaving!” you shouted back as you rifled through the kitchen drawer for a container. You snatched one with a matching lid, then cautiously approached the bedroom door again. You swallowed, your hand shaking as you turned the handle and eased it open. The spider was still there, right in the middle of the floor, between you and the bed. Ollie had climbed to the top of the headboard, his arms spread against the wall for balance.

“I can’t believe you shut me in here with the spider,” he whined miserably. You shot him a glare. “Be quiet and let me concentrate,” you muttered, slowly approaching the spider, lid in one hand and container in the other. Your eyebrows were furrowed with focus as you edged closer, poised to jump at any chance to catch the creature.

In one swift motion, you slammed the container over the spider. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you held it firmly in place. Slowly but surely, you slid the lid underneath until the spider was safely contained. Holding it up with a victorious grin, you showed Ollie.

“My mother would be so proud,” you declared dramatically, wiping away a fake tear. Pride swelled in your chest as you held the container up to see the spider that was now chilling inside.

Ollie rolled his eyes. “Okay, now take it outside,” he ordered, motioning toward the door. You stared at him in disbelief. “No way! I caught it! You have to release it now,” you insisted, starting toward him. Ollie leapt to the other side of the bed; his hands raised defensively. 

“Whoa, how about I accompany you... from a safe distance? Hmm? That sounds much better to me,” he said, attempting to negotiate. You shook your head. “Ollie, you’re going to release it, or I swear I’ll throw this at you.”

His eyes widened in fear as he quickly circled the bed to the opposite side. “Let’s not be silly,” he chuckled nervously.

“Get ready to catch it,” you sang playfully. “Fine!” he finally caved, jumping down from the bed in defeat.

Grinning wildly, you handed him the container with the spider inside. His hands trembled as he held it at arm’s length, as though it were a live grenade. “This is for your own good,” you teased, leading him out of the bedroom.

“I take it back. I don’t want to marry a psychopath,” he whined as you pushed the front door open. You turned to him, mouth agape in mock outrage. “Okay, considering what I just did for you, put a little respect on my name,” you replied watching Ollie shuffle like a robot out of the apartment. You stifled a laugh into your sleeve as he shot you a glare, walking with exaggerated caution as if the floor would crack beneath him at any moment.

Outside, you and Ollie found a small bush in front of the building to release the spider. You watched with amusement as Ollie flung the lid off the container, then jumped back as though the spider would leap out and attack. He scrambled past you, grabbing your shoulders from behind for support.

“We can collect the container later,” you brushed it off with a chuckle.

As you both made your way back up the stairs to your apartment, you glanced over at him. “I kinda miss him now,” you admitted jokingly with a grin. Ollie gave you a look of disbelief. “I’m kicking you out of the house.”

a/n: thanks for readinggg!!! stay safe and have a great day xx

[thinkshespretty]

chris always knows how to make crybaby!reader forgive him

it’s a quiet, lazy afternoon. the soft hum of the tv plays in the background as sunlight filters through the windows, casting a warm glow across the living room. you’re curled up on the couch, wrapped in your favorite blanket while scrolling through your phone.

after a while, your mind drifts to the pastry you saved in the fridge—the last piece from your favorite bakery. the thought alone makes you smile, and you head to the kitchen, ready to indulge.

but when you open the fridge, the little white box isn’t there.

you frown, scanning every shelf. nothing. you even check the freezer and a few random cabinets, despite knowing that makes no sense. after a solid five minutes of searching, frustration bubbles up.

you stomp back into the living room. “chris?”

he glances up from his phone, eyebrows raised. “yeah?”

“where’s my pastry?” you ask, arms crossed.

there’s a beat of silence before he responds. “uh…” he shifts slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “i might’ve eaten it.”

your eyes widen. “you ate it?”

“i was hungry!” he admits, throwing his hands up. “and it was just sitting there, looking all lonely. i didn’t think you’d mind.”

you stare at him, your bottom lip already trembling. “you knew it was my favorite,” you whisper, voice wobbling.

chris immediately picks up on your pout and the tears forming in your eyes. he’s seen this play out countless times. still, he can’t help but chuckle softly. “oh no, princess. don’t cry,” he teases, reaching out for you. “you’re breaking my heart.”

“good,” you mumble, turning away from him dramatically. “i hope it hurts.”

he chuckles before pulling you onto his lap despite your protests. “i’m the worst, huh?”

“the absolute worst,” you mumble, crossing your arms tightly.

chris sighs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “okay, okay. i messed up. i’ll make it up to you.”

“how?” you ask, still sulking.

“let me take you to get another one.”

you hesitate for a moment, glancing up at him from under your teary lashes. “really?”

“really,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “now go grab your shoes, before i change my mind.”

the drive across town is quiet, the streets bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun. chris keeps one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh, the soft touch of his thumb drawing lazy circles over your skin.

you steal a glance at him, admiring the relaxed way he leans back in the seat, a small smirk playing on his lips as he hums along to the music. when he catches you staring, he raises an eyebrow.

“what?” he asks, amusement lacing his voice.

“nothing,” you mumble, turning your gaze to the window to hide your blush.

he chuckles softly, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze. “you’re so pretty, you know that?”

your cheeks heat even more. “chris,” you mutter, voice shy.

“what?” he grins, glancing at you briefly before focusing back on the road. “just telling the truth, doll.”

you bite your lip to suppress a smile but fail miserably. “shut up.”

“never,” he teases with a grin.

the bakery is as charming as ever, with warm cozy hues and shelves lined with baked goods that look almost too perfect to eat. the scent of fresh bread and sugar fills the air, wrapping around you like a hug.

you hover near the display case, eyes scanning the pastries. the one you’re looking for is right there, sitting pretty in the middle row.

chris notices and nudges you gently. “see something you like?”

you nod, pointing at the pastry. “that one,” you whisper softly, voice barely above a whisper.

he leans in, pretending he didn’t hear you. “what was that, princess?”

“that one,” you repeat, giving him a small glare.

he smirks but doesn’t push further. “got it.” turning to the barista, he orders confidently. “two of those, please. and a coffee.”

you tug on his sleeve. “can i get a hot chocolate instead?”

he smiles at you before turning back to the cashier. “make that one coffee and one hot chocolate.”

the barista rings you up, and before you can even reach for your wallet, chris pulls out his card.

“chris,” you pout, tugging at his sleeve again. “i can pay for mine.”

“nope. making it up to you, remember?” he says with a wink.

you sigh but can’t help smiling as you clutch the little bag, the warmth of the hot chocolate seeping through the cup into your hands.

the ride back feels even softer, the sky now painted in hues of pink and orange. chris keeps his hand on your thigh again, his touch warm and steady. you take small sips of your hot chocolate, savoring the sweetness.

chris glances over, catching the way your eyes light up. “good?”

you hum around a bite, nodding enthusiastically. “perfect,” you mumble.

he chuckles, squeezing your thigh. “told you i’d make it up to you.”

you roll your eyes, but your smile gives you away. “you’re so annoying.”

just as you’re about to take another bite, you catch chris side-eyeing the pastry. before you can react, he leans over and takes a bite out of it, grinning like he’s just won a prize.

“chris!” you yelp, pulling the pastry away from him and swatting his arm. “you just bought me this!”

“couldn’t resist.” he laughs as he wipes the small crumbs off the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand.

“you’re the worst!” you pout, holding the pastry protectively.

“i know,” he says, still grinning. “but you love me anyway.”

you huff, but the warmth in his voice makes it impossible to stay mad. “you’re just lucky you’re cute chris.”

he laughs before stopping at the red light, turning towards you. you give him a hard glare before he peppers your cheek with kisses and you can’t help but giggle. because no matter what chris does, you know there’s no one else you’d rather spend your days with.

𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆: thank u sm to @abbystromboli for this request!! i hope this lived up to your expectations :))

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 ⋆˚࿔ ౨ৎ ˚. ᵎᵎ @sirenedeslily @freshloveee @ifwdominicfike @matt5sturnioloo @pleasebendmeoverxxx @heartsforsturniolo567 @anyaa2s

[insidekatmind]

HYDRA- BROCK RUMLOW

Wearning: +18,angst, smut.

Request: yes!

It was an ordinary day or at least it seemed that way. The sunlight filtered through the blinds in your room, drawing streaks of light on the floor. You stretched lazily, your body still wrapped in the warmth of the bed. Brock had kissed you goodbye quickly that morning, leaving with an excuse about an emergency at work.

“Don’t be late,” you had said, your voice still heavy with sleep.

“Promise, Y/N,” he replied, a smile he could never quite hide completely.

You never thought too much about the fact that he worked for S.H.I.E.L.D., even though his position was shrouded in secrecy. "Protocol," he would say whenever you asked about his work. And you, trusting him, never pushed too hard for answers. But that evening, everything changed.

You were in the living room, immersed in a book, when an unusual sound from Brock’s phone caught your attention. He had left it on the table before heading out, something he never did. The persistent vibration and the words “Operation Herald” flashing on the screen piqued your curiosity.

“Strange…” you thought.

Biting your lower lip, you hesitated between ignoring it and checking. Curiosity won out. Swiping the screen quickly, you found a cryptic message:

“Mission compromised. Eliminate Y/N if necessary.”

The blood froze in your veins. You must have read it wrong. You reread the message, hoping it was a mistake. But no, it was there, clear as day.

When Brock returned that evening, your heart was pounding. You tried to act normal, but he knew you too well.

“Everything okay?” he asked, tilting his head as he took off his jacket.

“Yeah, sure,” you lied.

But it wasn’t so easy to hide your nervousness. During dinner, he watched you in silence. Every now and then, his eyes seemed to scan you, as if searching for something. After clearing the dishes, you couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Brock,” you began, your voice tense, “what is Hydra?”

He froze. The spoon he was drying stopped mid-air. His eyes pierced through you, cold as ice.

“Why are you asking?” he replied slowly, with a forced calm that sent shivers down your spine.

“I found a message on your phone.” You were direct. There was no way to sugarcoat the truth.

The tension in the room became palpable. Brock set the spoon down and approached you slowly, as if afraid you might run.

“Y/N…” he murmured, his tone low and menacing. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Shouldn’t have done what? Found out you’ve been lying to me this whole time? Found out you’re… you’re one of them?”

His face twisted for a moment, then his demeanor changed. The mask fell, revealing a man you had never seen before.

“And if it’s true?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “If I am Hydra, does it change anything? Am I not the same man you love?”

You stared at him in disbelief. “You have the nerve to ask me that? You’re a traitor, Brock! Everything we have… is it a lie?”

“Not everything,” he countered. “I love you, Y/N. That’s real. But there are bigger things at play. Hydra is the future. And I want you to be part of it.”

You shook your head, stepping back. “I can’t believe what you’re saying. I can’t…”

Brock stepped closer, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “Don’t make this harder, Y/N. Come with me. I’ll protect you. No one will hurt you.”

“Protect me?” you shouted, your voice cracking with emotion. “From the world or from you?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Brock stared at you, the conflict clear in his eyes. Finally, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Then you’ve made your decision,” he said, his voice icy. “What a shame. I would’ve liked to have you by my side.”

You didn’t wait for him to say more. With one last, pained look, you ran out the door, your heart shattered and only one certainty left: the man you loved was your worst enemy.

But you knew this wasn’t the end. Brock Rumlow would find you. And this time, you’d be ready.

---

Five months had passed since that event and you now lived alone in a small studio apartment.You walked into your apartment and placed your bag on the couch and felt like you were being watched.

Sitting in a darkened corner, a tall, built silhouette watched you intently, his eyes never leaving your form.His gaze burned through the shadows, observing your every move. He was like a statue, still and silent, but his presence was suffocating, filling the room with a tension that sent shivers down your spine.

Brock Rumlow had found you, just as you had expected. The question was, what would he do now?

You turn on the light and there's Brock sitting there. "What are you doing here?" You murmur without moving closer to him.

Brock doesn't move, just keeps looking at you intently, his icy gaze fixed on your form."Isn't it obvious?" he says in a low voice, tilting his head slightly, his eyes roaming over your face. "I had to find you."He stands up slowly, and only now it's clear how imposing he is. He's towering over you, his muscular frame like a wall of muscle, his presence suffocating.

He takes a step closer to you, his gaze never leaving your face.“You look good,” he says finally, his voice a low, almost growl. “I missed you.”The confession hangs in the room for a long moment, like a dagger pointed straight at your heart. But you don’t let the emotion show on your face, keeping your expression neutral, guarded.

He takes another step closer, almost closing the distance between you. His eyes roam over your body hungrily, taking in every inch of you.“You’re still wearing the necklace I gave you,” he says, his gaze suddenly fixing on the small charm that hangs around your neck. It’s a delicate silver heart, a silent reminder of happier times.

Instinctively you touch your necklace, averting your gaze and moving away a little.

He notices the gesture, and a smirk twitches on his lips.“Don’t pretend you didn’t miss me.”Brock follows you, closing the distance again in a few strides. He’s now standing so close that you can feel his body heat, his presence overwhelming.

He reaches out, his fingers tracing the curve of your neck.“I know you better than you know yourself, Y/N,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “I know how your body reacts when I touch you. Here…”His fingers trail down to your collarbone, caressing lightly. You shiver involuntarily under his touch.

“And here…”His hand moves to your waist, pulling you closer with an almost effortless strength. Your body responds without consent, your pulse quickening. You try to hold back, but it’s harder than you thought.

"What are you doing here Brock?" You whisper, looking at him.

“I told you,” he says, his voice a guttural whisper, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “I had to find you.”

Brock leans down, his forehead touching yours lightly, his hands still on your waist, holding you firmly. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, the scent of his aftershave so familiar it makes your heart ache.

"Why?" you try trying not to give in and hold him tight.

“Because I couldn’t let you go like that,” he responds, his voice filled with an odd mix of anger, hurt, and something else you can’t quite place.

Brock pulls you closer, his body nearly molding against yours. He’s holding you tight now, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. His hands are on your back, his fingers pressing into your skin almost possessively.

You lean into his chest and sigh, closing your eyes for a second. "How did you find me?" You murmur into his chest.

He doesn’t answer immediately, instead nuzzling his face into your hair. He breathes in the scent of you, committing it to memory.“I have my ways,” he finally says, his voice rumbling in his chest. He pulls back slightly, looking down at you. “You can never hide from me, Y/N. You’re mine. Don’t forget that.”

His words send a chill down your spine, the possessive tone stirring up a mixture of emotions. You pull back a little, looking up at him.

“I’m not yours, Brock. Not anymore,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “You made that choice when you lied to me, when you chose Hydra over me.”

His jaw clenches at your words, his eyes darkening.“You make it sound so simple,” he retorts, his voice taking on a harsher edge. “But it’s not, Y/N. It’s not simple at all.”

He steps back, running a frustrated hand through his hair. He’s clearly struggling, some inner conflict playing out on his face.“I never wanted to lie to you,” he says finally, his voice quieter than before. “I needed to protect you. I still do.”Brock looks at you with such intensity that it’s almost overwhelming. He’s silently pleading for understanding, for forgiveness, but you’re too hurt to give it easily.

You look at him biting your lip. “Did you kill anyone?”

He hesitates, his silence speaking volumes. When he finally answers, his voice is low, rough.“Yes,” he says simply, his gaze unwavering.

You can see the weight of his words hanging in the air, the reality of what he’s done sinking in.“Why?” you whisper, your voice cracking slightly. “How many?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, his eyes going distant as if remembering something. After a moment, he looks at you, his face hard.“Enough,” he says, his voice cold, emotionless.

His silence is maddening, each unanswered question hanging between you like a heavy cloud. This isn’t the man you knew, the man who held you close and whispered words of love and comfort. This is someone else, a stranger wearing the face of the love of your life.

"Would you kill me too if they asked you?" you ask, looking at him.

He flinches at your question, the hurt in your eyes cutting through his cold exterior.“No,” he says, his voice suddenly ragged, the coldness seeping away. “I couldn’t, Y/N. I wouldn’t.There’s a desperation in his voice, a frantic edge that betrays his inner struggle. He takes a step closer to you again, his hands coming up to cradle your face tenderly.

You lean into his touch, closing your eyes.He pulls you closer, his arms encircling you firmly. He buries his face in your hair, his breath coming out in ragged gasps.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters into your hair, his voice low and rough. “I’m sorry for everything, Y/N.” Brock repeats the words like a mantra, holding you tightly, as if afraid you’ll slip from his grasp.

You melt at his touch and his words and decide to forgive him. You hug him tighter and rub his back.

He lets out a deep sigh, his body relaxing as he melts into your embrace. He buries his face deeper into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.“I missed you so much,” he murmurs, his voice muffled. He pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes that you haven’t seen before, the facade of the stoic field agent slipping.

“you too” you whisper.His eyes roam over your face, taking in every detail as if seeing you for the first time. Then, without warning, he claims your lips in a passionate kiss, crushing you against him.

He kisses you desperately, his tongue demanding entry into your mouth. He tastes like you remembered - a mix of cigarettes and coffee, a flavor that was once so familiar that you almost forgot it. His hands roams over your body, as if trying to remember the shape of you, the feel of you.

You kiss back, holding onto Brock as you kiss him more passionately.He moans into your mouth, the sound a low, guttural rumble. He backs you up until you hit a wall, pinning you there with his body. He’s everywhere - his hands, his mouth, his breath, the solid bulk of him pressing into you. The world outside seems to fall away, leaving just the two of you in a moment of raw, desperate passion.

His lips move down your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses. His hands slide under your shirt, caressing your skin as he kisses down to the hollow of your collarbone. He’s everywhere, all around you, his touch sending electric shivers down your spine.

You moaned at his touch and kisses and gave him more space as you closed your eyes in pleasure.He grins against your skin at your noises. He’d always loved the sounds he could get out of you, and hearing them now only fueled his desire. His lips continued their path down your neck, nipping and sucking, leaving a trail of small, dark marks on your skin.

His hands were everywhere, roaming over your stomach, your sides, your back. He was rough, almost greedy, as if making up for lost time. He pushed your shirt out of the way, his mouth blazing a path down your chest, his breath hot against your skin.He pressed you more firmly against the wall, his body trapping you there. You felt vulnerable under his touch, exposed, but also desired in a way that only he could make you feel. He nipped and sucked at the soft skin of your chest, leaving more marks, his body pressing into you with a mixture of possessiveness and need.

Brock immediately takes off your jeans and did the same with his and then picked you up and carried you to your bedroom.He carries you with ease, his muscles rippling under his shirt. He pushes open the bedroom door and deposits you onto the bed before climbing over you, his body trapping you again. He looks down at you, his eyes burning with a mixture of desire and something else, something deeper, darker.

“Brock,” you murmur as you take off his shirt.He helps you undress him, his eyes never leaving yours. The sight of his bare chest sends a shiver down your spine, the taut muscles and tanned skin so familiar yet so new at the same time. He leans back down, his body pressing against yours, the heat of his skin against yours like fire.

He takes off his boxers and pulls down your thong to enter you. While doing this he kissed you passionately.He kisses you hungrily, as if trying to convey with his lips all the things he can’t say out loud. He’s rough, his hand gripping your hip possessively, but there’s also a tenderness in the way his lips caress yours. He pulls you closer, molding your body to his, as if he can’t get enough of you.

You moan through the kisses feeling his strong movements.He responds to your moans, his movements becoming more intense, more desperate. He’s holding nothing back, every thrust driven by a primal need to claim you as his. He’s lost in you.“I missed this,” he grits out, his voice ragged and low. “I missed you, missed being this close to you, missed the way you feel under me.”

You moan at his words and cling to him. “Me too Brock, I missed you so much” you whisper.He growls at your admission, his arms wrapping around you, holding you tight against him. “Say it again,” he demands, his voice a hoarse whisper against your ear. “Tell me you missed me.”

“I missed you so much” you say moaning feeling his thrusts get stronger.Brock groans, the sound deep and primal, as if he’s holding on by a thread. He kisses you, hard, his tongue tangling with yours. “You have no idea how much I need to hear that,” he mutters against your lips. “How long I’ve needed to hear you say it.”

He kisses you again, deeper, more hungrily, as if trying to consume you. His body is moving against yours in a primal rhythm, the raw need between you building with each passing second. “You’re mine,” he growls, his voice rough and possessive. “Say it.”

You moaned at his possessiveness and his thrusts that became more and more animalistic. "I'm yours, all yours Brock".The words seem to unleash something in him. He grips you tighter, his fingers digging into your skin almost possessively. “That’s right,” he mutters, his voice a low growl. “You’re mine, and I’m never letting you go again. Never.”

He starts to move faster, the pace more frantic, more desperate. He kisses you again, as if he can’t get enough of your mouth, of your taste. “Say it again,” he says, his voice ragged and low. “Tell me you’re mine.”

You moan at his thrusts and scratch his back. "Yours, only yours".His body tenses at your words, his muscles rippling under your hands. “Damn right you are,” he mutters, his voice thick with a mix of desire and something darker, something possessive. “You’re mine, and I’m gonna make sure you never forget it.”

He moves faster, more urgently, his hands roaming over your body, as if caressing every inch of you. He kisses, bites, and sucks at your skin, marking you as his, everywhere he can reach. “You’re mine,” he whispers, his voice thick and ragged. “No one else’s.”A sense of almost frenzied desperation seems to take over, fueled by months of separation and the weight of what he’s done. There’s an edge to his movements, a fierce need to claim you, body and soul. “Mine,” he repeats, a primal growl in his voice. “You’re all mine, Y/N.

Always.”You moan and hold onto him. "I'm coming".He moans, the sound coming from deep in his chest. “Come for me,” he mutters, his voice tight and ragged. “Come for me, and say my name. I need to hear you.”

His thrusts became harder and you screamed louder and louder. “Brock” you yelled as you came.He grunts, his body tensing as he responds to your release. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. “Say it again,” he growls, his voice rough. “Say my name again.”

You screamed his name louder and louder as he came inside you.He groaned as he came, his body shuddering against yours. He buried his face in your hair, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. “Y/N,” he muttered, his voice rough and ragged. “I… I…”

He trails off, seemingly lost for words. The raw emotion in his voice is clear, a rare vulnerability showing through the gruff exterior. He stays there for a moment, his body still pressed against yours. He seems suddenly young, like the boy you fell in love with so many years ago.He pulls back slightly, looking down at you. His eyes are dark, still filled with need and desire, but there’s something more there now - a depth, a vulnerability. “I love you,” he says, his voice hoarse. “I’ve always loved you, Y/N. And I always will.”

You smile softly at his words and kiss his cheek. “I love you too and will always love you Brock” you say sweetly.His expression softens, something like relief flickering across his face. He cups your face in his hands, his thumbs rubbing tenderly over your skin. “Damn,” he mutters, his voice a rough whisper. “How did I get so lucky?”

You smile and stroke his hair.He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his eyes roaming over you as if trying to memorize every feature. “I don’t deserve you,” he says quietly. “I never deserved you. But I’m never letting you go again. I need you too damn much.”

He pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you possessively. “You’re mine, Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice suddenly fierce again. “Every part of you, completely mine.”

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Crimson Ties ~ 6

CRIMSON TIES MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,525ish

Summary: You play the piano and Tony hears. Maria invites you over for lunch.

Warning(s): unwanted touching, Brock Rumlow

Notes: I'm sorry it's taken me so long to write anything. I'm working on it. Please send in reactions!

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

Days pass with no issues. You and Tony stick to your respective sides of the house and barely see each other, even in passing. You didn’t mind. You were left to do your own thing for a long span of time for the first time in basically your entire life. It was nice. A freedom that you hadn’t felt.

One day, as you waited for some of your current pottery projects to dry, you found yourself in the living area. Your eyes scanned the large built-in bookshelves for something interesting to read. Nothing was catching your eye until you turned and caught sight of the nice piano near the windows. You walked over to the piano and ran your hand lightly over the keys. Glancing around, you made sure the coast was clear before you sat down and began playing. Fur Elise by Ludwig van Beethoven was the first piece of music to come to mind. As you played, you got lost in the music, letting the world around you drown out.

Tony was working in his office when the sound of piano began filtering in. He looked up curiously.

“Rogers, did you turn on music?” Tony asked.

“Nope,” Steve responded with a slight smirk. He had been watching you carefully and knew it was you at the piano.

Tony huffed, getting out of his seat and heading out of his office. The piano playing grew louder as he crept towards the living area. He peeked his head around the corner and saw you sitting at the piano. Tony couldn’t help but stand there and listen. You were playing so effortlessly and with a grace that he had only witnessed when his mother was at the piano. His mother had forced Tony to take lessons when he was younger. Did he remember anything? He actually didn’t know.

Steve watched curiously as Tony leaned against the wall and focused on you playing. A small seed of hope planted in Steve’s heart that maybe good could come from the union, even if just friendship. When you were finished with your third song, Tony stepped out into the living room, clapping. You jumped from the seat, scared and embarrassed. You stood beside the piano, hands clasped in front of you with your head down. 

“I’m sorry,” you immediately said. “I’ll quiet down.”

Tony shook his head. “I’m clapping. That means it’s good.”

You nodded, muttering a soft “thank you”. 

Tony studied you, noting how nervous and uncomfortable you looked. “I was working when—“

“I’m sorry. I won’t disturb you again.” Your father had gotten after you time and time again to not play the piano while he was working.

“God, do you ever not apologize?” You bit your bottom lip, wishing you could disappear. “I am just trying to tell you that I enjoyed it. It was beautiful, but whatever.” Tony spun around and waved his hand. “You can go back to it or not. I don’t care.” Then headed back to his office.

“Sorry,” Steve apologized. “He’s terrible at giving compliments.”

“It’s fine,” you mumbled. “I should have known better.”

“Y/N—“

“I’ll be in my studio.” You rushed off before Steve could stop you.

~~~

“Hello, Maria,” you greeted, answering your phone the next day. You were in your studio, setting up to paint.

“Hello, my dear,” Maria replied. “I was wondering if you would like to come over and have lunch with Natasha, Peggy, and I?”

“Oh, I, uh…”

“I’m sure Happy could take you. Just ask Tony.”

“Okay…”

“I’ll see you soon then, okay? Bye.”

Anxiety bubbled in your chest as you through about asking Tony for permission to leave. Would he allow you to? Your father and Brock would never allow it, so why would Tony be any different? But this was his mother that you were going to go visit, so perhaps he would let you. 

You cleaned up before heading to Tony’s office. Your hand shook as rose it to knock on the door.

~~~

Tony’s head rose in confusion as he heard a knock sound at the door. He looked at Steve.

“Do I have a meeting that you didn’t tell me about?” He questioned.

“Not that I know if,” Steve responded, moving to open the door. “Oh, hello, Y/N.” He opened the door wider, taking in your nervousness. He looked back at Tony. “It’s your wife.”

“What do you want?” Tony asked, going back to work.

“I, uh,” you didn’t know how to ask for this. It seemed stupid, but you were never allowed to do anything yourself before. “I was just… Well…”

Tony sighed. “Just spit it out. I have things to do.”

“Your, uh, your mother invited me over for lunch. I was… I was wondering if I could be allowed to go?”

“I don’t know why you’re wasting my time in asking.” You began to brace yourself for a negative answer. “You’re allowed to do what you want. I don’t need to know where you are going or what you’re doing every second. I don’t care enough.”

You were taken back by the fact that he was just letting you go. “Thank you.”

Tony waved her off. “Just go. Happy can drive you there.”

You nodded and turned around.

“Happy will be you in the front,” Steve told you, having quickly gotten a hold of the man.

“Thank you,” you whispered and headed back towards your side of the house. 

You got cleaned up and headed outside, where Happy was waiting next to the car. He smiled at you as you walked up.

“Y/N,” he greeted. “It’s nice to officially meet you.”

“Thank you for taking me, Happy,” you said. “I’m sorry if I threw off your plans for the day.”

Happy shook his head. “My job is to drive you and Tony around, wherever that may be.” He opened the door for you. “You ready to go?”

You nodded and slipped into the car.

~~~

The Stark Mansion was much bigger than your new home and your father’s. It didn’t shock you. They had a statement to make. As Happy pulled the car up, you noticed that Rhodey, the head of security, was already outside waiting for you. He got to your door as the car stopped and opened it.

“It’s nice to see you, Y/N,” Rhodey greeted. “I hope living with Tony hasn’t been too bad.”

“It’s been good,” you responded, allowing him to help you out of the car.

“Really?” Rhodey looked unconvinced. “You sure?”

“Mhm,” you nodded.

“Well, Howard would like to see you before you join Maria for lunch.”

You immediately grew nervous. “O—Okay,” you stammered. 

Rhodey led you into the mansion and down one of the many halls to Howard’s office. There was a large man standing outside the door, guarding.

“Bucky, this is Y/N,” Rhodey introduced. “Y/N, this is Howard’s guard, Bucky Barnes.”

“Nice to met you,” Bucky said with a nod. You gave a nod back, opting to stay silent due to your nerves. “He’s waiting for you.” Bucky opened the door to reveal Howard sitting at his desk. “Y/N’s here, boss.”

Howard looked up and gave her a small smile. “Come on in, Y/N.” You entered the office. “Welcome.” He stood up and motioned to the chair across from his desk. “Please, have a seat.” You quickly obeyed, eyes scanning the room nervously. “Leave us,” he told the other men, who quickly exited. Howard sat back down. “I realized that the two of us haven’t had the opportunity to talk. How are you?”

“I’m good,” you responded quickly.

“You seem nervous. There’s no need to. You’re not in trouble and I’m not going to hurt you.”

You nodded, trying to push down your nerves. 

“Is Tony hurting you? Is that why you’re scared?”

“No!” You shook your head. “No! He hasn’t done anything to me.”

“Is your father the reason your nervous?” Howard immediately noticed the way you tensed. “You don’t need to worry about Obadiah anymore, sweetheart. I know that he is a harsh man, but you are a Stark now. No one can mess with you.”

You nodded. “Thank you.”

“You can always come to me. Whatever you need. You are my daughter now.”

Howard calling you his daughter felt different than when your own father did. It felt less possessive and more protective. 

“My wife tells me that you create pottery,” he changed the subject, clearly trying to make you comfortable.

“I do,” you responded quietly.

“Maria says it’s amazing. I’m going to have to come over and see your work sometime.”

“It’s not that good. You don’t—“

“My wife only brings what she finds to be very important to my attention. And she found your work important. Don’t downplay yourself. Alright?”

All you could do was nod. You had never had a male figure tell you off in this way before. You didn’t know how to react to it.

“Well, my wife is probably wondering where you are,” Howard continued, “so I should let you go.” He stood up and you followed. “Thank you for meeting with me, Y/N, and please don’t ever be afraid to come to me.”

“Thank you.”

“Rhodey will show you the way.” Likely listening in, Rhodey entered the room at the mention of his name.

“Follow me,” he told you and you didn’t hesitate.

As Rhodey guided you through the halls, you thought back to your meeting with Howard. It was much different than you thought it would be. He’s different than you thought. With the information that you have, Howard is not your father. But you know that men in their business can turn on a dime. Rhodey led you to a beautiful glass sunroom at the back of the house, where Maria, Peggy, and Natasha are already sitting around a table, waiting for you.

“There you are, my dear!” Maria greeted with an excited smile. She immediately came over and wrapped you in a hug. “I hope that my husband didn’t scare you too much.”

“No,” you shook your head, “he was fine.”

“Good.” She pulled back to look you over. “Come and sit.” She led you to a chair between her and Natasha, with Peggy across from you.

It takes you a few moments to relax into their easy conversation, but you eventually do. The four of you chatted and laughed as the Stark Chef’s brought out platters of food. Time went by with great ease and for the first time in your life, you felt like you had friends. 

“Thank you for this invitation,” you said with an easy smile on your lips. “I…” You thought of a moment, how vulnerable do you be with these ladies? Glancing around, you see that they are all patiently waiting for you to continue. Genuinely wanting to know what you have to say. “I’ve never had friends before…”

Peggy inhales sharply across from you while Maria places a hand just above your knee. You look over to see a sad smile across her face.

“You don’t need to worry about having no friends—“

“Or family,” Natasha added.

“Yes, or family,” Maria continued. “You have us. Always.”

~~~

You came home happier than you had been, perhaps ever. Happy was glad to see you that way as he drove you home. Steve immediately noted your change when you walked in and couldn’t help but smile to himself. He could only hope that Tony didn’t ruin it. You headed into the kitchen where Tony was standing at the island, drinking a green smoothie.

“Oh, you’re home,” Tony noted, barely glancing your way. “How were my parents?”

“They were good,” you responded. “Your father and I had a nice talk.”

Tony scoffed. “My father? You’re kidding.” You shook your head. “Let me guess, my father brought you to his office before allowing you to see my mother and told you that we are all family and that you could come to him with anything?” 

You swallowed nervously before you replied, “yes.”

Tony laughed. “He’s playing you. Trying to butter you up in order to make sure that you’re ready to do anything he asks of you when the time comes. I would be careful if I were you and definitely less trustworthy.”

Tony turned around and left, leaving you in a state of internal emotional war. Howard seemed to truly care about you, much more than even Tony. He said that you were his daughter, but he knew some of what your own father had done to you. Was he just trying to get in your head like Tony said? 

You headed to your room, barely paying attention to your surroundings. You didn’t bother flipping the lights on immediately as you entered your room. You closed the doors and began to head through the dark room towards the bathroom. 

The lamp beside your bed flickering on, causing you to jump in fright. Lounging on the bed, clad in all black down to his muddy boots, was Brock Rumlow. His smirk was sinister as his eyes took you in.

“Hello, Y/N,” he smiled. “Miss me?”

“What— What are you doing here, Brock?” You mumbled, heart harming against your chest.

“Well, obviously, I missed you.” He slipped off the bed and headed for you. His hands found your arms, rubbing up and down them. “They’ve been keeping us separated. Stark wouldn’t allow me to be a part of your team. So I had to find another way in to see my future wife.” 

You felt like you were going to puke. Brock quickly pulled you into a sickening kiss. You didn’t realize that he was moving you further away from the bedroom door and towards the glass doors that mirrored the ones from Tony’s room across the porch. Your arms remained at your side with your fists clenched. Brock’s lips began to moved down your neck.

“Tell me,” he muttered between kisses. “Has your idiot husband touched you yet? Has he broke you in for me?”

“N-N-No,” you stammer, scared of what could happen in this moment.

“Shame.” He pecks your lips. “I was hoping that he would have handled on your crying and stretched you out.”

“Brock—“

He quickly silenced you with his hand against your mouth. “Shush, my pet.” Bile jumped up your throat at the nickname. “I won’t do anything tonight. I just want to hold you.”

Brock pulled you closer and kissed you hard, forcing his tongue into your mouth. You couldn’t fight back, couldn’t yell. Who would even come to save you?

What you didn’t know was that Tony caught sight of the scene through the glass doors of his room. He was watching, studying the way the man in your room handled you. Was he your Pepper? He didn’t think you would have one, just the way you were.

Before Tony could question it further, arms wrapped around his waist and a kiss was pressed to his neck.

“Come on, Tony,” Pepper whined. “I’m ready.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he shook away his thoughts. “Let’s go.” And he pulled the curtains closed.

next chapter >

[communicationthroughlyrics]

Black and Blue

No Nut November: A drunken Halloween bet with JJ's coworkers led to a prolonged streak of unwilling absintence. What happens when you are finally allowed to let loose after over a months worth of teasing?

TW: Uhhh, pretty much just smutty, porny madness. Intersex reader, piercings, multiple orgasms. Yeah. I think that's it. Lol

Word Count: 5.8K

You groaned and stretched your achy limbs as the morning sun filtered into your bedroom. Discovering the other side of your bed has long gone cold; you furrowed your brows, eyes scanning the master bedroom for a sign or clue as to where your lover was. The bathroom door was wide open, showing no sign of her, no clothes, no phone, no note. You sighed, rubbing your hands over your face before standing, making your way to the en suite, and flicking the bright vanity lights on. Beginning with your teeth, you went through your morning routine before pulling a pair of tartan pajama pants on and wandering downstairs to find where JJ was.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air as you descended the stairs, hinting at her presence in the kitchen. You padded across the cool, wooden floorboards, your bare feet feeling the comfort of the plush rug in the hallway. Upon entering the kitchen, you spotted JJ standing by the window; her silhouette cast long by the early morning light. She was dressed in nothing but your favorite button-up, the one you had worn out to your fancy dinner last night with her. The sight of her filled you with a warmth that battled the coldness of the room.

Her hair was a wild mess of waves, falling over her bare shoulders as she sipped from a steaming mug, her eyes lost in thought. The sun painted a soft glow around her, making her look ethereal. You took a moment to appreciate the curve of her back, the way the shirt barely covered her thighs, not leaving much to the imagination as to what was below. Her toned legs were crossed as she gazed out the window, her hands firmly wrapped around the mug in her hands.

You cleared your throat gently, not wanting to startle her. She turned, her eyes lighting up as she saw you. "Morning," she murmured, a small smile playing on her lips. She held out a mug of coffee for you, already knowing how you liked it - strong and black. You took it gratefully, the warmth spreading through your hands as you leaned against the kitchen island. "Couldn't sleep," she said, her voice low and a little rough from sleep.

This month has been rough on you both- a simple drunk bet at the Halloween party amongst friends as to what couple could make it through 'No Nut November' without blowing a head gasket. You had accepted the challenge with a cocky smirk, thinking it'd be a piece of cake, but the teasing glances, lingering touches, and passionate kisses throughout the month had left you properly blue-balled. You know it's been rough for Jayje, too, since you were a very touchy, handsy couple- your sex life was far from vanilla since she had broken down your walls and got you to open up at the BAU.

Taking the mug, you couldn't help but smirk at the irony of the situation. "Looks like you're enjoying my shirt more than I am," you teased, trying to lighten the mood. She rolled her eyes playfully, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. "It's comfortable," she defended herself, the corners of her mouth twitching.

The air between you was charged with unspoken tension, a palpable reminder of the challenge you both had agreed to. You took a sip of the coffee, the bitter taste doing little to cut through the thick silence. "You okay?" you asked, genuine concern lacing your voice. She nodded, looking away from you briefly before her gaze returned, a hint of mischief dancing in her eyes.

"Yeah, I'm just glad that this month is almost over," JJ said, her voice tinged with a mix of relief and challenge. "I never knew it could be this... interesting." She took another sip of her coffee, her eyes never leaving yours as if daring you to acknowledge the unspoken elephant in the

 room.

"Me too, Jayje," you began, lifting the mug to your smirking lips. "Interesting is one way to put it." You took a sip of the coffee, savoring the heat as it traveled down your throat. "I can't believe we've almost made it. Just one more day."

"I still can't believe that we are the only ones who made it this far," she laughed, the fact had been uncovered at the annual Friendsgiving. No one in your friend group had made it, despite you and JJ being the most sexually active of the group. The laughter died down as she stepped closer, the shirt gaping slightly, revealing the swell of her breasts.

The warmth from the coffee was replaced by a different kind of heat as you felt your body respond to her proximity. The challenge had pushed the boundaries of your willpower, and the prize of victory was now in your grasp. But what was the prize? The thrill of winning or the sweet release you had been denied for so long?

"Why do I feel like tonight is going to be like New Year's Eve?" you whispered, your lips ghosting hers as her eyes fluttered shut.

"Because it is," she murmured, her voice a sweet promise of what's to come. "The anticipation is half the fun, babe." She pecked your lips as you wrapped her up in your arms.

"I'm glad that the end of November is a Saturday," you began, kissing her head as she looked at the clock on the stove. "Means we can...celebrate accordingly." JJ leaned into your embrace, her cheek pressing against your bare chest as she chuckled.

"I've got a few ideas," she whispered, her voice full of promise. "But first, we have to make it... 17 hours and 9 minutes." She pulled away, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she checked the time. You couldn't help but chuckle, the tension between you easing slightly.

You both knew the stakes were high - not only was there the pride of winning, but you both had agreed on a grand prize of one unforgettable night of passion. The teasing had become an art form, a delicate dance of temptation and restraint. You had to admit, it had brought a new level of excitement to your relationship, a thrill that had you both on edge despite the...edging. JJ had left you rock hard at full mast way too many times for you to go easy on her- she deserved all the punishment she had coming her way.

You stepped back, setting your coffee mug down on the counter with a thud, your heart racing at the thought of what the night would bring. "I've got to get going," you said, trying to keep your voice level. "But tonight, baby, it's going to be worth it."

"Where do you have to go?" JJ asked, a hint of disappointment in her tone as she leaned against the kitchen counter. "It's a Saturday."

"The gym, baby," you replied, placing a gentle kiss on the top of her head. "Got to work off some of this... antici.......pation." You stepped back, smirking, brushing your hands up the sides of her thighs, her breath audibly hitching at your touch. "But I'll be back soon. I promise."

Her eyes followed you as you moved away, the shirt riding up slightly, revealing the taut skin of her lower abdomen. The sight had you groaning inwardly, but you forced yourself to keep walking. "Don't wear yourself out," she called after you, her voice a seductive purr.

As you walked away, her words echoed in your mind, a teasing reminder of what the evening had in store for you both. You couldn't wait to peel that shirt off her, to explore every inch of her body again, to feel her skin against yours. The month had been torturous, but it had also made you crave her more intensely than ever before. It was like you had rediscovered the art of yearning, and it had only made your connection deeper and stronger.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of mundane tasks, the anticipation of the night ahead a constant undercurrent to every thought. You felt like a teenager again, counting down the hours until you could be with her. The gym had been a necessary escape, a way to burn off some of the energy that had nowhere else to go, but even there, your mind had drifted to her. The way she smelled, the way she felt, the way she tasted.

When you finally returned home, the house was quiet, the setting sun casting a warm, orange glow through the windows. You found her in the living room, the TV playing a romantic comedy on low volume. She was lying on the couch, wearing nothing but your favorite pair of sweatpants, which barely contained her curves. She looked up as you entered, her eyes sparkling with excitement and desire.

"Ready for the last stretch?" she asked, patting the cushion next to her. You sat down, your heart thudding in your chest. The warmth from her body seeped into yours, and you had to fight the urge to throw her down and take her right there. But you had made it this far, and you knew the wait would only make the release that much sweeter.

You took a deep breath, reaching for the TV remote to turn it off. "More than ready," you murmured, your hand finding hers. Her fingers interlocked with yours, her thumb tracing lazy circles on your palm. The tension in the room was thick, a heady cocktail of desire and anticipation.

As the final credits rolled and the TV went dark, she leaned into you, her breath hot against your neck. "Let's make this the best No Nut November ever," she whispered, her teeth grazing your skin. Glancing behind her, you noticed the clock on the TV read 11:42 PM. It was almost over.

A shiver ran down your spine, and you knew that the night ahead was going to be anything but quiet. You kissed her, feeling the heat of her mouth, the softness of her lips, and the promise of what was to come. You had made it this far, and now, with the end of the challenge in sight, you were about to unleash a month's worth of passion.

Standing up, you offered her your hand. "I need to clean up, I didn't do that at the gym," you said with a wink, the double meaning clear. She took it with a knowing smile, letting you pull her to her feet. You led her upstairs, her hand in yours, the anticipation building with each step.

Once back in the bedroom, you turned to her, the intensity in your eyes making her heart race. She whined at the look in your eyes, her arms snaking up and locking behind your neck. Your mouth claimed hers, a desperate, hungry kiss that had been held back for too long. Her body melted into yours, her breasts pressing against yours as she moaned into your mouth. Your hands roamed over her body, finally touching her again after weeks of torturous denial.

Breaking away from the kiss, you leaned your forehead against hers. "I have a surprise for you," you said, your voice gruff with need. "But first, you have to get ready." You stepped back, admiring how her eyes searched yours, looking for a hint of what would come.

"What'd you do, baby?" she asked, stepping forward and running her hands over your bare chest, her thumbs lingering on the piercings that ran through your nipples. She had been the one to convince you to get them, and every touch sent a shock of pleasure straight to your cock.

You stepped back, taking her by the shoulders and pushing her gently towards the bathroom. "You'll see," you promised, a smirk playing on your lips as you watched her walk away, her ass swaying with each step. "Just make sure you're ready for me." Turning, you walked into the bathroom, leaving the door open as you turned on the shower. The sound of the water hitting the tiles was a sweet symphony to your ears, a prelude to the main event.

As you rinsed yourself off, you couldn't help but let your mind wander. Despite the Halloween bet amongst friends, you and JJ hadn't been intimate in the better part of 6 weeks, with her hectic work schedule and her least favorite week of the month falling at the end of October. Just the thought of her beneath you was enough to get you achingly hard. And with your new addition, you knew this would be interesting for both of you.

You stepped out of the shower, towel drying off before wrapping it around your waist. Your mind was racing with all the things you wanted to do to her. You could hear the sound of her moving around in the bedroom, the rustle of fabric, and the sweet sound of her voice as she hummed to The Weeknd. It was like music to your ears. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was about to happen.

As you entered the room, you found her sprawled on the bed, her body a canvas of beauty and desire. She had changed into one of your satin button-up shirts, not leaving much to the imagination. She knew that seeing her in your clothes drove you wild, and after the weeks that it had been, it was pushing you to the brink of insanity. She bit her bottom lip, her breath hitching as she took in the sight of you, wet from the shower, your body sculpted from years of hard work in the gym.

"You're killing me, JJ," you groaned, the towel around your waist feeling like a prison for your raging hard-on. She giggled, a sound that went straight to your core, and beckoned you with a crooked finger. "Come here, let me help you with that."

Her eyes traveled over your body, lingering on the water droplets that clung to your skin. You could see the hunger in her gaze, and it made you want to throw her down on the bed and devour her right there. Instead, you took a deep breath and approached her, trying to keep some semblance of control.

As you got closer, she sat up, her eyes never leaving yours. She reached out and took the towel from your waist, her fingertips brushing against your abs, sending shivers down your spine. The towel fell to the floor, leaving you standing there, fully exposed to her gaze. She licked her lips, and you felt your cock twitch in response. Her eyes went wide when she noticed, realizing what the surprise was.

"When did you get this?" she asked, running her thumb over your tip, grazing the piercing that now lay there. You groaned, throwing your head back as her thumb continued to tease your leaking shaft.

"Before Halloween," you replied through gritted teeth, trying to control the urge to thrust into her touch. "Thought it'd add some...flavor to things." JJ's eyes lit up with curiosity and excitement, her hand moving down to grip the base of your cock. The piercing was a new addition, a surprise for her that you had been dying to show her. Her thumb circled around it, making you bite back a groan.

"It does," she murmured, leaning in to kiss the water droplets from your chest. "It's hot." Her words were a balm to your ego, making you feel more than ready to claim her as yours once again. Her nails scratched up your chest before slowly teasing both your nipples.

You felt yourself growing harder at her touch, the piercings sending waves of pleasure through your body. She noticed and grinned, a devilish glint in her eye. "I like it," she said, her voice a sultry whisper. "It's going to be so much fun to play with."

The anticipation was killing you, but you had something else planned before the main event. "Patience, baby," you murmured, taking her hand and leading her to the bed. You sat down on the edge, pulling her closer so that she straddled you. "First things first," you said, your eyes locked on hers as you reached for the first button of her shirt.

Her eyes widened as you revealed her soft, creamy skin inch by inch, the shirt parting to show her luscious breasts, barely covered by a lacy corset, her hardened nipples peeking through. "You're so beautiful," you whispered, leaning in to kiss her neck, your hands cupping her breasts, feeling their weight in your palms. She moaned, arching her back, her hips grinding against your growing erection. You knew you had to take things slow to savor this moment after a month and a half of denial.

JJ's hands slid down your chest to the base of your cock, stroking you gently, her eyes watching your reaction. "You're so big," she murmured, her thumb brushing over the piercing. "I've missed this." You groaned, the sensation of her hand on your sensitive skin making your toes curl. You had to admit, you had missed it too.

The tension in the room was electric, the air thick with desire. You leaned in to kiss her again, your hands moving to unbutton her shirt completely, exposing the corset that pushed her breasts up, creating the most tantalizing cleavage. The material was soft under your fingers, and you felt her skin warm as you touched her. You took your time, savoring every inch of her that was revealed.

Her eyes searched yours, full of need and want, her breathing growing heavier with every touch. You felt her body respond, her hips rocking slightly against yours, her pussy already wet and ready for you. You couldn't resist leaning in to take one of her nipples into your mouth, sucking gently. She gasped, her back arching, pushing her breasts further into your face. You took your time, kissing and nibbling, your tongue tracing the delicate lace of the corset.

You reached around her back to unclasp the corset, feeling the tension release as it fell away, revealing her perfect breasts. You took a moment to admire them, the way they filled your hands, the way her pink nipples stood at attention, begging for your mouth. You didn't disappoint, taking one into your mouth and rolling it around your tongue as she moaned your name. Her hands were in your hair, holding you to her as you switched to the other, her legs tightening around your waist.

You felt the pressure building, the need to be inside her overwhelming, but you knew the night was young and you had more in store. You gently laid her back on the bed, kissing your way down her body, feeling the goosebumps rise in your wake. Your teeth grazed her sensitive skin, making her squirm with pleasure. You slid the shirt down her arms, tossing it aside, and took a moment to admire her in just the corset and a lace thong that was now absolutely ruined with her arousal.

"Remind me, again, Jay, why we thought this challenge was a good idea?" you murmured against her skin, your teeth grazing the underside of her breast. JJ's laugh was breathy, her body quivering as she wrapped her arms around you.

"Because we love a challenge, we're both competitive," she said, her voice thick with desire. "And because we know how good the payoff will be," she growled in your ear.

Her words only stoked the fire in your loins. You kissed a trail down her stomach, her skin soft and warm under your lips. Her hips bucked as you reached the edge of the thong, the damp fabric clinging to her sex. With a wicked smile, you peeled it off her, tossing it over your shoulder. Her pussy was bare and gleaming with arousal, her clit already swollen and begging for attention.

You spread her legs, taking a moment to drink in the sight of her, glistening and open for you. "I've missed this," you whispered, your breath hot against her sensitive skin. You leaned down, your tongue tracing the length of her slit, tasting her sweetness. She moaned, her fingers digging into the bedsheets. The sound was music to your ears, a symphony of pleasure that had been silent for far too long.

JJ's thighs trembled as you teased her clit, your tongue flicking and circling, building her up. You felt her body tighten, her breath hitching as she approached climax. You slid two fingers inside her, pumping them slow and steady as your tongue danced against her most sensitive spot. She was so wet, so tight around you, and the thought of filling her up with your cock was almost too much to bear.

Her hips began to rock against your mouth, her moans growing louder, and you knew she was close. You increased the pressure, swirling your tongue in a way that never failed to make her come undone. Her back arched off the bed as she climaxed, her pussy clenching around your fingers, her juices coating your face. You drank her in, savoring every drop, her taste on your tongue making you even harder.

As she rode the waves of pleasure, you kissed your way back up her body, her skin flushed and warm from the orgasm. You hovered over her, your cock brushing against her thigh, leaving a wet trail from her pussy. "You taste amazing," you murmured, your voice a deep growl of need. She opened her eyes, a lazy smile playing on her lips.

"I want you inside me," she begged, her voice a breathy whisper. "Now."

You couldn't argue with that. You lined yourself up with her entrance, the tip of your pierced cock pressing against her. She was so wet, so ready for you, that you slid in with ease, filling her completely. You groaned as her walls tightened around you, feeling the warm embrace that had been denied to you for weeks. You took a moment to just savor the sensation, the connection that was so uniquely yours.

JJ's legs wrapped around your waist, pulling you deeper, her heels digging into your back. "More," she urged, her nails scratching at your shoulders. You obliged, setting a steady rhythm, watching as her breasts bounced with every thrust. Her eyes never left yours, the challenge in them clear - she was going to ride you just as hard as you were her.

The headboard banged against the wall in sync with your hips, the room echoing with your grunts and her cries of pleasure. You could feel the sweat building between your bodies, the friction only adding to the intensity of the moment. You reached down to tweak her nipples, feeling her pussy clench around you, and you knew you had found her sweet spot.

Leaning down, you claimed her mouth again, the kiss deep and desperate, as if you were trying to devour her whole. You could feel her body begin to tighten, her muscles contracting as she approached another orgasm. "Come for me, JJ," you growled, your voice a demand.

Her nails dug into your back, leaving little half-moons on your skin. "Fucking Christ, Y/N!"

You didn't need any further encouragement. You picked up the pace, each thrust hitting her G-spot perfectly, making her eyes roll back with pleasure. You felt the tension in her body build until she was practically vibrating with need. Then, with a scream that could've shattered glass, she came, her pussy clamping down on you like a vice, her walls pulsing around your cock.

It was all you could do not to come right then and there, but you had promised her a night she would never forget. You withdrew slowly, watching as her eyes fluttered open again, her chest heaving with each breath. "Again," you murmured, your voice a dark promise. "I want to feel you come on me again and again."

JJ's smile was pure temptation. She sat up, her breasts bouncing slightly with the movement, and straddled you again. This time, she took control, her hands on your shoulders, guiding you back down to her entrance. You watched as she took you inch by inch, her pussy stretching to accommodate your pierced length. The sensation was exquisite, the metal sending bolts of pleasure through you with every movement.

Once you were fully seated within her, she began to rock her hips, setting a slow, sensual rhythm. Her eyes never left yours as she rode you, her breasts brushing against yours with every movement. You could feel her getting wetter, her juices coating you as she slid up and down your shaft. The sight was enough to make you want to explode, but you held back, determined to give her what she deserved.

Her movements grew more urgent, her breath hitching as she approached another peak. You felt the walls of her pussy tightening around you, the sweet friction driving you wild. Your hands moved to her hips, helping to guide her, feeling her muscles tense and relax with every thrust. She leaned down, kissing your neck, making her way to nibble at your gauged ear lobe. "I know you're holding out on me, Y/N," she rasped, her hot breath causing goosebumps to erupt from your ear down your neck and chest. "I want to feel you lose control, baby. Fill me up."

The words were a challenge, one you couldn't resist. You sat up, wrapping your arms around her, taking over the pace. You thrust into her hard and fast, feeling the bed shake beneath you. Her moans grew louder, her nails digging into your back as she met every thrust with fervor. The piercings inside her sent sparks of pleasure shooting through both of you, a symphony of sensations that had you both teetering on the edge.

You leaned back, watching her take you in, watching the way her pussy clenched and released around your cock. "Come for me, JJ," you whispered, your voice thick with desire. She nodded, her eyes glazed over with passion as she bounced up and down. You could see the tension in her body, the way she was fighting to hold back. But you didn't want her to hold back anymore.

With a roar, you pulled her down hard, thrusting up into her as you felt the first wave of your own orgasm build. She gasped, her pussy tightening around you, and you knew she was close. You reached down to rub her clit with your thumb, the sensation pushing her over the edge. Her body convulsed as she came, her pussy milking you for all you were worth.

You couldn't hold out any longer. With a final, powerful thrust, you emptied yourself into her, your seed filling her up as she collapsed against you, her legs shaking. You held her tight, feeling her heart pound against your chest, the aftershocks of your shared release rolling through your bodies.

The room was silent except for your ragged breathing, the only light coming from the crack in the curtains. You didn't move, enjoying the feeling of her soft skin against yours, the sticky warmth between you both a testament to the passion you had just shared.

JJ's head was resting on the mattress; yours nestled in between her breasts as you both caught your breath. "We are never doing No Nut November again," she laughed. You chuckled, your chest rising and falling with every breath you took. "Worth it," you murmured, kissing the top of her head. "Every minute of it."

You felt her smile against your skin. "Best prize ever," she said, her voice muffled by the pillow. You pulled out slowly, watching as your cum dripped from her pussy onto the bed. She was still quivering, her body still sensitive from the intense pleasure you had just given her. You leaned back, admiring her.

Her eyes opened, a lazy smile playing on her lips. "Your turn," she murmured, reaching for your cock, which was still hard and pulsing. You groaned as she began to stroke you, her hand a warm, wet mess from your juices. "I want to see you cum again."

You laid back, letting her take charge. She sat up, her breasts swaying as she pumped you in her hand. The sight was more than enough to push you closer to the edge, but she wasn't done with you yet. She leaned down, taking the tip of your cock into her mouth, her tongue playing with the piercing. The sensation was exquisite, and you felt your toes curl.

Her eyes never left yours as she sucked you, her cheeks hollowing with each bob of her head. She had missed this as much as you had, and she was making up for lost time. You felt your orgasm building again, the tension coiling in your balls. "JJ," you warned, your voice tight with need. She only sucked harder, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

With one final stroke, you came, your cum spurting into her mouth. She swallowed greedily, her eyes never leaving yours. You watched as she licked her lips, a drop of your essence glistening on her chin. "Delicious," she murmured, leaning in to kiss you. You tasted yourself on her, the saltiness mixing with the sweetness of her mouth.

"Fuck, JJ," you whispered, your body still shaking from the intensity of your orgasm. She climbed over you, her legs straddling your chest. "Your turn to clean up," she said with a smirk, gesturing to her cum-covered pussy. You didn't hesitate, eager to taste her again, to clean her up with your tongue.

The tang of her arousal filled your mouth as you licked her clean, her juices mixed with your own. She moaned, her hands on your head, guiding you as you explored her folds with renewed vigor. You felt her body begin to respond again, the walls of her pussy tightening around your tongue as she grew more and more sensitive.

JJ leaned back on her hands, her eyes closed, her breath coming in ragged gasps. You took your time, enjoying every moment of her pleasure, her hips began to rock, her legs trembling with the effort to stay still. "Y/N, please," she begged, her voice a whispered plea. You ran your hands up her stomach, reaching her nipples as you began to knead her breasts.

Her eyes snapped open, meeting yours, the heat and desire in them almost too much to handle. You felt your cock begin to ache again, the piercing a constant reminder of the night's promise. JJ's thighs began to shake, and her walls began to tighten around your tongue, signaling her approaching climax. You lapped at her, eager to taste her sweetness once more, and with a keening cry, she came again, her juices spilling onto your chin.

You pulled back, watching as she panted and shivered above you. "God, you're insatiable," you said, a hint of awe in your voice. She just grinned, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Always for you," she replied, sliding down your body to kiss you once more, her taste still lingering on your lips.

The night was still young, and your thirst for her was far from quenched. You rolled her onto her back, your cock standing tall and demanding attention. JJ's eyes gleamed with excitement as she felt the head of your pierced cock nudge against her swollen clit. "Again?" she panted, her voice a mix of surprise and hunger.

You didn't bother with words, just a nod of confirmation as you slid back inside her, feeling her pussy contract around you in welcoming spasms. This time, you didn't hold back. You fucked her hard and fast, the sound of skin slapping against skin, a crescendo that filled the room. The piercing added a whole new dimension to the sensations, sending shockwaves of pleasure through both of you with every thrust.

Her legs wrapped around you, heels digging into your ass as she tried to get even closer, to take all of you in. You could feel the tension in her body, the way she was wound tight, ready to break. You leaned down, sucking her nipples into your mouth, biting down gently on the sensitive flesh. She screamed, her back arching off the bed, her nails raking down your back.

You didn't stop, couldn't stop. Your hips pumped into her, the metal piercings chiming with every movement, sending sparks of painful pleasure through her body. JJ's eyes were wild, her pupils blown wide with lust as she met your gaze. "Harder," she moaned, her voice a desperate plea. You obliged, driving into her with everything you had.

Her nails dug into your skin as she reached her peak, her orgasm crashing over her like a wave. You felt her pussy clench around you, her muscles tightening as she came, her walls pulsing around your cock. The sensation was almost too much, the pressure building until you couldn't hold back any longer. With a roar, you buried yourself deep inside her, your release hot and powerful as it filled her once more.

The two of you collapsed onto the bed, limbs tangled, breathing heavily with exertion. Your cock remained inside her, still pulsing, the piercing sending aftershocks of pleasure through both of your bodies. JJ's eyes were closed, a serene smile playing on her lips as she enjoyed the aftermath of her climax. You leaned down to kiss her, tasting the salt of sweat on her skin, the sweetness of her breath.

"Best prize ever," she murmured again, her voice barely audible. You chuckled, feeling your chest rise and fall with each deep breath you took. You rolled over, keeping her firmly pressed against you, your member buried within her. "We should start a new tradition," you said, your voice filled with mischief.

JJ's eyes snapped open, her smile wicked. "Oh really?" she purred. "What did you have in mind?"

You traced the line of her jaw with your thumb, feeling the rapid pulse of her heart beneath her skin. "How about every time we win a bet, we get a weekend like this?"

Her eyes lit up with excitement. "A prize weekend of no rules, no limits, just us and our desires?"

You nodded, feeling your cock twitch inside her. "Exactly. We'll make it our little secret, something to look forward to every time we win a bet."

JJ's grin grew, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "Deal," she breathed, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. "But for now, I think we should keep going. After all, we have a whole weekend of no rules ahead of us."

[mggssocks]

The Eighth

part one

pairing: Fem!Kook!Reader x Rafe Cameron

cw: idk maybe some foul language, sexual content but nothing too into detail (at least not for this specific chapter).

The sunlight filters softly through the glass-paneled windows of the wellness center, casting golden shapes across the polished hardwood floors. Peaceful music plays from hidden speakers, the instructor’s voice calm and rhythmic as she guides the class through a slow, fluid flow.

But your mind? Anything but calm.

“You did what?!” Becca practically shrieks-practically, because she’s still trying to keep it whisper-level, but it comes out high-pitched and loud enough that a few heads from the front rows swivel.

You give her a sharp elbow to the side. “Can you not?”

“Sorry, sorry,” she hisses, dramatically mouthing an apology to a woman in front of her. “I just- Rafe Cameron?! You snuck out for Rafe Cameron?”

The two of you are tucked away in the back corner of the yoga studio, half-heartedly following the instructor’s cues. You’re attempting some kind of twist, but between Becca’s animated whispering and the slight soreness in your thighs from climbing down your balcony ladder barefoot, it’s not going well.

“And you said your mom thought he was, like, sinister or something,” she adds, smug and grinning like the devil himself.

“You think that too,” you remind her, adjusting your position as the instructor glides past, eyes scanning the room like a hawk.

“I think he’s a dick. I didn’t say he was like- Dexter or anything. There’s a difference.”

You bite your lip, trying to hide the smile pulling at the corners of your mouth as the instructor calls for a high lunge. You ease into it, arms rising overhead, muscles lengthening.

“He’s not,” you say simply, voice soft but with just enough warmth to betray you. Becca’s head turns sharply toward you, eyebrows shooting up.

“Oh my God,” she whispers, way too loudly. “You like him.”

You shoot her a look, but it’s too late- the instructor pauses her pacing and pins the two of you with a slow, deliberate warning glance.

“Ladies,” she says in her soothing yet somehow terrifying tone. “Let’s bring the energy inward. High lunges, not high drama.”

Becca lifts her hands in mock surrender and mouths, Sorry, goddess of core strength before leaning toward you again as soon as the instructor turns away.

“You like him,” she repeats, quieter now but just as accusing.

You shake your head but your smile gives you away. “I don’t even know him like that.”

“You knew him enough to sneak out at one in the morning and make out at the marsh.”

You roll your eyes and drop down into the next pose. “It wasn’t a thing. We just talked.”

Becca gives you the smuggest look on the planet. “You think you’re special now, don’t you?”

You exhale through your nose, pretending to focus on your breathing. “No.” But your silence says otherwise.

-

“I just can’t believe he made you touch his dick… Was it big?”

Becca is relentless.

You’re both stretched out in matching striped lounge chairs beside the turquoise pool behind her family’s house, basking under the early afternoon sun. The air smells like chlorine and sunscreen, and Becca’s got on heart-shaped sunglasses that do absolutely nothing to make her look less judgmental.

You, on the other hand, are half-reclined, legs bare in a tank and sleep shorts, phone in hand as you text back and forth with your mom- who has, for the third time this week, brought up the “family bonding cruise.” You’re nineteen, not nine. The thought of being trapped on a boat with a bunch of screaming toddlers and your dad’s weird sea-sickness wristbands makes your skin crawl.

'No, Mom. I’m not doing shuffleboard with retired strangers for seven days straight. Please stop treating me like I’m twelve. Love you though.'

“Y/N,” Becca snaps, ripping you back to reality.

You blink up at her, thumb still hovering over your screen. “Mhm?”

“Was it big?” Her tone is even, but her raised brow and mischievous smirk say she’s just waiting to pounce.

You let your phone drop to your stomach with a groan. “God, you’re still on this?”

Becca grins like she won the lottery. “Like how you should be on his di-”

A sharp throat-clearing interrupts her.

Alice, Becca’s family’s long-suffering maid, gracefully sets two glasses of lemonade down on the table between your chairs. Her face is unreadable, though the corners of her mouth twitch like she’s suppressing a laugh- or maybe judging you both into the afterlife.

“Thank you, Alice,” Becca says sweetly, flipping her ponytail over her shoulder like she wasn’t just about to say the most vulgar thing imaginable.

Alice walks off without a word, her white shoes squeaking against the wet patio tile.

You bring the cold lemonade to your lips, needing the chill to combat the heat rising in your cheeks. “You have no shame.”

“I have curiosity,” Becca corrects. “There’s a difference.”

You give her a look. She gives you a smirk.

“And?”

You sip again, then sigh dramatically. “I didn’t exactly inspect it.”

“Oh, come on,” she groans. “You had your hand on it.”

“It was through pants!”

“Was it like… intimidating?” she asks with faux seriousness, as though she’s evaluating weapons-grade artillery.

You cover your face with the cold glass. “I hate you.”

“So, yes.”

You peek out from behind the cup. “Becca.”

She leans back, satisfied. “All I’m saying is, if I touched Rafe Cameron’s dick, I’d be screaming it from the rooftop.”

“Well, thankfully, I’m not you.”

Becca just grins, like she knows you better than you know yourself.

And maybe she does.

Beau—two years older than Becca, same sharp jawline but more muscle than mischief now—steps onto the stone patio barefoot, a pair of navy swim trunks hanging low on his hips and a backwards hat barely holding back his sandy blond curls. You knew he used to run with Rafe, Topper, and Kelce before it all blew up. One wrong Pogue, one expensive lawsuit, and Beau had been yanked out of his golden-boy antics and thrown headfirst into “get-your-act-together” territory.

You hadn’t seen him around Rafe since, and he hadn’t been at the party last night. You assumed that meant distance- or maybe a full-on falling out. Either way, he wasn’t part of that scene anymore.

“Hey,” he says casually, stepping past a pool float and over to the lounge chairs.

“What do you want, Botox?” Becca deadpans, not even sparing him a glance as she massages 

sunscreen into her already tanned stomach.

“I can be in my own backyard, butt cheek,” he shoots back, tone flat, plopping into the third lounger—conveniently the one beside yours. He leans back, arms behind his head like he owns the sun.

Ah, classic sibling love. Their bickering was endless, and even with the mildest insults, the tension was somehow always… theatrical. You were suddenly grateful you were an only child.

Beau reaches for his water bottle and takes a long swig, eyes flicking toward you mid-sip. “How was the party last night?” he asks, casual, almost like he doesn’t care about the answer.

Becca doesn’t miss a beat. “Ask Y/N,” she says with a chuckle, lips curling into something that’s just shy of devious.

You shoot her a pointed look. Traitor.

Beau turns his attention to you, brows lifted in curiosity. “What’d you do, Y/N?” he asks, tone dipping into that mock-scolding register that toes the line between teasing and protective. 

Growing up with him around- family vacations, beach bonfires, holiday dinners- you’d always felt like he was a half-assed older brother figure. Just annoying enough to make an impression, but decent enough to care.

“Nothing,” you answer a little too quickly, your voice higher than usual.

Beau narrows his eyes. “Right. That’s what people say when they definitely did something.”

Becca lets out a laugh and sips her lemonade through a straw, eyes hidden behind oversized sunglasses. “She’s being modest.”

“Modest?” Beau raises a brow and shifts his attention back to you. “You don’t look guilty… you look guilty guilty.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” you mutter, picking up your drink and taking a long sip, hoping the cold distracts you from the heat rising in your face.

“She snuck out last night,” Becca says nonchalantly, flipping onto her stomach.

Beau turns back to you. “Seriously?”

“It wasn’t a big deal,” you lie. “I just couldn’t sleep.”

“So you thought, hey, lemme go for a midnight stroll?” He smirks. “That’s what people do now?”

You shrug. “It was more like a drive.”

Beau leans back in his chair, looking at you like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. “With who?”

Becca coughs pointedly, which earns her a swift kick in the leg from your foot under the chair. She lets out a quiet “ow” and tries to look innocent.

“With a friend,” you reply, pretending to be way more interested in your phone than you actually are.

Beau raises both brows. “A friend? Is this a new friend?”

You open your mouth to answer but get saved by the sound of Becca’s ringtone blaring from her phone.

“Saved by the bell,” you mutter, taking the moment to redirect your full attention to your drink and your phone while Becca answers her call, rolling away with a giggle.

Beau looks at you one last time, suspicion still lingering in his expression, but he doesn’t press. 

“Just don’t let her rope you into anything too crazy,” he mutters, reaching for the lemonade Alice had set down for him. “She’s got a talent for chaos.”

You give him a tight-lipped smile, nodding. “Noted.”

But you’re already thinking of the text you might send later tonight. Or the one you hope to get.

A day passes. And then suddenly it’s two. You try not to care, really-you do. But the silence from Rafe hits harder than you expected. It’s not like you thought he’d become your boyfriend or anything… but maybe a text? A “had fun” or even a “you good?” would’ve sufficed. Instead,

there’s nothing. Just your screen time quietly creeping up every hour as you keep checking the same damn thread. Still no bubbles. No read receipts. Just that final “I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

Now, your leg is bouncing under the dinner table like it’s fueled by caffeine and heartbreak. You stare at the iMessage app, the little blue icon taunting you from the bottom of your screen, as if by sheer willpower you could manifest a text from him. Your plate of untouched salmon grows colder by the minute.

“Honey, you okay?” your mom’s soft voice cuts through the silence.

You look up from your phone. She’s mid-bite, her eyebrows pinched in concern as she watches you.

“You’ve been shaking your leg for the past ten minutes,” she adds.

“I’m more concerned with your obsession with that device,” your dad says from the other end of the long dining table, newspaper in hand like he’s cosplaying 1985.

You roll your eyes. “I’m just waiting for a text.”

“From who?” your mom asks, not accusatory- curious. She always hopes it’s someone safe. Someone her country club friends’ kids would approve of.

“No one.” You tuck your phone under your thigh to shut them up.

A beat of silence passes before she sets her fork down gently on the porcelain plate. “Well, when you’re done waiting on this mystery man, we should really start talking about your future. It’s time, Y/N.”

“Time for what?” You already know what’s coming.

“Your internship,” she says with a pointed look. “Fall applications for Valentina & Co. open next week. We need to get you ready.”

You exhale slowly. Valentina & Co.- your mother’s legacy. A generational designer brand with your mother’s maiden name sewn into the labels of handbags, silks, and socialites across the coast. It’s never been something you hated. But it’s never been something you wanted, either.

“I said I’d think about it,” you mutter.

“Well, don’t take too long,” your dad adds without looking up. “Your mother worked hard to build something for you to carry on. This family doesn’t do wasted potential.”

You nod, chewing your lip. You glance back at your phone, hoping for a distraction, something to fill the pressure swelling in your chest.

Still no message. Just your reflection staring back at you in the screen. Quiet. Waiting.

You lie in bed, limbs tangled in your sheets, remote in hand as you absently scroll through Netflix. The soft blue glow from the screen casts shadows across your room, illuminating the familiar chaos of your posters, Polaroids, and half-finished water bottles on your nightstand. It’s a little past 11 p.m. 11:06 to be exact.

You’re not even really watching- just flipping aimlessly, looking for something with just enough noise to lull you to sleep. A comfort show, maybe. Something predictable.

Your phone lights up, pulling your attention from the screen.

Rafe: hey

Your heart kicks up- an involuntary thump in your chest. But the excitement fizzles just as quickly as it sparked when you glance at the time again.

11:07.

Of course.

You roll your eyes and toss the phone face down beside you on the comforter.

Classic Rafe Cameron. The prince of booty call o’clock. Never a good morning. Never a “hey, I’ve been thinking about you.” Just hey- simple, lazy, charged with possibility and a whole lot of nothing.

Your screen lights up again.

Rafe: you up?

You don’t move. Don’t touch the phone.

Again.

Rafe: I’m outside

Your heart stutters. Outside?

Your eyebrows shoot up as you whip the phone into your hands and stare at the message like it might morph into something else. Surely not. No way.

And then- 

Thud.

The sound comes from your balcony.

Your stomach drops. You sit up slowly, creeping toward the French doors that lead outside. Your curtains flutter just slightly from the cracked window, and then you see him.

Rafe. Standing there on the other side of the glass like it’s perfectly normal to show up uninvited and unannounced in the dead of night.

You slide the door open just enough to slip through.

“Are you insane?” you hiss in a harsh whisper, eyes wide as you glance toward the yard, paranoid your parents might still be up or worse- watching the camera feeds.

He grins, leaning back against the balcony railing like this is just any other night. Like he belongs here.

“Had to see you,” he says, hands tucked casually into the pockets of his hoodie. “You weren’t answering.”

“You texted me three times.” Your arms cross over your chest- equal parts flustered and freezing.

He shrugs. “Didn’t feel like waiting for a response.”

You stare at him, half-annoyed, half… whatever that twisty feeling is in your stomach. Because he shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be entertaining this.

But here he is. And here you are. Barefoot and half-ready for bed, heart racing for someone who’s barely texted you in two days and still manages to make your skin buzz.

Your paranoia spikes when he leans against the railing a second too long. Without thinking, you reach out and grab his hoodie, yanking him inside through the French doors.

“Get in, get in,” you whisper-shout, casting one last frantic glance at the yard below before pulling the door shut behind you. He chuckles under his breath as he quietly flips the lock and closes the window.

“You always this welcoming?” he teases, brushing past you with a grin, taking in the soft glow of the TV and your mess of blankets on the bed.

You exhale, sweeping your hair out of your face, eyes flicking toward the crack beneath your bedroom door. No flicker of light. No footsteps. No sounds from the hallway. You breathe a little easier.

“I should kick you out,” you mumble, turning to face him. “You can’t just show up on my balcony.”

“Worked, didn’t it?” he smirks, not even trying to hide how pleased he is with himself.

You don’t answer.

Instead, you shift your weight from one foot to the other, arms folded tight across your chest. 

You’re trying to figure out a way to ask him what the hell happened- why he ghosted you after practically undressing you with his words the other night- without sounding like some needy girl waiting by her phone.

Because you weren’t. You were not that girl.

Even though your screen time was up 17% this week.

He moves closer, slowly, as if reading every single thought flashing behind your eyes. And maybe he is, because the smile on his face says it all- he knows. He knows you low key like this. The drama, the tension, the thrill. The way your heart races when he looks at you like that.

But you’d rather die than admit it.

“Miss me?” he asks softly, voice dipped in amusement. It’s not cocky in a mean way- it’s just Rafe. Smooth, knowing, frustratingly charming.

You scoff and roll your eyes, retreating a step, but he follows.

“I mean, I figured since you didn’t respond, I should check on you,” he continues, eyes lazily scanning your oversized sleep shirt, your bare legs, the undone look of you. “Make sure you weren’t dead or something.”

“Oh, right,” you say, dry, trying to sound unfazed. “You’re such a humanitarian.”

His eyes flash with amusement. “And you’re really gonna stand there and act like you didn’t miss me?”

You open your mouth to respond- something snarky, probably- but he steps in closer, hands sliding around your waist before you can think straight. The heat of his palms against your skin silences you.

“You’re annoying,” you whisper, though it comes out breathier than you intend.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, leaning in, his lips grazing your jaw. “But I’m pretty sure you like me anyway.”

You don’t respond- not with words.

Instead, your hands bunch into the front of his hoodie and you pull him toward the bed, lips crashing into his like you’ve been waiting to finish what you started at the marsh. He follows easily, his body pressing into yours as you both stumble back onto the mattress.

The TV continues to play something random- some cheesy Netflix rom-com neither of you are watching- masking the sounds of rustling sheets, breathless laughter, and the kind of tension that’s been building for days.

His hoodie hits the floor. Your fingers tangle on the back of his buzzed hair. And for a few heady minutes, you don’t care that he’s Rafe Cameron or that he’s a disaster dressed in luxury linen.

All you know is that he’s here, he tastes like spearmint gum and trouble, and his mouth feels really, really good on yours.

“You know I’m not your booty call,” you whisper against his lips, words barely forming between the heat of each kiss. Your voice is low, breathy, but still laced with intent.

He grins into your mouth, his hands tightening just slightly around your waist. “You can’t say that. I haven’t gotten any action from you yet,” he murmurs, the laugh in his voice vibrating against your skin as his lips move down to your jaw.

You let out a small, incredulous breath, fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Keep up with your smug comments and you won’t,” you shoot back- funnily enough- while your hands trail down, undoing the button of his shorts and slipping down the zipper with practiced ease.

His breath hitches, the smirk faltering for half a second as his eyes lift to meet yours.

“Oh, so that’s how it is?” he says with that trademark grin, half-lidded gaze drinking you in under the dim flicker of the TV light.

“That’s exactly how it is,” you whisper, dragging your lips along the edge of his jaw, deliberately slow, while his hands explore the small of your back beneath the hem of your shirt. You shiver slightly- not from the cold, but from the way his fingers trail lightly over your skin like he owns you.

His hips shift closer, pushing you back deeper into the mattress, his weight settling just right above yours.

“I should sneak into your room more often,” he mumbles against your collarbone, lips grazing the dip there.

“You do and I’m getting an alarm system,” you manage to reply, though your voice is thick with something else entirely now-desire, want, maybe even a touch of something deeper that you’re trying not to name.

His mouth finds yours again, this time slower, more thorough. Less teasing, more wanting. The kind of kiss that doesn’t ask- it takes.

And you let it. For a while. The warmth of his body on yours, the steady press of his chest, the low hum of the television barely registering now as your mind quiets for the first time in days.

It’s messy, intense, and a little chaotic- like him. But somehow, it still feels good. It still feels like 

something.

“I hope you have a condom,” you breathe, chest rising and falling as he pulls your shirt over your head in one smooth motion.

“Always,” he fires back without missing a beat, his voice low and cocky. The shirt lands somewhere off to the side, and for a second, he just looks at you- eyes trailing over your light blue bra with a small, amused grin.

“What?” you ask, already defensive.

“Nothing,” he chuckles, running a thumb over the strap. “It’s very… you.”

You roll your eyes. “I wasn’t expecting guests.”

“Glad I’m the exception,” he says, dipping his head to kiss just above the cup of your bra, making your breath hitch all over again.

But then- because you just had to open your mouth- you mutter, “Bet you used one with Sofia one of these past two nights.”

He stills.

Shit.

You can feel the heat drain from your body instantly. Why did you say that?

You brace for a reaction- anger, confusion, maybe a half-lie- but instead, he pulls back just enough to give you that stupid, crooked smirk.

“You’re obsessed with her.”

“I’m not,” you say quickly, a little too quickly. But even to your own ears, it sounds defensive.

Rafe doesn’t say anything right away. He just starts kissing your neck again, slower this time, lips brushing along your pulse like he’s trying to remind you what this is- who it’s with. “Then stop bringing her up,” he murmurs against your skin. “She’s not here. I am.”

And somehow, just like that, the tension between your legs starts to come back, replacing the jealousy you hate feeling in the first place.

His hands slide down your sides, playful now, like he knows exactly the effect he has on you. 

“Besides,” he adds with a grin, “if I wanted to be with Sofia, I’d be with Sofia. I’m here, sneaking through windows and risking my life for you.”

You exhale, letting yourself relax back against the pillows.

“God, you’re annoying,” you mutter, trying to hide your smile.

“Yeah,” he leans in, brushing his nose against yours, “but I’m the kind of annoying you like.”

And unfortunately- very unfortunately- you can’t exactly argue with that.

“Yeah, whatever,” he chuckles, shifting onto one elbow while using the other hand to push his shorts down. It’s too dark to see much, but you feel it- his arousal, pressing against your inner thigh through the thin fabric of his briefs. The sensation draws a quiet gasp from your lips before you can stop it.

And all you can think about, absurdly, is Becca’s voice at the pool- Was it big? You want to be annoyed with yourself for even remembering that right now.

“Can you push the cockiness aside for one second?” you ask, voice soft but teasing as you shimmy your underwear down your legs. He mirrors the motion, slipping his briefs off. There’s a low rustle as clothes land somewhere in the growing mess of your night.

He reaches for his shorts, fishing in the back pocket until you see it- the telltale glint of a gold foil wrapper. The sight of it sends a jolt through you, anticipation quickening your breath.

“I can push the cockiness somewhere,” he smirks, voice low and full of promise.

The gold foil now somewhere on the floor, your hand finds his mouth just as his finds yours- your bodies tangled, breathless, lips muffling sounds neither of you could contain. The sheets rustle with your movements, the mattress dipping under each shift. Every breath, every whispered moan threatens to give you away, but the fear of your parents waking up doesn’t feel real anymore. It’s far, far away. Like everything else that isn’t this.

And honestly? If they burst through the door right now, it would take an entire army to pull Rafe Cameron off of you.

When it’s over- if you can even call it that- you’re lying there, naked, sweaty, breath still uneven. The TV glows quietly in the background, casting soft shadows over your walls. Some mindless movie plays, the kind of thing you’d normally use to fall asleep to. But now, it just fills the silence.

Rafe is beside you, arms behind his head, eyes on the screen. You can’t tell if he’s actually watching it or if he’s just avoiding looking at you. There’s a slight furrow between his brows. A calm one. But it still makes you wonder what’s running through his head.

You shift slightly, pulling the blanket up over your bare chest. “So…” you begin softly, hoping your voice doesn’t sound as unsure as you feel. “Was that what you came here for?”

His eyes don’t leave the TV at first, but the corner of his mouth lifts- just barely. “You think I’d sneak up onto your balcony just for that?”

You glance over at him, skeptical. “Wouldn’t be the wildest thing you’ve done.”

He finally looks at you, eyes darker now, but not in the same way they were an hour ago. Softer, even if still unreadable. “Maybe I just wanted to see you.”

Your heart does something annoying in your chest at that. You bite the inside of your cheek, unsure of what to say next.

And neither of you does. Not for a while. Just the movie playing, and the sound of your breathing slowly syncing up again in the quiet.

[lewismcqueen]

you first.

lh44 x black!reader

part one | part two

bonus features! : director's cut | moodboard

summary: 'Thought I'd simmer down as I got older, can't shake the devil sitting on my shoulder, who...invited you?' wc: 2500~ a/n: finally writing the lewis hamilton band au of my dreams lol. this'll be another two-parter. Meaning...only two parts. Pls move accordingly <3 enjoy!

The venue you’re playing at tonight—the place where it all began—used to feel bigger. 

It used to be a gaping maw filled with strange eyes that weren’t your friends’, and therefore more ready to judge. More willing to find fault. You got up there with nothing but your guitar, a college-ruled notebook full of lyrics, and unbridled ambition.

But then the venues got bigger, the audiences more eager as you realized that many of them had come to see you, no longer just a placeholder or opener for who they really wanted to see. That nervous little girl with heat-damaged ends and rectangular prescription glasses became a young woman who hid the nerves more convincingly, until her outfits got bolder and she started getting color in her braids when she visited the salon. Venues became festival stages, where your image is projected onto screens that are larger than life. 

Now the venue feels small, but not cramped the way your bed gets before your parents realize they need to switch it out. No, the swaying phone flashlights and chorus of voices reciting your lyrics make it feel like coming back home. You smile as you strum the final chord on your guitar, and there’s a split second of silence as the last song comes to an end. They say it’s the silence after a note rings in the air that creates the magic. There’s a beat of it before the audience erupts in raucous applause. 

You thank them, your voice hushed with reverence as your eyes scan the crowd. There’s not so many that you can’t at least try to remember every face, which is a nice change from a mass of bodies too far away to see beyond those lucky enough to get the front row.

There's a girl wearing an oversized band t-shirt, her teal-streaked fringe clinging to her forehead a little with sweat. Next to her is a tall man with a high-top fade and large wire frame glasses that remind you of the 80s. The guy next to him is a bit shorter, and of a lighter complexion. He wears a knit sweater in a deep, royal purple contrasted by a single silvery chain draped around his neck that glints in the low light. He has dreads that are tied up so that they hang stylishly over one side of his face.

Wide, brown eyes stare at you dead-on, his expression ambiguous in a way that unsettles you. Something like loss. Something like regret. Minus the beard, the guy’s face kinda reminds you of—

Wait. Wait. There’s no way it’s actually him.

You know that face from a long, long time ago. You know that face, because there was also a point in time where you couldn't escape it. 

Recognition—sudden, bone-chilling recognition—colors your features before you tear your eyes away and exit the stage through the back. Your manager Jen is standing close by in her usual white tee and denim jeans, her curls slicked back into a bun. Her brows furrow as soon as she spots you.

“You good?” she asks, silver watch catching the stage lights that manage to filter through.

You nod, but the way you’re clutching the neck of your guitar says otherwise.

Because this isn’t really where it all began. Not exactly.

It began in your dad’s dirty garage, just wide enough and empty enough to fit a speaker and a drum set. Maybe even a mic stand. More importantly, it’s got enough room for yourself, Jennifer, Sebastian, and Lewis - a new kid from the UK that lived on an air base nearby. His dark hair is cropped short, and he looks at you like you’re already friends. Sebastian had introduced him the moment your last guitarist left, swearing up and down that the kid was practically the next Jimi Hendrix and could take his place easily. 

The first thing that struck you about Lewis was that despite being the new kid in town with no more than one real friend, was that he was not a timid boy. Polite, sure, (maybe a little too polite - he insisted on firmly shaking everyone’s hand the day you met him), but he walked around in his white polo and blue jeans giving off the impression that he already belonged, and was just waiting for everyone else to get with the program. He waltzed through your garage like it was a second home, collar popped and all. 

That’s why your eyes narrow when, not even two weeks in, Lewis mentions he can sing, and even makes some of his own music at home. A solo act in the making. He says it casually, but you have a feeling that he might be vying for your spot as frontman. Lewis seems like the type to want to be the center of attention.

“Sing a few bars for us then,” you chime in. You’re sitting on the guitar speaker with your chin in both hands, your voice saccharine with a smile that is all teeth. “You probably know a couple of our songs already. Let’s hear it!”

Lewis scratches the back of his neck, his ears reddening a bit. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him look bashful. He must think he’s being cute.

“I mean I’m not, like, Usher or anything. I can carry a note or two but—”

“Nah, don’t give me that,” you interrupt. “You look like you can sing your ass off. Give us a verse, maybe the song we did last week?”

The untitled song you’d practiced last week was tailor-made for you. You, with your endless riffs and power notes and belted choruses. Let’s see what this kid’s made of.

Lewis blinks, licking his lips nervously. “Well, alright.”

He makes his way over to the keyboard set up right by the speaker, and begins playing the main chords. How the hell did he memorize those after only hearing the song once? At any rate, the song is nearly unrecognizable when Lewis sings it. He is nearly all falsetto, his voice light as a breeze and clear as your neighbor’s crystal wind chimes. He’d make a stellar RnB heartthrob, but not a frontman for a rock band. The thought relieves you.

The three of you applaud at the end of it, Lewis shrugging it off with a lopsided grin. 

Jennifer chirps, “Your voice is so pretty!

“Thanks, but I’m way better on the guitar.”

“You could add in some harmonies, though!” adds Sebastian. “We finally have two singers.”

You hop off the speaker and approach Lewis to clap him on the shoulder. The force of it makes him jump. 

“I think I’m with Lewis on this one. Good thing you’re our guitarist though, right?”

He glances down at your hand on his shoulder, and his grin deepens into a real smile.

“I’ll be the best guitarist you’ve ever had.”

You wink. “I’m counting on it, Hamilton.”

And he was right - he was the best damn electric guitarist you’d ever had. You don’t realize it now, but he’ll also be the last.

Lewis’ playing was the embodiment of the word ‘sharp’. He played aggressively, but with precision that made every note rip through the air like a sheet of notebook paper being torn in half. He also loved to add embellishments to the sound - a bit of distortion here, reverb there. Some days he wore a metal slide around his finger, sometimes not. Lewis made every note sing regardless, the air buzzing with energy. It made Jennifer’s bass playing bouncier, Sebastian's drums more feverish. 

Sometimes he’d match your riffs, the little genius. With his guitar. His playing even made you dance one time - spinning and sinking to your knees, Lewis following in a call-and-response until you were both on the floor, riffing your hearts out. He was as tuned in to you as the rest of the band was tuned in to him. As wary of Lewis as you originally were, you can't deny that he makes you feel invincible when he plays beside you.

It shouldn't be shocking, then, that Lewis slots into your friend group like a puzzle piece you didn't even realize was missing. You try to scare him off with your dark humor, but he plays off of it - sometimes lightening the mood, other times managing to go darker. Lewis cracks jokes that make the entire lunch table laugh, but he always glances at you first. You interpret this as competitiveness, and roll your eyes at him, but part of you finds it endearing that he cares that much.

You appreciate Lewis in your own way. Threatening to beat someone up for making fun of his tooth gap, for example. He looks terrified when you do, but thanks you profusely anyway. There's a silent agreement that this is just how things are going to be until Lewis passes by your garage one Tuesday afternoon. 

You're strumming an acoustic guitar while mumbling through a song he doesn't recognize, a purple notebook sitting open on a chair beside you. You have on distressed jeans, and an old-looking yellow cardigan that looks out of place in your usually all-black wardrobe. It makes you look small.

“That sounds nice,” he calls out from just outside the garage door. He's close, but doesn't want to step inside without your permission. You speak without looking up.

“It's missing something.”

“Can I come in?”

You nod, and soon Lewis is hovering over the notebook, eyes scanning the lyrics as you bring them to life.

“Bridge.”

You stop playing abruptly and look up. “Huh?”

Lewis gives you that bashful, ‘I am pretending to not know what I'm talking about’ smile and scratches the back of his neck. 

“I mean, the song sounds like it's building up to something, but you're making the jump too soon. It needs a bridge.”

Lewis fidgets beneath your gaze as you stare at him. “You…probably didn't ask for that advice. Sorry, I—”

“Do me a favor, Hamilton.”

He blinks.

“Uh, sure. What's the favor?”

“Stop apologizing so much. It's annoying.”

Lewis opens his mouth—presumably to say ‘sorry'— but then promptly closes it and just nods.

“See you this weekend?” 

You give him a blank look. “Where else would I be?”

-

It isn’t until Jennifer’s mom stops by that the four of you consider playing at the annual school talent show (you thought the event was ‘lame’ and ‘for try-hards’, so you usually made the band skip out on it). 

“Y’all are making all that noise just for only the neighbors to hear?” She quips with a smile after a particularly thrashy number. The woman holds a plate of freshly-baked cookies in one hand, the other resting on her hip. Jennifer had clearly inherited her mother’s affinity for khaki-colored capris.

“Good afternoon, ma’am!” Lewis greets, all sing-songy like he’d been taught to recite it. You tilt your face away from him to roll your eyes. You never did come to like his incessant politeness. “Are those biscuit—er, cookies for us?”

“Sure, but only if you guys promise to at least sign up for that talent show, goodness!”

Sebastian nods a little too enthusiastically, causing his shaggy, dirty-blonde hair to fall over his eyes. “Oh, we will!”

Jennifer snorts before looking to you, and you shrug. “Eh, why not. We never play at those anyway.”

You’ve made a lot of mistakes in your lifetime, but you look back on that decision as one of the worst. The talent show goes well enough - most of your classmates didn’t even know you sang until that night. You’re on the keyboard, while Lewis plays his guitar like it’s his last day on Earth. He has a mic in front of him, too. Feeling generous, you had given him a couple lines in your verses - the less shout-y, more emotional bits. He sounds beautiful, amplified over school-issued speakers. 

You glance at the crowd and notice a couple of jaws dropping, and in the front row there’s some guy with only half a head of hair in a crisp-looking shirt nodding his head, impressed. He’s watching Lewis intently, never taking his eyes off him. It makes you feel uneasy.

When the auditorium clears out afterwards, you notice two figures standing by one of the double doors. You recognize one as Lewis’ dad, though you’ve never had the opportunity to speak to the man directly. The second is the balding guy from the crowd. They look deep in serious discussion. Maybe a family friend?

Sebastian is calling your name next to you.

“Yo, are you coming? Jen’s mom is baking tonight. Come on!”

Eyes still gazing ahead, you nod dismissively, pulling just one of the straps on your backpack over your shoulder. “Yeah, I’m coming. Just…give me a second.”

Sebastian shrugs, and joins Jennifer in moving through the aisles to make their eventual exit. 

Lewis’ dad has called his son over. He must not know the man, because his dad’s gesturing as if he’s making an introduction. They shake hands. The guy seems to be offering praise, because Lewis looks at him the same way he looks at you whenever you tell him you like his harmonies: starry-eyed and a little pleased with himself. The two men shake hands this time. Something has just been negotiated.

“Oh, that was just some talent agency guy, says his name’s Ron,” Lewis explains that same weekend after you ask him. He gives you a sly grin. “Why, you want his number or something?”

You shake your head and return your focus to the keyboard. You’re trying out melodies, something to set your new lyrics to. Lewis is busy tuning his guitar.

“Nah, I’m good. I don’t think I wanna be part of some bigwig label, or anything like that.”

“You could probably be a big star though,” Lewis says. You don’t see the admiration in his gaze. “I’m sure if more people heard you blow the roof off of the place like you do in here, you could—”

“I’m not some future burnout pop star like you, so can you just drop it?” you snap, and you immediately regret it. He turns away, a closed expression settling over his features.

“Alright, jeez. You’re the one who asked,” he mutters beneath his breath. “My dad brings these label guys around all the time ‘cuz he wants me to get signed, or something. I don’t really want to, though.”

You turn to him again. “What do you want?”

Lewis frowns, like you’ve asked him something offensive. “I wanna play with you guys.”

You’re not sure whether to be relieved at the boy’s commitment, or annoyed that he treats having a dad with connections to talent agencies like no big deal. An annoyance, even. So you just keep messing around on the keyboard.

“Cool.”

He plays even more aggressively that week. As if he’s got something to prove. To whom, you have no idea. But it ends up meaning nothing.

The following Friday, Lewis doesn’t bring his guitar. He’s dragging a small suitcase behind him, gnawing on his bottom lip. The rims of his eyes look red. 

Lewis got signed, and he’s moving away to be somewhere closer to a recording studio. The whole garage goes quiet. You don’t know what enrages you more: the fact that he lied, or the fact that he doesn’t even have the self-awareness to seem happy about it.

Instead of saying goodbye, you explode, hot tears stinging your eyes. You don’t even remember all of the things you call him that day. Maybe you don’t want to.

The band stops meeting after that. You tell yourself it’s because you could never find another guitarist.

[yassbishimvintage]

Hearts on Deck (6)

Masterlist

Cleo stretched, feeling the warmth of the sun filtering through the curtains and the delicious soreness in her limbs. A lazy smile crept onto her face as she turned, expecting to find Aaron beside her. Instead, she was met with an empty space, the sheets slightly rumpled where he had been.

She sat up, brushing her hair out of her face, the events of last night replaying in her mind. A soft laugh escaped her lips. Damn.

The smell of fresh coffee and something warm and buttery wafted through the air, luring her out of bed. She grabbed his oversized shirt from the night before and slipped it on before padding out of the bedroom.

Aaron was in the kitchen, wearing nothing but sweatpants, his back muscles flexing slightly as he moved. He glanced up, catching her staring, and smirked. “Morning, love. Sleep well?”

She grinned, crossing the space between them and wrapping her arms around his waist. “Like a dream.”

Cleo settled into the couch with her laptop, quickly scanning through her emails while sipping on the coffee Aaron had made. She responded to a few business inquiries, checked upcoming collaborations, and scheduled some content for the week. Once her inbox was cleared, she focused on uploading a new video—a "Day in the Life" vlog from her time in London.

As the progress bar moved, she glanced over at Aaron, who was casually flipping through a script. The quiet domesticity of the moment made her smile. She never imagined she'd find herself here, but she wouldn’t change a thing.

-

As she waited for her video to finish uploading, she felt a gentle warmth spreading through her foot. Glancing up from her laptop, she realized Aaron had absentmindedly pulled her foot into his lap, his thumb pressing slow, rhythmic circles into her arch.

She bit her lip, trying to suppress a smile. “You always do this when I’m working?”

He barely looked up from his script, a small smirk playing on his lips. “It’s called multitasking.”

She let out a soft hum, sinking further into the cushions. If this was her life now—working, creating, and being spoiled in little ways like this—she had no complaints.

She smiled, warmth spreading from where his hands worked their magic, sending a quiet surge through her body. It wasn’t just the touch—it was the intimacy of it, the quiet way he always found little ways to care for her.

Her laptop screen blurred in her vision as she let herself sink into the moment. “You’re really good at that,” she murmured, flexing her toes slightly under his touch.

Aaron chuckled, his fingers pressing a little deeper. “You say that every time.”

She sighed contentedly, tilting her head back. “Because it’s true.”

-

Soon, with Aaron’s rising popularity he made the Essence’s Instagram post. She read the comments.

She scrolled through the comments, her eyes darting over the mix of admiration, thirst, and curiosity.

“Whew, I see why she moved to London.”

“Aaron is giving ‘husband material’ with a side of ‘ruin your life in the best way.’”

“Wait, is he taken? Because I need to mind my business if so.”

“She’s a lucky woman. I hope she knows that.”

She smirked at that last one, biting her lip. Oh, she knew.

Glancing over at Aaron, who was casually scrolling through his phone, she nudged him with her foot. “So, Mr. Essence Man, how does it feel to be the internet’s new obsession?”

He looked up, amused. “That bad?”

She turned her phone to show him the comment section. “That good.”

-

A few hours later she’s going over some emails and a sponsorship video she needs to do. She has been putting it off for weeks. 

As she sat at her desk, scrolling through emails and reviewing the sponsorship details, she absentmindedly chewed on her lip. The video outline was straightforward—highlighting a new luxury skincare line—but her mind kept drifting.

She glanced over at Aaron, who was lounging nearby, scrolling through his phone. Sensing her gaze, he looked up. “You good?”

She sighed, rubbing her temples. “Yeah, just trying to focus.”

He smirked, stretching lazily. “Need a break?”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re the reason I’m behind in the first place.”

Aaron raised an eyebrow, amused. “No regrets, though.”

She laughed, turning back to her screen. “None. But let me finish this before you distract me again.”

Once she found her flow, she set up her camera, adjusted the lighting, and hit record.

"Hey guys! Welcome back to my channel. Today, we’re diving into a skincare line that has completely transformed my routine…"

She spoke effortlessly, her energy bright and engaging as she moved through the product breakdown. She demonstrated the textures, showed application techniques, and even added a few personal anecdotes. By the time she wrapped up the video, she felt accomplished.

Letting out a satisfied sigh, she turned off the camera and stretched. Aaron, who had been watching from the couch, smirked.

“You in the zone now?” he teased.

She grinned. “Finally.”

He got up and walked over, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Good. Because I’m stealing you for the rest of the night.”

“Can it wait another hour please?” She asks him.

Aaron sighed dramatically, resting his chin on her shoulder. "An hour? You sure you don’t mean two?"

She laughed, leaning into him. "Nope, just one. I need to edit this footage and send it in for approval."

He kissed the side of her neck, lingering just enough to make her shiver. "Fine. One hour. But after that, you’re mine."

She smirked, turning to kiss him quickly before nudging him away. "Deal. Now go entertain yourself while I work."

He groaned but let her go, flopping onto the couch as she settled back at her desk. "I guess I’ll just have to suffer in silence."

She rolled her eyes, smiling as she got back to work.

-

After hitting send on her email, she stretched and made her way to the living room. Aaron was sprawled across the couch, one arm draped over his forehead as if he had been suffering in her absence.

She smirked, crossing her arms. “You look like a man who’s been waiting forever.”

He peeked at her, then dramatically sighed. “I have. I almost didn’t make it.”

She laughed, climbing onto the couch and straddling his lap. “Poor baby. You need some attention?”

He slid his hands up her thighs, gripping her waist. “Desperately.”

She leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Then let me make it up to you.”

-

She was thinking of making their first real date since making it official. “Should we make our first public appearance?” She asks her shy boyfriend.

Aaron glanced at her, his hazel eyes filled with hesitation. Public appearances weren’t exactly his thing—he valued his privacy, but with his rising popularity, avoiding the spotlight was becoming harder. And now, with her by his side, the attention would only grow.

“You really wanna do that?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

She nodded, sitting up beside him. “We can’t hide forever, Aaron. People are already speculating. Might as well control the narrative.”

He sighed, considering her words. She had a point—if they stepped out on their terms, they wouldn’t have to deal with the frenzy of rumors. Plus, he did want to show her off. She was everything to him, and hiding their relationship was starting to feel like denying how much she meant to him.

“Alright,” he finally said, lacing his fingers with hers. “But let’s keep it lowkey. Nothing crazy.”

She grinned, squeezing his hand. “Lowkey, huh? So no red carpets yet?”

Aaron chuckled, shaking his head. “Let’s start small. Maybe a dinner, an event—something easy.”

She leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Deal.”

-

The next night they have their first public date. 

The restaurant was upscale, dimly lit with the soft hum of jazz playing in the background. As they stepped inside, eyes subtly turned toward them. It wasn’t just that Aaron was a rising star—it was the undeniable chemistry between them that made them stand out.

She felt his hand settle on the small of her back, guiding her through the space. True to his word, he kept close, his presence shielding her from wandering gazes and flashing cameras outside.

“Still good?” he murmured near her ear as they reached their table.

She smiled up at him, appreciating the way he always checked in. “More than good.”

The night flowed effortlessly—soft laughter, stolen glances, fingers brushing over wine glasses. He wasn’t one for public displays of affection, but she caught the way his knee pressed against hers under the table, the way his thumb traced slow circles on the back of her hand.

At one point, she leaned in. “You’re handling this well.”

He smirked, eyes dark with something unreadable. “You underestimate me, love.”

As they finished their meal, a few paparazzi had gathered outside. She sighed, preparing herself, but Aaron simply took her hand as they walked out. The flashes started immediately, but all she focused on was the way he squeezed her fingers, grounding her.

In that moment, she knew—this wasn’t just any date. This was the beginning of something real.

He led first and held her hand tightly.

As they stepped out of the restaurant, Aaron took the lead, his grip on her hand firm but reassuring. The flashing cameras, the murmurs of onlookers, none of it seemed to faze him. Instead, he kept his focus on her, guiding her through the crowd with quiet confidence.

She could feel the tension in his body, not from discomfort but from protectiveness. He wasn’t just holding her hand—he was anchoring her to him, making sure she felt safe in this moment.

When they reached the car, he opened the door for her, pausing for a second before she got in. “You okay?” he asked, voice low, intimate despite the noise around them.

She nodded, squeezing his hand before letting go. “Yeah. You?”

A small smirk tugged at his lips. “I’m good. Just making sure you are.”

Once inside, she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. He slid in beside her, and before the driver could pull off, he reached for her hand again, bringing it to his lips.

“For our first public date,” he murmured, kissing her knuckles. “Not bad, yeah?”

She smiled, heart swelling. “Not bad at all.”

-

A few hours later, her phone buzzed with notifications. She unlocked it and immediately saw their names trending.

"Essence Exclusive: Aaron Pierre and Mystery Woman Spotted on Romantic Dinner Date!" "Who is the Woman Stealing Aaron Pierre’s Heart?" "Fans React to Aaron’s First Public Date—And They Approve!"

She scrolled through the posts, her heart racing. Paparazzi had captured them holding hands, his protective stance around her, the way he looked at her when he thought no one was watching. The pictures were intimate without being invasive, showing a man completely enthralled with the woman beside him.

Aaron was beside her, casually flipping through his own phone. “We made the blogs,” she murmured, turning the screen to him.

He glanced at it, then back at her, completely unbothered. “Knew that would happen,” he said simply, resting his hand on her thigh. “You good with it?”

She exhaled, processing the weight of this moment. The world knew now. No more hiding, no more speculation—it was real. And surprisingly? She was okay with it.

She smiled. “Yeah. I’m good with it.”

He kissed her temple, murmuring, “Good. ’Cause I wasn’t planning on keeping you a secret anyway.”

Tags 🏷️

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @avoidthings @nayesworld @haechvn @writingsbytee @grlsbstshot @ovohanna24 @skvrpion @megamindsecretlair @kimuzostar @kenshisluvrgirl @planetblaque @bimbosnbutterflies2026 @chewingmy3xtragum @easybrezzy @blowmymbackout @melaninpov @todorokishoe24 @chaoticcoffeequeen @brattyfics @notapradagurl7 @gopaperless @jenlovey @nikkinik @novahreign @violetmuses @thevelvetwhispers @androgynousgaz  @brattyfics @jimmybutlrr @kumkaniudaku

[strawberrystepmom]

izuku x f!reader. reader is referred to as wife, he is referred to as husband, reader has a defined and briefly mentioned career. wife guy deku compilation indeed.

Hey, have you seen this?

Your screen lights up with a text message from one of your closest friends, another message with a link to a video following quickly after and you tilt your head to the side at your desk reading the title of the video.

“Deku Wife Guy Compilation”

It makes you chuckle to see these terms stitched together, something that would probably not make much sense to your blissfully offline-as-he-can-be husband, but you understand what it means and press the link to open the video. It takes a moment to load and you jiggle your foot impatiently as it does, abandoning what you were last working on to focus as he comes onto the rectangle screen.

“My wife is the best,” filters through your phone speakers as clear as day and you smile despite yourself, the familiar butterflies you get every time you look at him blooming beneath your ribs.

“First of all, I want to thank my wife.”

“My wife is the true savior in our household, she’s a doctor…”

“My beautiful ____, my wife, my heart.”

“None of this would be possible without my wife so please give her a hand.”

It’s a three minute video stitching together every time he has mentioned you in victory speeches and press interviews and the like and it makes you wonder what people could be saying. You’re no stranger to running into the stray hater online yet you scroll down to the comments section, eyes widening when you see it filled with nothing but admiration for the strong foundation of love your marriage is built upon.

iluvchargebolt: man, i hope i’m loved like this someday :’)

momospantyliner: The way his eyes light up when he says her name at 0:48…beautiful.

Allmightisalright07: Reminds me of how i used to talk about my wife when she was still with us. They are certainly soulmates.

In comparison to other comment sections you’ve scanned in the past, this one makes you feel very warm in comparison and you feel the need to look away after being perceived by so many people who don’t even know you. Izuku’s love is so evident for you even strangers see it from a mile away, they can hear it in the soft way his tongue caresses your name like he’s kissing you every time he says it.

You put your phone down and turn back to your work, letting the video play over the speaker just to hear his voice when your screen lights up again and vibrates on top of your desk. Another text from the same friend, another link.

There are 10 of these omg

Another link pops up on your screen in a blue bubble, this time to a playlist containing videos in the same fashion as the first. Deku Wifeguy Compilation 1-10. Giggling to yourself, you press play and let the playlist run, each video growing in length with the shortest at 3 minutes and the longest at just over 10, your eyes widening realizing that he loves you so much there are videos worth of him simply stating it over and over and over again.

The same compulsion that led you to check the comments section on the first video takes over and you decide to pause the playlist and read, scanning the comments for anything you could potentially use as fodder to be angry about later.

shotopleasereturnmycalls: damn…i really am single.

Redriotsarmpithair9680: Love like this is rare. So glad our beacon of hope has a safe place to land after he’s done keeping us safe <3

You don’t dare to go any further lest you do see something you won’t like, keeping the video paused and locking your phone to set it aside and reflect. It’s strange to live a life so public and private all at once, hiding some parts and sharing the others, but you’re grateful the most consistent thing about Izuku is that he has never wanted to do anything but shine his light on you, to make you the spotlight of his world and everything about him.

Abruptly you pick your phone up and slide the screen upward, the messages app filling your screen. You click out of the thread with your friend and into the one with Izuku and you type out three simple words, the ones that you feel all day every day.

You: I love you.

Miles away, he looks down at his phone screen and snaps a quick picture of himself grinning, scrunching his nose, freckles barely visible thanks to the low light and bad angle but it’s all him - silly and sweet and sincere. He sends it off with the three simple words he feels about you in return, all day every day.

Izuku: I love you too, my perfect wife.

[pshenha]

⌞박성훈⌝ MY BABY

⟡ SYNOPSIS: in which, it’s sunghoon’s birthday

⟡ GENRE: fluff, fluff, fluff

⟡ WC: 1399

.ᐟ A/N: this is not proofread, happy hoon day!! ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

── .✦

“Did you set everything up?” 

“Yeah, everything is set up, how’s your date going? Does he seem suspicious at all?” you giggle a bit as you hear Jake whispering as if Sunghoon could hear him. 

You take a glance over to your boyfriend– who’s too preoccupied by the fish in the tank next to the waiting area. “Everything’s fine, we just finished up dinner then we’ll go to this coffee shop I saw on the way. After that we’ll head over” 

Today was his birthday. The man that had picked you up at your lowest point and the man that promised you forever the minute he asked you to be his girlfriend. 

Thank God for all of your friends. You don’t know what you would’ve done had they not been there to help set up for Sunghoon’s birthday. Everyone had already gotten to your apartment  while you and Sunghoon had gone out to one of your favorite restaurants– the one he had taken you to on your very first date. Ever since then it’s been a tradition. 

“Baby, look”

The photo box had caught your eye on the way to the small coffee shop you went to after dinner. The look in Sunghoon’s eye soften at your reaction. Any chance you get you always stop at them. It’s the perfect way to capture memories in your opinion. “C’mon!” you say as you practically drag him closer.  “Ahh, we haven’t been to one of these in a while,” he ducks his head, ensuring not to hit his head. 

Before you could even take out your wallet to pay, Sunghoon beats you to it. His hand reaches for the card reader and scans the metal card. “Hoon! I was gonna pay” you pout. 

“Baby, it’s okay. I don't mind” he laughs as he leans down to peck your pouting lips. 

‘Get ready to smile in 5, 4, 3…’ the voice says from the box. 

“Hurry!” Sunghoon brings his hand up to cup your cheeks, causing them to puff up. The pout on your face turns into a smile as he smothers your face in a harsh kiss. After the picture is taken it pops up on the screen. “Ahh, that one’s cute” 

The next pose you do is simple. You squish your cheeks with his and smile at the camera. The last one, you turn his head to face you as your hands cup his face and smash your lips against his. He giggles against your lips and brings his hands to your waist. Teeth clashing together, you melt into the kiss. His soft lips engulfing yours as one of his hands caresses your cheek. The voice from the box gets you to pull away. 

You peck Sunghoon once more before turning to the screen. “Which filter should we put?” 

The various pictures of snow show up until you stop on the one Sunghoon likes. “The penguins are cute.” 

As you step out of the small box you watch as the photos drop into the area they’re supposed to be in. Sunghoon takes them and pulls his phone out, scanning the QR code to get the video the booth took. 

“You’re so cute baby” he shows you the video of the two of you. You giggle at your playful behavior and watch the way Sunghoon looks at you in the video. How did you get so lucky? The vibration of your phone catches your attention, it’s probably Jake wondering where you were. 

“Wow, I’m so tired” you pretend to yawn as you lean on Sunghoon’s body. 

“Do you want to go home now?” you hum as he wraps his arm around your waist as he immediately walks you both to his car. 

As you sit in his car his phone lights up in the cup holder next to you. You catch a glimpse of the screen and notice that he changed his wallpaper. It’s the photos you had taken at the photo booth. When did he have time to change it?  

When you arrive at the small shared apartment you look up at your window– all the lights are out. You greet the doorman and you hear Sunghoon send him a small ‘thank you’ after wishing him a happy birthday. His hand is still snug around your waist as you wait for the elevator to reach your floor. You decide to play coy and act as if you were sleepy. He hurriedly punches in the pin to your apartment to get you inside. 

Unbeknownst to him all of his close friends were behind the door waiting for him. Upon entering the door you walk further into the apartment and suddenly the lights switch on and in unison everyone shouts ‘happy birthday Sunghoon!’ Near the lights a banner is hung with the words ‘Happy Birthday Hoonie’ written on it with all of their friend’s names and small messages written to him. 

The look of shock on his face makes you laugh as he turns to face you. 

“Did you do this baby?” 

You shy away as he looks at you “Mayyybee” you drag your words out. 

“You really are cute, you know that? Thank you baby, you really didn’t have to do this” he whispers into your hair. You pull away to peck his lips smiling at him. 

“You deserve it so much. You really work hard for us and you deserve to have a break sometimes. I hope you know that” he smiles and leans down kissing the side of your mouth. 

“Happy birthday bro!” Jake walks up to the two of you with his arms wide. Sunghoon walks up to him engulfing him in a hug. And one by one his more like brothers do the same. “Thanks again, Jake” you say behind your boyfriend. 

“Yah! Is that why you haven’t texted me all day?!” he playfully punches Jake’s shoulder. 

“Mayyybee” he copies you. 

The night is full of laughter and games. Heeseung, Jungwon, and Sunoo are next to Sunghoon on the couch blissfully singing their hearts out as Jay plays with the lights as the song begins to get more intense. At the coffee table in front of you Niki and Jake continue their game of Uno that they started half an hour ago. 

You? You had been fixing the cake you had been making since five o’clock this morning. Decorating it fully to your heart's content. The number ‘22’ is written in red icing and below the words ‘Happy birthday Hoon” is written in bold letters. You signal for Jay to completely turn off the lights. The only thing illuminating the room is the tv. 

You light the candles with a lighter and slowly walk over to your boyfriend. He fully sits up the moment he sees you along with the other boys. You all begin to sing happy birthday and you hold the cake in front of him. 

The moment is full of joy, laughter and the utmost love. “Make a wish, Sunghoon” you watch as he closes his eyes for a moment to make his wish, then he blows the candles out with a swift move of his hand. The lights turn back on as everyone cheers for him. 

Once everyone is content with full stomachs they all go back to what they had been originally doing. You’re in the kitchen cleaning up your previous mess from the cake until you suddenly feel warm hands wrap around your waist. “Hi, baby” Sunghoon whispers into your ear. 

“Hi Hoonie” you turn in his arms as you hang your arms around his neck. He leans down to nuzzle your nose and softly clasps his lips with yours. His thumbs rub small circles under your shirt. He pulls away and buries his face into your neck. His hot breath hits your skin as he says, “Thank you for today, seriously. I really needed it”

“Mmh, you have no idea how stressful it was” you giggle.

“I was so worried the boys had messed something up but they did a nice job to my surprise,” he laughs and pulls away to look at your face, admiring every little thing.   

You stand there just watching each other, until you slightly stand on your tip toes and kiss his soft lips. Leaning your forehead against his, Sunghoon tightens his grip around you as if you’d disappear. 

“Happy Birthday, my baby” 

[sevasey51]

Connor’s wife was in the middle of a endo flare mild enough for low key interventions. She was resting on the couch, Connor was finishing some pre op notes and other paperwork. All of a sudden the pain goes from manageable to unbearable. Connor gets her on the floor of the living room and she’s completely inconsolable. He calls Ava and Hannah immediately and they can hear her sobs over the phone and they know it’s not good. His wife won’t even let him get the ultrasound. They rush over and work to get her stabilized. The ultrasound shows clots stuck. Connor and Hannah work to get the clots out( pressure on her belly and some pushing), while Ava keeps tabs on her vitals, draws emergency labs and keeps her O2 stats as stable as they can while she’s inconsolable.

When the Floor Fell Out

Summary: A quiet day at home turns into a nightmare when Y/N’s mild endometriosis flare takes a sudden turn for the worse. One moment, she’s curled on the couch with heat packs and gentle meds; the next, she’s sobbing on the floor, unable to tolerate touch or speak through the pain. Connor calls Ava and Hannah immediately — her sobs are loud enough over the phone to make them drop everything. Together, the team does what they do best: stabilize, intervene, and hold her through the storm.

The condo was quiet. Soft piano music played in the background — something instrumental, calming. The late afternoon sun filtered through the blackout curtains, casting gentle golden shadows across the hardwood floors.

Y/N lay curled on the couch, nestled into the corner with a microwavable heat pack tucked at her lower abdomen. She wore a loose tank and sleep shorts, her body still, her breathing controlled.

It had been a rough morning — enough that she’d cancelled her teaching rounds — but not unexpected. Her endo flares were frequent, and while miserable, she knew how to manage the lower-level ones.

Connor sat cross-legged at the coffee table, surgical notes and pre-op forms spread in neat stacks. He glanced up every couple of minutes, checking for subtle changes: her pulse, her color, her breathing.

She’d only just whispered, “I think I might nap,” when it changed.

A single, sharp gasp. Then another.

Connor’s head snapped up. “Sweetheart?”

Y/N’s hand flew to her abdomen. Her body curled tighter, legs drawing in, her breath stuttering as her face contorted.

“Can’t—” she panted. “Can’t—Connor, I—oh my God—”

And then she screamed.

Connor dropped the tablet mid-sentence and lunged for her.

She was already sliding off the couch, trying to escape her own body, curling onto the floor in a fetal position.

Her skin was pale and clammy. The scream gave way to guttural sobbing — uncontrolled, raw, animalistic. The kind of sound that carved straight into Connor’s chest.

He crouched beside her immediately, trying to soothe, trying to assess. “Y/N, baby, what happened? Where? How bad?”

But she couldn’t answer. She was sobbing too hard, unable to breathe in without crying out. Her hands clawed at her abdomen, trying to press the pain down, as if something inside her had turned molten.

Connor reached for the ultrasound probe, his hands shaking — but the moment it touched her skin, she screamed again, pushing it away.

“No, no, no!” she sobbed, shaking her head violently. “Don’t—don’t touch me there—please—please, Connor—it HURTS—”

He dropped it. And picked up his phone.

Ava answered on the first ring.

“Connor?”

He barely breathed. “Ava—get here. Now. It escalated. She’s on the floor, she can’t breathe, she won’t let me touch her, won’t let me scan—she’s screaming, Ava—”

Y/N’s cries echoed through the speaker.

“Oh shit,” Ava muttered. “I’m five minutes away. Calling Hannah now. Start fluids if you can, pulse ox, but do not force anything she resists. We’ll bring a full emergency setup.”

Ava arrived first, breathless and furious at the heat outside. She barely greeted Connor before dropping to her knees beside Y/N, gently looping a pulse ox on her finger while murmuring reassurances.

Y/N was curled tightly, moaning, her cheeks soaked, legs spasming with every jolt of cramping agony. Ava didn’t flinch. She drew labs calmly, slipped in a pain relief line through Y/N’s port with practiced ease, and kept the oxygen gently flowing.

“She’s at 91% on room air. BP’s tanking. She’s in shock from the pain.”

Hannah rushed in two minutes later, eyes flicking immediately to the portable cart Connor had already pulled out, ready but untouched.

“She didn’t let you scan?” Hannah asked softly.

Connor shook his head. “She screamed. Full body reaction.”

“Then we do it together,” Hannah said simply.

She knelt at Y/N’s head while Connor repositioned by her belly, not touching — just waiting. Hannah placed her palm on Y/N’s shoulder and leaned close.

“Sweetheart, it’s Hannah. We’re here now. You’re safe. We have to check inside, okay? I’ll keep Connor’s hand steady. I’ll hold you the whole time. Just squeeze me, scream if you need to. We’ll be quick.”

Y/N, barely lucid, whimpered but nodded once. A tear slid into her hair.

Connor gently pressed the probe again — this time guided by Hannah’s voice and Ava’s steady updates.

“There,” Connor whispered. “There. Multiple thick clots. Some are pooled near the cul-de-sac. Not moving.”

“She’s cramping and they’re stuck,” Hannah muttered. “No wonder she’s screaming.”

“Pressure’s dropping again,” Ava called. “We need to move.”

Connor handed Hannah the warmed gel and pressure pads. She sat behind Y/N, letting her lean into her lap while Connor repositioned.

“We’re going to push, baby,” he whispered. “I’m going to help move the clots. It’s going to hurt, I’m so sorry, but I promise we’ll stop if it’s too much.”

Y/N was already shaking. “D-do it,” she gasped. “Do it—just—please—”

Connor pressed down gently, rhythmic but firm. Hannah helped reposition her hips and support the lower belly while Ava kept whispering vitals like a lifeline:

“Still 92%. Pressure 86/51. Keep going. You’re okay, sweet girl, just hold on—”

Y/N sobbed until her voice broke. The pain was blinding. But then—

—a shift.

—a snap of pressure.

—and a sudden warmth.

“There,” Connor exhaled. “One’s out.”

Another. Then another. Ava adjusted the pads and caught the clots in sterile gauze while Hannah wrapped her arms tighter around Y/N’s upper body.

“Almost done, sweetheart. You did it. Just breathe for me now.”

And slowly—like the crest of a storm—her body began to soften. Her cries quieted to broken hiccups. She was drenched in sweat, too weak to speak, but the worst had passed.

Connor kept his hand at her abdomen, applying gentle pressure while checking for rebound. Hannah loosened her grip but never let go. Ava hooked a second fluid line and started her cooling protocol.

She drifted in and out of consciousness, curled between all three of them on the soft living room rug. Someone — probably Ava — had grabbed every spare pillow and blanket in the apartment and built a makeshift nest around her.

Connor stayed beside her, stroking her hair. “You did so well. I’m so proud of you. I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

Hannah sat nearby with her chart, calling in her adjusted med orders. Ava typed into her iPad while silently keeping tabs on Y/N’s vitals.

And for a long time, no one moved.

The floor had fallen out from under them that afternoon. But together — through skill, love, and sheer force of will — they’d built it back beneath her feet.

[the-kr8tor]

Okay I had a fic idea and rushed to tumblr to see if your requests were open I'm lowkey shaking rn.

Anyway can we imagine hobie and reader who are friends but secretly having feelings for each other, and one night reader gets a little too drunk at a party and sends a confession text to hobie ?! And the way he would come to pick her up right after this and confess in return AAAAAAAKFODJODNXODBF do you think you could write something about it ? No one can write Hobie fics like you 💕❤️

Hi hi I combined both of your requests bc they were similar hope you don't mind. Changed it up a bit but it's basically the same! Thank you for requesting!! 😘❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 2.3k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), CW alcohol, fluff.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Getting wine drunk is a bad idea, getting wine drunk alone is an even worse idea. Your vision swirls whilst you watch the most mind numbing reality tv there is. Mind hazy, the smell of stale popcorn filtering in the air, blanket comfortably on your legs. You look at your phone right next to you like it owes you money.

With a narrowed glance, the screen blinks open like you commanded it in your mind. You don't miss how you quickly take it in your wobbly hands despite the alcohol warming your insides. Huffing, you're immensely disappointed to see a notification from one of the games you play to pass the time.

‘Your castle is under attack!’ it says in bold letters, and you wish it was him texting you instead. Your wallpaper doesn't help much with your pining, the picture’s a bit blurry but even the blurriness can't hide how deeply in love you are with your best friend. You remember when the photo was taken, and you remember how fast your heart was beating in your ribcage when Hobie yanked you towards him. Sweat still clinging to him from his energetic performance, adrenaline still flowing in his veins as he squeezes his face close to yours. He gives the camera his signature smirk, whilst you could only manage a lopsided smile. Eyes shimmering under the spotlights, arms bravely wrapped around his middle.

You still can't believe you fumbled that day, you thought you had your confession in the bag, but when he stared at you with those brown eyes you loved so much since year eight, the words got stuck in your throat. With alcohol in your system, flooding your nerves with courage, you open your phone to finally tell him your feelings.

> Heyyy boo thang <3

You giggle whilst you hover your thumb at the send button. Backtracking and drunk off cheap wine, you add more to your message.

> Heyyy boo thang <3 just messaging u how ur doing and also I love u so much like a lot ever somce you held my hand during pe when that ball hit my face I loveee u and not just a friend muah <3

Eyes scanning the message, a sudden realization hits you like a truck, as if sobering you immediately. The thought of sending a love confession to *your best friend has you sitting up right on the settee, moreso via text message. But before you could erase it and forget about it, a sudden scream startles you, jolting, the sound making you drop your phone on the carpet.

“Shit!” You glare at the fallen phone then at the telly where the reality stars are now pulling each other's hair like they're in the playground.

With an annoyed click of your tongue, you take your phone from the ground to check the damage. Sighing in relief, you see no cracks in the screen, but your heart falls on the floor once you see that your drunken message has been sent. “No! Motherfucker—!”

Hobie’s head is pounding from the combined powers of the pints he chugged and the loud music banging on stage. The old leather seats of the booth scratch at his jeans, the smoky and musty air entering his lungs, and the warm lights shining in his blurring vision. He usually doesn't mind it, he thrives in the environment. But his band mates basically dragged him into the pub when he was supposed to be hanging out with you tonight.

“Mates before chicks!” James said, earning a loud slap from Yuri a second later. “You hang around her too much, we miss our guitarist.” Ned mumbles with his puppy dog eyes that Hobie never thought would actually work on him. “Just one round with us! And you can come back home to your girl.” Riri added with a teasing grin. Hobie didn't even correct her at this point, and he knows it’s not just for one round.

After sending you a heartfelt message using Ned's phone, he rescheduled the weekly hangout where you and Hobie would watch the crappiest show you could find airing on cable, and whoever leaves the couch first owes the winner dinner. To which Hobie always sees as a win/win, he gets to hangout with you more, and he gets to see you smile when he purposely loses. Hobie invited you to the pub, even though he knows you'd reject his proposal, simply because he knows you hate the place, and how the carpet sticks to your shoes.

He knows you more than he knows himself.

It's hard enough to find the time to see you with all his responsibilities. He hates it when he could only settle with a quick phone call every night to check in on eachother. Especially when just a few years ago you were hanging out with him almost everyday.

He never thought he'd miss you this much when he agreed.

Hobie loves his friends, he really does, but you just have a very special place in his heart that he wishes he was in yours too.

Nursing a pint, he drowns his feelings with the amber drink and loud chatter with his band mates. Riri grumbles something about her landlord, while Yuri replies back with a ‘mine’s always open for subletting,’ she says in a singing tone. A minute later, the entire table looks at him with similar glints in their eyes.

“What?” He asks a little too roughly.

“You should get your own phone, mate, because I don't want to see your bloody messages.” Ned scoffs, his phone in hand. “Seriously, this one is sweet and all but this could take a turn real fucking quick, and I don't want to see that shit.”

“What the fuck are you talkin' ‘bout?” Hobie doesn't think he's that drunk yet, even though he doesn't notice how his words slur together, or how his tongue sits heavy in his mouth.

Riri and Yuri giggle amongst themselves, while James takes a peek at Ned's phone before making a dramatic shocked face.

His nerves shoot up when James mouths your name. Are you hurt? Are you mad at him? “Y/N, texted? What’d she say?” Hobie tries to snatch the phone from Ned, to which his friend pulls it away from him playfully.

“Oh I'm gonna need some popcorn.” Yuri snickers.

Ned, being equally drunk, clears his throat dramatically while leaning away from Hobie, who is too drunk to even win against James who's currently holding him back. James laughs like a hyena in Hobie's ear, while Riri takes a picture of the chaos.

“Hey! Boo thang! Heart emoji.” Ned reads unabashedly, the girls laugh louder at Hobie's expense. “Just messaging you how you're doing, and also I love you so much!” Ned tries to copy your voice, “Like a lot—!” Hobie has had enough, cheeks hot (not from the alcohol) he uses his spider strength to push past James, then grabbing the phone so quickly that not even the owner processed what happened until he sees it in Hobie's hand. “You're no fun, mate.”

“Has anyone ever told you not to read someone else's messages?” Hobie hides the screen on his chest.

“It's my fucking phone!” Ned gestures wildly.

Hobie glares at his bassist, he peeks down at the bright screen, your name up top and caller ID smiling at him. He can't help but smile back.

He might be drunk, but he's not drunk enough to hallucinate you confessing your love to him. Via Ned's phone nonetheless.

He feels bodies crowd around him, Yuri's chin is pressed on his left shoulder while Ned on his right. Riri pushes James away to get a closer look at the screen while James settles to loom over everyone like some muscle-bound shield.

“What the fuck are you lot doin’?” Hobie asks, hands gripping the phone like it's about to be snatched from him.

“We're dying from anticipation here, bruv.” James says above everyone.

“‘Anticipation’, that's a big word, James.”

“Eat a bag of dicks, Yuri.”

“You first—”

“Would you all shut up?” Hobie hisses, eyes glued to the tiny dots at the bottom, indicating that you're currently typing.

“She's typing.” Riri whispers.

“We can all see that, Riri.” Ned whispers back.

Hobie shushes them both when the three dots disappear without a new message. His heart hammers at his chest, he feels like he's back in high school, way back when you could just smile at him and his day will be made better.

“Just tell her, mate.” Ned says a lot softer than Hobie thought he was capable. “We all know you love her, just bloody tell her because I'm gonna need my phone back to call a cab real fucking soon.” And he ruined it.

“D’you have a curfew, Neddy?” James asks teasingly, earning a scowl from Ned.

Ned rolls his eyes. “I'm just saying, she might appreciate it if you actually reply to it.”

“I think she's drunk.” Riri pipes up, everyone looks at her. She roams her eyes towards each of their faces. Rolling her eyes she points at the message. “Look, there's so many mistakes there and I've texted with Y/N before, she doesn't text like that.”

“What's wrong with texting with spelling mistakes? I do that.” James smiles.

“Because it's just you, you ding dong.” Yuri teases, and James fakes a deep frown.

“Being drunk doesn't mean she didn't mean the text. The alcohol might've just helped her send it.” Ned reassures Hobie.

“I did it.” Hobie half exclaims, bleary eyes repeatedly reading his text. I fucking did it, shit! He thinks to himself. Hobie's suddenly incredibly sweaty.

“Oh shit! That's my guy!” Ned punches Hobie's bicep. The rest look at him with bewilderment.

“What did you even say?” Riri scooches closer to read.

> I love you too I might be drunk right now but I wasn't when I first realized it I have loved you since you gave me hot chocolate when I was freezing my ass off trying to win that stupid selling contest

“Holy fuck.” Yuri pats Hobie's cheek. “Can't believe you're capable of being sweet.”

“Shit, bruv,” James sniffs, his tears falling on the screen. “that shit is awe inspiring— don't even start, Yuri”

“Wasn't gonna,” she shrugs.

Ned pokes Hobie's side when he realizes his friend hasn't moved an inch from his position. “You okay, Hobs?”

Hobie inhales shakily, a smile slowly spreading across his lips once your message pops up. He swears that fireworks suddenly lit up inside him.

“Oh my god—” Riri tears up, but before the rest of the band reads the message, Hobie jumps out of his seat, even forgetting his own jacket in the process.

“Hobie—shit! Wait!” Ned tries to call him back, but Hobie's already out of the pub, sprinting fast. “My fucking phone.” He could only scratch his head.

The wind nips at his bare arms, lungs heaving whilst he runs at full speed. He should've brought his web shooters with him, but he unfortunately left it in his jacket pockets. If he had them he'd be swinging to your place so he could get to you faster.

Hobie's glad that it's late, or else he'll be dodging people left and right. Boots thumping loudly across the pavement, hand gripping Ned's phone, getting closer to your familiar street, he curves around the corner, almost bumping into you.

He stops your momentum with his arms. He feels his own jacket against his arms, you wear his hoodie well. Your chest heaves, grin slowly appearing on your wind whipped lips.

“Hobie?” You ask and everything clicks together in his mind.

All the tentative touches you two shared, all the hugs that lingered a few seconds longer, all the times that you looked at him like he fished the moon out for you. And all the times he looked at you like you're made out of stars. It all comes together in that dusty street corner where you both have crossed a thousand times before.

“Looks like we had the same idea.” Hobie softly says, clammy hands sliding down to your own sweaty palms. He doesn't mind, it's you, so he would never mind it.

“I guess you read my message.” You hold him close, hands squeezing at his hands that you've mapped out in your mind.

He chuckles, sliding his hand out from yours to show you the screen. “‘Say it to me in person and I'll say it back,’ doesn't give me much leeway, love.” The streetlight above perfectly aligns above you, giving you both a spotlight.

You mirror his smitten smile. “What are you waiting for then?”

Hobie pockets the phone, then he holds your face gently, eyes staring at you like he always has. “I love you.”

You pull him closer by his collar. “I love you too, Hobie Brown.”

“Since when?” He rags you on.

You roll your eyes with a smile. “Ever since I got hit in the face with a basketball and you deflated it with your spiked bracelet and then called the jock who threw it a wanker.” He smiles wider at every word you utter. Leaning closer, he smells the wine on your lips. “The hot cocoa, really? That—” you fight the tears from flowing. “That was years before we became best friends.”

“And I've continued to love you since then, and will love you as long as you let me.” Hobie presses his forehead atop yours, a kiss would suffice better, but for now, he'll settle for this.

You know him better than you know yourself. “Save me a kiss once we're both sober?”

“They're all reserved for you, love.”

[axelsagewrites]

kindly no pressure asking if locker room roy kent x reader will have a second part where jamie and roy finally talk/confront/fight? 🫣

Roy Kent*Apologise

Pairing: roy kent x f!reader

Word count: 1422

Warnings: swearings, mentions of semi public smut and getting caught, mentions of masturbating, a lot of swearing  

Part one here

Masterlist here

The night Roy met you was the best day of his life but the day you sucked him off in front of Jamie’s locker. And the thing that somehow made it better? Jamie saw it. Roy had the next two days off from Richmond so best believe those two days were spent in bed with you, only leaving for food and water.

Roy was smiling as he walked into Richmond. A sight that truly unsettled all the staff and his teammates. “Alright Isaac? Nice weather the day innit,” he grinned at the boy as they walked to the locker room.

“Uh yeah captain. It’s nice,”

“Gotta love when the suns out. birds chirping. A breeze in the air,”

“Yeah, yeah,” Isaac muttered, looking over at Colin who looked terrified of Roy’s happiness.

As Roy walked into the locker room Colin paused to whisper to Isaac, “Wasn’t it raining?”

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Isaac said, eyes never leaving Roy, “but it cannot be good,”

As the rest of the team began to filter in Roy continued to make happy small talk, even asking Sam how his weekend had been. It was freaking everyone out. the other odd thing however just walked through the door.

“Alright Tartt?” Roy called over, wide grin on his face, “Hairs looking good,”

Jamie just nodded, muttering a quiet thanks as he began to get changed with a grimace on his face when he got to his locker. “What the fuck is going on?” Colin whispered to Isaac who was seriously considering taking up religion in this moment.

Jamie had never been so quiet during a practise. He did every drill without complaint, scored every kick, and even passed the ball. “I’m worried about him,” Ted sighed as he watched him play, “He just doesn’t seem himself,”

“His playing’s excellent though,” Nate said, before trying to joke, “Maybe this is the start of a mature Jamie Tartt,”

Beard crossed his arms as he stared out onto the pitch, “There’s a disturbance in the force. Besides. Roy’s creepy when he’s happy,”

-

“Great work Colin, nice foot work,” Roy praised, patting the boy on the shoulder before running to get the ball.

Just as everyone was about to call for a priest you walked out of the tunnel. Usually, your presence was first notice by Jamie who would give a loud wolf whistle but instead you were able to walk up to Ted without drawing much attention. “And what do we owe this pleasure?” Ted asked, a smile on his face.

“Hey coach. Roy forgot his phone, so I came to drop it off,”

As if on queue Roy jogged over to the group, ignoring everyone but you who he gave an unabashed public kiss too despite usually hating PDA. “What would I do without you?” he joked as you both walked to the side so he could put it in his hoodie.

“You’re in a good mood. Jamie’s still alive though?” you joked.

A wider smile cracked his face, “He’s growing on me. What can I say?” he said but you paused, crossing your arms to scan his face, “What?”

You glanced to the field only to notice Jamie instantly look away when it dawned on you, “You told him!” you whisper yelled, smacking at his chest.

“I did not,” Roy protested, trying to look serious when a smile cracked back on his face, “He saw us,”

All of Roy’s happiness flooded away when a look of pure thunder crossed your face and your hands went to your hips, “And you didn’t think to tell me? Have you been torturing that poor boy?”

“No but- “

“Don’t ‘no but’ me. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why are you defending him- “

“Does my face look like it cares?” you asked, dropping your hands from your hips only to cross your arms again, “Whatever you’ve been saying to him you better stop,”

“I didn’t say anything! I swear,” Roy said as he realised how much he’d fucked it, “I didn’t mean to upset you,”

“You don’t need to say anything to say something,” you said, rolling your eyes at the confused look on his face, “You better apologise,” you said making Roy scoff, but you were prepared to call his bluff, “No apology, no sex. Sorry I don’t make the rules,”

“That is so not fair,” Roy scoffed, “You can’t do that,”

“Try me,” you smiled as sweetly as possible before turning around to leave, swaying your hips a bit extra than usual to drive the point home. “Bye boys!” you called to the team, glancing back at Roy to send a quick wink before you left.

-

The force was slowly being restored since Roy was now back to miserable and angry but unfortunately Jamie’s mood hadn’t changed yet. Ted had tried pulling Jamie aside but he just shrugged it off. The team was back in the locker room, getting ready to leave.

As Jamie turned to leave though Roy sighed, “Tartt,” he called through gritted teeth, “I need to talk to you,”

“Maybe I don’t wanna talk to you,” Jamie said and the tension in the room could be cut by a knife.

Isaac went to whisper something to colin but before he could even start Roy’s head whipped around to glare at them, “Everyone out,” he barked and instantly the boys sprang to leave, “Everyone but Tartt,”

“Hey I think it might be best if I stayed-“ Ted tried to say but the low growl from Roy and glare from Jamie had him exiting just as swiftly.

“What?” Jamie asked, huffing as he crossed his arms.

“I’m,” Roy started to say but the words tasted like sick as he tried to force it out, “Sorry,” he eventually managed.

“What for?” Jamie asked, cocking his head to the side.

“You know what for,” Roy huffed, “Not stop taking the piss and take the apology,”

“That’s not how apologies work ya know?” Jamie said, dropping his arms, “Ya big creepy weirdo you,”

“Hey, you’re the one that was watching!”

“Was not!”

“So, what were you doing in your car then?”

“None your damn business!”

“Uhuh sure,” Roy said, drawing out the words as he chuckled, “See if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were the pervert. Watching me and my girlfriend- “

“Fucking in my fucking locker? Like a pair of fucking fuckity weirdos fucking- “

Roy couldn’t help but laugh a little, “You’re starting to sound like me,” he said making Jamie huff like a child. Roy sighed as a horrible feeling set in; maybe he had been wrong, “I’m sorry. I crossed a line. Won’t happen again,” he said, actually sincerely for once.

Jamie eyed him up and down before finally nodding, “Okay but just you know. Don’t tell anyone about well…”

“I wish I didn’t even know,” Roy joked making Jamie roll his eyes. The pair were silent for a moment, “We good then? You gonna start being a prick again?”

“You’re terrible at apologies,” Jamie rolled his eyes as he grabbed his bag, “but yeah, we’re good. don’t know how she puts up with you though,” he said as the pair headed out the locker room to finally go home.

Roy couldn’t help himself, “Not just her who goes down- “

“We are not that close,” Jamie cut him off, holding his hand up to Roy’s face and making him cackle laughing.

The pair actually walked out of Richmond joking and laughing together. A sight you saw while you waited to pick Roy up. “See you tomorrow?” Roy said, sending you a quick wave as he walked to the car.

“Yeah mate. Hey you never know,” Jamie said, tapping Roy’s shoulder making him pause, “Maybe next time it’ll be me and Keeley in your spot,“ he tried to joke but Roy’s smile dropped into a harsh glare, “On second thoughts I think I’m late to something bye!” he half yelled as he jogged to his car, never turning his back on Roy.

As Jamie sped out the parking lot Roy finally climbed in the car, “What did you do?” you asked, squinting at him.

“I apologised! Honest,” Roy said, holding his hands up in mock defence, “You can ask him yourself tomorrow,”

“I will text him,” you warned as you started the car up.

Realization dawned over Roy, “How’d you have the pricks number?”

“He gave it to me ages ago,” you shrugged, “Encase I ever needed it,”

“That little fucker,”

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