#I was really really nervous to post this but I had to just do it eventually. It's been a while since I've made a post like this. Sorry! :'3

[goldfades]

okay but a paige x highschool sweetheart headcannons…….🤫

you’ve known paige since middle school, back when she had braces and that oversized basketball hoodie she wore like a uniform. you weren’t best friends right away, though

she was the loud one, all confidence and easy laughter, and you were… not. but eighth grade science class changed that—she offered you half of her sandwich during a field trip, and suddenly, she was sitting next to you every day

and by the time high school started, paige was already a star

everyone knew her name, not just because she was the point guard who could do things no one else could, but because she had that kind of energy that pulled people in

and yet, her favorite place to be was still with you—sitting on your bedroom floor, eating pizza, and letting you quiz her on geometry proofs. she claimed you were her good luck charm whenever she passed a test

paige didn’t officially ask you out until sophomore year. she said she’d been working up the courage for months—you laughed because, honestly, what did paige bueckers have to be nervous about?

but she was fidgeting with the drawstring of her hoodie, looking at you like she’d miss her next shot if you said no. of course, you didn’t

being with paige meant learning to share her with the world. you went to all her games, cheered louder than anyone else, and learned to love the way she’d scan the crowd for you after every buzzer, that grin of hers lighting up the whole gym when she found you

she’d sneak you into post-game interviews sometimes, just so she could wink at you while pretending to answer a serious question

she loved basketball, sure, but she loved you, too—in a way that made it clear you weren’t just her high school sweetheart

you were her person, the one she wanted next to her, whether she was on the court or sitting on the roof of your car, counting stars

and when senior year rolled around—the stakes felt higher, both on and off the court. she was being courted by every top college program in the country, and you—you were figuring out what life after high school might look like for the two of you

late-night talks turned into plans scrawled in notebooks, filled with possibilities of visits, long-distance calls, and maybe even the same college, if the stars aligned just right

when the acceptance letters came in, it felt like fate. uconn for both of you!

paige couldn’t stop smiling for days, talking about how you’d get to keep cheering her on, just in a bigger arena. but the transition to college wasn’t as seamless as either of you had hoped

paige was the star recruit—the freshman everyone had their eyes on. she was juggling practice, games, media appearances, and the pressure of being "the next big thing"

meanwhile, you were trying to find your footing in a new environment, feeling a little like you were standing in her shadow for the first time

it wasn’t anyone’s fault, but there were nights when it felt like the distance between you wasn’t just physical. you missed the simplicity of high school, the way things felt so easy back then

paige tried—she really did—to balance it all, but sometimes it felt like basketball demanded every piece of her

by sophomore year, the fights started. little things at first—missed plans, forgotten texts. but they added up, like a pressure cooker ready to burst. there was one night, after a particularly tough loss, when everything came out

"i’m trying my best, okay?" she’d said, voice raw. "you think i don’t miss how things used to be? but this… this is my dream. and i don’t know how to do it all."

"and what about us?" you’d shot back, tears in your eyes. "am i supposed to just wait around while basketball gets all of you?"

it was the kind of fight that felt like a turning point—the kind where you either figure it out or fall apart. and somehow, through the tears and the yelling, you found a way to talk. really talk.

paige admitted she’d been scared of losing you, of letting you down. you told her how lonely you’d been, how hard it was to feel like you were coming second to everything else. by the time the sun started to rise, you’d fallen asleep on her dorm room floor, her arms wrapped tightly around you, like she was scared you’d disappear if she let go

things weren’t perfect after that but they were better. you both learned how to make time for each other, even when it felt like there wasn’t any to spare

paige started bringing you to practices sometimes, letting you sit courtside while she worked through drills. you found your own rhythm at school, joining clubs and making friends who reminded you that you were more than just "paige bueckers’ girlfriend."

by the end of sophomore year, you’d both grown in ways you didn’t expect. paige was still the same girl who gave you half her sandwich back in eighth grade, and you were still her good luck charm

but now, you were partners, too—figuring out how to build a life together, one game, one moment at a time

[mochiwonz]

─── JEALOUSY ୨୧

PAIRING. idol fem!reader x idol bf!enhypen maknae line CONTENT. headcanons , fluff <3 , petnames + nicknames , cursing NOTE. thank u to the anon who requested this cute idea :D i hope u all enjoyyy !!

[ 💬 ] ... ️ in which fans start shipping you with another idol !

SUNOO.

you're scrolling on twitter, as you would every other day. as an idol, you loved seeing what people had to say about you— whether it be negative or positive. unbeknownst to you, sunoo had also been scrolling on twitter and saw something on his timeline that he really didn't like, at all. it was a post about you allegedly being in a relationship with another male idol. and shit, he never thought he'd be a jealous boyfriend, but he definitely is now. you're startled by the sound of your bedroom door opening— you were the only one home right now... right? you quickly assumed it was one of your members until you heard the person's voice, it was sunoo. "hi pretty girl" he says as he plops down on the side of your bed. you quickly sit up and shuffle over to him, and he engulfs you in a warm hug— the sunoo special. "hi pretty boy" you say, giggling a little. as he kisses the top of your head, you hear him gulp. "have you seen the uhm... rumors? about you and ____?" he asks with a slight frown on his face. you quickly sit up and look at him, you were very confused right now. "someone is spreading rumors about me and ____? on where?" "twitter" he replies, hand brushing through his silky hair. you notice how his demeanor is a bit gloomy, and you kind-of think you have an idea as to why. you bring your hands to cup his face and gently move his face so that he's looking right at you. "sun, you don't have to be jealous. you know that i don't even know the guy— and that i love you like crazy, right?" you tell him in a firm yet gentle tone of voice, and he can't help but smile. you knew him so well, and just everything about you, god, he loves you so much. "how'd you know i was jealous..." he mumbles and you quickly squish his cheek— something you loved doing. "i'm your girlfriend baby" you say as you peck him on the nose. without another second wasted, he quickly pulls you closer and once again, engulfs you in his embrace. "indeed you are, pretty girl"

JUNGWON.

jungwon had always told you he wasn't a jealous person. that was the truth, though. well, until rumors about you and ____ started circulating all over social media. and what made it worse for jungwon was how fans were really liking you two together. he had never felt jealousy before, at least not like this. of course he trusted you, but just seeing you even pictured with another man as a "cute couple" really didn't sit well with him. "have you seen the rumors?" he blurts out randomly as you two are lying down together on his bed, his arm wrapped around your waist. "mhm" you reply. of course you'd seen it, but you didn't really care. you didn't even know ____, and as long as you knew the truth— you didn't care. "what do you think about it?" he asks curiously. "nothing, really. i don't even know the guy" "okay, cool" he says, but there's something different in his tone of voice. he sounds... nervous, almost a little bit jealous. he hears you giggle to yourself and he shifts nervously. he trusted you, of course— but all your giggling made him a teeny bit suspicious. but before he could question you, you quickly position yourself so that you're facing him and intertwine your guy's hands. "wonnie, you know i'm your girlfriend, right? these are just rumors baby" you tell him while looking him in the eyes, his pretty boba eyes were always so pretty to stare at. he was just so cute, you'd never want to be with anyone else other than him. you wanted him to know that. this was the first time you'd seen jungwon like this, unsure, nervous, and jealous. "it just frustrates me a little" he starts off, "i wish i could just tell everyone that you're my girlfriend so they could shut the fuck up" he says with complete honesty, and you laugh. he brings his hand up to your cheek and caresses it with his thumb, staring at you with complete heart eyes. "i'd only ever feel like this for you baby. i didn't even know i could be somewhat jealous. guess it's the y/n effect" you lean into his hand and melt a little at his words. "i love you so much my wonnie" you say, and he gives you a cute peck on the lips. "i love you too, my pretty y/n."

NI-KI.

you and ni-ki had been caught on many dates by sasaengs and others, but were always labeled as friends. the public just thought you two gave off friend vibes, and considered every date as a friendly hang out. as long as you two weren't being showered in negative comments, you both didn't mind. however, a post that was titled ' idol y/n and idol ____ are caught on a date ' had caught ni-ki's attention. he was never that protective over you, let alone jealous. he trusted you 110% and vice versa. but halfway through reading the article, he had to exit out of the tab. but honestly, he felt really jealous right now. not that he didn't trust you, but that fans thought that you and ____ were dating and just assumed that you and ni-ki were just friends. there were already so many posts on tiktok, instagram, twitter, and youtube about you and ____ supposed relationship and how "cute" you two were together. he had to get off of social media, people were starting to piss him off. luckily, you both didn't have schedules today— so you had already planned to go over to his dorm. he didn't realize you were already on the way until he heard a knock at the front door. quickly realizing that it was you, he sprung up out of his bed and rushed to the front door. he really wanted, no— he needed to see you. the door quickly swung open and before you could even blink, he was already hugging you, arms tightly wrapped around your waist. "ki—" you're about to say something but he quickly cuts you off. "princess, you're my girl, yeah?" he asks and the jealousy is obvious. "you're jealous aren't you" you ask, teasing him a little. he looks down at you and boops your nose. he loves the way you look up at him, he realized he couldn't bear to see you with another man. "and if i am?" you giggle at his truthful response, he could never hide his emotions from you— but that's what made him even more perfect for you. "you cutie, of course i'm your girl. those rumors are baseless and trust me, the photoshop goes crazy" you tell him, laughing towards the end of your statement. he smiles at your assuring words, yeah— he wouldn't be able to let go of you, ever. you were his girl, and his girl only.

please like, reblog, and comment if u enjoyed :3 u can find my other works here !

© mochiwonz ― all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, or translate my work.

[eroscomet]

Picking Up Pieces That Aren't Yours

Chapter three- Closer

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Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Warning: Explicit, Warning 18+ content, swearing, fingering (Tara receiving), kissing.

Word Count: 2.3k+

A/N: Hey, lovelies, needed to update this real bad. BEAR WITH ME YALL, this is my first like smut that I have basically officially put out there. I hope you guys enjoy it and honestly, I was very nervous to post this update but I have left you guys starved of this story for too long. Making this chapter was a rollercoaster of emotions for me, I did not know that writing smut could be so bashful or even sheepish, but it really was. Good news as well, Make it Right will have an update soon! Very nervous to put this chapter out there but it was going to happen sooner or later. By the way, for future reference, this will be a g!p reader. Just letting you guys know that. Thank you so much for all the support and this one's for you guys!

Proof read.

Minors DNI

╰┈➤ Series Masterlist

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Your head felt like it had been reeling since the moment that you and Tara were back in contact. You felt wrong for allowing her to get the better of you when she had been somewhat intoxicated. The guilt was practically eating at you because not only had you hooked up with her, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. Throughout each of your classes, every time you tried to force yourself to focus on the teacher's words or even the work in front of you, all you could think about was that night.

Your mind was plagued by all that the shorter girl had become under your touch. It felt selfish to have done such a thing and still think of her this way afterwards. No matter how long you tried to shove every image of the girl that night, heat pooled in your lower stomach. It was undeniable. Yet, every time that you had been around the girl from then on, you felt the care for her far stronger than any lust. It was easy to create a fantasy of her but when it came down to it, face to face, all you could do was want to protect her and care for her any way that you could.

“You stare a lot.” Tara said with a hum, she hadn’t even been looking up. She was instead focused on the textbook in front of her, still she felt your eyes on her.

“Ah, sorry..” You replied bashfully as you let out a small breath. Part of you wondered if she had even remembered that night. Maybe she had been angry that when she woke up, you hadn’t been there.

The thing was that when you had woken up the next morning after that night, the more you stared at her peacefully sleeping face, the more guilty you felt for having let yourself lose control. You’d spent an hour that morning, wondering what you should do before having finally settled on leaving some water bottles on her nightstand as well as some pain-killers to take when she’d wake up to a headache she would be bound to have. You didn’t know whether she’d remember, so you left a simple note saying that you had taken care of her the previous night.

“I wasn’t saying that I was bothered by it,” Tara said as her eyes flicked up to where you were sitting in front of her.

“Oh..” Was all you could think to muster up in reply. Should you ask if she remembered? Should you wait until she brings it up? You didn’t want to be a dick and make her think that she was a simple hookup and that was all.

An awkward silence fell upon the both of you as the two of you continued to study. That was until the silence was broken by Tara.

“So…” She began as she scribbled some notes into her notebook, her eyes pried away from yours at all cost, “Do you remember-”

“Yes.” You replied, not even knowing if she was asking what you were thinking she was asking. Her eyebrow had momentarily shot up at the quick reply.

“You didn’t even let me finish.” She said with a light laugh, “Unless, something’s on your mind?”

“Uh,” Your throat suddenly felt dry as you tried to think of the right words to use, “What happened a couple of nights ago..?”

“Hm.”

Her reply seemed too dry. Maybe she didn’t want to talk about it? Maybe she was in fact angry at you for having left?

“What?”

“I just..thought you didn’t remember, that’s all.”

“Of course, I do.” Your reply felt pathetic to your own ears. It left you feeling as if you were desperate. Despite your inner thoughts, a small smile played on her lips.

A silence fell upon the both of you before you had spoken up again, “I’m sorry for leaving that morning. I didn’t know if you’d want to.. I don’t know. I guess I didn’t know if you’d want to remember what had happened.”

“I’ve always thought of you too sweet, that’s why I felt a bit suspicious of it.”

“I’m not the type to do that, I promise. I just thought it was more on your end… I was confused, you know? Confused if you think it's a one-time mistake.”

“Doesn’t have to be. I mean, I don’t think it was a mistake. I’m sort of…glad it was you.”

You felt your heart almost beat out of your chest at the revelation that you hadn’t thought about. It felt like what you had heard was a part of another restless dream where Tara felt the same way about you. For a moment, you were stuck in your thoughts as you contemplated whether or not this was a dream or a joke. That was until you felt your pencil being taken from your hand as you turned your head to look over at the girl, you were sure that now you had somehow died and been sent to heaven.

The look in her eyes, she was close enough for you to count every freckle that adorned her cheeks perfectly. The way her lips had slightly twitched as if she were about to speak but instead decided not to. The two of you spent a moment staring at each other, your face drawing impossibly closer to hers. The feeling of her breath mingling against your own, her eyes darted down at your lips allowed your mind to begin wandering places. Taking action to one of those many thoughts as you shut your eyes and leaned forward into a kiss.

After feeling Tara returning your kiss, you hummed into the kiss, leaning into the touch of her hand on your cheek. You felt weak, weaker than you ever had. It felt almost helpless the way that your mind couldn’t draw any other thought but the dark haired girl kissing you. Kissing you as if she wanted you just as badly as you wanted her. Your hands felt limp, futile to every attempt of moving them to not seem awkward. It felt as if Tara had been reading your mind because her hands had grabbed yours and guided them under her shirt.

“Wait-” You managed to mutter breathlessly as you pulled away from the kiss, “Are you sure about this?”

“Still as caring as ever. Gosh, yes, L/N, I’m sure.” Tara replied with a breathless laugh, slightly shaking her head. “Must you always be so good?”

A soft smile on your lips as you felt her own on yours once again before you could’ve replied to her words. You returned the now hungrier kiss.

“There’s nothing wrong with being good.” You had mumbled against her lips as you continued to kiss her.

She hadn’t replied this time, her hands simply guiding yours further up her shirt and to the curve of her clothed breast. Your fingers had toyed with the hem of her bra, a small whine came from her in response. Her hands moving away from yours and up your own shirt, feeling out the planes of your skin. Her fingers felt persistent, whereas your own took their time and were more gentle. Unaware of the girl’s growing impatience, your hand moved to the back of her bra, carefully unclasping it. 

It had now hung loosely to her skin under her shirt, you took this as your chance to gently allow your thumbs to focus on the buds of her nipples. Immediately receiving a reaction from the girl, a soft whimper against your lips that felt all too sweet. Your mind had temporarily fled to the thought that someone else had too been in this position. You felt your gut slightly twist before pushing away the thought and allowing yourself to at least enjoy this while you can. While she had graced you with the opportunity to do so.

Your nimble fingers were quick against her buds, her breathing becoming ragged. Her mouth felt hot and wet, a reflection of your own as the kiss came to an end. Her eyes were fluttered shut as she allowed soft sighs to escape her, enjoying your touch. You’d seen and felt her back arch slightly with twitches into your touch. Her own hands had paused under your shirt, seemingly had lost its focus and purpose she’d once had with the touch. Quickly, one of your hands had left from under her shirt, moving to your lips where your tongue darted out to wet them before returning it to her nipple.

Tara’s head slightly tipped back at the newfound sensation you’d given her, your other hand moving down her abdomen to the hem of her sweatpants. You knew better than to tease the girl but you couldn’t help yourself, your fingers gently pressing against her clit over the fabric. The soft gasp that left Tara’s lips and the expression on her face made you want to examine every expression and sound she’d offer you with every touch you gave her.

“Don’t tease. Please.” She had breathed out ever-so-softly. Who were you to go against what she wanted? You wanted nothing but to please the girl of your dreams.

You were quick as you had carelessly pushed aside her notebook and text book that was on her desk. Swiftly lifting the shorter girl onto the desk, she lifted her hips slightly, giving you access to pull her sweats down. Your eyes were trained on her as you disregarded her sweatpants onto her bed. One of your hands pushed apart her legs as the other pulled aside her panties, not caring to remove them. You could hear every sweet sigh and soft whimper that escaped her mouth at your every touch, and it drove you completely insane.

A finger swiped through her folds, feeling the wet mess that she had become. You felt a surge of pride and a want– no, a need to give Tara everything she wanted. You allowed two fingers to delve past her folds and into pussy, a soft groan leaving your own lips at the tightness. A guttural moan leaving her, you watched as her head tipped back against the wall. Your fingers were quick, pumping to her every moan and obvious need with the way her hips had begun to buck against your hand. Your thumb pressing circles into her clit as your fingers continue to pump, your other hand raising her shirt to focus on her breasts as well.

With another lick of your fingers, you toyed and played with the bud of her nipple. You wanted to give her all the pleasure you knew she was deserving of. Your lips finding hers as you pulled her into a kiss, muffling her kisses that she now let out into your mouth. With the quickened pace of your fingers from each hand, you took note that it was getting harder for the girl to keep up with the kiss. You pulled away and immediately began working on peppering kisses against her neck, trying and finding her sweet spot. Your teeth grazed her neck as your mouth began to suck on the sensitive part of her neck. 

You felt her back arching into you and her body buzzing and writhing with pleasure from your touch. Taking note of how Tara was getting closer by the way her moans and breath fell relentlessly from her lips.

“Close-” She managed to say, pairing with a broken moan which only pushed you to quicken your pace.

“Shit, shit, shit- I’m cumming!” Tara’s voice cried out as she shut her eyes tightly, her body uncontrollably shaking under your touch.

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 A few minutes later and the two of you were sitting together at her dining room table eating pizza which you had ordered Tara.

“A true gentlewoman.” She said with a hum before

taking a bite of her pizza.

“Aftercare is important.” You replied with a small shrug as you took a bite of your own pizza.

“So, you're saying that you’ll stay longer?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Is that even a question?”

“Maybe you're right. I'll stay then.”

After the two of you had finished eating, you made your way back over to her room. Now, your arms wrapped around the shorter girl who buried her face into your chest. All felt calm, a stark contrast of what had happened about an hour or two earlier. You felt yourself wanting to stay in this moment, in the safety of the bubble you two created in her room. Tara was slowly falling asleep, you took it upon yourself to further soothe the girl by rubbing her back gently and pressing gentle kisses to her forehead. 

“Thank you for this.” She mumbled softly against your chest, slightly muffled.

“You don’t have to thank me, Tar.”

“Tar. I always liked when you called me that.”

“I'll forever call you that if you want me to.”

“I’d like that.”

You itched to ask the girl what all of this meant. What your relationship was like now. Is it friends? More than that, friends with benefits? Maybe…it could be something more than that as well, lovers? You pushed down the thoughts and the itch to ask, wanting to not ruin this perfect bubble the two of you have created.

“Tell me something. Anything.” Tara murmured softly

“You're soft.” It was the first thing that came to mind and the first thing that fled your mouth. A small light laugh had escaped Tara’s lips.

“What’s funny?” You asked curiously.

“It’s just that… I'm not sure I've ever been called or described that way.”

“Glad to be the first, and it’s true.”

“You're sweet.” Her words made a soft smile creep onto your face.

“Look who’s talking.”

“Oh, you're just a flatterer.”

“Can we not flatter each other?”

“I suppose so.”

“Sleep, you're tired.” Your eyes scanned the girl’s face, she was obviously a bit drained. A hand came up to gently caress her face as the other one continued to rub her back. Which had lulled her further into a sleepy state, she only nodded at your words. For the entire time that you stayed at her apartment, you held her and whispered sweet nothings that you knew she couldn’t hear in her sleep, but whispered them anyway.

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A/N: I'M NERVOUS BUT I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED. Again, thank you for all the support and also look around for Make it Right chapter three coming out as well. Bear with me and this, this is my first smut published. However, I had to get it out of the way for upcoming chapters. Thank you all so much for everything, bye lovelies!

[blog-o-meter]

25 - Nicholas Alexander Chavez x fem!reader

summary: (Y/N) decides to get her brother’s best friend’s attention and he’s more than willing to give it to her.

warnings: 18+, unprotected p in v, brother’s best friend!nicholas, dominant tease/bratty submissive, slow burn, forbidden romance??, implied age gap but not by much tbh it’s mostly just power dynamic

required listening: 25 by Veruca Salt

word count: 7,742

a/n: ik I try to wait a week between fics but I’m sawriiii I just loved this one too much to not post immediately. I do have another fic in the drafts but honestly I hate it now so I don’t think I’ll post that one. anyway im already planning on continuing this one YUPPPPP 🙂‍↕️ i just love listening to my playlist and writing xoxo lmk if you’re a veruca salt fan

reblogs, likes, and replies are greatly appreciated and let me know if you'd like to see more!

I never meant to eavesdrop on my brother’s conversations with him — Nicholas. Their voices, along with the sounds of Call of Duty blasting through the tv speakers, always managed to spill through the Jack and Jill bathroom that bridged our bedrooms. I would catch myself lingering by the bathroom door, my book or phone in hand as a cover, pretending I just happened to be nearby. My brother would crack some joke, and Nicholas’s laugh would come through low and warm, and my skin would prickle at the sound. Or sometimes I’d even hear the salacious stories of Nicholas and his fling of the week. Either way, I listened intently.

Nicholas and my brother have been best friends for years. He just showed up to the house one day and just kept coming back, like what happens whenever you find your best friend for life, like how I did. But my brother and I don’t run in the same circles, not really; he has his friends, and I have mine — and they never mixed, not even at our backyard cookouts where we’d each invite a friend or two. We always found ourselves at opposite corners of the house, and it was probably because they were a little older than us.

As a result, I never bothered, or was too nervous, to exchange more than a few words with Nicholas other than the occasional polite conversation, but he always managed to get under my skin either way. It was like he knew, somehow, like he could see right through me, past all my attempts at being casual or indifferent.

I couldn’t control the way my heart skipped a beat every time Nicholas’s eyes flicked over to me whenever I’d pass by them in the living room or as we passed around plates at the dinner table, especially not when I’d pass by him in the hallway and he’d flash me that all-too-famous smirk. I guess that’s why I eavesdropped on them; it was the only way I got to know him without having to say a word to him.

So, I didn’t know what was so different about that night that I just had to get Nicholas’s attention somehow, even if for just a second. I wasn’t sure if I would’ve bumped into him in the hallway, or even the bathroom, or not, but I still decided to slip into the skimpiest set of pajamas I had — a delicate pair of shorts that barely reached the back of my thighs and a camisole that clung to me like second skin. My mom had told me to never wear it whenever there were people over; it was “too revealing.”

“(Y/N)!” My brother’s voice traveled through the bathroom, shouting over his TV.

Hesitantly, I rolled out of my bed, my sock-covered feet quietly shuffling across the floor over to the bathroom. Before I reached the door to his room, I looked down at myself and suddenly grew shy. Maybe I was trying too hard. Would Nicholas notice? Second guessing my sudden boldness, I carefully hid half my body behind the door frame when I cracked open the door to his room.

My eyes flickered to Nicholas, who was perched on the edge of my brother’s bed, controller in hand, leaning forward slightly as he focused on the screen. He didn’t look over right away, but the second I peeked through the crack of the door, his gaze shifted back and forth between me and the TV, his thumbs hesitating on the controller.

“Yeah?” I asked quietly, trying to sound as casual as possible, one of my feet cricketing against the other. 

My brother barely glanced at me, his eyes glued to the team deathmatch round they were playing. “Do we still have any snacks left in the pantry or did you finish them?”

I hesitated, feeling Nicholas’s eyes on me. His gaze lingered, scanning over what little of me was visible behind the door. His dark brown eyes were unreadable, but there was something in his expression, something curious, that made me feel both exposed and exhilarated.

“Yeah, there’s still some cookies and chips. I'm not a vacuum,” I said finally, my voice softer now and muttering the last part. I rested my cheek against the frame, my gaze flickering between Nicholas, the floor, and my brother.

“Could you bring us some?” My brother asked, his fingers violently attacking the buttons on the controller, the sounds of loud gunshots and footsteps responding to his every button mash. “We’re in the middle of a round.”

I rolled my eyes. “Sure,” I murmured, trying to keep my voice even. I pushed off the doorframe and stepped back into the bathroom, catching the way Nicholas’s gaze dropped briefly, taking in more of me now that I wasn’t partially hidden.

I ducked back into my room, the air feeling heavier as I padded toward the kitchen. My heart was racing, every nerve in my body alive with the lingering awareness of his gaze. It wasn’t just my brother’s casual request that stuck with me, but the way Nicholas had looked at me — like I wasn’t just his friend’s little sister sneaking glances from behind doors.

In the kitchen, I opened the pantry and pulled out the cookies and chips, my nerves bubbling as I anticipated the moment I’d walk into my brother’s room wearing this outfit. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected — maybe a quick glance and nothing more, but the idea was scintillating either way.

My mom strutted into the kitchen then, still in her work clothes. “I thought I told you not to wear that when people were over,” she smirked knowingly. I had a little bit of a tendency to defy orders.

I glanced over my shoulder, feigning innocence. “It’s hot out,” I shrugged my shoulders as I closed the pantry and scampered past her with snacks in tow.

I returned to my brother’s room with the snacks in hand, pausing at the cracked bathroom door before taking a breath and sheepishly walking in. I stepped fully into the room, my bare legs feeling more exposed than they ever had before. “Here,” I called, keeping my tone neutral, like nothing about this moment felt significant, even though my pulse told a different story.

My brother barely spared me a glance as I set the snacks down in front of them, his attention glued to the screen. Nicholas, on the other hand, wasn’t as discreet. He leaned back slightly, one arm draped over his knee as he finally looked up from the game. His dark brown eyes swept over me, slow and deliberate, lingering just long enough to make me feel like every inch of my skin was on display under his gaze.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t smirk or tease the way he usually did. My cheeks burned as I shifted on my feet, my fingers brushing against the hem of my shorts, unsure what to do with myself.

“Thanks, (Y/N),” Nicholas said finally, his voice cutting through the tension. It was smooth, casual.

I smiled softly, more out of nerves than anything else, and started to retreat toward the door. “Don’t get used to it,” I mumbled, glancing over my shoulder. I cast one last glance at Nicholas. He was still watching me, his head tilted slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was suppressing a smirk. It was like he knew exactly what I was doing.

Now, I don’t know why I did it, maybe because I was so flustered that I didn’t notice or maybe I subconsciously knew what I was doing, but I left my bathroom door open just a smidge, enough for the soft light of my room to spill out and shine through the darkness of the bathroom, like a beacon in the night begging to be followed. Maybe it was a dare, or maybe I was just curious to see if he’d take the bait.

I threw myself onto my bed, stomach down, trying to calm my ever-racing heart as I replayed the moment Nicholas’s gaze lingered on me. I couldn’t bite back the smile forming on my lips as I pictured the look in his eye when I walked into the room. It sent a thrill through me. Did I finally manage to pique his interest as much as he piqued mine?

My heartbeat was unrelenting, so I reached for the book on my nightstand, hoping that reading a few pages might calm me. Of course, though, I wasn’t focusing on the pages. How could I? When my older brother’s hot best friend was right on the other side of that door?

Eventually, the sound of video games and laughter died down as the minutes ticked into the late night, replaced by muffled conversation before trailing off into complete silence. The only sound I could hear, now, was the occasional turn of the page and my thumping heartbeat, maybe the imperceptible hum of the lightbulb coming from my bedside lamp.

And on the other side, Nicholas could also hear the faint scratch of a page turning, too. He was lying down in his makeshift bed of blankets on the floor, quietly scrolling on his phone. The screen of his phone cast a faint glow on his face, but his attention wasn’t on the timeline of tweets he had planned on reading through. It was on that tiny crack of light spilling into the dark bathroom, the faintest view of my room on the other side.

He couldn’t sleep. How could he? The tight, little number I was bold enough to wear but still shy enough to hide behind the door frame, the way I glanced at him when I passed through to give them snacks, the subtle sway of my hips as I disappeared back into the bathroom to my room as if I hadn’t worn that number on purpose. And now, the crack in my door was basically daring him to walk through.

I didn’t know it, but it wasn’t the first time he’d noticed me. He always looked forward to seeing me scamper through the kitchen as quickly as possible whenever they took it over for whatever they were doing, and he was always equally curious about what would happen behind my door, especially when he could hear me laughing with my friends or my CD player blasting Veruca Salt.

His friend — my brother — was out cold, snoring like a chainsaw. Nicholas glanced at him, then back at the door, then back at him, then back at the door. It was a bad idea; he knew it. I was off-limits. My brother hadn’t told him that explicitly, but he did express his distaste when Nicholas made an off-handed comment about me some a couple years ago and that was enough to deter him. But tonight, my brother was asleep, while Nicholas and I were still awake.

Nicholas turned his phone off then, quietly pulling the blanket off himself and standing up, padding quietly to the bathroom and closing the door to my brother’s room behind him. He tiptoed toward my door, taking a peek through the crack and hoping that maybe just indulging himself in the image of me would satiate him. But the moment he saw me on my bed — twiddling with the end of a braid or two or many as I laid on my stomach, propped up on my elbows as I read, my legs crossed at the ankles, the pajamas I wore barely covering anything — he knew just looking wouldn’t be enough.

My heart raced when I heard the faint creak of my door, but I didn’t look up right away, choosing to pretend I was so engrossed in my book that I couldn’t be bothered to see what had made the noise. What did make me glance over my shoulder, though, was the light clinking of glass.

I turned my head and saw Nicholas leaning against the doorframe curiously inspecting a nail polish I had left on the dresser that was near the bathroom door, a smirk on his face. That set my heart racing.

“Nicholas,” I spoke quietly as I closed the book in my hands, watching him as he continued to fiddle with the things on my dresser — nail polishes, bracelets, a hairbrush.

Nicholas didn’t say anything at first, just let his dark brown eyes sweep across my dresser one last time before they swept across my room, then finally landed on me and took in the scene — the book in my hands, the way I was sprawled across the bed, the faint flush on my cheeks that I couldn’t seem to shake.

He glanced over his shoulder back toward my brother’s bathroom door, still closed, before looking back at me. “Are you usually up this late?” he said finally, his voice low, like he was afraid of breaking the stillness of the moment.

I turned onto my side, giving him a better view of me in my pajamas. His gaze lingered on my torso, and I bit back a smile. “Sometimes.”

He dropped his arms and stepped in, his movements unhurried as he quietly closed the door behind him and looked around my room. I couldn’t believe it. He was in my room.

“Your brother’s out cold,” he said, almost like an explanation, as if I didn’t already know. He turned his head to look at the Heart poster on my wall, arching his back to stretch, his shirt riding up a little to show off the happy trail adorning his lower abdomen. I just about choked at the sight.

When he looked back at me, he had that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “You left your door open.”

“Did I?” I asked quietly, lying back down on my stomach but looking at him over my shoulder.

His smirk deepened, like he didn’t believe me for a second. “Didn’t you?”

My stomach flipped, the challenge in his tone making it impossible to look away, but I had to if I didn’t want him to see the heat rising to my cheeks. So I turned my attention back to my book but the words blurred together. I couldn’t focus, not at all. “You shouldn’t be in here.”

He stepped further into the room until he was at the edge of my bed looking down at me, still smirking. “You don’t sound very convincing.”

I shrugged, letting my fingers trail along the edge of the pages. I decided to give him an out, something that would test his resolve. “My brother’s gonna kill you if he finds out.”

He hesitated, just for a moment, before sitting down next to me. The mattress dipped under his weight, and I shifted slightly to face him. “I know,” he whispered as his eyes trailed my bare legs.

He slowly laid down on his side beside me, and it all started with a touch — his hand reaching out to rest on my thigh, his palm hot against my skin. My breath hitched, but I didn’t pull away. Instead, I let my leg drift closer toward him, the faintest encouragement.

“I should go,” he murmured softly, his fingers brushing up and stopping just short at the hem of my shorts. His eyes flicked up to mine, gazing at me through his abundance of eyelashes.

I couldn’t look away from his dark brown eyes, the way they softened as they met mine, yet held something deeper — something that made my pulse race. I was quiet for a moment, savoring the heat of his hand on my hand, the warmth spreading all over my body. “Yeah, you should,” I whispered, my voice lacking any real conviction.

Neither of us moved.

Nicholas’s lips parted slightly, like he wanted to say something, but no words came out. Instead, he just watched me, his gaze flicking to my lips, then back to my eyes. His hand inched higher, stopping just at the edge of my shorts again, as if he were waiting for a signal. And I gave him it, letting my book fall through my fingers and shifting closer toward him.

That was all it took. He leaned in, his hand sliding up my thigh as his lips captured mine in a kiss that stole the air from my lungs. It was slow at first, like he was testing the waters, but it didn’t take long for the tension between us to boil over. Quickly, the kiss deepened. His hands roamed, pulling me closer as I melted into him, my fingers tangling in his hair.

“Tell me to go,” he murmured against my lips, his breath warm on my skin.

I tugged him closer, “Stay.”

Nicholas’s weight pressed into the mattress as he rolled me over, his hands sliding along the curve of my waist and down to my hips as our legs tangled together. My fingers curled into the fabric of his t-shirt, pulling him closer as the world outside my room melted away. Every shift of his body against mine, every brush of his fingertips against bare skin, ignited a fire I couldn’t ignore.

His lips trailed down to my jaw, slow and deliberate, sending a wave of heat rushing through me. His breath was warm against my neck, and I arched into him instinctively, feeling his body tense in response.

I tugged at the hem of his shirt, and he obliged, pulling it over his head and tossing it to the floor. My eyes traced the lines of his shoulders, the way his muscles moved as he leaned back down, his delicate chain dangling over me, his hands framing my face like he needed to commit every detail to memory. My own hands wandered, exploring the warmth of his skin, the tension in his back as he pressed closer.

The cool air hit my skin as he slid the strap of my camisole off my shoulder, his lips replacing it with a trail of soft, heated kisses that moved to my collarbone. My heart raced as I looked up at the ceiling of my room, every sense heightened as his hands roamed lower, his touch firm but unhurried.

My breath caught in my throat as Nicholas’s lips continued their slow descent, every kiss igniting sparks along my skin. My hands moved of their own accord, tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as I arched into his touch. His hand slid under the hem of my camisole, his fingers splaying over my ribs as he paused to look at me, his dark brown eyes asking the silent question.

I nodded, and his lips were back on mine in an instant, the kiss growing more intense, as he bunched the fabric in his palm and pulled it off of me, leaving me bare-chested. He pulled back and drank the sight of me in, his jaw going tight as he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against mine.

For a moment, I grew self-conscious, thinking maybe he would pull away completely now that he’s seen me half-naked. Maybe I didn’t measure up to the girls he’s been with. “Is something wrong?” I quietly asked.

Nicholas shook his head almost immediately, his forehead still resting against mine as he let out a shaky breath. His hands moved to cradle my face, his thumbs brushing over my cheeks as his dark brown eyes opened to meet mine. They were softer now, but no less intense.

“No, fuck no,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, like he was trying to find the right words and failing. He pulled back just enough to look at me, his brown eyes locking onto mine. “You’re perfect, (Y/N). That’s the problem.”

The raw honesty in his tone made my breath hitch, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it. I swallowed hard, my gaze dropping for a moment before flicking back up to him. “Then why did you—?”

“I needed a second,” he interrupted softly, his voice almost strained as he cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing over my flushed skin. “You’re just—you’re making it really hard to be the good guy here.”

His words sent a rush of heat through me, my heart pounding in my chest as I searched his face. “I’m not asking you to be the good guy,” I whispered, my voice trembling slightly.

“You sure?” he murmured against my lips, his voice barely above a whisper. “Because if we do this, there’s no going back. Your brother’s gonna kill me if he finds out, and I don’t—” He broke off, his jaw tightening as he pulled back to look at me again. “I don’t want to fuck this up.”

I reached up to frame his face, my thumbs brushing over his cheekbones as I held his gaze. “I want this, Nic,” I said softly, my voice steady now despite the chaos in my chest.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his eyes searching mine like he was trying to figure out if I really meant it. Then, with a quiet curse, he groaned quietly, like he was fighting an internal battle, before he leaned down to kiss me again. This time, it wasn’t tentative or testing — it was all-consuming.

I gasped softly into the kiss, my hands gripping his shoulders as he pulled me closer, his body pressing against mine with a heat that made it impossible to think straight. His hands slid down my sides, his touch rougher now, less restrained, like he was done holding himself back.

Nicholas’s lips trailed down my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there, and I couldn’t bite back the quiet moan that escaped me. He groaned in response, his fingers gripping my hips tightly as he buried his face in the crook of my neck. “Jesus, baby, you’re gonna wake the whole house,” he muttered, his voice rough and muffled against my skin.

I let out a breathless laugh, tugging on his hair to make him look at me. “You’re the one talking so much,” I shot back, my voice barely above a whisper.

His dark eyes narrowed slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching in annoyance. “Oh, is that right?” he said, his tone low and dangerous as he leaned in close, his lips brushing against my ear. “You’re the one moaning like you don’t give a shit if your brother hears us.”

My cheeks burned, and I glared at him, my hand smacking lightly against his chest. “You’re an asshole,” I muttered, but the smirk at the end of my lips betrayed any conviction I’d intended to convey.

Nicholas caught my wrist gently, grinning and clearly pleased with himself, and pinned it against the pillows above my head, “And you’re a fucking tease,” he whispered, a teasing glint in his eyes. He planted a wet kiss on my lips, murmuring, “Okay, we both stay quiet then, deal?”

I bit my lip, narrowing my eyes at him, the corner of my mouth twitching with a mix of annoyance and amusement. “Fine,” I whispered, my voice barely audible but dripping with playful defiance.

Nicholas’s grin deepened, and he leaned down, brushing his nose against my own before pulling back completely and resting back on his heels as his fingers trailed down to the waistband of my shorts. His fingers lingered, his touch light but deliberate as his dark brown eyes locked onto mine. His teasing smirk faltered, replaced by something softer, something that made my heart pound harder than I thought possible. He hesitated for just a second, like he needed one last confirmation, and I gave him a small nod, my breath catching in my throat as I lifted my hips slightly.

He exhaled softly, almost like he was steadying himself, before he slid my shorts and underwear down in one smooth motion, leaving me completely bare beneath him. The air felt cool against my skin, and I had to fight the instinct to cover myself. Instead, I forced myself to hold his gaze, my cheeks flushed and my heart racing.

Nicholas’s eyes swept over me, slow and deliberate, like he was committing every detail to memory. He let out a quiet curse, his jaw tightening as he ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck,” he murmured, almost to himself, as he leaned down to rest his forehead on my stomach and leaving lingering kisses near my navel.

My fingers instinctively found their way to his hair, tangling in the soft strands as I looked down at him. He rested there for a moment, his breath warm against my skin as he closed his eyes, like he needed a second to process everything.

I let out a soft laugh, the sound trembling slightly as I tugged gently on his hair. “You’re so dramatic,” I teased, my voice light but full of warmth. “Are you sure you’ve seen a girl naked before?”

He shot his head up, his eyebrows flared in surprise, and for a split second, I thought I might’ve caught him off guard. But then his smirk returned, sharper now, and he grabbed both my wrists in one hand, pinning them above my head as he shifted to cover me completely. “Oh, you’re gonna regret saying that,” he growled playfully, his voice dropping an octave as his free hand skimmed down my side, his touch light but promising.

I squirmed under him, trying to hide the way his teasing touch was already getting to me. I don’t know what it was about Nicholas that brought out this side of me — teasing, defiant — but I loved it.

“You’re such a—” My words cut off in a gasp as he pressed his hips against mine, the sudden pressure of his sweatpants against my bare self making me lose my train of thought completely.

Nicholas chuckled softly, the sound low and dangerous as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against my ear. “What was that, baby?” he murmured, his tone smug. “You were saying something?”

I glared at him, my cheeks burning, and wriggled my wrists under his palm, “Nic, the longer you’re not inside me, the more time you’re giving my brother to wake up.”

Nicholas froze, his dark eyes widening for just a second before narrowing into something almost predatory. The smirk tugging at the corner of his lips turned wicked, and his grip on my wrists tightened slightly as he pressed his forehead against mine. But then, he let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “Fine,” he murmured, his tone dropping even lower, sending a shiver down my spine.

He released my wrists, and I immediately brought my hands to his chest, letting my fingers trail over the defined muscles before sliding them down toward the waistband of his sweatpants. My heart raced, my cheeks burning as I hooked my fingers under the fabric.

Nicholas shifted slightly, propping himself on his elbows as he watched me, his dark eyes hooded with intensity. The faint smirk tugging at his lips remained as I hesitated for a moment, my fingers gripping the waistband of his sweatpants. I could feel his breath on my skin, warm and steady, as if he were daring me to go further.

Slowly, deliberately, I tugged the fabric down his hips, the soft material sliding against his skin. His muscles tensed slightly beneath my touch, and I couldn’t help the way my breath hitched as his length slipped out — ready and aching. The tension between us was palpable, the room heavy with anticipation as I pushed his sweatpants lower until they pooled around his knees.

Nicholas’s hands found my hips, his grip firm but not rough as he leaned down to kiss me again, his lips capturing mine in a way that made me forget everything else. His body pressed against mine, the heat of his skin sending a rush of warmth through me as his hands trailed up my sides, fingers skimming the sensitive skin just beneath my ribs.

For a moment, we just stayed like that, our breaths mingling as we stared at each other, the unspoken tension between us reaching its peak. Nicholas’s gaze was intense, his dark eyes searching mine as if he were asking for permission one last time.

I didn’t bother nodding. Instead, I reached to wrap my hand around his length and guide him in, to which Nicholas responded by burying his head in the crook of my neck and muttering a quiet, “Fuck,” before reaching to replace my hand with his own. “You’re so wet already.”

The air seemed to still, the only sound in the room being the soft rustle of sheets and our breathing — ragged, uneven. Nicholas moved slowly at first, his grip on my hips tightening as he inserted himself into me. I let out a whimper as I felt every inch of him, the way he stretched and filled me, his warmth burning into me like a fire I never wanted to put out.

My hand found its way to his back, my nails digging lightly into his skin as I arched beneath him, a quiet gasp slipping past my lips. “Nic…” His name came out in a breathy whisper, and the sound of it seemed to spur him on. His hips moved, deliberate and measured, and every movement sent shockwaves through me.

“Baby,” he murmured into my neck, his voice strained and breathless. “You feel so fucking good.”

The heat pooling in my stomach grew with every roll of his hips, my body responding to him in a way that felt instinctual, like I had been waiting for this moment all along. His hand slid down to grip my thigh, pulling it higher around his waist as he angled himself deeper, drawing a sharp cry from me that I quickly muffled with my free hand.

“Shh,” he teased softly, his lips brushing against my ear as he chuckled, though his voice was tight with restraint. His breath was warm against my skin as he added, “You don’t want your brother barging in, do you?”

I shot him a glare through my haze of pleasure, but it was useless. Nicholas was in control now, and he knew it. The rhythm of his hips changed, slower but impossibly deeper, making it even harder to stay quiet. I bit down on my lip, my hand reaching to clutch at the sheets as waves of heat rolled through me with every deliberate thrust.

Nicholas shifted slightly, his lips brushing over my jawline before capturing my lips again in a kiss that was just as demanding as the way his body moved against mine. His free hand trailed up my side, his thumb grazing over the sensitive skin just below my ribs, making me shiver beneath him. His hand trailed further down, pressing down on my lower abdomen as if he could feel himself moving inside.

The added pressure made me gasp, my head tilting back as pleasure rippled through me, sharp and consuming, and quickly I covered my mouth again. Nicholas groaned in response, the sound low and guttural, and I realized just how loud he was getting. My heart raced, panic and desire tangling together as I reached up and pressed my other hand over his mouth, muffling the next moan that slipped from his lips.

His dark eyes widened in surprise for a split second before narrowing, a flicker of something mischievous and dangerous sparking there. His hips slowed, the deliberate roll of his body against mine making my own breathing hitch. He didn’t protest my hand, though — instead, he leaned into it, his tongue flicking out to trace along my palm teasingly, his eyes locked onto mine as if daring me to keep him quiet.

I clenched my jaw, trying to hold onto some semblance of control, but it was useless. Every movement of his hips, every flick of his tongue against my skin, was breaking me down piece by piece. He shifted slightly, angling deeper, and I bit down hard on my lip to stop the moan that threatened to escape.

I peeled the hand I had over my mouth, “Nic,” I hissed under my breath, my voice shaking as I glared at him. “You’re impossible.”

He grinned against my hand, his dark eyes hooded and filled with heat as his hips rolled again, drawing another muffled gasp from me. His free hand slid up my thigh, gripping firmly before pulling my leg higher around his waist, allowing him to press even deeper. The sensation was overwhelming, and my fingers flexed against his face as I tried to stifle my own sounds.

Nicholas groaned again, louder this time, and I pressed my hand harder against his mouth, shooting him a warning look. “Shh,” I whispered harshly, my voice trembling as I struggled to keep my own composure.

He nodded slightly, his lips brushing against my palm in silent agreement, but the way his hips moved told me he had no intention of slowing down. If anything, his pace quickened, each thrust more precise, more deliberate, as if he were testing just how far he could push me before I completely unraveled.

My hand stayed over his mouth, but I could feel the vibrations of his muffled groans against my skin, each one sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through me. My free hand clutched at his shoulder, nails digging into his skin as my body arched beneath him, helpless to the rhythm he’d set.

The tension between us was unbearable, every movement, every touch pushing me closer to the edge. My heart pounded in my chest, my breaths coming in short, uneven gasps as I fought to stay quiet, to stay in control. But Nicholas wasn’t making it easy. The hand he was using to press down on my lower abdomen slipped between us, his fingers brushing against the sensitive spot where our bodies met, and I couldn’t stop the sharp cry that escaped me.

His eyes flicked up to mine, a wicked smile tugging at the corners of his lips even as they remained muffled against my hand. He pressed his fingers harder, circling with just enough pressure to send me spiraling. My body tensed, every nerve ending on fire as pleasure crashed over me in waves, and I had to bite down hard on my lip to keep from crying out. That’s when he let go of the thigh he had wrapped around his waist and guided his hand over my mouth, pressing down to muffle my sounds.

And now, we were both there, covering the other’s mouth with our hands, trying so hard to fight back our moans. All we could hear was the sounds of skin and our labored breaths blowing through our nostrils.

The room was thick with tension, every sound amplified as we moved together, muffling each other as if the act itself were part of the thrill. Nicholas’s hand covered my mouth firmly, his dark eyes locking onto mine as his hips drove deeper, more deliberate. Each thrust sent waves of heat rippling through me, my body trembling as I teetered on the edge of control.

My breaths were shallow, uneven, my free hand clutching at his shoulder as the tension in my stomach coiled tighter and tighter. His other hand slid down my thigh, pulling my leg higher around his waist to angle himself deeper, and the sensation was overwhelming. My head tilted back, the cry building in my throat muffled against his palm.

I was close — so close it felt like every nerve in my body was on fire. Nicholas must have sensed it because his pace quickened, his movements more erratic as he chased the edge with me. His lips curved into a smirk against my hand, but the dark intensity in his gaze told me he was just as affected.

When the tension snapped, it was like a dam breaking. My thighs trembled around him, my breaths coming out in sharp, uneven bursts, as I arched beneath him, a wave of pleasure crashing over me so powerful it left me shaking. Nicholas’s hand pressed tighter against my mouth, muffling the sharp cry that escaped me as I clung to him, my nails digging into his back. He groaned in response, his movements faltering as he watched me fall apart beneath him, my hand covering his mouth falling limp over my forehead.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough and strained. His hand stayed firmly over my mouth, his other sliding down to hold my hip as his pace grew erratic, desperate.

I barely had time to catch my breath before I realized he was close too. His movements grew rougher, his control unraveling as his own breathing turned ragged. The hand covering my mouth loosened slightly, and I took the opportunity to nip at his finger, earning a low growl from him as he pulled it away.

Nicholas’s eyes snapped to mine, wide with surprise. “What the hell—” he started, but I cut him off with a fierce whisper.

“You better pull out,” I hissed, my voice sharp despite the trembling in my tone.

Nicholas’s jaw tightened as my words registered, his dark eyes narrowing with a mix of frustration and urgency. His breath hitched, and I could feel the tension radiating off him as he fought for control, his hips stuttering in their rhythm. “I’ve got it,” he muttered, his voice strained and low, almost as if he were trying to reassure himself as much as me.

“Nic,” I pressed, my tone firm despite the lingering haze of pleasure coursing through me. My nails raked lightly down his back, urging him to listen, to not lose himself completely.

He nodded, his movements becoming deliberate, careful. His hand shifted to grip my waist tightly, steadying himself as his breathing grew heavier. “I’m not gonna—” His words cut off with a guttural groan, and I felt his body tremble against mine, his restraint fraying with each passing second.

At the last possible moment, Nicholas pulled out with a strangled curse, his hand reaching down to finish himself. His dark eyes fluttered shut, his jaw clenched as his release spilled across my stomach, warm and lingering. The sight of him unraveling like that, the raw vulnerability etched into his features, made my chest tighten.

For a few moments, the only sound in the room was our heavy breathing, his body still hovering above mine as he tried to catch his breath. His head dipped forward, his lips brushing softly against my temple as he whispered, “Are you okay?”

I nodded, my voice catching slightly as I answered, “Yeah, I’m okay.” My hands found his shoulders, grounding both of us as he shifted to sit back on his heels. His gaze softened as it roamed over me, searching for any sign of discomfort or regret.

“I didn’t—” he started, his voice hoarse and unsteady, but I cut him off with a small smile.

“You didn’t,” I reassured him, reaching up to trace the edge of his jaw.

Nicholas exhaled sharply, his shoulders relaxing as he leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to my lips. It wasn’t rushed or heated like before; it was gentle, filled with a quiet kind of affection that made my heart ache. When he pulled back, his fingers brushed lightly across my stomach, his touch careful and almost apologetic.

“Let me clean you up,” he murmured, his voice soft as he reached over to grab a discarded shirt, maybe mine, from the edge of the bed.

I rolled my eyes, my lips twitching in amusement as I watched him carefully clean me up, his movements surprisingly gentle despite the teasing smirk still tugging at his lips. When he was done, he leaned down to press a soft kiss to my stomach, his lips lingering for just a moment before lying  down beside me, pulling me into his arms without hesitation. His body was warm and solid against mine, his breathing still slightly uneven as his fingers traced idle patterns on my shoulder.

The silence that followed was thick but not uncomfortable. Nicholas’s fingers moved gently across my skin, as if he were trying to map every inch of me. My cheek rested against his chest, his heartbeat steady and grounding beneath my ear. I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into the moment, even as a thousand unspoken thoughts swirled between us.

It felt natural, lying there with him. His hand slipped to my hair, tangling in the strands softly, and I let out a contented sigh. Neither of us said anything for a long time, the stillness interrupted only by the sound of our breaths syncing together.

Nicholas was the one to break the silence, his voice low and husky. “What time is it?”

I blinked, my mind still clouded from everything that had just happened. I tilted my head toward my bedside table, squinting at the digital clock. “Almost three,” I mumbled.

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face while tightening the arm he had around me briefly before letting out a resigned sigh. “Your brother’s gonna wake up in a few hours.”

“Exactly,” I muttered, untangling myself from his arms and sitting up, “which is why you need to get out of here.”

Nicholas smirked as he sat up as well, his dark brown eyes watching me closely. “Kicking me out already?” he teased, his voice low and playful. “I’m starting to feel used, baby.”

I rolled my eyes, climbing out of bed and walking past my dirty camisole that was discarded on the floor to reach into my dresser and pull out a clean shirt, “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“You’re the one that asked me to stay,” he quipped, leaning back on his hands as if he had all the time in the world.

I shot him a warning look, but it only seemed to amuse him further. Letting out an exasperated sigh, I grabbed my shorts from the floor as I walked back over to the bed and tossed them in his direction. “If you’re so eager to hang around, you can help me get dressed. I think that’s the least you can do after fucking your best friend’s sister.”

Nicholas froze for a moment, his smirk faltering as his dark eyes widened slightly at my words. A laugh escaped him, low and incredulous, as he shook his head. “Wow, you really don’t hold back, do you?”

I crossed my arms, raising an eyebrow at him, smirking. “Am I wrong?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he grabbed my shorts from where they landed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he beckoned me closer with a playful glint in his eyes. “Alright, princess. Let me help.”

With an exaggerated sigh, I stepped closer, though the flush creeping up my neck betrayed my nonchalance. Nicholas patted his thigh, gesturing for me to stand between his legs. His hands were warm as they slid up my calves to my thighs, holding me steady as he crouched slightly to help me into the shorts.

His movements were slow, deliberate, as he guided the fabric up my legs. He tugged the waistband gently, his thumbs brushing against my hips before snapping the shorts into place. His dark eyes flicked up to meet mine, and for a moment, the teasing glint softened into something quieter, something that made my heart stutter.

I reached for the clean shirt I’d left on the bed, but Nicholas beat me to it, picking it up with a smirk. “Arms up,” he instructed, his tone mockingly authoritative as he held the shirt open.

Rolling my eyes but unable to stop the small smile tugging at my lips, I raised my arms, letting him slip the shirt over my head. His hands brushed against my skin as he adjusted the hem, smoothing it down over my waist. When he leaned back on his hands to admire his handiwork, his smirk returned, but it was softer now.

“There,” he murmured, his voice lower now. “Good as new.”

“Thanks,” I said softly, my stomach fluttering. I bent down and reached for Nicholas’s clothes and tossed them to him.

Nicholas caught the bundle of his clothes easily, the smirk on his face growing as he stood to pull his sweatpants back on. I watched as he stuffed his dick into his sweats, my cheeks growing hot as he then slipped into his shirt. The chain around his neck glinted faintly in the dim light as he adjusted it, his dark eyes flicking back to mine.

Nicholas smiled softly, running a hand through his tousled hair as he stepped toward the bathroom door.

I followed him as he reached for the door, keeping my voice low. “Please don’t tell anyone about tonight.”

He turned to face me, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe as his smirk softened into something more genuine. “Relax, baby. Your secret’s safe with me.” The teasing lilt in his voice was gone, replaced by a quiet sincerity that made my chest tighten.

I nodded, swallowing hard as I tried to ignore the fluttering in my stomach. “Good.”

He pushed the door open slowly, peeking into the bathroom to make sure it was still quiet on the other side. Just as he stepped through, he glanced back over his shoulder, his smirk returning in full force. He winked, disappearing into the bathroom with a quiet click of the door.

I rolled my eyes, biting back a smile. I stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door as the reality of everything that had just happened settled over me.

My skin still tingled everywhere he’d touched me, his hands, his lips, the way his voice had dropped when he whispered my name. It all replayed in my head, over and over and over. With a deep breath, I turned back to my bed, doing a horrible job of biting back the smirk on my lips.

I should’ve been panicking — thinking about what my brother would do if he found out, but all I could feel was a heady mix of excitement and disbelief. I had just slept with Nicholas, my brother’s best friend.

[katyawriteswhump]

hot chocolate for the soul 💝

@steddieholidaydrabbles day 23 prompt, ‘hot chocolate;’  @steddiemas week 4 prompt, ‘surprise,’ @whumpcember day 23 prompt, ‘overwhelmed.’

WC: 969; Rating: G; CW: None; Tags: fluff, found family, established steddie, mention of health conditions, Eddie lives HEA, soft everyone! Summary: Steve decides to surprise Eddie and Wayne with hot chocolate. He's got no idea of the emotional fireworks he’s going to unleash... (of the good variety!)

💝💝💝💝💝💝

Steve let himself in through the door, precariously balancing three hot-chocolate drinks. He was ridiculously proud that he’d got home with barely a slop. The cream and marshmallows hadn’t sunk totally flat yet.

“Honey!” Eddie rushed at Steve and plastered a wet kiss on his cheek. Steve almost yelped—okay, still no spillages. His coordination skills weren’t totally shot. “Mmmmm, mmmmm,” said Eddie. “That chocolate smells amazing, Babe. You shouldn’t have.”

“Yeah, I should’ve,” mumbled Steve. Eddie took the drinks, so he could slip out of his winter jacket. “I wanted to surprise you by doing something, I dunno, nice for a change? Sorry I was cranky this morning before work.”

“Huh? Didn’t notice.”

Eddie slipped his arm through Steve’s and led him to the kitchen area. Wayne stirred a big pan of bolognese sauce. He greeted Steve with a quiet ‘Hey,’ and a smile that could melt polar ice-caps.

“Hey,” smiled Steve, before plonking the drinks on the table and reverting his attention to Eddie. “What do you mean, ‘didn’t notice?’ You saying I’m always grouchy in the morning?”

“Wouldn’t have my bitchy darling any other way.”  Eddie pressed Steve into a chair then headed to help Wayne. “Seriously, though, you were fine.”

Steve inhaled sharply, his chest kinda catching—partially on the delicious odours from Wayne’s cooking, overwhelming even the hot chocolate, though mainly on the emotions surging inside him.

He had been cranky this morning. He’d had a bad headache for days. Eddie and Wayne didn’t deserve to be dragged down by him. Hell, post-Vecna-everything, the ‘powers-that-be’ might have compensated the Munsons with a nice little house, but they couldn’t cure Eddie’s chronic pain and regular panic attacks any more than they could fix Steve’s.

Yet, here Steve was. 

In the snuggest kitchen on earth, with his loving boyfriend and his kind uncle smiling down at him like he was sunshine itself. Then Wayne’s gaze alighted on the hot chocolate. He turned off the cooktop, his face turning deadly grave. 

“You brought that, son? For us?”

“Uh, yeah?” Steve was suddenly nervous. He swallowed hard, watching Wayne’s Adam’s apple bob as he apparently mirrored him.

Then Wayne pulled out a chair, sat down opposite Steve. His face crumpled, and he burst into tears.

“Shit!” squeaked Steve, glancing up at Eddie, who also looked mildly alarmed. “Did I do something wrong?" On instinct, Steve reached across the table to Wayne, who grabbed Steve’s fingers.

“No, no.” Wayne sniffed. “It’s just… I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s just… t-this year, I thought I lost my sweet boy. I thought I lost everything, and now… h-here we are… all together… I got me two sweet boys to love. Two.”

“Oh,” said Steve, very softly, still kinda panicking for reasons he wasn’t sure of. Fortunately, Eddie had totally got this. He plonked himself at Wayne’s side, threw his arms around him, and joined him in sobbing his heart out.

Wayne had still gotten hold of Steve’s fingers, wringing them to the point of pain. Between hiccupping sobs, Eddie spluttered, “St-Steve… Stevie?” while flailing an arm toward Steve, gesturing wildly that he should join them.

Steve realized he was gawking, snapped his mouth shut. He felt it, he honestly did, his chest burning with love and gratitude. He also felt bad. Harringtons didn’t cry, and years of conditioning left their mark. That said, he’d cried a lot this last year, not all of it solo. 

He wasn’t a Harrington anymore. Not really.

He was a Munson, heart and soul. At least, he wanted to be… 

“Babe?” Eddie’s arm remained outstretched. Wayne’s pleading, watery eyes upon Steve were pretty much the final straw. Steve’s pent-up feelings surged upward… into a very slight sniffle.

Ding-dong!

Steve genuinely hated that he thought, Saved by the bell! 

“I’ll get that.” He dabbed his eyes.

It was Dustin and Claudia, who Wayne often invited to dinner. Steve endured an awkward moment, struggling to explain, as the Hendersons entered the kitchen to find the Munsons a bawling mess. Dustin looked up at Steve, utterly aghast, before Wayne rescued him. “St-Steve bought hot chocolate. What a thoughtful surprise. After everything this year, it was just so… so… darn…”

Claudia was already breaking. Within seconds, she and Dustin joined Wayne and Eddie in a four-way waterworks cuddle, leaving Steve standing, hands on hips, utterly bewildered. 

Okay, also grinning his face off through a faint sheen of tears. If the people he cared for were happy, he was. Wasn’t his fault they had a crazy way of showing it.

He really wanted ‘in’ on the hug, though. He felt more and more excluded and squirmy, though everyone entreated him to join them, between sputters and sniffles.

Ding-dong.

Steve dashed to the door. 

“Hey,” said Robin. “You were in such a mad rush to get hot chocolate before the diner closed, you forgot your pain meds, Dingus. Shit! Oh my God, who died?”

“Nobody.” Steve pinched his aching brow. “I think they’re happy. It was um… s-something… to do with the… d-dumbass hot… choc…” 

Robin didn’t cry much easier than Steve did. Once she set off, though, that was that. They piled into the six-way hug, sobbing till they were all pretty much cried out. Apart from Steve, who kept sniffling forever. 

His face burned. He figured he was embarrassed… until he realized he wasn’t, not really.

He felt okay.

Yeah, his head hurt, but he’d gotten it leaned lightly on Eddie’s shoulder, which was scarred but healing. Eddie was alive. They were all here, together, and safe, holding each other tightly, if only for this perfect moment. 

He loved them so much, and accepting so much love was really difficult, dammit. He was learning from the best.

They divided the cold hot chocolate into six mugs and laughed the evening away.

🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪💝💝💝💝💝💝

No pressure tags: @wheneverfeasible 💚❤️💚 My fic on ao3

[cheeseceli]

Under the mistletoe

Pairing: Yang Jeongin × Gn!reader

Genre: fluff, friends to lovers

Warnings: reader is lowkey oblivious but not really, that's it?

A/n: so this is my Christmas post 🙂‍↕️

Daily click

"Questions can be saved for later, just follow me" with that, you had absolutely no chance to talk back as he was already walking away, expecting you to actually follow him.

You were at the boys' Christmas party, celebrating the holiday with your closest friends - including Jeongin - but this specific person seemed to have other plans. Ever since he laid his eyes on you, he had been trying to get you to talk to him alone and, preferably, outside. Now, he was succeeding.

"What are we going to do on the balcony?" you asked, trying to keep up with his pace "It's freezing out there."

"I said no questions for now. Just trust me, okay?"

Once again you weren't able to respond, as he was already opening the door for you: "after you."

And so you did. Outside, it was in fact cold, snow slowly falling down. When you looked at Jeongin you expected to see him either shivering because of the weather or with a mischievous grin, that would explain the reason as to why you're far from the party. However, you notice him nervous.

That's odd.

"Jeongin? Are you okay?"

He seems to be lost in thought, his gaze nowhere near where you were, looking up instead.

"Yeah, yeah." Basically a synonym to no.

"Are we here for a reason...? You seem to be a little-"

"Oh yes, actually" he replied rather quickly, walking to the spot he was looking at before "Come here, there's something I want to show you."

You followed his lead, getting closer to the view. Though he wasn't looking ahead, so you didn't know if that was what he truly wanted to show you, you couldn't help but be awestruck. You had seen that scenario a few times before, every time you visited the boys' dorm, but never had it felt so magical.

"Is that what you wanted to show me?" You slowly look at him, your eyes not wanting to leave the beautiful sight ahead of you "it's beautiful."

"I mean, that as well." He looked up quickly, and you almost didn't realise this small gesture "but there was this other thing..."

As his voice died out, you looked above only to finally notice what this all was about:

"The mistletoe" you smiled. He was waiting for you to see it. You look at him, his eyes not exactly meeting yours just yet "What? You brought me here and aren't even going to kiss me?"

With this last statement he finally looked at you, a bit of excitement and hope shining on his eyes. Your smile didn't seem to falter anytime soon, as it was growing even more with his reaction.

"Can I?" he quietly said, afraid of doing anything that could ruin the moment.

You smile, barely believing it. You had been waiting ages for something like this: any opportunity, any moment that would give you the chance of becoming something more with Jeongin. And then he, during the holiday season, simply makes a whole plan to give you that chance.

It was adorable, to be honest. How he was so determined to bring you under the mistletoe, but still let you silently know that whatever you wanna do from now on is up to you. He's letting you choose. And no matter when, either on Christmas or on any other normal day, you would always choose him. And so you did:

"We cannot break a tradition, can we?"

Masterlist I you'll probably like: Christmas with skz

Reminder this is just fiction!! I'm not trying to portray real life and you shouldn't believe that this is how the member actually is. This is just for the vibe and the delulu!

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @dandelions-143 @sleepyleeji @jinnie-ret @sheraayasherrecs @rockstarkkami @urlocalmultigroupfan (couldn't tag in bold)

Divider by: @enchanthings-a | Images 1, 2 and 3

[candyheartedchy]

Saw a post talking about this, but I didn’t want to reblog and ramble in the tags of said post, so I’m bring it up here about the whole situation when it comes to people messaging first or not when it comes to their friends.

I struggle a lot with anxiety and constantly worrying that I’m bothering people when I reach out to talk first that 97% of the time I end up not messaging people at all. I’ve been trying to push myself out of my comfort zone when it comes to this, and getting better, when it comes to sending the first message because I want to let folks know that I do genuinely enjoy our conversations and want to be friends with them. But because of my past situations I end up falling back into the habit of isolating myself because I’m familiar with doing it to cope.

In a way I want to let folks know that when they message me first, I’m always excited to hear from them! And also to reassure anyone that may worry about bothering me. I promise y’all aren’t. There will be times that my text pattern might be different in tone, but that’s just me being tired and awkward.

Heck I’m always surprise when anyone really wants to talk to me in general because I usually get ignored irl. And if I’m being honest, I see a lot of you as my friends, but I’m always nervous to bring up the title because I’m not sure if it’s just one sided or I’m just projecting out of loneliness. So whenever someone says we’re friends I get caught off guard because I haven’t had any in so long.

Basically this is just me throwing in my two cents about people who try to test their friendship on how much people really care or not when it comes to who’s messaging first. I do agree that both parties should try to reach out to each other as much as they can to let each other know they do care. But I also want to bring up that a lot of times most of us struggle with reaching out due to trauma that relates to past friendships not going well and worrying about having those same experiences again. But also lot of folks are afraid to reach out first because they don’t want to embarrass themselves when it comes to making friends or losing that chance because they never had the experience of having a friend before. And I’m saying this from my own experience.

In the end I think if you really care about your friends, just communicate. And reassure the ones that reach out first that even though you struggle with talking, you still appreciate them and also just remind them that you like them because they worry about bothering you too. Because most of us don’t have any friends irl and our online friends are all we have. So even when others try to say that online friendships don’t count, they are missing the whole point of what friendships really is.

[s1lly-c0r3]

Hello! I hope this request finds you well :)

I hope this request is okay LOL, but can you do general relationship headcannons of Daisuke with a GN reader?

Your writing is amazing btw! :D

Oh my goodness YES I CAN DO THAT FOR YOU!!! WARNING: THIS WAS MADE FOR FUN!! REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN!! Characters: Daisuke You

DAISUKE DATING HEADCANONS

Genuinely tries to act chill about it but gets all giddy remembering that he's in a relationship with you.

Tries his best to get you gifts of some sorts, but i imagine he isn't the richest. You wouldn't mind a few doodles of you as a gift, would you?

Reminds you of every anniversary. You've been dating for one year and three months? HE'S TELLING YOU!

Every time you guys hold hands, he does that three-squeeze thing. (The one where it means 'i love you'). Gets really dramatic if you don't do it back

I would think one of Daisuke's main love languages is physical touch, so expect to be holding hands or cuddling almost ALL the time

Takes you on simple dates: the fairgrounds, the beach, simple walks around town. Before you guys decide to live together, you'd mainly hang out at his house though.

Sobs if you give him anything, he feels like he has to give something back then.

Probably pampers your face a lot

Okay so expect to be his first everything. Although he can claim he's dated before, he most likely hasn't.

LOVES IT IF YOU CAN COOK

If you paint his nails, you also HAVE to paint his so you guys can match

Waited a long time for you to meet his mom actually, he was nervous she wouldn't like you. Instead, he's pretty sure his mom loves you more than she loves him.

While meeting your parents, was all decked out in a suit and everything for "effect" But the whole persona dropped because he got nervous.

Does use pet names, but simple ones like "babe". I don't see Daisuke using darling or anything.

Very impatient. Complains if you take too long getting ready and little stuff like that.

Overall, VERY clingily but you'll get used to it :>

OMG I FINISHED IT!!! Actually, I've had this done for a while i just COMPLELTYY forgot to post it and now i feel bad </3 ANYWAYS HERES DAISUKE!!

[oikarma]

left my message!

pairing: lewis hamilton x reader

summary: you’ve heard about the legend but you’re not quite prepared to meet him in real life.

a/n: first part is like a smau companion i guess? but this is the actual interaction which makes the twt posts make more sense!! 

part one / two

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

two days ago

you still can’t believe it. the paddock pass is smooth under your hands, so smooth it might just slip out and away. you’ve never been so close before, despite having watched many of the races on a grainy screen or far, far up into the grandstands. it didn’t make sense, really. when you were younger, your mother disapproved of flouncing around just to go to a racetrack—she certainly wouldn’t accompany you, with the engines roaring past, when your music on 70% volume was already deafening to her. but now, early decisions had come out, very much in your favor. mother was pleased, and that left you to go wherever you wished over easter.

so you’re here, standing in the ferrari paddock. it’s a gift on both guanyu and your brother’s part, flying you out at last minute’s notice when charles’s surgery was confirmed. an extremely generous gift you’re not sure you can repay anytime soon. it makes you feel a bit guilty, until you see how happy both of them are to see you. with college applications, you haven’t had much time to facetime your brother—he was overseas working—and the same went for guanyu. late family reunion, you decide. 

lando walks pass the ferrari garage and waves at you. it turned out you had rooms on the same floor after bumping into each other in the elevator. it wasn’t the first time you’d met him: you’d been present at a few of his karting competitions when you were younger. you weren’t “friends,” you’d argue, but you’d talked enough to be good acquaintances. he was also a familiar face in the uk. that is, before he moved to monaco. 

you grin at lando and turn back to guanyu, inside the garage. he’s trembling, even though his smile is wide and back is straight. charles has done well this season, and lewis is in the other seat. of course he would be nervous. you still remember how he sobbed when sauber released the news. formula one was the pinnacle of motorsports. being there was an achievement in itself, anyone knew. but when you were constantly outperformed by other drivers in other cars, it was hard to keep track of the fact.

you place a hand on his arm. “hey, you good?”

“yeah, i’m fine.” he reaches out for a one-handed hug. “glad to see you here. just a bit different from last year.”

“hey, come on. this is for everyone here for you. seeing you race is enough.”

zhou massages his temple. “what if it’s not? i don’t want to disappoint them again.”

“you won’t. your practice times are great! and if people think they do, they should try driving themselves.” you squeeze his hand. “where’s my brother? let him talk some sense into you.”

to that, he laughs. “oh, he did. told me that i should be happy i get the opportunity to drive and i think he’s right.”

you wince. sounds a bit harsh, but you know your brother means well.

“yeah, he usually is. probably a bit salty that he’s not a driver, too. but g’luck out there, okay? don’t crash.”

“i’ll try.” 

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

one day ago

once the sprint is over, you can tell a weight has been lifted off his back. fourth is great. fourth is amazing. max leads in first, lewis in second, lando in third, and guanyu in fourth. it’s not a shabby place in a lineup like that. points have been scored for ferrari and everyone is all smiles when they come to congratulate him.

lewis pats him on the back. “good to see you out there, zhou.”

“thanks. nice work today.” his data analyst taps him on the shoulder and guanyu is being led away. he waves goodbye at you.

the brit turns to you and offers a hand. “hamilton, lewis hamilton. i don’t think i’ve seen you around before.”

lewis! hamilton! is shaking your hand! meeting lando is less crazy because you’ve seen mini him stumbling off the track. but this is seven-time world champion, sir lewis hamilton. his braids are sleek and he’s perfectly polished: glowing, even. it should be illegal to stand around in a half-zipped race suit.

you shake his hand, making sure your grip is strong because your father said that’s the way to make an impression. “i’m yn. i’m guanyu’s friend.”

“oh, i see. you watch racing, much? i suppose you do.”

“yeah. he got me into it and i never stopped.”

lewis gives you a coy smile. “tell me, who’s your favorite driver?” he leans against one of the floating tables.

“i hate to break it to you, but it’s max.” 

his eyes widen dramatically. he teases, “oh dear, we’re starting off on the wrong foot already.”

“if it makes you feel any better, i meant current driver.”

“okay, okay. no restrictions. favorite driver of all time?”

“kimi.” 

he raises a thoughtful eyebrow. “you seem to have a type.”

“so who’s yours?” and you want to hit yourself right there because you just asked lewis hamilton who his favorite driver is. stupid, stupid, stupid. it’s probably senna. he’s too polite to say himself and you think you’ve heard that somewhere before.

“senna.”

bingo! quite the genius, you are. it’s hard to think around him, so that’s practically twice the achievement.

lewis sees your smile and asks, “why, do i have something on my face?”

“oh, no. i was thinking.”

“...about? nevermind, i won’t pry. tell me, yn, what else do you like to do?”

how conversational. if he does this one more time you might be convinced you’re friends. he’s probably just bored. 

“sorry, excuse me?” you see a couple of fans outside the garage. the pit lane tour guide is surprised to see lewis still there. “could we get a few photos, please?”

lewis turns to you, surprisingly apologetic. “see you around?”

“alright.”

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

(a/n: 1st of the convo is post-meeting lewis & 2nd part is post-gp)

[glassmermaids]

THREE'S A CROWD — donaldson/zweig

𖡼 an extended version of this blurb; years of unresolved issues and feelings make for one hell of a dinner. | content/warning: angst, some awkward dialogue icl, reader also played tennis and went to stanford, thoughts of cheating and/or emotional cheating I guess? | wc: ± 3700

𖡼 thank you @diyasgarden for proofreading this for me and giving me the encouragement to actually post it, you are a literal angel ilysm

You don't think you've ever been this nervous in your life.

In all honesty, that was an exaggeration. You could think of a few moments that rivaled your current situation; the day of your graduation, the night you scraped together the courage to finally kiss the boy you had a crush on and later on the first time you found yourself naked underneath him, the day of your wedding.

All of those times, it felt like the world was trying to swallow you whole and eat you alive, like everything around you was rapidly crashing down and you had no way of controlling it.

That same feeling has overtaken your body now; your chest feels constricted as you take labored breaths, but you ignore it as you wipe one of the many surfaces in the house for the umpteenth time. You could probably see your reflection in every tabletop by now, but you needed to do something to keep yourself occupied.

The whole day had been like this, up early in the fear of not having enough time to prepare. The morning was spent deep cleaning, and after that, you had started preparing the very meticulously thought out menu for the night. You had been on your feet the whole day, to the point where Art had grown increasingly worried.

He finds you in the living area, wiping at one of the photos' frames, eyes distant and anxious as you stared into the picture. Your efforts are interrupted by a hand placed on your shoulder, effectively stopping you on your self-destructive path.

You turn around to find your husband's warm yet almost pitiful eyes, sparing you a comforting smile. "Everything's already perfect, y'know," he says, hand smoothing down your arm before he grabs ahold of your hand. You sigh softly, shoulders deflating as the tension leaves your body at his words and his reassuring touch.

"I know," you say softly, "I'm just a little nervous." He smiles again, almost as if the notion of you being nervous is hilarious to him. "Don't be," he simply says, "It's just Patrick."

It's just Patrick. Now it's your turn to laugh, shaking your head as you let the words settle in your unnerved mind. "Right," you agree, "It's just Patrick." Art nods as he notices your now much calmer demeanor, hand giving yours another loving squeeze, and he takes a moment to really appreciate your outfit for the night.

The dress fits you like a glove — a gift from your last anniversary, he notices — and the low neckline places attention to the beautiful diamond necklace also gifted by him. You had chosen a pretty pair of kitten heels to match, he knows because he remembers them laying next to the bed this afternoon, but you've since switched to a pair of bunny slipper seeing as you've been on your feet almost all day. He smiles at the sight, scoffing a laugh when he sees you wiggle your toes in the slippers.

"You look beautiful," he compliments you, reveling in the way you turn shy at his words.

The intimate moment is interrupted by a knock on your door, and at once, Art can see and feel the tension return to your body as your shoulders go rigid and your hand squeezes his. Art checks his wristwatch quickly before his attention returns to yours again. "Everything'll be fine," he says softly, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead before he urges you forward.

You make your way to the door, taking a few deep breaths before you open the door with a bit more force than intended. Infront of you he stands like a dream, or maybe an hallucination, holding a small bouquet of flowers with an unsure smile.

You're absolutely beaming, he thinks to himself, watching as a smile stretches across your face, ear to eat. "Pat," you breathe before you're moving to wrap your arms around him in a greeting filled with so much warmth. He feels his heart ache hearing the nickname you've bestowed onto him so many years ago.

He reciprocates your embrace immediately, welcoming your embrace and taking the moment to enjoy the smell of your perfume and body lotion; sweet vanilla and cinnamon. He tries to ignore the standoffish, almost indignant look Art gives him from behind you, still standing in the threshold with crossed arms.

You pull away, and Patrick immediately misses your warmth, the type of warmth he's embarrassed to say he hasn't felt in a long time. You usher everyone inside, accepting the rather cheap, store-bought bouquet from Patrick with a genuine and thankful smile and soon everyone is sat around the dinner table engaged in what could only be described as awkward small talk.

It saddens you in all honesty, the way things now seem so strained between you all. You were obviously expecting a little bit of tension because there would obviously be after all these years of no contact, but you had underestimated to what extent that tension would be.

You can't help but reminisce about how things used to be between you; when the heat of summer would suffocate you in Art's dorm room as you all sat spattered around the floor with a half finished six pack and only each other's company to keep you entertained.

You've been together for as long as you can remember, starting out as long-limbed, awkward teenagers at the Mark Rebellato Tennis Academy who somehow found each other at a really crucial time and never really separated after that. You remember the night's they'd sneak themselves into your dorm room and you'd spend hours talking about anything and everything until they were inevitably kicked out by your bunk mate when it got too late and she grew tired of your hushed whispered. Some of those nights you'd end up talk about how you imagined your futures would look like.

And as you grew older, your friendship only flourished further, no longer awkward teenagers but confident young people who knew exactly what they wanted from life.

It was clear Patrick simply wanted a comfortable life like the one he was accustomed to since birth. He wasn't willing to work or it, and figured his talent would be enough to get him by and keep him relevant without having to grovel at his parent's feat. In short; he wanted the life his family had provided him, without his family providing it for him.

Art wanted what everyone around him wanted for him; to do good in school and tennis, to reach great success in his career, be able to make some money off of it, and then finally settle down and reap the fruits of his hard work.

You were hungry for your place among the best. You wanted to fully showcase the potential everyone had seen in you from a young age and to establish yourself in your abilities, prove to yourself and everyone else that the opportunities given to you were not in vain and make a name for yourself.

It all worked out for the most part, you suppose.

The reverie you find yourself in is broken at the sound of your husband's voice, shortly followed by the sound of his knife slightly scratching against the porcelain plate as he cuts at his steak. "You still playing, Patrick?" he asks, not really looking at him until the words leave his mouth. Patrick nods, mouth full as he quickly chews, not having expected Art to ask him anything seeing as the conversation had been kept afloat mostly by you.

"Yeah," he finally speaks, and Art hums, his mouth pulling to the side the way it always does whenever hes about to say something snarky or sarcastic. "And how's that going?" he quickly follows up. You can see the way Patrick pauses, utensils frozen in his hands before he's raising his head once again with a smile. "It's going," he says, turning to you before he continues. "I think I have a chance at the Open."

"That's great, Pat," you say excitedly, smile so wide is almost looks like it hurts. Your hand touches his upper in a quick squeeze to show him your excitement. It's an innocent gesture, but because Patrick is an emotional masochist in that way, his mind fixates on the feeling of your hand on his skin, warm and soft.

He returns the smile you give him, not as enthusiasticly but just as genuine, smile lines visible. "Thank you," he says, hands finally continuing to cut at his food. "You retired though, right Art?" he asks after a short while, now looking Art square in the eyes. "Yup," Art replies, popping the p a little too hard. "Why?" Patrick asks, "you still had a few good years in you, we all know that."

"I just didn't wanna play anymore," Art stated plainly, "I wanted to be home with my family more. Tennis isn't the only thing I've got going on." Patrick can't help but laugh a little at a jab so obviously being thrown his way, nodding in defeat and understanding before his attention now turns to you. You squirm a little under his now undivided attention.

"What about you? You still play?" he asks before he brings a cut up piece of steak to his mouth. You sputter a little at his question. "I kind of reached the end of my career I guess?" you answered, shrugging dismissively. "I've won a few slams, signed a bunch of brand deals. It was fun, but that's not my goal anymore," you continued.

"What is your goal now?" he asks, eyes gawking your every little expression as if he's trying to engrave it in his mind; from the way you nervously bite at the skin of your lips as you consider his question or the way your neatly manicured nails lightly drum against the table as you think. He looks at you if he'll never again get a chance to look at you upclose after tonight.

In a way, he already knew what your answer would be. His mind goes back to a few months ago, a sports magazine he had been paging through while staying the night at some dingy motel when he found the article of you inside. Like some lovesick teenager, he had spent close to an eternity staring into the pictures of you displayed in neat boxes between the chapters of the article. It felt like the first time in years he had allowed himself to really look at you, after what felt like a lifetime of trying to run away from you and your ever looming image.

The second last paragraphed had covered the same topic that had now been brought up at the table.

What are your main goals now after your early retirement? the question had laid in italics, catching his attention so much so that he had brought the magazine closer to his face as he laid in bed. Ironically, your answer had been the exact same as it is now.

"I feel like I've already proven myself in my ability. I just want to settle down, focus more on the domestic side of my life," you answered with an almost shy smile, shrugging again. Patrick hummed, smiling at how similar you and your husband's reasonings were. "Damn, you guys have changed," he says to no one in particular as he continues stabbing and cutting at his food. "I remember there was a time both of you would've been willing to play till you physically couldn't anymore, all in the hopes of 'becoming something', being the best. Especially you," he says, pointing his fork at you, "And now you're playing house." The words taste unnaturally bitter in his mouth, so he spits them out at you in a sardonic tone.

"But it's nice," he says, a futile attempt at defusing the situation, "that you wanna settle down, yknow? Really cute." A silence settles in the air after that.

The rest of the dinner goes surprisingly smoothly, albeit much more awkward than ever before thanks to the added tension of Patrick's brash words.

When all the now empty plates were being taken to the kitchen, Patrick quietly excused himself to smoke and you had directed him to the patio before you made your way to the kitchen where Art had started with the dishes. You watched as his broad back flexed and moved as he worked, your hand not resisting to come up and rub between his shoulder blades to relieve the tension that you could practically feel radiating off of him. He sighs at the feeling of your hand, quickly drying his hands before turning around to face you.

"Hi," you say "Hi," he returns, eyes briefly scanning over your features. "You alright?" he asks, hand comes up to squeeze your upper arm. "Yeah," you say softly, "I'm just hoping he had a nice time." Art's face scrunches a little but he quickly fixes it, humming in understanding as you once again get lost in your thoughts.

"I really think he hates us, Art," you say with after a few moments, looking up at him with eyes that looked like they were on the verge of tears. "He doesn't," Art says very assured, hand moving from your arm up to your cheek as his thumb quickly wipes the one tear that managed to escape. "He doesn't hate you," he continues. "I'm more inclined to say he hates me," he adds with a sad laugh, but you couldn't really find it in you to laugh. You move your head to place a kiss to the inside of his palm before you wordlessly made your way onto the patio.

Patrick doesn't notice you at first, only when the click of the sliding door closing rings through the silence. You spare him an awkward smile as you rub your arms to try and shield them from the biting cold of the outside. Wordlessly, you move until you're standing next to him, a silence loaded with everything left unsaid filling the space between you. His cigarette, half smoked, now hangs from the side of his mouth, secured by his teeth as he starts digging into his pockets until he pulls out a smushed packet of cigarettes. He opens it and offers the pack to you, to which you softly shake your head in decline, giving him an apologetic smile.

"I don't smoke anymore," you say softly, watching the way his eyebrows raise in suprise before he's haphazardly stuffing the packet back into his pants with a huff of laughter. "You really did change," he comments more to himself, making you furrow your brows at his town.

"I don't think that much has changed, Pat," you reasoned, voice uncharacteristically small as his words settle deep in your stomach like bile. "You're making it sound like we've turned into these horrible people." He spares you a look as he takes the half smoken cigarette out of his mouth, huffing out a cloud of smoke as he watches you intently. He not so subtly gives you a complete once-over, eyes going from the top of your head down to the bunny slippers that you were still wearing, having forgotten to change them. He huffs a small laugh at the sight.

"Why did you invite me over?" he asks, ending the question with your name. It shocks you how foreign it sounds from his mouth. You don't even have time to reply until he continues. "Is this some sick joke between you and Art? Bring poor old Patrick over and show him how much better things are going with us? How much better our life is without him in it?"

"No, Patrick, of course not," you retort, not even giving the statement a chance to settle in the air. "Then what is it? Why am I here?" Patrick asks, voice rising slightly in frustration as he raises his hands in the air, the cigarette between his fore and middle finger already died out. "I just wanted to see you Patrick, is that so hard to believe?" you ask, voice raising slightly as the irritation now settles in your body. He laughs at your question, and it makes you want to slap him across the face for finding anything funny in your frustration.

"What's funny?" you finally ask him. "You wanted to see me?" he repeats mockingly, shaking his head at the mere thought of it. "Yes! I wanted to see you, Patrick! I've always wanted to see you," you say defeatedly. "It can't be that hard to believe, I mean—" you scoff, "—You're completely estranged from us. You never call anymore, nor do you answer my calls. I invited you to our wedding, and you didn't even have the fucking decency to show up!" There's hurt in your voice, but it's overpowered by the immense anger. "What makes you think I would want to come to your wedding?" he asks, and it's like someone threw a bucket of ice water on you. The words hurt more than you could imagine, coming from who you consider one of your closest friends.

"What?" you ask, voice small and now absent of any anger, but an overwhelming sorrow takes its place. "You threw me out! You two found each other, forgot about me and all of a sudden it was just about "your perfect careers" and "your perfect relationship". I didn't fit into that mold but you were just to scared to tell me that. So you lead me on until I'd leave on my own acord." The words sound smaller and more far-away the more he talks, and you have to take your focus away from your own internal turmoil to notice how the tears seem to sit shallow in his eyes.

It's unnerving seeing him in this state, you believe you've seen Patrick cry atleast two times in all the years you've known him. The reasons are long forgotten, memories corroded with time, but the hollowness that had formed in the pit of your belly at the sight of him so broken was an unforgettable feeling. You feel it now as you stand in the wind, staring at Patrick who was desperately waiting for you to say something, anything.

"There was never a mold, Patrick," you find yourself saying. "That was never the intention, yknow. To make you feel like you didn't fit into our lives anymore. If me reaching out meant anything, it's that I always wanted you in my life. In our life." He says nothing, and for a moment your mind drifts to Art. Wondering if he was still in the kitchen washing dishes. If he had maybe heard the commotion by now. If he heard it and just decided to stay out of it and allow the two of you to verbally lash each other out on his patio.

It's always been left unsaid, but he knew you and Patrick had a different bond. You became close to him first before you ever even warmed up to Art. You had always gravitated towards him, because you were in many ways just like him. Art tried not to think about it for too long because inevitably the question of why him and not Patrick would pop up and he'd lose sleep for a few days.

Patrick's notion was so far off and he didn't even know it. He didn't know how much he actually fit in, or atleast how much you had wanted him to fit into the so called mold you had created. He was deeply threaded into every part of your life and being in a way he wasn't even aware of. A few years ago, when Art had proposed to you, you had thought about the possibility of inviting Patrick and it made your heart flutter. His seat ended up being empty on the day of the ceremony. When the conversation of kids had came up, you thought of Patrick being able to see your children grow up. The possibility that his children and yours could be friends like you were.

It was unhealthy — to be so attached to someone who apparently wanted nothing to do with you anymore, but you couldn't help it. At times it even felt adulterous; thinking of another man that much while being in such a happy and practically perfect marriage.

"I really enjoyed the dinner," Patrick speaks up suddenly, although his voice is soft and devoid of all the earlier anger. He ends the sentence with your name, but it still sounds so foreign coming out of his mouth, like poison he'd rather regurgitate than keep in his system. "Please, Pat," you beg. For what? For him to stay? To stay in your life and play part in the fantasy you had of your perfect life where all of you could be together forever? You don't even know yourself.

As quiet as ever, he throws the already dead cigarette on your wooden flooring of your patio, watching as it falls perfectly between two floor boards and onto the ground before turning his attention to you once again. His big hand grabs the side of your face so softly, fingers curling to the back of your head in an almost protective nature. He presses a kiss to the side of your head, lips lingering there as he takes in the smell of your shampoo. He pulls away slowly and looks down at you with sorrow eyes, but you can't find it in you to look at him in fear of bursting into tears.

For good measure, or maybe because he's greedy and wants one last taste of you, he presses another kiss to the side of your head before he's retracting and leaving you outside in the biting cold. You hear the sliding door close with a click before he makes his way back inside and then back outside to wherever he had come from. To your own disgust, the thought lingers that you wish he had kissed you one more time.

[raven-dor]

could you do a fred weasley ii story please? where they both like each other but it's painfully obvious that they do, but both of them won't do anything.

love your writing BTW!!

LOVED THIS REQUEST!! this is getting posted this TUESDAY at 4pm EST, so keep an eye out!!

until then, here's a sneak peak of close to you...

“Fred.” 

A beat of silence. “Everything alright, love?” 

“Can you-” She took a deep breath. “I need your help.” 

“With?” His voice sounded tight. 

“The dress… I can’t-” She huffed, picked up the front of the dress, and walked out of the dressing room. “The lacing...” Fred just stared, and her heart started racing. “Stop looking at me like that.” He stepped forward, his eyes dangerously full of mischief. 

“Turn around.” 

“Excuse me?” She tilted her head. 

“The lacing.” He whispered. “Turn around.” 

“You picked the perfect dress, Freddie.” 

He smiled to himself, tightening the laces once more before tying a bow. “It’s nothing…” She turned around, and he realized how serious this moment had become. “You look like the moon itself.” She laughed, actually laughed. He almost glared, here he was complimenting her, and she laughed at him. “What’s so funny?” 

“I’m sorry, it’s just that you looked so serious when you said it.” 

“Oh really?” He raised an eyebrow, a smile creeping on his face. “Well, remind me to never compliment you again.” 

“No!” She begged. “Please, don’t.” 

“Fine, fine.” Somehow his arm had found its way around her waist, and time seemed to stand still. “You’ve convinced me.” 

“What are we doing?” She whispered. “This-” 

“Y/N.” His eyes were desperate. “I need to kiss you now. Is that- okay?” 

She nodded her eyelids lulling. “Yes.” 

“I- I’m going to-” 

“Fred just kiss me.” Her voice was ruder than she intended it to be, her eyes widening. “I only-” 

“I don’t think we should.” He whispered. “It would only-” 

Tears pricked at her eyes. “Can you undo the laces please?” 

He nodded. “I’m sorry-” 

“Fred, just do it.” Her voice was harsh, and his fingers fumbled with the strings. “And don’t apologize to me. We both wanted to, just…” The dress was loose, barely holding it up as she turned around. She looked up at him, tears streaming down her face. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone about this.” 

“I-”

“Promise me!”

“I promise.” 

She shoved past him, pulling the curtain shut. “I think you should leave.” 

“Y/N…” 

“Fred, go away.” 

Her tone dripped with venom. He’d never heard her sound that betrayed, more angry, and it made him want to stay even more, to help her and make up for his cowardice. “Love, let me-” 

“Just stop!” She pushed away, shutting the curtain. “I think it’s best if we take a break.” 

“A break?” His voice sounded nervous. Good, she wanted him to squirm like she just had. “From what?” 

“Whatever this is Fred. I’m tired of it.” She walked out of the dressing room, glaring at her best friend. “I have feelings for you and I can’t- I can’t be around you like this. So please just don’t talk to me.” 

She stormed out of the shop, leaving Fred alone with his thoughts. He was empty, he realized. It was stupid: honestly, the most foolish thing he’d ever done, backing out of something he knew he had wanted to do for ages. She was right, he was a coward. How many, he asked himself, could stand in the face of perfection itself and not crumble? He pushed open the curtain, frowning at her dress thrown on the ground. 

“Excuse me?” He stood up, turning around to see an older witch looking at his with evident concern. “Is everything alright?” 

“I’d-” He took a deep breath, folding the dress delicately. “I’d like to buy this dress please.” 

The older witch smiled, leading him to the register. “She’s very lucky.” 

He laughed, shaking his head. “I’m the lucky one.”

[gingerly-writing]

Secret Santa

this is a secret santa post for @creweemmaeec11!! your prompt was:

Villain is usually very flirty and confident, and then during a mission where hero goes undercover at some fancy event with Villain as their fake date, all of the sudden Villain starts acting really scared and nervous because of something at the event then has to help reassure/calm them down, and its cute. Bonus points if you can somehow work in a hidden power reveal.

I'm pretty proud of how I tackled this one, so without further ado, let's go for it!

-----

The Guild's winter gala sparkled.

Superhero moved through the frosted festivities like they were born to be there, like the whole event has been crafted just to make them look good. They floated majestically half a centimetre above the fake snow, crystal heels glittering as they strode. Their long dress swirled about their ankles, fading from white at the neckline to an icy pale blue at the hem, shimmering all the way down. Cold lights reflected angelically across their cheekbones and the diamond tiara balanced in their perfect hair.

They looked like the monarch of winter, the belle of the ice ball. Even the sharpness of their face fit.

They didn't even have cryo powers, for pete's sake.

Villain trudged along next to them, fighting the urge to wrap her arms around herself. Her suit was wet around the ankles, and a chill crept up her spine. Did they have to be so enthusiastic with the fake snow and dry ice? At least her tie went with the theme, ice blue to match Superhero's dress. That hadn't even been her idea, of course. Superhero had insisted, and now Villain found herself grudgingly glad of it. She didn't need to look any more out of place than she already did.

"Unhunch," Superhero demanded. Not forcefully. It was just they didn't make requests—they asked, but already expected their desired answer.

Villain straightened automatically, then scowled about it. "That's not a word."

"That's not an excuse. Stop skulking about." Superhero's gaze roved across the ballroom, picking out heroes new and old. Allies, petty rivals, good friends, threats. Assessing and scouting. Hunting. "It makes you look like you don't belong."

"I'm good at skulking. Probably because I don't belong."

Superhero turned on her, skirts whirling. "You do." Not an argument, just a statement of fact. "How long have you been my ally? My friend?"

Villain shifted uncomfortably. "The government classes me as-"

"This isn't the government, it's the Guild. And we don't give a festive fig what they say." They bent down to eye level, forcing eye contact. "You belong here. Just like I do. Just like everyone does."

"Alright, alright, I'll unhunch!" Villain looked away, faking nonchalance, but she couldn't quite hide her smile in her collar. Superhero's reassurances—hell, any scrap of their attention—always felt so good.

The touch of Superhero's hand on their forearm radiated through them like an electric shock. Villain startled.

Superhero smiled at them. Their smiles were always tiny, secretive little things, teasing at the corners of their mouth. "Come. I want to show you off on the floor."

"...the dance floor?!”

“How many times have you offered to take me dancing?”

Villain chatted a lot of nonsense while she was flirting. Like, a lot a lot. “Yeah, on a rooftop or an anonymous nightclub. Not here, in front of everyone we work with and half the people we fight!”

“You’ll be fine,” Superhero decided, and tugged her out onto the floor. 

Other couples were already swirling. Scientist stumbled past with her favourite henchman, and both of them were laughing. Thief and Detective were handcuffed together and glaring as they swayed side to side—it was always something with those two. Hero twirled by with his daughter balanced on his shoes, the little girl grinning ear to ear, blue flames engulfing the pair of them. 

Villain found herself in traditional hold with Superhero, her frenemesis taking control. She stepped after her automatically, swayed when directed, and dipped when pushed. She came up blushing and desperate to hide it. How was Superhero so damn good at this? They weren't even trying to flirt, and yet Villain was on the verge of swooning. So completely unfair.

That was partly why the onslaught of sheer terror caught her so off guard. One moment her body was flowing between Superhero's hands like water, and the next she was ramrod straight with all the hair on her nape standing on end.

Superhero frowned. "No, don't seize up like that! You were doing so well."

"I didn't...mean to?" Villain's mind spun faster than her body ever could. The suddenness of the new emotion, as if artificially imposed...could it be? Her gaze shot around the dance floor, through Hero and Scientist and- there. Twirling through the chaos, seemingly without a care in the world: Antihero.

Now the ice shooting through her veins felt real.

Superhero watched her with those cold-winter-sky eyes. "It's not the dancing," they ascertained. "What's wrong?"

"It's fine," Villain gritted out, forcing her feet to keep moving in time with the music. "Really, it is. We should just-"

Superhero held up one of Villain's hands in both of theirs. She was trembling. "You aren't scared of anything," Superhero told her. "Not even me, which I admit is quite aggravating at times. So forgive my worry, but you're not dancing your way out of this one. What. Is. Wrong?"

"Antihero." It came out like a church confession.

"The empath?" Superhero's brow wrinkled, then smoothed as they realised. "Oh, of course. She's feeding you undiluted fear."

"She's such an asshole," Villain said by way of agreement. "She's decided that I encroach on her territory when I team up with you. Apparently the Guild is only big enough to house one quasi-villain." And Villain had said no when Antihero had requested a teamup, but that seemed like too much to confess. Almost like admitting there was no one else Villain wanted to work with except Superhero.

"So she's just making you afraid-"

Oh how Villain wanted that to be the case but- "No. I'm actually- her powers give me the freaks. She can make you hate someone you love, fall in love with your enemy. Fear your best friend and idolise your rival." She shuddered. "And there's literally nothing you can do to stop her. Distance helps, but three foot thick steel walls or going underground or even knowing it’s not real don't make it go away. Trust me, I've tried."

Superhero span them so they could stare at Antihero. Villain forced them to keep spinning.

"Don't glare at her! Don't draw her attention. You don't want-"

"Better me than you-"

"Don't say that. Don't say that before you've felt it."

"I've dealt with telepaths before."

Well that was faintly horrifying. "She's just as bad, if not worse. Insidious powers with a vindictive personality to boot. Don't antagonise her. I don't want- both of us can't be messed up at the same time." Villain squeezed Superhero's hand tight. "Just don't. Please."

Superhero's full attention turned back to her with all the force of an ice storm. "Alright. For you."

The fear didn't ease, but Villain knew she was relieved somewhere under there. "Thank you."

"But I'm not going to let her torment you either."

"What do you..." The fear abated. All at once, like a theatre curtain falling between her and the rest of the room. No. Like a cocoon around her and Superhero. Villain stared up at her frenemesis with huge eyes. "What...how...?"

“You know what my powers are.”

She did…sort of. She had watched fire wash over them without burning, ice cover them without freezing. Punches bounce off them and bullets rebound. Villain had always assumed it was pure invincibility dialled up to 11, just like everyone else. That’s what it said in Superhero’s Guild and government files too. And yet… “I’m thinking maybe I didn’t grasp the full extent of what you can do.”

Superhero smiled wide enough to show teeth, their eyes glittering. “Good. I like to retain the ability to surprise.”

Villain let Superhero guide them through a spin and into a dip. Her body flowed, the tension dropping away. She felt…protected. Safe. “Antihero won’t like this,” she warned. “You’re making yourself a target.”

“Let her come. It’s been a long time since someone gave me the opportunity to remind everyone why I was designated ‘super’.”

Wow. Well, that was terrifying and hot. 

Fake snow drifted down all around them, catching in Superhero’s hair like tiny diamonds. Villain stuck her tongue out to catch some and grimaced at the taste, and Superhero chuckled at her. With the shield of their powers, the dancefloor felt like their own personal snowglobe, the two of them perfect dancers twirling forever hand in hand.

[ladykailitha]

A Corroded Coffin Christmas ft The Fallen

Hello and welcome to my Christmas AUvent Calendar! Every day from now until the 24th I will be posting a ficlet that is 500-1500 from an AU I've done over the years.

All stories will be marked with the tag #12 aus of christmas so you can follow along as I will only be tagging my permanent list for this (it would get too confusing otherwise).

The next one on our list is: The Fallen verse. You can read the story here and it's sequels here and here. All links will be to the first chapter, but the chapter itself will have links to the rest of the story.

Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5 Day 6 Day 7 Day 8 Day 9 Day 10

~

Steve reached over and put his hand on Simon’s knee as it was bouncing faster and faster the closer they got to the studio. He was nervous as fuck. Hell, they all were. Because apparently the perks of being the boyfriend for the lead singer of the biggest metal band in the world is getting his band to do a Christmas album with them.

It wasn’t going to be a full album, just about eight or so songs that would feature The Fallen in someway. Steve was really looking for to the absolute gay fest his version of “Santa Baby” was going to be.

Other songs would include “Jingle Bells”, “Carol of the Bells”, “Last Christmas”, “Better Do it Right”, “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day”, “I Saw Three Ships” (the duet version Barenaked Ladies did with Sarah McLaughlin), “Little Drummer Boy”, and “Christmas Day” for the feels.

It was going to be so much fun. Gareth and Spencer were going to do a drum off for “Better Do it Right” and Shane was going to really get to let lose on the metal cover of “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day”. While Simon was going take over for Jeff in “Last Christmas”. Jeff couldn’t stand the song and didn’t want to have his ears bleed.

The car pulled up to the studio where they were led into the sound booth would be using. For the most part everyone would be going into different rooms and laying down their parts but would come together for the duet and Carol of the Bells where they would all be singing together.

Even Spence. Which he as super excited for. One secret that not even Eddie knew was that backup vocals weren’t sung by Asmodeus or Astraeus. But by Azrael. He had the best voice next to Steve and he loved that no one knew that but his friends and now Nadia.

They all gathered together in the green room with Bob, Chrissy, and Celeste all waiting for them. It appeared the Corroded Coffin boys weren’t there yet.

“Come on in!” Bob said brightly. “You can take your masks off for bit if you want, Eddie knows to knock before they come in.”

They all looked at each other and then all of them removed the masks with a sigh of relief. The masks were as comfortable as they could be but they were still masks.

They chatted for awhile, talking about the album and which songs they were excited to play. Everyone agreed it was Abbadon doing Santa Baby. Screw “Santa Buddy” for fuck’s sake.

Then there was a knock on the door and after they were given time to put the masks back, Corroded Coffin entered the room.

“Hey, guys!” Bob greeted brightly. “Come on in. I’m Bob Newby, I’m The Fallen’s music producer. Thank you for choosing me to do this with you!”

Jeff reached out and shook his hand. “We’ve heard nothing but things about you from the guys and couldn’t wait to get in the studio with you.”

“Yeah,” Gareth agreed. “It’s nice to put a face to the name.”

Then they all sat down and wrote down which order everyone would going in. And it was pretty much going to a full schedule for everyone for the next couple of weeks.

But they were all excited and couldn’t wait to get started.

Then the day came. The one everyone had been waiting for. The instrumentals had been laid and mixed weeks ago, but it was time for Steve to sing “Santa Baby”.

The little sound booth was crammed with everyone wanting to hear this. Both managers, Vickie their agent, and the seven other members of both bands all clustered behind Bob at the mixer.

Steve had his mask on, but rolled his shoulders as he started his vocal warm ups. He shook out his limbs and then grabbed the mic.

“Santa baby,” Abbadon crooned, “just slip a Jag under the tree for me. Been an awful good boy. Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight!”

Eddie melted on the spot. If the guys had been in the know, they would be making fun of him so hard right now. As it was, they all were under Abbadon’s spell.

“Santa baby, a ‘54 convertible too, light blue. I’ll wait up for you. Santa Baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight! Think of all the fun I’ve missed, think of all the fella’s that I haven’t kissed. Next year I could be just as good, if you check off my Christmas list.”

Steve continued to sing the whole song and the sound booth was going to crazy. Once he was done, The Fallen boys flooded the recording booth and dogpiled Abbadon, telling him how sick that was and that it was going to be a number one hit for sure.

Eddie didn’t doubt that for a moment. Abbadon coming out as bisexual and then two years later, singing that? Yeah. That song was going to be huge. They all walked out of the studio to a bright July evening, excited for the album to drop in December.

~

They were right, The Fallen were asked to sing “Santa Baby” on every morning talk show, late night show, and for the POPS! Christmas special.

Another one that made the POPS concert, which surprised everyone, was Gareth and Spence’s Little Drummer Boy. They credited the idea to Of King and Country, of course, but there was just something special about a metal version of it that drove the masses wild.

The final surprise off the album was people clamoring to know who the contra alto was in their version of “Carol of the Bells”. They wanted to know who the guest female vocalist was. Both The Fallen and Corroded Coffin burst out laughing every time the question was raised.

“All vocals were done by Corroded Coffin and The Fallen,” Bob said in an interview with Rolling Stone magazine. “There was no female vocalist.”

Spence enjoyed every moment of the speculation.

When the album went platinum in two weeks, they threw a party with the two bands.

“Here’s to the best metal Christmas collab of all time!” Eddie toasted and everyone cheered.

Steve smiled, it was a very merry Christmas indeed.

~

Day 12

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

[theolivetree123]

So uuhhhh I've decided to ship Kira with Epel bc @moonyasnow is a genius

So enjoy their meet-cute 💙

Yapping abt these two below

So, Kira and Epel meet during Glorious Masquerade when Epel, Deuce, and Azul are getting pastries. Epel bumps into Kira and is instantly attracted to her (he sees a beautiful lady and folds on the spot). They meet again after the glomas story concludes, since Kira used to go to Noble Bell and she was visiting family there. She got an invitation from Rollo to come see her old school, and she reluctantly agreed. Her and Rollo don't have a great relationship.

At the dance at Noble Bell, Epel kept eyeing Kira, still stunned by her beauty. Rook teased him and practically forced him to talk to Kira, pushing him towards her. Their first proper meet was a bit awkward at first, but Kira kept the conversation going, and the two became friends that day. Epel and Kira had a lot in common, and practically never stopped agreeing with each other. When the party concluded, Kira gave Epel her number in hopes that they'd talk again. Epel was obviously extremely happy but also kinda nervous. He didn't contact Kira until two weeks after the events of Glomas, and when he did, Kira didn't realize it was him at first.

Once Epel and Kira started messaging each other, they could not stop. They'd always ramble to each other about so many things, and Epel would sometimes even prioritize messaging Kira rather than doing homework. The two learned more and more about each other, and Epels' crush on Kira only grew. The two only met up twice after Glomas, and during those meet-ups, Epel and Kira mainly did stuff that couples would do, making all of Epels' friends suspicious about the status of his and Kiras' relationship.

Kira absolutely adores Epel. She thinks he's one of the coolest people and admires his determination to get stronger. Though Kira thinks Epel is absolutely adorable, she's learned that Epel doesn't like being referred by feminine terms, so she always calls him things like "cool", "dapper", "charming", "handsome", and things of the sort. Kira also loves to compliment Epel, whether she means it in a romantic way or not. Kira just really admires Epel, lol.

That's it for now hehe 💙 I hope yall love these sillies as much as I do

If u guys have any ship name suggestions, share em in the comments!

Tagging moots: @scint1llat3 @jadelover69 @babyghoul138 @jovieinramshackle @screamintoad @anonymousplant @oya-oya-okay @kiyomizuki @cheerleaderman @sunnysidesevenup @prefectrose @viperbunnies @day-dr3aming @ranacr0ak

Let me know if you want/don't want to be tagged in posts like this!

[reywaffle]

Generational String

Pairing: Harry x Draco, James x Regulus

Description: Harry Potter is desperately into Draco Malfoy, but he has no clue about it. He finds himself going through some old stuff in Sirius’ attic. He finds an old notebook that used to be his dad’s. Harry discovers that his dad was not only with his mom, but also dated Regulus Black during his time at Hogwarts. He reads through the flashbacks which help him to process his own feelings for Draco.

Word count: 1.7k

Author’s note: This is the first chapter of my first ever fic, so please be kind. I wanted to do this cause I enjoy fanfiction and wanted to practice my creative writing skills. If you do like it then give it a like or comment and feel free to follow if you want more updates. The next chapter should be posted later today. Thanks for reading!🫶

Playlist I listened to while writing

Chapter 1: Pages of a Secret Story

20 October, 1995

Harry James Potter loathed Draco Lucius Malfoy. At least, that’s what he thinks. His friends know differently. Ron and Hermione knew that Harry had a massive crush on Draco. It was so obvious that his whole house could know as well. The only person that didn’t know was Harry himself. He was completely oblivious to his own feelings.

Right now, Harry is making his way toward 12 Grimmauld Place to visit his godfather, Sirius Black. He’s staying there for the weekend to spend some time with the only living man he considered family. He was a bit nervous; he didn’t really know what he could do there. He supposes he will find out in about a minute. He stared at the flat, almost afraid to walk in. He hadn’t really gotten to know Sirius that much since he had to stay in hiding after escaping Azkaban in Harry’s 3rd year. This was the first time he’d ever spent any elongated time with him. Harry made his way to the door, hesitating slightly. He knocked. He waits a moment and hears a pair of footsteps getting louder, making their way to the door. He watches the door handle quickly turn. He looks up to see the kind face of Sirius Black looking him right in the center of his bright green eyes. “Harry! Welcome!” Sirius exclaimed.

“Yeah, thank you for inviting me over Sirius.”

“Of course, my dear boy! Please come on in. I’d hate to be seen.” Sirius rushed Harry inside. The place looked exactly as he remembered it when he first came to join The Order. It still had that cold and regretful feeling to it. Almost as if there was a ghost haunting the place. A ghost with a lot of regret that is. “Please make yourself at home this weekend. I made Kreature clean all the rooms, so you’d be able to choose which one you’d want to sleep in. They’re just down that hall if you want to take your bag down.” Sirius told Harry, with an almost equally as nervous tone as Harry felt on the inside whilst gesturing toward a stairwell. “Alright. Thank you.”

“Of course. And down there is the kitchen and sitting room if you want to hang around down here.” He said now gesturing towards the corner that led to the kitchen. Harry nodded and started to make his way up the stairs. It was quite a dark and harrowing hallway. It made Harry feel as if the walls were closing in on him. It was a bit different last time he was here because there were also about 13 other people there to make it a bit more comfier. Now it was completely silent aside from the faint sound of Kreatcher cooking dinner all the way downstairs.

He made his way down the hallway and decided to stop at a room that said “Regulus” on the door. Harry knew that name. It belonged to Sirius’ estranged younger brother. For some reason, Harry felt drawn to the room. As if fate were telling him to open the door. He stared at the golden door knob for a moment before reaching toward it. He slowly turned the knob and when he opened the door he saw a room no different than a teenage boys would be. It had peeling blue wallpaper that had decaying Slytherin quidditch posters tacked to it. There was a piano in the corner, as well as a desk and dresser on the other wall. They were all the same shade of brown, but the dresser had a dirty mirror on top of it. The bed was quite wide which left little walking room through the bedroom. Though Harry didn’t mind too much, considering he lived in a cupboard for 10 years of his life, this room was like a mansion. The sheets were a reddish color and the comforter was blue. They were the only things in the room that looked new. Everything else seemed to have been sitting there and rotting for 30 years- “well I suppose it had.” Thought Harry.

He set his stuff down and sat on the bed. He was tempted to look through the desk, as he was a bit nosey sometimes. He started toward it and sat down at the chair. It almost gave out at Harry’s weight the second he plopped down on it. He stared at it for a while and pulled on the golden handle that opened the bottom drawer. Inside was only some old parchment and quill. There was also an empty bottle of ink that Harry assumed was either used up or dried out over time. It all was quite boring, so Harry decided to wander around a bit. He set his jacket down on the bed and set back off for the unlit hallway.

As Harry stood in the hallway he contemplated where he should go. He looked around and then up. He stopped and noticed that there was an attic door opening with a string hanging to pull down the ladder. He slowly walked toward it cause he didn’t want to be too loud incase he wasn’t allowed to be up there. He did stop for a second and consider whether or not it was a good idea to go into the attic. Dinner was almost ready and he wasn’t sure if he was allowed up there. After sort of careful consideration though, he still made his way up the rickety ladder.

The attic had a dusty smell to it. Harry could feel the 30 plus layers of dust traveling up his nose and down to his lungs. He coughed into his shirt sleeve, trying to conceal that he was upstairs. The attic was cold as well, but not in a temperature way. More of a lonely way, like no one had been up there in years. The attic was practically filled to the brim with boxes of stuff. He looked around a bit, but nothing caught his attention. That is, until he saw a small box labeled James sitting in the corner of the room. He made his way to it, eager to find out what things of his fathers Sirius still has. He picked up the box and sat on the attic floor in its place. It wasn’t very heavy and it was also untaped. He set the box on his lap and began to open it. Inside he saw only 3 things, including a quidditch trophy from 1974, a few Spider-Man comics from the 70’s, and a journal. Harry had to admit he was a little hesitant to open the journal. Last time he found a journal it turned out to be the ghost of Tom Riddle and he was going around petrifying people with a basilisk. He even forced Ginny Weasly to do his dirty work for him. Thinking about that time during his second year surprisingly reassured Harry that nothing can be as bad as that.

He opened the journal and saw that there were entries all throughout. Turns out it was a diary from his dads time at Hogwarts. The first entry was from 4 October, 1975. Almost exactly 10 years ago. Harry started to read in hopes to find a connection with his dad. The only other time he felt that way was when he played quidditch, and he desperately craved a way to know his family better. He never got the chance to know either of his parents personally. He only heard the same things from everyone else; His mother was bright and his father was a prankster.

4 October , 1975

Today was the first day of quidditch practice for this year's season. I saw Regulus in the air practicing as well. He looked so beautiful from that angle. Like he was an angel. Or perhaps a demon sent to tempt me. Unfortunately, it was working a little too well. Everytime I see him, it’ s like my heart swells up and might just burst. I feel a little bad for Lily, even though we never dated or anything, I still told her I liked her for 4 years. I’m just glad she never felt the same. I also feel bad for Sirius. I mean what kind of best friend falls for his best friend's baby brother. I mean it’ s not like I’d act on these feelings anyway. Not unless I got Sirius’ blessing which I know he would never give. That kinda sucks doesn’ t it? I suppose I ought to go to bed. I have more practice in the morning. At least I can watch from a distance right?

Harry’s jaw had dropped and his eyes had completely bugged out. He could not believe what he just read. His head and heart started to pound in synchronization as the words lightly uttered out of his mouth. “My dad and Sirius’ little brother?” Harry had a fear behind his voice. Almost as if he was scared of his own thoughts about this. While he had no problem with homosexuals, he never really knew any, and he certainly didn’t think his father would be one. About a million thoughts raced through Harry’s brain. However, the one that stuck out the most was “Does this mean my dad never loved my mom?” This thought terrified him. If it were true that would mean everything he had ever been told was a lie.

“Harry? Would you like to come down for dinner?” Sirius faintly shouted from the bottom of the stairs. Harry forced himself out of his trance to answer him back. “Yeah, I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Alright.” Harry heard back. He quickly stood and set the box back in its spot. He kept the diary and swiftly climbed back down the ladder to shut the door on the ceiling. He went into his room and shoved the diary in his jacket’s inner pocket. He made his way downstairs trying to remain calm and get through this dinner as fast as he could because oddly enough, Harry found himself wanting to read more.

Links to more chapters(will add as I continue to write)

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

[sunnyie-eve]

49 | Type

Series: Unexpected

Paring: (Matt Sturniolo x OFC Brock!) (Chris Sturniolo x OFC Brock!)

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Matt jelly

| MASTERLIST |

Today Dani was having a guest on her channel that wasn't any of the boys. Honestly, Matt didn't like who her guest was because he knew how some of her fans were. They shipped her with almost every dude she talked to and knew.

"Did it have to be him?" Matt watches Dani play on her phone as they hung out in her room.

"Do you prefer your brother? You know, the one that everyone at the moment says we would've been a cute couple?" She looks up from her phone to look at him.

"That's stupid because you told him he missed his chance." Matt rolls onto his back, "So they need to stop staying they want it to happen." He adds then says in a mocking tone while making a face, "They would be such a good match for each other. Why can't she just agree to be his?"

"If they only knew I was yours." Dani leans over smiling before giving him a kiss.

"That's the only damn reason I want people to know." He sits up, "You're mine. Not his or anyone else." Dani giggles as he pulls her closer so he can hold her, "If guys wanted to they could try making a move on you because to them you're single."

"They could try but my answer would always be the same. No." She grabs his face to kiss him, "Now, stop pouting about me filming with Carrington." She moves away from him.

When he arrives they get into her car parked in front of the house, "Hi." Dani starts her car video, "I'm sure y'all know Carrington." She adds, "He's my first guest that's not my roommates or brother." She says as he smiles.

"I'm very honored."

"And this is only happening because Jake and Tara talked us into this. This is our first time hanging out alone." She laughs.

"That's why I'm nervous. It's new and I'm never like this." He laughs now, "But it's exciting."

Dani agrees nodding her head going for her phone but she didn't have it with her, "Oh, I forgot something inside." She motions towards the house.

"It's okay." He lets her know.

"I'll be quick." She opens the car door.

"Again, it's okay." He chuckles as she rushes inside. "Yeah, so we're doing this because our friends wanted us to." He starts to talk to the camera by himself, "We said okay. Okay guys. But today... We're here to gossip. What a great way to get to know each other. From what I see and know Dani seems amazing."

"Was I quick?" Dani rejoins Carrington in the car.

"Yeah, I've just been ranting to the viewers." He lets her know.

"Again, I'm sorry. I don't know how I forgot my phone inside."

"It didn't bug me." He says before changing the topic, "You know people said you have a type? Have you seen that?" He asks her.

"What?" She was confused never seeing such a thing.

"Yeah like..."

"How?" She laughs.

"Because when we had that group get together last week at Jake's. We were chatting in the background of a video Jake posted so people say you have a type." He explains to her then sees one on the guys leaving, "Oh look, a triplet is leaving."

"Matt." She waves at him so he waves back.

"But because we talked people think your type is brunettes with blue eyes." Carrington goes back to what they were talking about, "I feel like that is such a reach." He laughs, "Just because you're close to three others that fit that. What do you think?" He asks her.

"Actually, they aren't wrong for once." She giggles.

"So that's actually your type when it comes to looks? Is it the eyes that do it for you?" He gives her a look and she smiles since that was the main thing.

"Some blue eyes are just so beautiful." She tells him, "You, the triplets, Colby's and Sam's. I have dark blue but light ones..." She smiles more as Carrington looks at her.

"I love yours." He lets her know.

"Really?"

"Yeah, it's a deep blue." He nods his head.

"But yeah, my ex and everyone I've even had a crush on had light blue eyes." She tells him.

"Now people are gonna assume." He gives her a look and she nods her head rolling her eyes a bit.

"You and the other two."

"Just because someone fits that look doesn't automatically mean you like them. You can find them attractive but you aren't attracted to their personality." He goes on to add what he believes in.

"You completely get it. You and the triplets are good looking but I don't automatically have feelings for y'all."

"That would be odd." He laughs, "It's... Can you imagine just having feelings for someone based on how they look?"

"Good looking but is the biggest red flag." She adds.

"Like it's fine to be attracted to someone but you can't just go off of that. Don't do that guys." Carrington looks right into the camera, "Be smart."

"Be attracted to their personality." Dani does the same, "That's way better than looks."

"Looks are a bonus, guys, trust me." Carrington tells the viewers.

"Personality, looks." Dani makes a top three list, "What's third?" She asks him.

"I don't know." He thinks, "I don't know, you gotta be funny as well." He starts to laugh.

After about another like 20 minutes they finish up then he leaves while Dani goes back inside. Matt was still out and about so Dani got to rest by getting some time alone. With it being quiet Dani decided to take a nap because she woke up at 5:30am for some reason. 

When Matt gets back home, after buying stuff for around the house and food, he goes to Dani's room to see her sleeping. Not having anything to do and bored out of his mind he slides into her bed next to her.

Immediately, his arms slip around her from behind, slotting himself right up against her back. The gentle press of her spine against his chest makes him smile to himself because he can never get enough of how fucking perfectly she fit there. Leaning forward he press his mouth to the soft skin of her shoulder, peppering a few soft kisses there.

Dani hums keeping her eyes shut, "What?" She quietly mumbles still super tired.

"I wanna nap too." He whispers to her as he nudges his nose against the side of her neck. Dani hums in response moving her hand to rest over the one Matt has pressed against her stomach.

Matt grins against her skin. "Love you." His breath warm against her neck. He made sure not to say I this time because he didn't want to scare her again like last time.

Both of them succumb to the comfort of being with one another, "I love you too." She whispers so quietly Matt almost didn't hear her. He stays silent with a smile across his face as his fingers intertwine with hers before allowing himself to fall asleep as well.