#I'm not rooting for him but love to see him on screen

[honeydippedfiction]

Congrats on 1k lovely!!!! Your works are so good, I think I might be addicted lol.

For the special can I get Herbo with 5 and 9 from the Established Relationship list? 🩷

1k & Birthday Bash nav | main navigation | reqs | table of contents

#5. Learning to do your hair. & #9. Using your partner's phone and discovering a note that has all of your likes/dislikes/food orders etc. written

Justin Herbert x black!femreader

Justin Herbert had faced edge rushers and blitzes that gave lesser quarterbacks nightmares, but standing in the softly lit bathroom of the home he shared with his girlfriend, he held a wide-tooth comb like it was a foreign object. The bottle of leave-in conditioner in his other hand felt more like a potion from an unfamiliar world than a haircare essential.

Across from him, perched on the edge of the bathtub with her freshly washed, coily hair sectioned and clipped into four even parts, she arched an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“Okay,” she said, handing him a detangling brush for reinforcement, “you’re on back section duty. I already twisted the front. Just start from the ends and work your way up. And be gentle, please. My scalp’s not a defensive line.”

Justin smiled, shaking his head as he knelt behind her. “I’m trying, babe, but you know this is more complex than any NFL playbook I’ve seen.”

She laughed, and the sound bounced off the tiled walls. “Then you better study up, QB1. My hair doesn’t care about your quarterback rating.”

He leaned forward, inhaling the scent of her—coconut and something warm and honeyed, like home. “Fair enough. But you better give me a grade at the end.”

“You’ll get a grade and an attitude if you mess up my parts.”

With a chuckle, he carefully began working the conditioner through the ends of one thick, springy section. He respected this process—how intentional it was, how rooted in care and ritual. Wash day wasn’t just about hair. It was about restoration. About taking time.

It was sacred.

And today, for the first time, she had invited him into it.

For the next few minutes, the bathroom filled with a quiet rhythm—the gentle pull of the comb through curls, the occasional “Ow—watch it!” from her, and Justin’s sheepish “Sorry, sorry!” like a man trying to disarm a bomb he barely understood.

Somewhere between finger-detangling and parting, his phone buzzed where it sat charging on the counter. He ignored it at first, too focused on the section he was working through—its tight curls reminding him of tiny springs, beautiful and complex.

Then it buzzed again. And again.

“Hey,” he said, pausing with the comb halfway through her hair, “can you check that? Hands are kinda full.”

Y/N leaned over and grabbed his phone, her fingers slick with oil and cream. “You sure? This feels like a trap. If I see something scandalous, I reserve the right to throw it in the sink.”

He grinned. “Go ahead. It’s probably just my agent. And while you're at it, can you put on some music? This silence is making me nervous. Feels like I'm being judged by your ancestors.”

“Trust me, they are watching,” she teased, unlocking his phone. “And judging your parting skills.”

As she swiped to the messages, a notification from his Notes app caught her attention—just a line at the top of the screen, no title, just a glimpse:

“Y/N’s coffee order: matcha, oat milk, half sweet…”

Curious, she tapped.

What opened wasn’t just a note.

It was a love letter in bullet points.

Y/N – Things to Remember

Favorite coffee: oat milk matcha, half sweet

Eggs: always with green hot sauce

Wash day: Sundays. Be patient. Let her guide you

Doesn’t like mushrooms, loves shrimp tacos

Music: old-school R&B in the morning, jazz at night

Pancakes over waffles. Always.

Don’t touch her hair unless she invites you

Laughs hardest at dumb puns

Skincare = gospel. Never finish her cleanser

Movie that makes her cry every time: Eternal Sunshine

Gets quiet when overwhelmed. Just hold her. No advice.

Dog person. Like... capital-D Dog Person

Loves the beach but won’t swim past her waist

Never says no to a bookstore date

Favorite flower: marigolds, even though she says she doesn’t care about flowers

Smells like coconut oil and warmth

Twist-outs = magic. Twist-outs = science. Respect the twist-out.

She stopped reading halfway through, her fingers hovering over the screen, heart caught in her throat.

He hadn’t just been listening—he had been remembering. Writing it down. Studying her like a language he was determined to become fluent in.

Behind her, Justin was still carefully combing through a stubborn coil, humming softly under his breath. He didn’t even know what she’d found.

“Jus,” she said, her voice quieter than before, “what is this?”

He looked up in the mirror, confusion crossing his face until he saw what she was holding.

“Oh,” he said, ears reddening. “That’s just... something I started a while ago. I didn’t want to forget the little things.”

Y/N turned on the stool to face him, cradling his phone as if it were something precious.

“You wrote all this down. For me?”

“I mean, yeah.” He scratched the back of his neck with the hand not holding the comb. “I know I’m not exactly an expert on... well, anything in your world. But I wanted to understand. Not just your hair stuff, but you. All of you.”

Her eyes shimmered, and she blinked quickly, swallowing hard.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever done that before,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.

“Done what?”

“Paid attention like that.”

He took the phone from her gently, setting it aside. Then he cupped her face with one hand, the other still resting in the middle of a half-detangled twist.

“Well,” he said softly, “you matter to me. I want to know how to love you right. Even if it starts with green hot sauce and Sunday hair routines.”

For a long, quiet moment, she just looked at him. At the man who could throw a football sixty yards downfield under pressure, but still sat here now, gently separating her coils with reverence and curiosity.

She reached up and kissed him, slow and sweet, her hand curling around the back of his neck.

“I love you,” she whispered when they pulled apart.

“I love you too,” he murmured. “Even if your hair is winning this round.”

She laughed, the sound more open now, full of something lighter. Happier. “You’re not doing too bad. You get, like, a solid B-plus. Maybe even an A-minus if you stop yanking.”

He looked mock-offended. “Yanking? I’m working with the precision of a neurosurgeon over here.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” she said, turning back around.

He smiled to himself, applying more leave-in conditioner to the next section.

Outside, the sun began to set, casting golden light through the window. Inside, the scent of coconut and lemongrass floated through the air, mingling with the soft crackle of an R&B playlist Y/N had queued up after all.

It wasn’t just wash day anymore.

It was something else entirely—something tender and unfolding. A small ritual turned into a shared act of care. A reminder that love, real love, was made up of these moments: fingers learning curl patterns, memories folded into notes, and the quiet miracle of being fully seen.

And in that little bathroom, in the calm between rinses and twists, Justin Herbert knew: this was the most important play he’d ever run.

[certaimromance]

ꫂ ၴႅၴ Tall Child II.

Father figure!Hotch x BAU!reader

part one | series mastelist | main masterlist

Summary: Returning to work after such a long absence is never easy, but trying to understand your boss without failing is even worse.

Words: 3,3k.

Warnings & Tags: mentions of crime and the reader's old shoulder injury. angst WITH open ending. hotch being a father figure. the reader having bad thoughts and the team not being a good team with her. father and rebellious daughter type relationship. temporarily located in the first season. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: Helloo Tall Child lovers, I hope you like this and that it will be a sequel according to your expectations. I'm sorry for the delay, but the complexity of this relationship made my job difficult, as I never thought of writing more with this reader in the first place, and I was very surprised that you liked it so much.

So I'm pleased to tell you that I've made an exclusive list with this reader because I'd love to explore more of this through other seasons and situations not necessarily canon, feel free to send your request if you have specific ideas with this reader!

Six weeks later.

The air in the BAU was colder than you remembered, not just in temperature but in feeling; it was a sterile, impersonal chill that clung to your skin like mist. Every echoing footstep in the polished corridors seemed louder, like the walls themselves were holding their breath. It wasn’t just the recycled air hissing through the vents or the fluorescent lighting that buzzed too harshly overhead. No, this cold ran deeper. It had taken root inside you during those long, suffocating weeks locked away in your apartment, when the silence had pressed in on all sides and the world had narrowed to four walls and the weight of your own thoughts. This was the cold of absence. Of isolation. Of walking back into a life that had kept moving without you.

You stood at the entrance, your badge clipped to your belt, your go-bag slung over one shoulder. From the outside, it looked like you were fine. Recovered. Rested. As focused and willing to work as ever. But on the inside, you were still picking up pieces.

The place hadn’t changed, but you hadn’t expected it to. Reid’s desk was just as you remembered: clean, almost painfully so, every file color-coded and aligned with obsessive precision. The chessboard still sat in its usual spot off to the side, pieces mid-game, like he was still chasing the perfect strategy that might finally let him beat Gideon. Across the bullpen, the computer screens all flickered in perfect rhythm, except for Morgan’s, which pulsed in shades of bright pink. You didn’t need to see her to know Garcia was up to something again, probably testing out some new system or just trying to annoy him in that way only she could pull off. The coffee pot sputtered and hissed in the background, steady and familiar, its bitter scent weaving through the air like it never left.

And then, your gaze landed on the far wall: Hotch’s office. The door was closed. Blinds drawn. The same as always, and yet now it felt heavier somehow. Imposing. Like, just the sight of it pulled your shoulders tighter. You found yourself wishing he wasn’t there. Wishing you could walk in without that cold knot twisting in your stomach.

Damn, you weren’t supposed to be afraid of him now.

A few heads turned when you stepped in. The room didn’t go silent, but it shifted. You felt it, eyes lingering just a second too long, hushed words dying mid-sentence. And then JJ was there, walking toward you with that soft, careful smile people wore around broken things like you.

“Hey,” she said gently, arms opening without hesitation.

You let her pull you into a hug. Her perfume was the same as always. So floral and grounding. You closed your eyes for a second, just enough to feel the safety in it. But it passed quickly.

“You look better,” she added softly. You didn’t say thank you.

She said better, not good.

Morgan and Elle came next, their footsteps steady, familiar, grounding in a way that almost made your throat tighten. “There’s the prodigal agent,” one of them said with a crooked smile—maybe him, maybe her—you weren’t paying close enough attention to tell. Your focus was locked on their faces, not their voices. Their smiles were genuine, warm even, but just behind them, something else flickered. Worry. Maybe guilt. Maybe both. It was there in the brief glance they exchanged when they thought you wouldn’t notice, in the way Elle’s arms crossed just a little too tightly over her chest, in how Morgan’s usual swagger was tempered by something quieter.

But Reid was the hardest to face. He hovered, hesitating, unsure if he should say something or just let it go. In the end, he gave you a small, tentative smile and an awkward “Hi,” as if six weeks hadn’t passed. As if he hadn’t been the reason your stomach still twisted with guilt every time you closed your eyes.

You nodded and whispered, “Hey.” That was all you could manage.

But then came the moment you had been both dreading and aching for so long it had carved itself into the rhythm of your days. The soft creak of the door swinging open sliced through the low hum of conversation like a knife. You didn’t need to look to know it was him. The measured, deliberate sound of his polished shoes crossing the bullpen floor was unmistakable, as familiar as it was unsettling. Each step seemed to echo louder than it should have, like the room itself tensed in his presence.

And there he was. Aaron Hotchner. As composed and unreadable as ever, every inch of him radiated quiet authority. His presence hit like a pressure drop in the atmosphere, pressing down on your chest and making the space around you feel impossibly large and impossibly small all at once. Like suddenly, you didn’t know where to stand. Like suddenly, you weren’t sure if you even belonged in that space anymore. Like suddenly, you were a child who had been punished for bad behavior.

You had imagined this moment a hundred times.

None of them felt like this.

He didn’t say anything at first. He stood there, just a few feet away, arms folded, that familiar, unreadable expression settling over his face like a mask. The same one that used to make your pulse quicken, that used to leave you guessing, second-guessing yourself.

But not this time.

This time, you didn’t flinch. You met his stare head-on, feeling the weight of his gaze like a hand around your throat—but you refused to shrink. Not again. You’d spent too long folding yourself into smaller and smaller shapes, twisting and bleeding just to fit into the narrow mold of what he expected, of what he trusted. And for what? For this? For distance and doubt? No more. That part of you—the desperate part—was dead and buried. Or if it wasn’t yet, you were damn sure going to kill it. You lifted your chin, defiance burning in your chest like a second heartbeat, daring him to look at you and still pretend you were invisible.

“I’m back,” you said, voice low but steady. “Just like the paperwork says.”

Your boss studied you for a moment longer than necessary, his gaze flicking to your shoulder—the one that still bore the memory of your injury, the phantom weight of everything you’d lost—before settling back into that cold, distant mask of his. That unreadable expression he wore so well, the one that used to make you feel safe because it meant he was in control. Now, it just made you feel small. Disposable.

And for a moment—just one cruel, flickering moment—you almost believed that he’d step forward. That he’d close the distance. That he’d reach out and gently touch your shoulder, like he used to when things were too heavy, too hard. You almost believed he would look you in the eye, say your name like it meant something, and tell you he was sorry. Sorry for the silence. Sorry for the coldness. Sorry for the suspension. Sorry for treating you like a child.

You almost believed he would say he trusted you. That he still saw you, still believed in you, even if it was a little. That he understood why you did what you did. That you weren’t broken. That he didn’t think of you as a liability or a ticking clock counting down to another failure.

You almost believed he would tell you it was going to be okay.

But it didn’t happen.

He just looked away. Not with malice. Not with cruelty. But with distance. Like someone turning from a photograph that had faded in time. And you felt the sting of it—quiet, precise, brutal. Not just the rejection of your role, but the absence of something far deeper.

It wasn’t the pain of being forgotten.

It was the pain of never being seen.

“We’re glad to have you back,” he said, his voice the same steady, measured cadence it had always been.

But it wasn’t the words that stung; it was the way they landed. Clinical. Safe. Like a statement recited for formality’s sake rather than spoken from any real feeling.

Not I’m glad.

We’re glad.

That single word change twisted like a knife in your chest.

“Right,” you said, the word escaping before you could hold it back. Your eyes burned with something you refused to let spill over. “Glad to be back, I guess.”

Hotch didn’t flinch. Of course he didn’t.

There was a long silence between you two. He studied you, just like before, but this time it felt colder. Like he was looking for something you didn’t have anymore.

You couldn’t stand it. You turned away quickly, your body betraying you as your chest tightened and your breath quickened. You were better than this. You were stronger than this.

The case came in shortly after: a triple homicide in Maryland. The kind of case that had all the hallmarks of a nightmare: brutal, violent, unsolved. You didn’t think you were ready for fieldwork. In fact, you didn’t think you could even look at another case without feeling like an imposter, like a stranger in your own skin. The idea of diving back into it, back into the chaos, felt overwhelming. But you didn’t have a choice. There were no other options. And Aaron was too careful now to give you the responsibility of leading your partner again. Not after everything that had happened.

“Morgan leads. JJ, handle media. Reid, consult with the coroner. Elle, talk to the families.”

And then, without a single glance in your direction, he turned to you and said, “You’ll assist.”

No lead. No profile. No responsibility. Just…observe.

Support.

The word echoed in your head, bruising you in places you hadn’t even realized were tender. Support. As if that was all you were good for now. The sharp ache of betrayal twisted inside your chest, but you couldn’t—wouldn’t—let it show. You didn’t argue. Not out loud. But it burned. Every cell in your body screamed in protest, but you held it in, forced it back down where no one could see.

On the jet, the silence between you and Hotch was like a thick fog, heavy and suffocating. You sat across from him, your hands folded in your lap, your eyes glued to the window as the world outside blurred by. But you could feel him. You could feel the weight of his eyes on you, though he didn’t meet your gaze directly. He kept glancing at your shoulder, the one that still bore the ugly scar of your injury. His eyes flicked there so many times, and each time they quickly darted away, as if caught between something you couldn’t tell.

And it wasn't just him. The whole team had noticed it, the little looks they gave you when they thought you weren't looking, the way their conversations were interrupted when you walked into a room, and they automatically faked their best smile at you. You could feel the tension in the air, like they were all waiting for you to sink or swim, to show you still had something to give.

In the field, you did your job. You fell into the motions like muscle memory: keeping your voice calm, your observations sharp, and your hands steady. You kept your face neutral, even when the case began to grind you down, piece by piece. But every decision Hotch or Gideon made went through Morgan. Every suggestion you made was quietly nodded at but never acted upon. You could almost hear the quiet hum of judgment in the air every time you tried to assert yourself. You were invisible.

It was like walking through fog. You were there, but no one could see you. No one really saw you.

You were present but unseen. You were nothing more than a shadow, drifting through the motions.

And, of course, back at the hotel it was the same. You kept to yourself, retreated into the quiet of your room, away from their pitying stares. The team trickled in, chatting amongst themselves, but you didn’t join them. They didn’t expect you to. Instead, you made a lie about being tired and about having a headache, and you hid behind it.

So you sat on your bed instead, the room dimly lit by the glow of a muted TV. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the faint hum of the electronics and the occasional shuffle of your own restless thoughts. The takeout boxes sat untouched on the desk, still sealed in their flimsy plastic containers. Your service weapon rested next to your badge on the nightstand, a weightless echo of a dream that no longer seemed to matter.

The knock came at 10:43 p.m.

You hesitated, fingers frozen over the blanket, eyes flicking to the door. Part of you considered ignoring it, pretending you didn’t hear, pretending the world outside wasn’t so close. But something in your gut told you who it was.

With a sigh that felt too heavy for such a small sound, you stood up and moved toward the door, your movements stiff and reluctant. You opened it, and there he was: your lovely boss. Standing there, holding a white takeout bag with the same purposeful, composed demeanor he always had.

“I figured you didn’t eat,” he said, his voice soft, as if offering something much bigger than just food. His hand extended toward you, the scent of it wafting up with the slight steam still rising from the dish. “Chicken teriyaki. No onions.”

Your heart clenched, hard and sudden. Of course he remembered.

He always remembered.

It was the smallest things, the details he’d tucked away in his mind, that made your chest tighten like this, like a dam about to crack. You took the food from his outstretched hand, your fingers brushing his briefly, and stepped aside to let him in, but he didn’t move.

He just stood there, his posture stiff, his eyes avoiding yours in that way that felt both respectful and…uncomfortably distant.

It felt less like your boss checking in and more like a parent standing awkwardly outside a teenager’s door, unsure if they were about to be let in or shut out.

“You didn’t have to,” you muttered, voice almost a whisper, as if you were apologizing for the inconvenience. You weren’t sure why it came out that way, it wasn’t him you were apologizing to. Not really.

“I know,” he replied, his voice calm, careful, as though he were trying to measure every word. He stood there for a long moment, looking at you but not really seeing you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and the ground.

Then he shifted slightly, glancing at the takeout bag in his hand. “There’s also a dessert, but you should eat the real food first.”

His words felt like they were layered with more than just concern for your well-being. It was the way he said it, like he was directing you, guiding you—not as a colleague, not as a boss, but as someone who felt responsible for making sure you didn’t fall apart.

And then, you knew it.

You weren’t a grown adult in his eyes right now. You were someone he had to take care of, like a child who didn’t know how to care for themselves anymore.

“You still don’t trust me,” you said finally, voice low but steady. It wasn’t a sharp edge, not a challenge.

Hotch’s eyes flicked to yours, then dropped again—quick, involuntary. Like the words hurt to hear, even if he’d been expecting them.

He exhaled slowly through his nose. “That’s not true.”

“Then why am I stuck on the sidelines?” you asked, and this time the question came harsher, more bitter than you intended. You didn’t mean to sound wounded, but the words carried it anyway. “Why am I the one just…watching? Observing, while everyone else is doing the job I’ve trained my whole damn life to do?”

His silence came fast and thick, and it stretched too long, long enough to confirm what you already suspected. The answer, when it came, landed like a blow.

“Because I need to know you’re okay,” he said, quiet but firm. “Before I put someone else’s life in your hands again.”

Ouch.

You flinched. Not dramatically, just enough for him to see it. Just enough for you to feel it ripple through your spine like heat. The air in the room shifted, charged and sharp, like an old scab torn open.

“I thought you said this wasn’t personal,” you said, hating the way your voice cracked around the edges.

“It’s not,” Hotch said, voice tight.

You stared at him. Really stared. The lines around his eyes are deeper now. The tension in his jaw, the stiffness in his shoulders, was like this conversation was another weight he didn’t know how to carry.

“Sure feels personal.”

There was a flicker of something behind his eyes—guilt, maybe, or regret—but it passed too fast to name. He didn’t deny it. Didn’t try to spin it.

Instead, he said quietly, “You scared me that day.”

You froze.

He wasn’t looking at you now. He was looking past you, somewhere far away. Like he was remembering it. The day it all went sideways. The weight of the call he had to make to the ambulance. The fallout. The blood and your tears.

“You scared all of us,” he added, softer now. “But me the most.”

The confession hit harder than you expected. Not because he was admitting fear, but because he still couldn’t look at you when he said it. Because even after all this time, all this effort, it still felt like he hadn’t let go of that fear.

“I know I made mistakes,” you said, your voice quieter now. Controlled. Trying to be steady, even as your throat tightened. “I know I lost control. I know I…crossed lines.”

You stopped. Breathed. Tried to gather the rest of it.

“But I’m not—” You hesitated. The word was right there. Lodged between your teeth.

Not broken.

You weren’t even sure you believed it anymore.

Hotch finally looked at you, really looked, and when he spoke, it was softer than before. “I know. That’s why I approved your return.”

You searched his face, looking for judgment or disappointment. But what you saw instead surprised you.

Tiredness. Not just the kind that came from stress or long nights of cases but the kind that came from caring too much and not knowing how to show it without screwing everything up.

It disarmed you.

“I didn’t mean what I said,” you murmured, almost ashamed. “About Reid. About your kid. Or you.”

He nodded, just once. Small. Measured.

“I know,” he said. “But it still touched a nerve.”

That landed harder than any reprimand. No raised voice. No lecture. Just the simple truth of it, that what you said had stuck to him like shrapnel.

The silence that followed was quieter now, less tense, less heavy. Something between you was shifting. Mending, maybe.

“I’m not broken,” you said suddenly, with more force than you expected. The words tumbled out before you could second-guess them. “I’ve been hurt. I’ve been…off. But I’m not broken.”

Hotch looked at you for a long moment, then nodded slowly.

“I never said you were.”

“You acted like it.”

He sighed, eyes dropping again. “Maybe I was afraid.”

Your brow furrowed. “Of what?”

He hesitated. Then, quietly: “That if I pushed you harder, I’d be the one who broke you.”

The breath caught in your throat.

“I didn’t think you were weak,” he added. “I just didn’t want to watch you fall apart.”

Your chest ached.

“I already did,” you said.

“I know.”

He turned to leave, then paused at the threshold.

“I’m glad you’re back,” he said finally, without looking at you. “Even if it doesn’t feel like it yet.”

And then he was gone, leaving the door open just a crack behind him.

Just in case you needed to follow.

[seitmai]

Many thoughts

“C’mon,” Bradley rasps quietly, exasperated, obviously trying not to wake you when Jake pulls off his cock with a pop. Again. He’s already edged Bradley several times; seemingly taking over your usual role of playing with fire, testing to see if he’ll get burnt. “Let’s see if you can make me cum before Livi wakes up.” You’ve already been awake for a while, roused by their less-than-subtle movements on your too-small queen bed and kept up by their failed attempts to stay quiet. Bradley was uncharacteristically pliable this morning and Jake was taking full advantage of it. So you continue to feign sleep, curious how this would play out.

Oh early morning seen, I see 😅

“Promise me,” Jake whispers, the sound of his hand stripping Bradley’s saliva-soaked cock louder than his words, “promise you’ll finally fuck me when we win and I’ll let you cum.”

Excuse me, is someone forming alliances here?

“You’re not going to,” Jake whispers hotly when you break it, his eyes dipping to your lips as if he wants to go back in. Bradley’s chest heaves in the corner of your eye. “I wanna know,” Bradley asks, sounding a bit desperate as his hand slides up your thigh, gripping the meat of your ass, breaking the tension between you and Jake.

Bradley can't not know, he is so nosy🤭

“While you…what?” Jake prompts with a smirk when you trail off, your riding becoming sloppy with his assault on your clit. “While I fuck your ass with my dildo,” you manage to get out before the pleasure overtakes you. Bradley’s there too, unable to fight it any longer. He cums inside you with a tortured groan as your pussy milks around him. Jake guides you off Bradley and pushes inside your still-clenching cunt before you have a chance to fully recover, the sound of your and Bradley’s release is loud, wet and lewd as Jake’s hips piston into yours.

🥵🥵🥵

“Better make sure you don’t lose then,” you taunt, gasping and tightening when Bradley slaps your clit again.

Game on 🤭

After chaste kisses and “I love you”s to each, tears fill your eyes as you wave them off. You can’t seem to stop crying though on the drive to work and have to refrain from setting the copier on fire when it beeps, signaling it’s out of paper. Then you start cramping and it all makes sense.

Urgh, of course all is happening at once

Nighttime is the worst. It’s too quiet without Bradley’s snores and the bed is cold when you turn over seeking warmth.

I bet Bradley is always vehemently denying that he snores 😅

Jake loves lingerie and Bradley…well, he loves your ass.

Well 😌

Jake: That’s not fair

Who's said this is alle fair game 🤷🏻‍♀️

Jake: Fuck. It’s somehow so much worse knowing you’re in the bunk below me and I can’t do anything about it.

Tensions are high 🤭

You hold your breath and white-knuckle the sheets as you watch them devour each other in what looks to be a supply closet. The tension is palpable, even through the screen, hands sliding over flexing muscles, tangling in hair, rubbing, gripping, and pulling the other. Their heavy breathing and soft groans are dizzying and you nearly whimper when they break apart, chests heaving and erections thick and prominent in their boxer briefs. Bradley smirks and Jake fucking winks before he ends the video.

Geez 😮‍💨🥵

No one has caved and with only two days left before they’re due back, you’re starting to think it’s going to be a draw.

That too would be interesting 👀

But the Kazansky stubbornness comes through and you manage to resist.

I'm so rooting for her 🥺

It hasn’t been easy for Bradley and Jake either. It’s a different kind of torture to be so close to each other at all times and not be able to touch, barring the few times they’ve snuck off to tease Liv with a show. Neither sleep well on the carrier to begin with, and working each other up just to be denied sweet release makes it worse. But more than the sex, they miss you. While they have each other, but it’s not the same without your comforting, easy presence.

Oh, these two horny simps 🥰

But as he rolls over to try and get back to sleep, he hears the reason for his early awakening. A soft, breathy sigh from the bed above his, combined with the rhythmic rustling of the shitty vinyl mattress.

Oh 👀

His body’s response to the sweet, familiar sound is dizzying, his cock filling instantly. He releases a shuddery breath as he shoves into his boxer briefs to fist himself. But he freezes on the second pull, thankfully remembering the bet. Jake must’ve forgotten too.

Close call, but apparently not for Jake 🤭

“I just lost the fucking bet,” he mumbles, attempting to hide his face again, but Bradley’s grip tightens in his hair, not allowing it. Jake’s eyes flutter as a shiver wracks his body. “Didn’t mean to.” “I know,” Bradley coos softly, “but it doesn’t matter. You still lost.” Jake meets his eyes and nods, almost pouting. “Meet me in the bathroom in 2 minutes,” Bradley releases his hair to pat his cheek, “leave your boxers on.”

I have a feeling that Jake will be a sore loser, but not in the classical understanding 🤭

Another one arrives and you choke on your coffee. It’s Jake on his knees, mouth full of Bradley’s cock.

Your face burns at work as you open the picture that just came through. Jake’s in front of the mirror, pink-cheeked, wearing nothing but his cum-stained gray Calvin Kleins, and looking to the side, almost looking embarrassed. Bradley’s grinning from behind, chin hooked on Jake’s shoulder.

I can picture this so vividly 🤤

Well now that the bet is lost, it's all in 🤭😅

I Love You Two

Part 14

(previous part here, next part here)

Bradley Bradshaw x OFC x Jake Seresin.

Summary: Everyone’s suffering while the boys are away. Someone loses the bet.

Warnings: Adults (18+) only! MDNI! Likely military inaccuracies, unprotected p in v, pussy slapping, teasing, sexting, mentions of oral (m receiving).

.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.

“C’mon,” Bradley rasps quietly, exasperated, obviously trying not to wake you when Jake pulls off his cock with a pop. Again. He’s already edged Bradley several times; seemingly taking over your usual role of playing with fire, testing to see if he’ll get burnt. “Let’s see if you can make me cum before Livi wakes up.”

You’ve already been awake for a while, roused by their less-than-subtle movements on your too-small queen bed and kept up by their failed attempts to stay quiet. Bradley was uncharacteristically pliable this morning and Jake was taking full advantage of it. So you continue to feign sleep, curious how this would play out.

“Promise me,” Jake whispers, the sound of his hand stripping Bradley’s saliva-soaked cock louder than his words, “promise you’ll finally fuck me when we win and I’ll let you cum.”

“Fu-fuck,” Bradley stutters, trying and failing to keep his hips from thrusting up into the loosening grasp when he fails to agree with Jake’s terms. “C’mon princess, that’s not fair. What about Liv?”

Good boy.

“Liv can watch,” Jake smirks, pausing to lick the precum leaking from Bradley’s tip, “while she’s tied to that chair.”

A scowl starts to pull on your face but you manage to school your expression, staying relaxed and neutral…until Bradley agrees.

“Yeah,” he breathes, jolting when Jake slides his hand down beneath his sack that’s drawing up to his body, signaling his release, “Okay.”

“Always so cocky,” you murmur, opening your eyes and sitting up to card your hand into Jake’s hair before pulling him off Bradley. “Don’t you want to know what’s going to happen when I win?”

You can taste Bradley’s bitter-salty precum when you bring Jake in by his hair for a kiss.

“You’re not going to,” Jake whispers hotly when you break it, his eyes dipping to your lips as if he wants to go back in. Bradley’s chest heaves in the corner of your eye.

“I wanna know,” Bradley asks, sounding a bit desperate as his hand slides up your thigh, gripping the meat of your ass, breaking the tension between you and Jake.

Pushing Jake back, you swing your leg over Bradley’s hips and bring the head of his cock to your entrance before sinking down slowly.

“Fuck,” you can’t help but gasp, letting your head fall back from the delicious stretch.

“Yeah Liv,” Jake’s suddenly at your back, nipping at your exposed throat, slotting his cock between your ass cheeks while you adjust to Bradley’s size, “I’m curious now too. What are you planning on the very slim chance you win?”

“Well,” you sigh, beginning to slowly ride Bradley, who’s still on the brink judging by the bruising hold he has on your hips, “if you cave first, Bradley’s going to take my ass.”

“Fuckkkkkk,” Bradley groans from your words and the way you clench when Jake finds your nipples, rolling and pinching while he rocks against your back.

“You get to watch,” you continue, turning your head to nip Jake’s lip, smiling at the way his cock jerks in interest against your lower back before nodding to the corner, “while tied to that chair.”

Jake’s expression heats further as one of his hands slides lower to your clit, making tight circles, “And Roo? If he loses?”

“I-I’m not going to lose,” Bradley says weakly before squeezing his eyes shut, about to lose it right now.

“Roo-“ you cut off with a gasp as Jake pinches your clit lightly, pushing you to the edge right along with Bradley, “Roo will watch from the chair, tied up while I…”

“While you…what?” Jake prompts with a smirk when you trail off, your riding becoming sloppy with his assault on your clit.

“While I fuck your ass with my dildo,” you manage to get out before the pleasure overtakes you.

Bradley’s there too, unable to fight it any longer. He cums inside you with a tortured groan as your pussy milks around him.

Jake guides you off Bradley and pushes inside your still-clenching cunt before you have a chance to fully recover, the sound of your and Bradley’s release is loud, wet and lewd as Jake’s hips piston into yours.

“Fuck Liv,” Jake groans, burying his face in your neck, trying to hide how much the thought of you taking his ass turns him on.

Your eyes begin to flutter but a sharp slap to your already sensitive clit makes you yelp.

“His ass is mine,” Bradley warns lowly, arching a brow in a playful challenge.

The way Bradley seamlessly slips back into his usual dominant role sends a thrill run down your spine and another sharp spike of arousal between your thighs.

It affects Jake too; he chokes, his rhythm faltering as Bradley’s possessiveness pushes him to the edge.

“Better make sure you don’t lose then,” you taunt, gasping and tightening when Bradley slaps your clit again.

“Again,” Jake pleads as he slows with a final deep thrust, cock twitching as he cums inside you, “get her there.”

Bradley smirks before he does, setting you off with a final slap.

.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.

Jake’s alarm goes off not long after, popping your post-coitus bubble.

After chaste kisses and “I love you”s to each, tears fill your eyes as you wave them off.

You can’t seem to stop crying though on the drive to work and have to refrain from setting the copier on fire when it beeps, signaling it’s out of paper.

Then you start cramping and it all makes sense.

.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.

Getting your period is a blessing in disguise; though a little miserable, sex isn’t at the forefront of your mind.

You have a feeling it’s the same for the boys; the few times they get a chance to call the first week, it’s always late, and their voices are heavy from exhaustion.

Then there’s a lull, and you don’t hear from either for several days.

It’s not their fault, but it’s frustrating. You miss them.

Nighttime is the worst. It’s too quiet without Bradley’s snores and the bed is cold when you turn over seeking warmth. The blended hints of their cologne on your sheets are maddening and images of the filthy things you’ve done between them fill your mind as you toss and turn; aching and wet.

With a little over a week to go, you’re starting to get antsy.

And you want them to feel antsy too.

.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.

The smooth satin wars with the hint of friction from the lace as you kneel on the chair that soon Bradley or Jake will be tied to. You take a slow, deep breath, composing yourself before arching your back and look innocently over your shoulder at your phone, waiting for the click of the camera.

The set you picked up at the mall are perfect; delicate red lace in the front and an open in the back, the silk bow framing your butt like a gift.

Jake loves lingerie and Bradley…well, he loves your ass.

You send the pictures with a smile and sleep finds you a little easier for the first time since they left, knowing they’ll soon be as miserable as you.

.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.

The photos are nearly forgotten until your phone buzzes the following evening.

Jake: That’s not fair

Jake: Goddamnit Liv

Roo: Olivia

Roo: Holy fuck

Roo: Holy fuck

Jake: I’m hard as a fucking rock.

Jake: Fuck

Roo: Me too

Roo: Wanna see?

The photo Bradley sends has a hot pulse of arousal racing through you before settling between your thighs. It’s dark, the curtains around his bunk drawn shut. His big hand toys with the elastic of his boxer briefs, his cock hard and straining against the thin cotton, precum staining the fabric.

Jake: Fuck. It’s somehow so much worse knowing you’re in the bunk below me and I can’t do anything about it.

Liv: Throwing in the towel, Roo?

Roo: Never.

Liv: Jake?

Jake: Nope.

Jake: I’m good.

Liv: If you say so.

.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.

Turnabout is fair play.

That’s what you tell yourself at least as you watch the video Bradley sent a few nights later.

You hold your breath and white-knuckle the sheets as you watch them devour each other in what looks to be a supply closet. The tension is palpable, even through the screen, hands sliding over flexing muscles, tangling in hair, rubbing, gripping, and pulling the other. Their heavy breathing and soft groans are dizzying and you nearly whimper when they break apart, chests heaving and erections thick and prominent in their boxer briefs.

Bradley smirks and Jake fucking winks before he ends the video.

Liv: 🖕

You toss your phone with a defeated groan, knowing sleep is going to evade you once again.

.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.

The delicious, maddening game continues; a picture here, a video there, and dirty texts sprinkled throughout.

No one has caved and with only two days left before they’re due back, you’re starting to think it’s going to be a draw.

More than once you’re tempted to give in, consequences be damned; it’s getting harder and harder to fight the need to slide your hand between your thighs, especially when you pull up the message threads.

But the Kazansky stubbornness comes through and you manage to resist.

.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.

It hasn’t been easy for Bradley and Jake either. It’s a different kind of torture to be so close to each other at all times and not be able to touch, barring the few times they’ve snuck off to tease Liv with a show. Neither sleep well on the carrier to begin with, and working each other up just to be denied sweet release makes it worse.

But more than the sex, they miss you. While they have each other, but it’s not the same without your comforting, easy presence.

Bradley rouses in his bunk, feeling like had fallen asleep just minutes before.

Soft music is playing from someone’s phone a few beds down, Bob’s grinding the shit out of his teeth across the way again, and the constant, low din of the carrier is heard under it all.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

Bradley squints at his watch. It’s only 0417.

But as he rolls over to try and get back to sleep, he hears the reason for his early awakening.

A soft, breathy sigh from the bed above his, combined with the rhythmic rustling of the shitty vinyl mattress.

His body’s response to the sweet, familiar sound is dizzying, his cock filling instantly. He releases a shuddery breath as he shoves into his boxer briefs to fist himself.

But he freezes on the second pull, thankfully remembering the bet.

Jake must’ve forgotten too.

“Hey,” Bradley whisper-yells, nudging the bottom of Jake’s bed with his knee to get his attention, “Jake!”

But Jake doesn’t respond. The rustling and heavy breathing just intensify before stopping. Bradley relaxes momentarily until he hears the low, gasped groan.

So sleep-deprieved, Bradley’s a little slow on the uptake. But his cock, still in his hand, jerks. Hopeful.

“Oh fuck,” Jake rasps sleepily and almost pained.

Bradley nearly takes his own head off in his rush to get out of bed before pulling back Jake’s curtain, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Jake’s response is muffled, his face buried in the pillow, “‘m fine.”

“What’s wrong?” Bradley whispers. It’s dark enough in the berth that he reaches out to run his fingers through Jake’s hair, smiling when the tension visibly eases in Jake’s body at his touch.

Even in the low light, Bradley can see the flush staining Jake’s cheeks when he peeks at him.

“I just lost the fucking bet,” he mumbles, attempting to hide his face again, but Bradley’s grip tightens in his hair, not allowing it.

“Oh Jake,” Bradley chuckles, suddenly realizing the rhythmic rustling above him was Jake dryhumping his mattress in his sleep. He leans in after a quick glance around to make sure no one else is awake, “You bad, bad boy.”

Jake’s eyes flutter as a shiver wracks his body. “Didn’t mean to.”

“I know,” Bradley coos softly, “but it doesn’t matter. You still lost.”

Jake meets his eyes and nods, almost pouting.

“Meet me in the bathroom in 2 minutes,” Bradley releases his hair to pat his cheek, “leave your boxers on.”

.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.

Your face burns at work as you open the picture that just came through. Jake’s in front of the mirror, pink-cheeked, wearing nothing but his cum-stained gray Calvin Kleins, and looking to the side, almost looking embarrassed. Bradley’s grinning from behind, chin hooked on Jake’s shoulder.

Roo: Someone had a wet dream

Another one arrives and you choke on your coffee. It’s Jake on his knees, mouth full of Bradley’s cock.

Roo: and I thought you’d like to see what happened after I busted him

Jake: 🖕

Jake: I would’ve been fine if you two hadn’t been teasing me nonstop

Liv: Poor thing

Jake: 🖕

Roo: Send me a video of you using the plug tonight?

Liv: Yes sir 😘

Jake: 🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕

.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.

A/N: This chapter took longer than I wanted unfortunately, I just couldn’t get it to flow right. Anywho…Liv won 😏 yay! Bradley taking her 🍑 cherry is coming up! What did you all think?

Also 👇🏻

As always, any interaction is appreciated but I LOVE hearing what you think in the comments/reblogs! Seriously, feedback helps me more than anything.

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[quietmonologues]

I think the reason why I don't care for reading an Azriel book, is because he feels like a "settled" character. To me, he isn't positioned to gain anything profound or substantial (other than love) because he already has things that characters normally gain when they go on their character journeys.

I'll use ACOSF as an example. Maybe unpopular opinion but I see that book as Nesta's story instead of Nesta and Cassian's story because I didn't learn anything new about Cassian or see further character development. Instead, his focus throughout the story is on Nesta and the impeding threats surrounding Prythian. I don't see him recovering from a traumatic event because the story doesn't show us an event he's traumatized from. If he is traumatized, it's from the past and off screen. I honestly don't know if it has bearing on his present (correct me if I'm wrong, i don't remember much). He doesn't need to learn about his powers, he already knows what they are. He's honed his combat skills over the centuries. He knows his history, his purpose, his role, his sense of self. He has established dynamics with his found family, he doesn't need to search for a new one. He has a home and a sense of freedom. He had all of these things when we met him. Is there anything else to see from Cassian as his own character? I'm sure there is, but I don't think we got that far yet. It's similar with Azriel. He has his issues with Mor, his thing with Gwyn, dealing with feelings of insecurity and inadequacy. But what else of him? He has some growing to do yes, but he seems tethered and grounded in so many other ways.

I personally want to read about someone who is untethered in a plethora of ways. Someone who isn't settled, who isn't "rooted" in place yet. The Archeron sisters are a given. Their stories involve learning about their new bodies and powers, understanding their sense of self and purpose, dealing with their recent and past trauma, finding a home and a family in Prythian, and so forth. And then...I think about Lucien Vanserra who is practically the poster boy for "untethered". He has so many unfinished stories left in him. He lost his home in Autumn and Spring, he sort of has one in Night but then he's also living in the human lands, so where is his true home? Beron wants to take over Prythian, will he be sucked back into the court that caused him pain and suffering? The man he thought was his father isn't, how will he deal with that? Does he need to learn more about his Day Court powers? What will he do to help Vassa and her curse? Will he ever reconcile with his brothers and mother? Will he ever reconcile with Tamlin? What's his dynamic with the Band of Exiles like? They're a pretty new friendship group after all. And this isn't even touching on his bond with Elain or his past with Jesminda!

This isn't about hitting rock bottom or who's better than who. To me Azriel doesn't have the meat to carry a story or journey I would enjoy reading about (emphasis on "I" because it might work for others though). So yes, I'm rooting for Elucien to get the next book as I think that book will be really dynamic.

[floofballsammy]

They could never make me hate you Andrealphus.

You're such a dramatic asshole for no reason and I love it. Keep being mean and conniving you gay little elsa bird. Scheme those evil plans.

[rafeysafterglow]

snooping through rafe's phone while he's sleeping

pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!reader cw: fluffff, crude words, nothing else really a/n: my first fluff fic ^_^ he looks so yummy in this pic

you have been dating the kook prince, rafe cameron, for a few months now and it definitely came with its challenges. being a pogue, a lot of his friends and family disapproved. but, rafe proved himself and stood by you the whole time. your relationship with him is secure, but, sometimes, your insecurities and doubts cloud your judgement. why would he want to be with you when he can have anyone on the island?

the overthinking on this specific night went on haywire. topper and kelce invited rafe to a party, but he declined, because he promised to stay in and watched movies with you. he never declines a reason to go party. so why would he now?

throughout the movie, he kept to himself, quiet. he hums in agreement when you voice an opinion and shrugs in answer when you ask him a question. after the movie, he immediately went to sleep. on the other hand, your eyes couldn't stay shut no matter how much you forced it to. beside you, rafe was in deep slumber with his arms around you and him snoring softly behind your ears.

you usually wouldn't do this, but the insecurities were eating inside you. you slowly lifted his heavy arms off your body which forced him to turn to the other side. he begins to stir but no signs of waking up. you reached over to his bedside table and grabbed his phone. the bright screen illuminated your face and a photo of you two at a bonfire stared back. it was a selfie that he took, he was kissing your cheek as your wide-teethed smile faced the camera. you faced the screen towards his sleeping face to open it. he didn't have many notifications and only one caught your eye. it was sent at 9:16 pm.

topper : broo this party is going crazy, you're missing out

topper : hope that pogue bitch is worth it

you clicked on the notification which took you to the messages app. you scrolled up until you see the first message of the day that topper sent at 6:03 pm.

topper : yo. party at kelce's tonite. gonna be crazy asf

rafe : no thanks, spending the night with my girl tonight

topper : bro r u serious? this is the second time ure blowing us off

topper : and for what? some lame pogue bitch

rafe : don't u fucking dare talk about her like that

rafe : leave her the fuck alone before i fuck u up

you left the chat and scrolled through his other chats. you were too focused on stalking each one that you didn't realize rafe waking up. he watched you for a minute before speaking. “find anything?”

you gasped in shock, your face turned beet root in embarrassment. you slowly handed rafe his phone back. “no...” you whispered. he took his phone from you and locked it before placing it back on the nightstand. “i'm sorry, i know it's wrong but you were being so quiet tonight i can't help but wonder.”

“baby, you know i love you,” he said as he pulled you into him. “i'm not doing a good job as your boyfriend if i'm making your pretty little head doubt.”

“no, it just me. i'm sorry,” you sigh out as he combs his fingers through your hair.

“next time, if i'm not acting right, you sort me out,” he says sternly. “and stop saying sorry.”

[cherrygirlfriend]

touchy subject II

pairing: reader x exfiancé!rafe synopsis: seeing your ex-fiancé after four years. warnings: heavy angst. some fluff. miscarriage/stillbirth. vehicular accident. wc: 2k part 2 of touchy subject. originally posted 11/24/2024

part I & part III

you could feel your heartbeat in your throat, raw with unshed tears, the vision of your ex-fiancé with another woman blurred by nothing but the tears brimming at the edges of your vision, so different from the ones that ran down your cheeks the day you'd said yes to him.

"of course i'll marry you." you pulled rafe to stand up, your arms around him before you could even think about what you were doing, rafe letting out a sigh of relief. "wait, wait, i gotta ask you something." you rushed out, pulling away from the hug, his hands still staying on your waist.

"what is it?"

"is this just because i'm pregnant?" you ask, rafe's brows furrowing in confusion, yet you left him no time to respond, "it's just- i want to marry you, but i don't want you to feel like you have to ask me just because i'm pregnant, and if you want to wait until the baby's-"

you could feel how tired rafe was getting of your rant by the intensity of his lips on yours, using it to interrupt you, his fingers sliding under your jaw to help hold it up to meet his; and just like always, he didn't need to say one word for you to understand what he was communicating to you.

the moment his eyes found yours, it felt as if all the air was punched out of your lungs, like the entire planet just stopped spinning. it didn't matter that the jewelry store's display was separating you; it felt like the first time he looked into your eyes and told you he loved you.

you wanted to run, to make sure you wouldn't have to face him, to have to hear what his voice sounded when you'd already managed to forget how it was to hear it in person, but it was like your feet had rooted to the ground within the few seconds that he spotted you.

and you begged to whatever entity that once you saw him approach the exit to the jewelry store, the other woman long forgotten, that your fight-or-flight instinct would kick in, but luck was never really on your side, because there he stood, his face the same as the last time you saw him, with a few lines added here and there, and a part of you couldn't help but ache at the thought of having missed the moment they appeared.

you looked up at him, into the same eyes you'd once imagined your daughter would have, the thought making the bout of nausea in your throat even worse. a part of you wanted to congratulate him, to tell you that you were happy for him, but it felt like the words were choking you, like they were burning in your throat. but the choice to even say something was taken from you, when you heard the bell above the door to the jewelry store let out a cheery ring.

"rafe…?" the red-haired woman called out, her brows furrowed in question, and the moment your ex turned around to face her, you took the opportunity to turn the other way, begging that your feet would take you away before you threw up on the spot.

"i saw him yesterday."

"it was the first time you saw him in person since you left, correct?"

"yes. i sometimes checked up on his social media, but seeing him like this... so close to me i could touch him... it was pretty jarring. it felt like no time had passed, but also like i hadn't seen him in decades."

"and how did he look?"

"handsome." you chuckled softly, your hand going to fiddle with the locket around your neck, sliding it up and down the golden chain, avoiding looking at the zoom meeting displayed on the laptop screen. "he looked just like he looked with me. he looked happy."

"happy anniversary, rafe." you smiled softly as you pushed the gift box at him, your fiancé letting out a small tut.

"you know you didn't have to get me anything, right? you're enough for me already. both of you are."

"yeah, yeah, stop being all cheesy and chivalrous and open it already." you urged, watching as he lifted the lid of the gift box, his eyes widening as he looked down at the present, but before he could say anything, you stopped him, "look at the back of it!"

rafe rolled his eyes, picking up the steel watch from the box, and you could see his gaze soften the moment his eyes spotted the engraving on the back of the watch, the edges of his lips almost automatically twisting up at the words 'evelyn cameron'.

"is it bad that it makes me feel bitter?" you asked, chewing at the inside of your cheek, "that it's been four years, and i haven't been able to move on, but he has? that he's managed to be happy, but i haven't? that i don't know if i ever will?"

"the loss of a child..."

you couldn't help but tune out the words of your therapist like they were nothing but background noise, not knowing if it would be worse if she tried justifying your anger or if she tried to get you to understand why rafe had managed to move on, your eyes instead focusing on the heart-shaped locket you'd opened, the faces of the couple staring right at you.

"rafe, where are we?" you laughed softly, your feet hurting from the heels you were starting to regret wearing, the blonde having parked his car in front of a random house.

"you didn't think i wouldn't get you an anniversary present, did you?" when you didn't immediately answer, he pressed his hand to his chest in mock offense, shaking his head, "come on. lemme show you."

the two of you got out of the car, your heels clacking against the stone pathway leading to the house, rafe's muscular arm keeping you close to him, helping you walk.

when you got to the door, he let go of you, and you watched as he took out a set of keys without saying anything, twisting them in the lock and pushing open the door, looking to you enthusiastically, extending his hand to you.

the moment you stepped over the threshold, you were enveloped by warmth, rafe flicking on the light next to the entryway before turning to you as your eyes got used to the light, sliding his hands onto your waist, pulling you as close to him as the growing child allowed.

you looked into his eyes, yours filled with confusion while his were filled with nothing but sincerity, his thumb stroking your waist. "rafe, what's this?"

"it's our home." he said, bringing his hand to your bump, "i know it's not much, but it's got enough room for our family."

"rafe, this is-"

"this is my anniversary present for you. i won't take 'no' for an answer." he brushed a strand of hair away from your cheek, tugging it behind your ear, "i want us to build our own home. our own life."

you kicked the radiator in frustration; it seemed like no matter what, the place wouldn't warm up. you'd called a maintenance guy, but they told you that it'd take at least a week for them to get someone there, and in the middle of winter, your only option was to light the fireplace in the middle of the living room while you waited for your mom to arrive with a portable radiator she told you she'd borrow you.

you sat in front of the blazing fire, your fingers fiddling with the frayed edges of the worn-out ultrasound picture you'd looked at a million times, your voice coming out weak from the sobs you were holding in your throat.

"hi, evie." you said softly, looking to the small urn next to you, engraved with the name of your daughter as well as today's date, only five years before. "happy... happy birthday."

"hi, baby." rafe's voice called out from the speakerphone of your car, the windshield wipers wiping away some of the rain falling down on you as you drove through the dark streets lit only by the yellow streetlights above, "are you almost home?"

"i am." you chuckled softly, "seeing my mom was so nice, even though she kept being all cheesy about how big i'd gotten. i swear, she almost cried."

"come on, she's gonna meet her grandkid in a month, of course she's gonna be all cheesy. if my dad had a paternal bone in his body, i'm sure he'd be ecstatic."

"yeah, well, you're not the one whose stomach is constantly getting pawed by people." you let out a snort, looking out into the road, "listen, i'm gonna drop by the store cause little evie's craving chocolate, do we need anything?"

"nah, just need you two home as soon as possible."

"aye aye, captain. see you soon, baby." you laughed, hearing the noise that signaled that the call had been ended, eager to get home and off your feet.

but before you could even realize what was happening, you were faced with a second pair of headlights that was approaching you, another car lit up by your own yellow headlights. and you swerved.

maybe it's a part of the so-called mother's instinct to blame ourselves when something happens to our child. no matter how many people told you that it wasn't your fault, that there was nothing you could've done, every bone, every cell in your body couldn't help but beat yourself up over what happened.

rafe ran down the hospital hallway, the smell of disinfectant mixed with the feeling of his heartbeat in his ears making him feel nauseous, the man sure that it was beating 200/bpm, but finally, when he reached the hospital room the reception had guided him to, a sense of relief took over him.

a nurse walked out of the room, startled by the man, her eyes widening at the obvious sense of urgency he was displaying, "can i help you?" she asked.

"no, no, i'm just here to see my fiancé." rafe said, his hand going for the door, only to be blocked by the nurse.

"i'm sorry, but the patient has told us that she doesn't want any visitors."

"what?" rafe let out a dry, humorless laugh, his brows furrowed, "you have to let me see her, that's my fiancé. that's- that's the mother of my child."

"i'm sorry, but the patient-"

"hey!" rafe pounded the palm of his hand on the door, the hospital bed visible from the rectangle of glass on the door, the man able to see your mother hunched over your bed, holding you. "let me-"

"sir, if you don't calm down, i'm going to have to call the guards and they'll remove you from the premises."

"that's my fiancé!" rafe shouted as the nurse pushed him further from the door, "i have to go see her! you have to let me see her! just tell her that i'm here, she'll want-"

the door to your hospital room swung open, rafe meeting the crestfallen eyes of your mother, her lips pulled into a straight line. "rafe, she doesn't want to see you."

when you heard the doorbell ring, you wiped away the tears that had ran down your cheeks; you didn't want to make it obvious to your mother that you'd spent the last fifteen minutes crying, and even if she could tell by the redness of your eyes, you knew she wouldn't mention it.

you pushed yourself off the ground, placing the small urn and the ultrasound picture on top of the fireplace as you straightened out your sweater, your feet cold against the hardwood floor as you walked to the front door.

but when you pulled it open expecting to see your mother, it felt like all the air had been knocked out of your lungs, like your heartbeat shot through the roof just from the sight of his downcast eyes.

"rafe."

[harrysredroom]

Playing With Fire

word count: 4.5k

summary: 18+ content! basically just smut with loads of angst. enemies? lovers? who knows. they sure don’t. dominant/switch harry, submissive/switch y/n…they don’t discriminate. Harry and Y/N just can't seem to decide if it's love, hate, or lust.

a/n: hiiii, this is my first time posting something i’ve written. It’s not something i ever thought i’d do, so go easy on me lmao. let me know if you want to see more! 

"Hello?"

"We're doing pleasantries now? I'm here."

"I'm home."

"Then buzz me in."

"I'm watching a new episode of Criminal Minds."

"Jesus. You can watch it while I fuck you from behind. Buzz me in, Y/N. Now. I don't have the time -or the patience- for your attitude tonight."

That's about as long as their phone calls ever got. The pair sighed in unison before the call ended, the tension bubbling beneath the surface from the second Y/N saw Harry's name pop up on her phone screen. She hadn't seen him or heard from him for the past three months. 

Her and Harry had a complicated, long-standing situationship…and that was putting it lightly. A friend of a friend, a few drinks, a few months of connecting, heartbreak, and a mess of blurred lines. They were the kind of almost-couple that never quite got the timing right. 

Every goodbye was temporary, every reunion accidental but inevitable. The inability to stay away from each other? That was the real reason things never worked. Too much chemistry, not enough clarity. It was passion tangled with pain, affection mixed with avoidance, like trying to hold onto smoke.

Incompatible. 

Harry was consistently gone on tour and afraid of commitment. Y/N never left her tiny bubble of life and was emotionally unavailable. 

They didn't see eye to eye on most things. 

But...their sexual tension? 

It buzzed consistently like a live wire, twisting, crackling, and sparking to life. 

Harry was a constant thrum beneath her skin, rooted deep in her veins like a heartbeat she couldn't quiet. He had this way of making her feel like she mattered even if it only lasted a second. When he'd breathe into the curve of her neck, voice low and ragged, whispering how she was his, her walls would crack just enough to let him in. In those moments, she wasn't cold or closed off. She wasn’t numb. She could feel—really feel—something other than the dull ache that usually lived inside her. It was fleeting, sure, but it was real. And sometimes, that was enough to pull her back under.

Y/N was like a drug to Harry. He was always twitching, in desperate need of a fix. Being inside of her was addictive, his head in the clouds and far away from everything. But the comedown from the high? Brutal. The crash after they were done, after the kisses cooled, after the silence settled in, always hit harder than he expected. Each time left him hollow, questioning everything. Why had he stumbled back into her life again? What part of him kept confusing chaos for comfort, or her bed for safety? He’d lie there, heart still racing, staring at the ceiling like it might offer answers. But it never did. Just the same ache, the same regret, curling up beside him like a second skin.

Y/N adjusted the sleeves of her oversized jumper, fingers fidgeting for a moment before she stood from the couch. Padding toward the front door, she hesitated for just a second before pressing the buzzer to let Harry in.

The soft buzz echoed down the stairwell, but to her, it felt like a warning siren.

She had to stand her ground this time.

She couldn’t keep letting him drift in and out of her life like a tide she had no control over, especially not after this long. Usually, it was a few weeks, a handful of texts, and a night that bled into morning. But three months? That was different. That was silence she’d almost started to believe in.

Almost.

Harry’s lips curved into that familiar devilish smirk the second he heard the mechanical whirl of the front gate unlocking. That soft hum, the one that granted him access, always felt like the first drop on a rollercoaster. He pushed the door open once the metal gate slid back into place behind him, shutting it with a click that echoed in the empty hallway.

He practically jogged up the two flights to her flat, his pulse quickening with each step, a boyish eagerness he never could quite shake when it came to her. But when he reached her door, any fantasy he’d built on the way up hit a wall. Literally.

She was already there, standing in the doorway, her arms crossed, hips tilted, gaze unimpressed. No soft smile. No warm welcome. Just that unreadable expression he’d seen too many times before.

His grin only widened.

Of course she wasn’t amused. He couldn’t blame her.

But he was already in too deep.

“Aww, s’my sweet Bunny girl angry?” Harry crooned, voice dripping with mock concern as he looked down at her, eyes glinting with mischief.

Without waiting for a response, he brushed his shoulder past hers, slipping into her flat like he owned the place. The scent of her hit him instantly, intoxicating, wrapping around him as easily as her silence did.

"No." Y/N's tone was sharp and low, giving her away.

Harry clicked his tongue as he slipped off his shoes and hung his coat on the rack. Y/N followed him inside, closing and locking the door behind them. 

"Now, now, now...s'that what we're doing? Lying to each other? Thought we both agreed it’s just easier to be honest, did we not?" He tutted as he turned to face her. 

Before she could protest, his hands were grasping at the plushy flesh of her hips with rough vigor, tugging her frame flush against his own. Harry hummed, the sound gravelly and guttural as it rumbled through him. Y/N let loose a shaky breath, her lashes fluttering against her cheekbones.

A simple touch.

Just one very simple touch. 

That's all it took for them to fall back in head first. 

That’s all it took for their resolve to crumble.

Harry leaned in slowly, his movements unhurried and deliberate. His nose brushed against hers, a featherlight touch that sent a shiver down her spine. He breathed her in, sweet and familiar. That scent always did something to him, settled low in his gut and curled around his ribs. He could feel her heartbeat, rapid and erratic, thudding so hard in her chest it might as well have been echoing in his own. The corner of his mouth twitched. "There's my little Bunny, so nervous and jittery around me. S'addicting, y'know that? God, three months without you has been fucking torture."

His voice held the kind of yearning that made her lips itch to feel his own. 

His words were a plea, needy and desperate. 

Her hands moved up to hold the sleeves of his t-shirt, curling around the fabric, trying to ground herself.

"Need you t'use your words for me, love. S'that what's the matter, hmm? Been too long without me?” 

His thumb and forefinger came up to gently grip her chin, tilting up her head. “C'mon, sweet girl. Y'know I can tell if you lie. You wanna be good for me, don't you? Bad girls don't get what m'about to give you." 

Her entire body felt like hot molten lava, and she looked up into his eyes. 

Harry blew out a breath. Those big doe eyes of hers were going to kill him someday and he was certain it would be a happy death. “Fucking hell. I missed you. There. I said it.” 

Now it was her turn to tsk and chuckle, her cheeks flushed a soft shade of pink. “I don’t even have to speak and you’re a sputtering mess for me, Harry. It’s pretty desperate, don’t you think?” 

She watched the way his jaw clenched, felt the way his fingers dug into her sides, and how his pupils blew out, his eyes darkening. “You’re playing with fucking fire, Y/N.” He growled, low and primal, before driving her backward until her spine hit the front door with a quiet thud. In one fluid motion, his hands gripped her hips and lifted her, catching her beneath the thighs. She gasped as he pinned her there, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

His body pressed hard into hers, firm and unrelenting, holding her in place like he had every right to. The force of it stole the breath from her lungs, but it wasn’t just the impact. 

It was him.

It was always him.

Their breaths tangled in the charged space between them, shallow and uneven, like they’d both run miles only to stop just short of the finish. Their lips hovered, barely apart, neither willing to surrender first, both waiting, daring the other.

“Good thing I’m not afraid to get burnt,” she whispered, her voice low and velvet-soft, brushing against his mouth with every word. “I missed you too, by the way.”

That was all it took.

Harry closed the distance, crashing into her like a wave pulled too long by the tide. His mouth found hers with a heat that trickled through her system and she met him there, fingers threading through his hair, the other hand locking around the back of his neck to hold him close.

A quiet whimper slipped from her as his tongue slithered past her lips, insistent and hungry, tasting the sugary remnants of the candy she’d had in front of the tv before he arrived. He groaned low in his throat at the sweetness, and the sound of it unravelled her, hips moving instinctively against him.

They acted with fluid precision, like two pieces made to fall into place. Her fingers tightened in his curls, pulling just enough to draw another sound from him, and before she knew it, she was back on her feet with Harry pressed against her and his hands grasping the dip of her waist to lead her.

She didn’t remember the walk to her bedroom.

Maybe it was because her frame never left the wall of his chest, or maybe because Harry’s mouth never once left her body—trailing down her jaw, along the curve of her throat, kissing and nipping at the skin until her legs turned jelly. She walked backwards, trusting Harry to lead her in the right direction. The door creaked open behind her, and the next thing she knew, her back was pressed to her velvet comforter and Harry was hovering above, his eyes hooded and stormy with want. Her jumper rose up to her midriff, just a pair of plain pink cotton panties with a bow on beneath. She wasn’t expecting company, not that she’d have dressed differently even if she knew he was coming.

“Look at you…” he murmured, more to himself than to her, tracing the outline of her collarbone with a calloused fingertip. “Laid out all pretty for me, like some dream I haven’t earned the right to wake up from.”

She arched towards his touch, her breath hitching when he leaned in and pressed a slow, reverent kiss just beneath her ear. “Maybe you haven’t,” she whispered, breathless but teasing, her voice trembling with the effort not to beg. She said she wouldn’t crack, yet here she was.

Harry’s grin was all sharp teeth and wonderment, but his gaze softened as it swept over her face. “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice thick, “I’d spend the rest of my life tryin’.”

Then he kissed her again, slower now, deeper. It wasn’t just need anymore. It was months of silence, of missing glances, unanswered calls, aching spaces where the other used to be. It was apology and forgiveness, grief and hunger all tangled into one breathless moment. His hands moved with purpose, mapping out the skin he’d gone too long without, relearning every dip, every scar, every shiver he could draw from her with just the brush of his thumb.

“I can’t wait, I need you right now, Y/N, can you feel my cock? It’s fucking aching.” Harry grunted out, pressing his hips down against her core to prove his point. She could feel the outline of him, rock solid for her, straining against his jeans. 

She whimpered at the friction, a damp spot already present against the fabric of her panties from the second he walked through her front door and looked at her with those eyes of his. 

“I’m going to indulge in you properly later, take my time, bury my head between your thighs like your pretty pussy deserves after bein’ so neglected. But right now? I just need to fuck you.”

Harry’s hand slid beneath the back of her thigh, pulling her leg around his waist and tugging her panties to the side as he breathed heavily into her neck, his lips trailing hungry, greedy kisses along her skin. 

“Then fuck me already.” Y/N bratted through deep breaths, her hands finding the hem of his shirt and tugging, needing him unclothed and fast.

Harry’s jaw clenched as he sat up just enough to look down at her. She was absolutely sinful like this, her pussy glistening with arousal, her eyes hazy with that smug, lustful expression. He scoffed out a breath as he ripped his shirt off from over his head, tossing it across the room as his fingers nimbly found his belt buckle. “Get it all out now, Bunny. S’not gonna be so funny when I’m pounding into you so hard you can’t breathe, and you know it.” He growled, his eyes meeting hers with stern warning. 

The metal clinking sound of his belt coming undone echoed in the small space, and he pulled it from the loops of his jeans with one smooth tug. He looked into her eyes as he looped the leather in half before snapping it together, the sound crackling the room. “Behave,” he warned.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, her mind flashing back to the time that Harry had tied her wrists behind her back with that exact same belt. She gulped, a glimmer in her eyes as she nodded, deciding this was her time to be quiet if she wanted to get her way.

A devilish smirk coated Harry’s lips, the dimple in his cheek protruding. “That’s my girl.” He murmured as he tugged down his boxers, his hard cock now resting heavy in his palm. He leaned down, the head pressing against her entrance. He slicked through her folds, each of them sighing in relief at the feeling. Without warning, he thrust in, hard and deep. She cried out, her back arching, her head tipping back against the mattress as he tore through her without remorse.

“That’s my fucking girl.” He growled as his body rocked into hers. The pace was unhurried but purposeful, like he was trying to relearn her from the inside out. Their sweat-slicked skin was sticking where they touched, their breaths loud and shallow in the dim light of her bedroom.

Every move he made felt like a question. Are you still mine? Do I still fit here?

And every answer came from the way she held him, close and needy, her nails dragging angry red lines down his spine, her hips rolling to meet his like she was trying to etch the shape of him into her bones. She wanted him to remember. Each time he caught a glimpse in the mirror, or the hot water of his shower cascaded over his back, he’d remember her and the marks she’d left him with.

It was messy. A little unsteady. Every shift, every gasp, threaded with the weight of what they were too stubborn to say out loud. She whimpered when his mouth found that sensitive spot beneath her ear again, the one that always made her body quake.

“Fuck,” he groaned, dragging his teeth across her jaw. “You feel the same. Still so tight f’me. Still so fuckin’ perfect.” Harry thrusts his hips forward, burying his cock deep within her. Each movement had her bed creaking, the sound of her arousal gushing around the base of his cock obscene and lewd in the best possible way. It coated his pubic bone and thighs, sticky and wet.

Y/N bit her lip, her head lolling back against the pillow, exposing the long line of her throat. “You think saying shit like that makes this less complicated?”

Harry didn’t stop. Couldn’t. “No,” he admitted, voice rough and low, “but maybe it’ll make it easier when I leave.”

Her chest hitched, a shiver rolling through her—not from his words, but from the ache in them. That aching little crack in his voice that sounded like regret finally catching up to him.

She shouldn’t have answered. She knew she shouldn’t have. But her voice came anyway, soft and breathless. “You’re the one who always comes back.”

That struck somewhere deep within him. His rhythm faltered for half a second, just long enough for the truth to land. But then his mouth crashed into hers again, hungry, silencing the sting with his tongue. He kissed her like he could steal her words, bury them inside his lungs so they wouldn’t echo back at him later.

And she let him.

Because she needed to feel something that wasn’t heartbreak. Something real. Something alive.

Her legs tightened around his waist, and her back arched into him, her body shaking under his touch as her release crept closer, hot and consuming. Y/N’s moans were nothing short of pornographic, breathy and sultry whines. 

Harry cursed under his breath, the sounds she made unraveling his restraint thread by thread. He reached his hand between them, two fingers finding her clit with ease, puffy and swollen for him. He hissed at the way her jaw dropped open, immediately moving his fingers in fast, tight circles around the bundle of nerves. He knew how sensitive she was, her thighs trembling in their position around his hips. His thrusts never stopped, the sound of wet skin slapping wet skin echoed her bedroom as he fucked into her. Harry watched the way her tits bounced beneath her jumper, each of them still half clothed, having been too caught up in the moment to worry about undressing fully. He didn’t need her nude to know how her body looked, how she felt. Her soft, blissed out features and the warm squeeze of her cunt around his cock would be plenty for him.

“C’mon, Bunny,” he murmured, voice shaking, forehead pressed to hers. “Wanna feel you. Let go f’me.”

The weight of him pressed down, grounding her, anchoring her to the moment, where nothing else outside the walls of her flat existed. Just Harry, just Y/N, and the quiet crackle of something neither of them dared name.

She could feel every inch of him, his breath against her collarbone, his fingers rolling over her clit with eagerness, the slow, torturous grind of his hips as he buried himself deeper, like he belonged there.

Maybe he did.

Maybe he always had.

“Say it again,” she whispered, her voice a velvet thread in the darkness.

Harry blinked, chest rising and falling against hers, lips ghosting over the curve of her jaw.

“Say what?”

“That you missed me.”

His throat bobbed with the swallow. His voice, when it came, was rough with more than just lust. “I did. I do.” His forehead pressed to hers. “Every fucking day I miss you, Y/N.”

That admission cracked something open inside her. Not all the way, just enough to let the ache bleed out, soft and messy. Just enough to let him in again.

She arched into him, her arms circling around his back as if she could pull him beneath her skin, as if she could memorize the weight of him and keep it when he left again. Because he would. That much she knew.

Everything about Harry was too much yet perfectly enough. His teeth nipped at the column of her throat before his tongue soothed the ache, his panted breaths hot and heavy against her neck as he fucked into her. 

Y/N was practically mewling, whimpering and trembling as she got closer and closer. Her stomach coiled up tight with each deep thrust, the head of his cock punching through her walls, rough and gentle all at once as if he couldn’t decide which half of himself to give into. Harry’s cock twitched inside of her, a telltale sign he was close. 

“Fucking hell…this pussy was made for me, wasn’t it, Bunny? C’mon, tell me who’s pussy this is and I’ll let you cum.” His voice was shattered, deep and sultry as his fingers slowed against her clit to a barely there pressure.

Y/N whimpered, the noise near pathetic as she tried to roll her hips upwards, desperately chasing her high. “It’s yours, Harry. I belong to you.”

Harry puffed out a breath as if her words were too much to handle. 

“Good fucking girl. My girl.” He whispered against the shell of her ear, his tongue flicking out to lick a strip against her jaw before, without warning, he sat up, his hands gripping the backs of her calves and pushing her legs up towards her head for an entirely new angle. 

She gasped, feeling his cock slip out to the tip in their shift. Harry smirked down at her, his grin devilish. He knew how much she loved this position, how perfectly it let his cock hit that spongy, sensitive spot inside of her. He didn’t waste a second before he tightened his grip and pulled back his hips before slamming them forward. 

Y/N cried out his name as he rocked into her with fervent need, groaning at the way her walls clamped down around his cock, desperate to milk him dry. He let one of her legs fall from his grasp, only to slip his hand between their bodies, his thumb rubbing messy, relentless circles over her clit. He drove into her again and again, burying himself to the hilt, never letting her forget exactly how perfectly she took him. His breaths were mixed with shattered low groans as he watched the way her chest rose and fell, how her cheeks had pinkened and her lips hung parted in a perfect, petal pink pout of pleasure. The headboard slammed against the wall in a frantic rhythm, just barely drowning out the filthy wet sounds of his cock plunging through her slick, stretching her open and claiming her in every way. He found his home deep inside her pussy—exactly where he belonged, exactly where he was meant to be.

His Bunny let out a string of whined moans, her thighs quaking, and he knew she was right on edge. “That’s it, sweet girl. Cum all over my cock, show me how much you missed me.” He panted.

Between the desperation in his voice and the way he slammed into her, it only took seconds for Y/N to come crashing down. Her pussy pulsated around Harry’s cock as she let out a low, breathless moan, the sound like music to his ears. The way her walls clenched around him had him thrusting in as deep as he could possibly go, his body surging forward to capture her lips in a hungry kiss. His orgasm hit him hard, pouring into her in long, hot spurts that left him whimpering against her mouth. Sounds of raw yearning and need spilled from him, muffled by their kiss, as her nails dug into the muscles of his lower back. His hips stuttered against her, his body desperate to stay as close to hers as possible, every last drop of him filling her completely. He rolled forward, pushing his cum impossibly deeper as if it would keep it there, keep him there.

Harry stayed buried inside of her, his forehead dropping to press against hers again as they both struggled to catch their breath. Their chests heaved together, sticky skin sliding, the heat between them nearing unbearable. He pressed a lazy, open-mouthed kiss to the corner of her mouth, then her jaw, then the hollow just beneath her ear, murmuring sweet nothings too soft and slurred for either of them to really understand.

“Fuck, Bunny,” he panted, voice rough and wrecked with pleasure. “Missed you. Missed this. Missed being inside you.”

Y/N let out a shaky laugh, still feeling every delicious throb of him, every aftershock rippling through her sensitive body. She tilted her head back just enough to meet his blown, dazed gaze, smirking despite the lingering tremors in her thighs. She’d missed it too, but she wasn’t about to say it, not now, not when she hadn’t gotten her chance to have the upper hand and remind him why he kept coming back here, back to her.

“You better catch your breath, pretty boy,” she whispered against his damp temple, her voice a low, teasing purr. “Because it’s my turn.”

Harry blinked slowly, still half drunk off the high she had just pulled him into. “Your turn?” he repeated, the lazy smile that tugged at his mouth making her want to kiss it clean off.

Y/N grinned, sliding her hands down the damp, muscular plane of his back before giving his hip a playful little squeeze that made him grunt against her. “Mhm,” she hummed, shifting her hips beneath him just enough to make him hiss, his sensitive cock twitching inside her pussy. “You think you can just come in here, fuck me like that after three months, and not deal with the consequences of your actions?”

He let out a rough chuckle, his body still twitching with sensitivity, but his hands found her hips again on instinct, holding on like he already knew she was about to wreck him.

“You’re playing with fucking fire.” She murmured in a mock of his earlier words against his jaw, nipping at his scruff with her teeth, loving the low growl it dragged from his chest.

“Is that right?” Harry rasped, the words barely a thread of sound. “Well…It’s a good thing m’not afraid to get burnt.” He mused, humming out her own response to the same question. 

“Mmhm,” Y/N purred, and before he could say anything else, she rolled her hips up into his with a slow, devastating grind. His whole body jerked, a broken moan escaping his throat. “And you, Mr. Styles, are about to find out exactly what happens to bad boys who don’t think they can be outmatched.”

She tightened her legs around his hips, flipping them with a surprising surge of strength and adrenaline that made him grunt out a startled, breathless laugh. He fell back against the mattress, wide-eyed and grinning even as he tried to process the shift.

Y/N straddled him now, hands splayed on his chest, hair wild around her flushed face, a gleam in her eye that promised nothing short of absolute, blissful ruin.

“You think you can handle it?” she teased, rolling her hips again, slow and purposeful, making him gasp and clench the sheets beneath him from the overstimulation.

Harry let his head fall back, the cords in his neck straining as he fought for control. “Fuck, Bunny,” he groaned, voice breaking on the nickname. “You’re gonna kill me.”

She leaned down, brushing her nose against his before catching his bottom lip between her teeth and tugging gently, making him groan again.

“Good,” she whispered against his mouth. “That’s the idea."

[thehollowwriter]

I'm ngl, I think the Spider Verse movies are the best depictions of Spider-man. They embody the very concept of Spider-man perfectly, and I believe this because of the explosive fandom reaction to them, especially the sequel.

So many people from so many backgrounds all over the world started making their own "spider sonas", their own ideas of a spider person. Sure you can just say it's a trend, but people are still doing it now. I've seen disabled Spideys, queer Spideys, Spideys from any country you can think of, Spideys with vastly different designs, aesthetics and personalities, Spideys who are deeply rooted in the creator's culture, yet who are all unquestionably Spidey.

Never before has the message of "anyone can wear the mask" been so true, and never before have so many people believed it.

People saw themselves represented on screen whether it be through the mc or side characters, they saw the limitless potential of so many different dimensions and universes, they saw Miles reject the "canon" and the idea of what Spider-man "has to" be (which is quite clearly at least partially inspired by egotistical and bigoted Spider-Man "fans" who believed there was only one Spider-man and only one way his character could be depicted and only one way his story should be told) and they understood that yes, they were included in the phrase "Anyone can wear the mask"

Spider-man was always such a successful character who everyone wanted to see for a reason. He isn't the same as many other heroes who were all adults and seemed to be in a place most viewers couldn't dream of seeing (rich, a god, a super soldier, etc).

Peter Parker starts out as just some guy, an everyday middle or lower class person who does everyday things like go to school or miss the bus or get fired. Peter was no smooth and classy ladies man, he wasn't a sports star or anything. He was an awkward and shy guy who liked "nerd" stuff.

He, in the words of MJ, "just happened to get bit." It was an accident, a spider bite. He wasn't in the military or creating a powerful suit or anything. He's some guy who got powers and decided to use them to protect people. Just your friendly neighbourhood Spider-man.

Most importantly, he was the first superhero of his kind. Before Spidey, there was no "teenage superhero." There were only adult superheroes, and teenagers only appeared as sidekicks. When Stan Lee suggested a teenage superhero, he was told it was a terrible idea, and nobody would want to see that.

Well, I'm sure all of us in 2024 where the Spider-man IP is worth over $27 billion with ten movies starring Spidey as the mc, and several more where he makes an appearance as a side character, and where Spider-Man: Across the Spider Verse set several box office records and was the sixth highest grossing film of 2023, can see how wrong that was.

Since his conception, Spider-man was a character who defied how things "should be" and took that leap of faith, and it led to greatness. Just like Miles' entire story of becoming Spider-man being completely different from what we've seen so many times before. Just like Miles defying Miguel and carving his own path, even with the threat of "breaking the canon" (which I personally think can be interpreted as a representation of the idea some people have that if you make Spidey "too different", you'll destroy him as a character)

Together, the two Spider Verse movies managed to prove that yes, anyone can wear the mask. You don't need the "right" skin colour or gender or backstory or plot points. Those are not what makes Spider-man who he is, and those are not why people fell in love with his character and concept.

What made Spider-man who he was, was his actions, his compassion, his relatatability, and how he inspired people. He's a hero whose entire appearance is covered by his suit, and yet is not doubted as a hero by those who were saved (plots where the writers want to make him suffer more exluded/hj).

So yeah. I really love the Spider Verse movies. Not just for their animation, music, story, and voice acting, but also for how they managed to embody and challenge the idea of Spider-man and potrayed just why Spidey was so loved.

(I mainly focused on Miles in this lil rant because he's the mc, but if ya'll want to discuss other characters like Gwen please comment or reblog with your thoughts, I'd love to hear them!)

[togament]

suo. sakura. umemiya. togame. pt. 1, hiragi. kaji. kiryu. endo. pt. 2

"...and the biggest fattest one too. How'd it take him so long to figure it out? What did it take for him to finally realize?" part 2!

𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒: mention of a scuffle in Kaji's part (never happened!), general FLUUUUFFFF TOOOOWN, slight jealousy in Kiryu's part, mentions of sex on Endo's, Endo follows you around like a lost puppy (kinda is...), Soft!Endo??!?!??!?!, reference of abuse on Endo’s part

𝐊𝐀𝐉𝐈.

✦ when you both argue about your favorite musicians.

It's well known Kaji loves listening to extremely obscure artists. Hell, you can hear his music blaring from his headphones when they're over his ears, attention fully on his phone to distract himself. So for you to know which artist it was by just listening to the beats from afar, he knows he's deep in shit. He knows he already likes you but he's in so much denial. Give him time. You both often find yourselves in little petty spats, engrossed in discussing about the artists you both listen to, you both get heated sometimes though, given how intense Kaji is--but you match it. People around you start to worry. Hiragi's ready to step in to stop a potential scuffle. But Hiragi immediately stops in his tracks when he sees you and Kaji chuckling as you pass an airpod to him. Kaji takes it and promptly places it in his ear, sat beside you. Hiragi smiles to himself as he backs off, opting not to bother you two lovebirds. You don't notice your arm brushing against Kaji's while you're ranting animatedly. You don't notice your knees touching, thighs flush against each other. You don't notice Kaji's ears practically glowing red at the mere contact. You don't notice him repeatedly wiping down his sweaty palms on his hoodie. Despite all that though, He doesn't move away.

✦ when he’s comforting you without complaining or wanting to move away from you.

Kaji's sensitive. He's got a short temper on top of that too. Privy to the slightest change in tone, change in the overall atmosphere. That's why he's got his lollipops, so he always has something to shut him up, something to stop him from barking. That's why he's got his headphones, so he could turn a blind eye to things that may tick him off. So for him to go out of his way to comfort you, placing his headphones over your ears, handing you an extra lollipop to soothe you, says a lot. He's better with his actions, anyway. Drawing you close to him with an arm around your shoulder, you find yourself sinking deeper into his touch. Letting your tears flow easily, gripping his jacket so tightly you fear he might slip away when you let go. But he won't. He could never leave you alone. Feeling you move away, whispering and hiccupping out a soft apology, his arm only tightens around you slightly. "Don't apologize. I'm here." he responds, wiping away a tear from your cheek.

✦ when he catches himself wishing you were around when he’s out and about.

it's often, by the way. You can tell he's thinking about you when he's sinking into his hoodie, headphones over his ears, hands in his hoodie pocket. Definitely hiding his blushing features from everyone that passes by him while they're doing their rounds. Kusumi and Enomoto could tell, of course. But they choose not to tease him or point it out. (Kusumi sends Enomoto a message saying how cute it is though for their beloved captain to be so enamored with someone. Enomoto just elbows him in response. The both of them are rooting for you.) Kaji often thinks about you and he hates how it makes his belly do flips when he sees your name pop up on his screen with a new song recommendation, hates how he catches himself smiling when he passes by shops he knows you frequent, hates how he wants you around him right now, hates how your schedules don't match sometimes, hates how he has to wait to see you sometimes, hates how he's always wanted to kiss you mid-argument to shut you up. He's gonna put an end to this. Pulling his phone out, he sends you a text. "Meet me at the rooftop tomorrow. Got something to tell ya." His heart skips a couple beats when he sees you typing as soon as he sends it. Almost as though you've thought about texting him at that very moment too. He feels his face heating up when you finally respond a minute later. So quick. "Think I know what you wanna talk about. Got something to confess too. See you tomorrow then? :)" He couldn't hide his smile this time. It's damn near impossible to. Tomorrow for sure.

── .✦

𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐈.

✦ when you pop up in his mind while he’s listening to music.

He could be in Pothos, earphones on with a random song playing and his mind wanders. How he thinks you'd react to the song, how the lyrics relate to you. Before he's snapped out of his reverie by Ume slapping him on the back because he's been zoning out for more than 10 minutes and his food's getting cold. Of course he starts eating. Not without having the rest of the Bofurin muttering amongst themselves, wondering who's got their senpai blushing so deeply.

✦ when you help him out with the Bofurin boys to lessen the load, never making him feel guilty for accepting your help.

You're always there to help him out. Sorting the boys out and helping them with what they might need. Hell, you're even there on their monthly town repainting, not minding the sun beating down on your skin, sweat dribbling down your forehead while you're passing them bottles of water and towelettes. Hiragi protests sometimes, telling you to rest, that they'll take care of it. You just shake your head affectionately at him, telling him it's your pleasure to do so. You like helping them. You want to help them. Hiragi's grateful.

✦ when you keep an extra stash of Gaskun-10s on you.

Something so simple, something you'd consider a passing thought. But Hiragi's so, SO grateful you even bothered buying extras for him, remembering how much he needed them on the daily. You start hiding them in all of your jacket pockets, in your bags, pants--anywhere you could quickly pull some out just in case. Whenever he pats his pockets almost frantically, you just slide in, handing him a packet full of gaskun-10s. The first time it happened he was understandably flabbergasted but quickly reeled it in, thanking you and promptly taking his daily dose from your hands. Had he done it a bit slower, the rest of the Bofurin wouldn't have let him live it down and he would have needed a double dosage for a couple of days. So to return the favor, he's stocking up on your favorite drinks and snacks.

── .✦

𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐘𝐔.

✦ when you’re both talking about video games and you remind him about his daily login bonuses.

It was just a passing reminder while you were both engrossed in your conversation about the most recent game update and how fussy the past patches were. "Oh shoot--before I forget, you got your daily rewards yet? Didn't you buy the Supply Pass for it?" you ask suddenly, causing Kiryu to pause for a bit before his eyes widen a little. "..shoot. I didn't yet." he responds, fishing his phone out of his pocket before booting up the game. Another huge update released so he's gotta wait for it to fully download. Glancing up at you, he gives you a grateful smile. "Thanks for the reminder."

✦ when you'd often make the first move.

You open doors for him, hold his shopping bags when his hands are full, hell, you even stand in line while you tell him to wait by the table for your food. It's something he's not used to, truly. He was shocked by it initially, trying to take the reins from your hands but you insisted. It's no trouble. He relents, chuckling softly to himself. "Whatever you say," he murmurs, taking a step back to take in the sight of you. He loves seeing you in charge, he realizes.

✦ when he sees you hanging with someone else and it leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

Kiryu is a very secure man. He never lets things get to him, always brushing things off with a nonchalant shrug and never really dwells on them. But why is he feeling this way right now? He sees you talking to someone new. A new friend, surely, he thinks. But then that person keeps texting you and you respond just as quick with a smile on your face, laughing at some joke they must have said. Huh. But then he sees you both out in public, your distinct laughter floating towards him as though to taunt him. He turns away before you see him. Days after, you introduce him to your new friend but you can tell he's a bit hesitant with how different he's standing when he sees this person for the "first time", how his smile never reaches his eyes, how stiff he is with the way he shakes his hand. Come to find out it's your cousin that's visiting for a few weeks so you had to show him around town. And like a weight lifted off of him, he could breathe again. You swear you see him light up at the confirmation which left you a little confused. what was that sour taste in his mouth then? OH HE LIKES YOU.

── .✦

𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐎.

✦ finds every excuse possible to be close to you. (Never subtle about it too.)

stalker-like tendencies? Yeah kiiiiinda? Sure. But he can’t help it if his heart’s leading the way to you, y’know? He’s had his brains, his wit, his charm guide the trajectory of everything for his entire life — so why not listen to his heart for once? He’s hanging off of your shoulders while you’re out shopping, frozen in place because he arrived so suddenly. He’s gingerly taking the shopping bags out of your hands while you’re walking the street, heart beating out of your chest because you thought you were getting mugged. He only chuckles heartily, ruffling your hair as he walks with you.

✦ when he asks for you to stay after sex.

Goes without saying that Endo gets around. A LOT. When I say a lot, I mean A LOT. They never really lasted long though. Jumping from one lady to another man every other night so easily, he can’t keep track of them. But once you stumbled into his life, he’s cutting all of them off so quickly some of them start to plead and beg him over the phone. Their words all fall on deaf ears though as Endo’s practically worshipping your body, lavishing it with kisses and soft caresses after a couple of rounds. You soon realize it's getting late though. Easing yourself out of the bed and untangling yourself from him, his hand finds your wrist, body almost acting on its own, gently tugging at you. His voice grows softer and his eyes... You've never seen him look at you in such a way before. “Stay?” Another tug. “Please.” And you do. 'Just for tonight', you think.

✦ when you don't fault him for adoring you the way that he does.

this one’s tough. Endo is a lover in every sense of the word. So once he sets his sights on you, if you interest him enough for him to actually want to get to know you better, it’ll be very, very hard for him to let go. His efforts don’t go unnoticed though because eventually, you welcome him into your life and he makes his home in your heart. He’s also a giver. Showering you with gifts, affection, praise, help, money, EVERYTHING. Though you find it excessive sometimes, you appreciate it. So in the best way you know how, you, for the first time, reach over to Endo with an arm outstretched and he flinches as though to prepare for impact. A part of your heart breaks for him. Nothing meets his skin. Nothing hits him. He hears nothing but the soft thrum of your heart and your breathing. He doesn't feel a punch across his face or a harsh kick to his abdomen. It's gentle now. He feels nothing but your warm and comforting arms around his shoulders, encasing him as though to shield him from the world. Finally, he feels himself melt into you. Shakily holding you close to his chest, pressing kisses onto your scalp while he blinks tears away. "What gives?", he chuckles, trying his best to mask his vulnerability. "Just wanted to thank you." you respond, your grip around him tightening ever so slightly, further melting into him. "...anything for you."

a/n: ...admittedly Endo's part was very self indulgent. Last part especially. I can't stomach the abuse okay ;;!!!!! I'm definitely sticking to this new layout. Kinda miss my manga panels kinda off to the side with a laaarge white space beside it layout though...... damn you tumblr and your 10 photo limit! ;; anywho, thank you, dear reader for making it all the way to the end! This took me a little bit to finish ;;;;;;;

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤKISS CAM * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　where Y/N, the triplets and Justin are present at the Bruins game, and the Kiss Cam chooses Matt and Y/N to share a kiss.

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　yes.

WARNINGS　::　none.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

"...I know! Did you see Pastrnak's? It was incredible what he did with the puck!" Y/N commented excitedly to Justin while pressing Matt's jacket tighter around her own body, watching the oldest Sturniolo, who nodded while lightly biting the nail on his ring finger.

"Yeah, Marchand was very agile in that-"

"Oh, it's starting!" Nick's excited shout cut through Justin's sentence, smiling as he still chewed on a piece of his own hot dog, momentarily pointing forward.

Y/N raised her eyes to the indicated point, seeing the pink heart taking up the edges of the big screen, along with some smaller hearts and "Kiss Cam" written in the bottom corner.

A look of amusement took over her expression, exchanging glances with Chris - who was sitting next to Nick -, excited to see the funny and romantic - or disastrous - kisses that would occur during the break of the game.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway and people moving their legs to make room caught her attention. The girl looked over Chris's shoulder, smiling when she saw Matt returning with a tray in his hands that looked heavy, full of things.

"Hi baby, I'm back." The boy sighed dramatically, sitting down, leaving her between himself and Justin, who fished his phone out of his hoodie, alternating his eyes between the device and the big screen.

"Babe, I just asked for fries." Y/N's eyes widened, noticing not only a big serving of french fries on the tray but also two cheeseburgers and two drinks, a Diet Coke - her favorite - and a root beer.

"You only had breakfast today. French fries won't take away your hunger." Matt countered, carefully opening the packaging of all the items so that Y/N could eat them without getting her hands or clothes dirty.

The girl rolled her eyes playfully, smiling and bending slightly to his side, softly sealing Matt's right cheek with her lips before picking up some fries, bringing them to her mouth. Her action was quickly interrupted by her boyfriend, who held her wrist gently.

"Wait, I bought you ketchup." He lifted the package of fries, showing the small closed container with the red sauce inside.

"Oh, thank God." The girl sighed in relief, waiting for Matt to open the lid so she could dip her fries before finally eating them, rolling her eyes in exaggerated pleasure.

Matt let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. His hatred for ketchup was the same size as Y/N's love for it.

Y/N quickly took the package of fries, turning to Justin and offering, smiling as she watched him fish out some, slowly eating them while observing the arena.

Matt's fingers worked on opening the can of Diet Coke, passing the transparent straw through the hole - knowing that his girlfriend didn't drink anything without one - before opening his own.

Chris and Nick's excited screams caught the attention of them, who quickly looked at the two with wide eyes, surprised by their sudden reactions.

"Matt, look!" Chris leaned over Nick, extending his right arm and slapping Matt's knee as he pointed at the screen with his left one.

Y/N followed the indicated place with her eyes, raising her eyebrows when she saw the Kiss Cam screen showing herself and Matt, Chris's arm appearing as well.

Justin let out a loud laugh, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his bent knees, keeping his eyes forward, not wanting to see his brother and sister-in-law making out right by his side.

Matt pressed his lips into a thin line before shrugging, quickly lifting the tray and passing it to Nick - who caught it instantly. The brunette turned to Y/N, seeing her already looking back at him, an awaiting look in her eyes.

His hands snaked up to her jaw, lightly pulling her closer, slamming their lips in an intense kiss, a surprised sound scaping Y/N's throat. She gave in quickly, closing her eyes and feeling like she could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears as her cheeks burned, definitely taking on a reddish hue.

Y/N's hands flew to his hair, threading her fingers through the soft strands. Matt ran his warm tongue across her bottom lip, requesting entry, which was granted instantly, deepening the gesture. The girl sighed through her nose in pleasure, intertwining their tongues in a dance, feeling goosebumps rise through her skin.

The crowd was going crazy; excited screams were heard from all sides, some people jumping in their seats, others recording or taking pictures of the screen.

Nick and Chris pretended to be disgusted, wrinkling their noses or playfully closing their eyes with their hands, but matching smiles decorated their expressions. Justin smirked, keeping his eyes fixed on the big screen, shaking his head in amusement.

Y/N was sure their kiss was much longer than the time the camera focused on the two of them - probably already having found the next couple to record.

When the air was running out, Matt slowly pulled away, his eyes still closed as he tried to savor the taste of his girl still in his mouth. His lips were swollen and pink - probably just like hers - while his chest rose and fell with excitement and lack of air.

She sighed deeply when she saw him finally open his eyes, his long eyelashes caressing his cheeks and his blue orbs meeting hers. The girl bit her lower lip at the intense look Matt held, his dilated pupils visible.

"You guys are so disgusting." Nick's voice seemed to wake them from their trance.

Matt rolled his eyes, licking his lips quickly, wetting them. He straightened in his seat and raised his hands, silently asking Nick to give him the tray back.

Y/N cleared her throat, tucking the loose strands of hair behind her ear. She adjusted her posture, rolling her eyes when she heard Nick laughing at her shyness - as if she wasn't just kissing his brother like her life depended on it. Justin shook his head, exchanging looks of mock disgust with Chris.

"You're just jealous because if they had focused the camera on you, you would have had to scream that you don't have anyone to kiss." Matt shot back, instantly silencing them.

© vanteguccir

[joonsytip]

Only for Love || Mingyu - Part 3

Pairings: Mingyu x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Husband!Mingyu, Cold Wife!Reader, Arranged Marriage au, Contract Marriage au, Divorce au

Synopsis: When an accidental discovery has your perception of happy married life crumbling down, you do what you think is the best for everyone involved. Naturally, your opinion of the best doesn't cater to your husband's. So what happens when things spiral out due to unforeseen events?

Warnings: character death, mentions of pregnancy, Mingyu acts dumb, reader goes through a whole lot of emotional turmoil, mentions of divorce, tears, profanities, major angst.

Word Count: 5.7k

@wongyuuu thanks a lot for brainstorming out this with me & happy birthday, love! 💕🎂

[ SVT Masterlist ] [ SVT Flick - Fic Masterlist ]

Teaser | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Epilogue

Mingyu returns to an empty house. He waits for you for an hour, two hours and when the clock strikes midnight his mind clouds with concern. He fishes out his phone and ignoring the series of notifications that keeps on popping up, he calls you.

But with all his calls remaining unanswered, Mingyu surges in panic and calls Soonyoung who's extremely pissed and shows his discontentment through a dry, edgy reply.

"She left with Minghao."

That's the only line Mingyu hears before getting hung up. And Soonyoong does not pick up his call again.

And now he sits rooted to the couch, tapping feet in anxiety and worry with no idea about your whereabouts and who the hell is Minghao?

His thoughts bounce off the walls and he decides to take his car and drives off to find you aimlessly. He goes to your office only to be greeted by the security. He goes to the café you are regular at, knowing very well that it would be closed but he makes a round just for his sanity. He knocks on your apartment door but it's empty just like the house was.

Dejected he fishes out his phone to call your uncle when the notification of your name flashes on the screen.

'Meet me at home within fifteen minutes.'

There's no way he's gonna get home within the said timeframe but just as he rushes towards his car, his phone vibrates again.

'Half an hour. Don't run the red lights, don't run over people.'

Mingyu listens to your advice and thankfully he reaches you in one piece.

But he stands frozen as he sees you in the hallway carrying a duffle bag.

"Where were you?", no greetings, you ask checking your watch.

Mingyu knows you know and you know that he knows that you know.

"I had to leave with Sora."

"And who's she?"

Mingyu bites his tongue before answering, "My ex."

"What made you go somewhere with your ex rather than watch your wife getting felicitated?", your voice is calmer than usual and it scares your husband to the bones.

He stays silent. And you wait for him like you have all the time in the world.

"I can't tell you right now, Y/N. I'm sorry.", he answers quietly, lowering his gaze.

"Okay.", you say and Mingyu looks at you flabbergasted. Before he could speak, you add,"I'm going to stay at my uncle's."

Mingyu feels electrified, the sensation which burns his whole body, itches on his skin and scratches at the throat.

"I'm sorry, I know it is an unacceptable behaviour of me but please trust me. I haven't done anything to be ashamed of.", Mingyu grabs your hands and blabbers, "You can stay with your uncle but please tell me when you are going to return, that you're going to return."

You pull back your hands from his grip, "I don't think I'll be returning anytime soon.", you say sternly, "I had something to share with you but this isn't the right time."

"Y/N--"

"Before I leave, tell me one thing. Are you going to keep seeing her?"

Mingyu flares at this, "I'm not seeing her for fucks sake! I would never do something bad, I'm your husband."

You stare at him for a solid minute, "You didn't answer my question. Anyways, I'm disappointed. Keep yourself in my shoes and give it a thought."

"Let me drive you, it's late.", he offers.

"You don't have to worry about me, Minghao is already waiting with his car."

Mingyu twitches on hearing the name for the second time, "And who's that?"

"I can't tell you right now, Mingyu. I'm sorry.", you mimic his words from before and just as you are about to cross the threshold, you whisper shaking your head, "You can't even put yourself in my shoes..."

Mingyu watches you leave with a grim heart.

It's been a two weeks since you've been living with your uncle. And though you've left home in despair, Mingyu has somehow made it a mission to win back your trust.

But who's gonna tell him that you never doubted him, you were just mad, just like a teenage girl who can't keep her act straight in front of her love.

He calls you every night. For the first week you didn't pick up his calls but when your anger started to subside you entertained his calls but never spoke much, just listened to him telling how his day went. He asks every time if could visit you, getting a straight no as reply. He might be obedient but he's sneaky as hell because most of the times when you're getting off work you somehow see him engrossed with some conversation with Soonyoung at the parking.

What is he doing at your workplace almost everyday, when he could crash at Soonyoung's place. Why does Soonyoung have to call out your name every time when you're walking past them, roping you into some small talks.

Soonyoung is the imposter.

And why does everytime aa you are about to take leave after the conversation, Mingyu asks you the same question, "When are you returning?"

You never answer.

"You've gotta be kidding me!", Seokmin yelps. They all have gathered at Mingyu's place because everyone is stressed and wants to know what is actually happening.

"There are all sorts of rumours at the workplace. And I wanna punch everyone in the face.", Soonyoung says dejected, "Minghao and Y/N went to the same university so some are saying that they have dated during that time." he takes a chug from the can and continues, "And since Mingyu didn't show up at the event last time, it has sparked the speculations."

Mingyu sits head lowered, rubbing his hands all over the face.

"I'm sure Minghao likes her. I can tell by the way he looks at her.", Soonyoung puts it down.

"What about Y/N?", Mingyu asks his heart beating in his chest rapidly.

"What do you think dumbass?", Junhui glares at him.

"Woah, I'm offended now that you asked that question.", Hansol speaks in distaste.

"It's been a month without her.", Mingyu sighs, his lips curl down, eyes filled with concern, "I think everything was going back to normal, assuming by the way she responded, I felt like she'd be coming back anytime but she has gone radio silent suddenly. For the past two weeks she isn't responding to my calls or texts, she is even working from home."

"Yeah maybe Minhee can tell something", Junhui suggests, "But I doubt she'd spill anything if Y/N has told her not to."

The evening bleeds into night and the guys keep on chatting when suddenly Jeonghan who hasn't been much involved decides to speak.

"Now that Sora is back? What are you gonna do?"

The laughters die down and room falls silent with all the eyes on Mingyu.

"What's going on guys? Is there something we don't know?", Seokmin asks in fear.

Jeonghan leans back on the couch and looks at Mingyu, saying, "I think it's time, they should know. I'll go first, that day Mingyu left with Sora to meet me. Apparently, the guy Sora had left Gyu for turns out to be a douch. Won't go to the details but he kept blackmailing her, so desperate to save herself and afraid that I won't be meeting her if she went alone, she took him with her. I'm skipping the legal parts and that guy has been sort of taken care off. But that's not where it ends.", he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, "The problem is that Sora wants him back now."

Gasps erupt through the room.

"Why did I see it coming though?", Seokmin says, "You have said no straight to her face right, Min?", he asks Mingyu.

The silence that follows horrifies every other one present in the room.

"Don't tell me...", Hansol trails off, eyeing his friend in utter disbelief.

"It's not what you're thinking.", Mingyu frowns, "I haven't said anything to Sora. But I have loved her for so long it's rolling back like a habit.", he hesitantly looks up and sees a bunch of disappointed faces, "But if it had been the previous me, I'd have gone to her in a snap but I'm changed now."

Mingyu gives a wry smile when looking at the relief washing over his friends.

"Here's the real deal begins. We have been married for over two years, in a few months we'd be hitting the three year mark. It's a long time right?", he sweeps his gaze across the large wedding frame of you both on the wall, "Instead of being a couple, I feel like living with a roommate. No feelings involved. She's stoic, nonchalant and even inconsiderate sometimes, even if I think that there's something between us, her actions act as bucket of cold water on those thoughts. I understand that not everyone is the same and I agree that Y/N has changed but somehow we're still at the starting point and it's starting to tire me out. Maybe I shouldn't have agreed to this marriage--"

There's a sudden thud and all the necks turn in unison only to find you standing by the hallway and your bag on the ground.

Heartbreak is one thing but the humiliation is another form of descend you're currently facing. You return your home only to find your husband shit talking about how unhappy he is in this marriage to his friends.

And the biggest loss turns out to be how you're the only one who thought that it's a happy, perfect marriage. Your husband isn't wrong when he said that you're inconsiderate.

Tears prick at your eyes but aren't you stoic, nonchalant so why should the people infront of you get the leverage to see you vulnerable? They shouldn't, so you pick up your bag and walk past them going straight into the guest room.

There are continuous knocks on the door. Your phone keeps ringing but you pay mind to none. Your mind only reels the words of your husband from before.

The previous you would have stomped out of the house but now, you can't. The situation has changed, the circumstances are different and you are totally lost.

Because there's a life is growing inside you. The reason you decided to return home tonight but your second attempt at letting Mingyu know that he's gonna be a father cracks again. The first attempt was the night where Mingyu chose Sora over you. He doesn't want you, would he want to raise a child with you?

Maybe you shouldn't have gotten married, maybe you shouldn't have fallen in love with your husband and maybe she's better, the previous you who knew you're undesirable, who knew that people like you are unlovable, who very well knew how to maintain a boundary.

You have lost the track of time but you sure can hear voices from the other side of the door. You think attachment is something you can't effort, you are not people's people.

So that's how what Mingyu had said, you turned into his roommate. Since that day, you have settled in the guest room. You don't get out of your room unless it's an emergency. You leave for work early and return home at late hours.

You haven't spoken to Mingyu since that day. You've rejected all his advances of striking a conversation. But you're thankful to him for making you food everyday because you can't eat anything else, it makes you nauseous.

"Hey, are you okay?", Minghao asks worried as he takes a sit beside you at the cafeteria of the office, "You have been throwing a lot."

You nod your head, avoiding his gaze, "I'm fine."

Minghao doesn't buy your words but you both settle in the comfortable silence and until he gasps.

You cock brows looking at him.

"Are you pregnant?", he gasps, "Oh my god."

You freeze and slap your hand over his mouth and proceed to tell him everything that has been happening.

"So Mingyu doesn't know yet. And he's being a jerk ever since his ex-girlfriend returned.", Minghao says in anger. He sweeps a gaze across your face and his eyes soften, "You love him, don't you?"

You avoid his gaze again, you don't answer him.

A sad smile graces on his lips as he reminiscences the past. How he had practically clinched himself in your life. How he had fallen in love with you but knew that you wouldn't reciprocate, the reason why he disappeared abruptly from your life years ago. The apologies are always on the tip of his tongue for leaving you alone, for creating the safe place but also leaving it void.

"You know you shouldn't be taking stress. I know it's not easy but I'd suggest for you both to sort things out, atleast for the baby.", he says patting your back in a comforting manner, "If Mingyu does anything to hurt you again, tell me I'll beat him for you."

"Thanks Hao.", you say smiling.

"Also let me know if Soonyoung bothers you. I'll handle him as well."

You shake your head laughing, "He insufferable Hao, you'll give up."

"We'll see that.", he smiles softly, "But do plan on telling him. Uncle also needs to know, he'd be so happy."

"I want the baby's father to know first. Then I'll tell everyone.", you assure him.

Mingyu knows he went overboard. He knows he was being an absolute asshole when he uttered those baseless words in your favour.

Maybe he should never have compared the type of relationship he had with Sora with the one he's having with you. It's a grave mistake and the lack of your presence is taking a toll on him. But he understands if you need space or even don't want to see his face. He's willing to give you all that but he plans to apologise to you and if you don't forgive him, he'd understand.

Work is hectic but the situation at home is feverish. He has been getting earfuls from all of his friends and family, specially Minhee. She has been giving him shit routinely.

His reverie breaks when he receives a text from you. Hurriedly opening the text, his eyes widen with a mixture of horror and anticipation.

'Come home as soon as possible. I have something to tell you.'

His mind could only hint at it being something ominous.

You pace around the entire house nervously.

"Mingyu, I'm pregnant. You're gonna be father."

You shake head at the selection of words.

"Congratulations! You're going to be a dad!"

Sounds too exciting for an unplanned pregnancy.

"You're pull out game was weak. Guess what I'm pregnant."

Too snappy, rejected.

"Kim Mingyu, you're pregnant, I will be-- wait what no-- I'm pregnant, we're expecting."

You sit down pulling your hair in frustration.

After another hundred million failed rehearsals you sort to say whatever your heart would feel like at the moment in his presence.

But where's Mingyu? You check the clock, it's past his work hours. Maybe he's running late for some reason. It's your third attempt to tell him about your pregnancy and you hope that you'd succeed this time.

Your phone rings and you would never have guessed that your world would come crashing down.

You stand with head your head bowed down the entire time at the funeral hall. The band wrapped around your arm acts as a constant reminder that you're the chief mourner. You don't raise your head, not ready the see the picture that's kept on the board.

The heart attack was so brutal that it claimed the life of your uncle without a chance of revival. When you were informed he was already gone.

No last words, no goodbyes. Now you're left with only his photo and memories. You walk into the room where his body is kept as you've made a special request to let you meet him before he's taken into the coffin.

He's almost unrecognisable as you sit beside the body. Gently caressing his head, you finally let the tears fall.

"You were so eager to meet everyone that you left me alone here.", you sob, "What do I do without you now?"

You caress his cheeks gently, "Whatever I have become it's because of you. Even though I was the reason they died, you took me in and raised me like our own."

"I have something to tell.", your hands place themselves back on his head, "I'm pregnant. You're gonna be a grandparent. Tell mom, dad and aunt that I have grown up. Tell Sejin that he's gonna be an uncle."

You spend some more last moments with your uncle before there's a knock on the door. You quickly wipe the tears and look up to see Mingyu standing at the threshold.

"It's time.", he says solemnly.

You nod and look back at your uncle saying, "Thank you for everything. Have a nice reunion with everyone up there. Forgive me if I have been a bad daughter. Goodbye comrade."

You don't like the pitiful look everyone throws at you. You hate it, it claws on your skin and you feel like throwing up. Running into the washroom, you sit down opening the lid to empty your stomach when you feel your hairs being pulled back in gentle grip.

It's Mingyu, you know even though even without seeing him. He doesn't care about entering a ladies washroom when he has to look for you.

"Here, drink some water.", he uncaps the bottle and offers it to you.

He's presence is somewhat comforting, he makes things bearable. Your uncle is laid beside the rest of your family and you request everyone to be left alone. It's night time when you leave the place only to see Mingyu waiting for you.

There's silence throughout the ride back to home, no words spoken when he makes you eat something he cooked when you were showering, unspoken words when you go back your room and he goes back to his.

You mourn for days and while you do so you take notice of a lot of things.

"Y/N, I'm sorry for that day. I didn't mean anything I said, I was just being an idiot.", Mingyu  says after barging into your room one night because he had enough. He decides he won't let you suffer alone anymore.

You nod your head, "It's okay.", your short and curt reply doesn't settle well with your husband.

"I know one apology isn't enough and I understand if you won't forgive me but please let me be there for you.", he pleads closing the gap and taking your hands within his. His eyes searches for your face and his brows crease when he finds you avoiding eye contact.

You pull back your hands out of his grip, "I can take care of myself, Mingyu."

Your call of name rings oddly in his ear. It's rare for you to call him by name, it's always husband when throwing banter or Gyu while being affectionate.

Affectionate? His mind reels in the moment. Aren't you unexpressive then how could his mind produce that word in your wake?

"I'm tired. Let's call it a night.", you say poised, "There's no need for an apology. Everyone has the right to voice out about anything they don't like."

Mingyu feel like he's not your husband rather an office colleague. Your tone is so formal and dry. Your words cut him like a dagger. He wonders if he has caused damaged beyond repair.

It's so fucked up that he wants to hold you sleep, say sweet nothings to calm your senses but he's afraid to ask you to come back to the master bedroom.

So he lets you bask in your own company. He'll interfere with your personal space for sure one day, hustle in forcefully if you don't let him, no matter how rude and irritating it is, he'll mend the broken bond.

His heart breaks when he notices that you don't look him in the eyes anymore. You always had a strong lively gaze, but they are now hollow. You don't call him when you're struggling to open the jar, you don't ask for him when you can't reach something kept on the top shelf.

His friends are all dejected at how you don't indulge them anymore, they're sad at how they don't get to see you nowadays.

Mingyu had attempted to gauze you out of the coop by inviting the guys to the apartment. But you had locked yourself in the room the whole time.

His parents lament on how he ruined something so beautiful, his sister cries at how you don't communicate with even her nowadays.

He's already going crazy and Sora's pestering him by showing up outside his workplace often or making thousands of phone calls almost everyday, makes him ponder upon how was he even in love with her at some point.

He regrets again, now that he can clearly see the difference. You are you, the actual indifference you're showing is now and it's driving him crazy.

He wants to fix this. He needs to fix both of you because he needs you.

You're in the middle of some paperwork when there's a knock on the cabin door.

Soonyoung enters and the look that you give him is sharp enough to scare him off.

"How have you been doing?"

"Breathing fine, alive."

He should have taken the clue and left but it's Soonyoung and he lives as if he has nine lives.

"We miss you, please stop ghosting us."

"I'm not ghosting anyone."

"Minhee is miserable."

The writing stops, your hand halts for a moment before continuing. Soonyoung knocks on the table demanding your attention on him.

You sigh, having no option but look at him.

"You can be mad at your husband but we didn't do anything, Y/N. I don't even know Mingyu, I'm your friend."

The corner of your lips threaten to curl up. Your heart twinges and you smile sadly, "It's better to be prepared ahead so that you all will get accustomized to it later. Attachments are always painful."

Soonyoung looks at you quizzically, "What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing.", you drew yourself back in the papers, "I have a meeting in ten minutes, I need to go over these documents before that."

Soonyoung maybe callous at times but somehow seeing you and hearing your words today makes him bothered.

Another weak passes and you are packing your bags the entire time little by little, unknown to Mingyu because your door is always locked. Your office room is almost empty except for the systems. When Mingyu's not at home, you roam in the bedroom, swaying in the memories you both made there. You lay on the bed, sniffing the pillows because they smell like him.

You crave his touch all the time and him being in your vision doesn't help at all when you could sense the longing in his eyes.

Mingyu doesn't know that you've stolen one of his shirts and a hoodie. He should never find out.

Your soul knows. It tells you that it’s time to distance yourself from those who no longer align with you mentally, emotionally or physically.

"I can't stay here.", you whisper to yourself as you continue to pack rest of the items.

"I'm cursed.", you frantically wipe your tears, "People related to me keep dying."

Your body shakes, eyes producing another batch of fresh tears, "No one should be associated with me. I need to cut everyone out of my life for their sake. Without me, they'd be safe."

You heave a breath, in an attempt to calm yourself, "Mingyu doesn't like me anyways. I'm just a burden. He'll be free once I leave, he can be with Sora.", you rub your chest as it stings, "He'll be happy and that is what I want."

Your gaze instinctively lands on your belly, hands gently rubbing circles, "I promise, even if we won't be together, me and your dad will try our best to raise you. I can't wait to meet you, to hold you."

Mingyu, on the other hand is set on winning you back. He knows you don't like anything extravagant, so he plans to surprise you out a romantic date at home. He's ready to go to the lengths to make you forgive him. He craves your presence, your touch, your shy smiles, the way you call him when you want something from him.

He wants to love you, wants to make love to you. He has been dreaming a lot about starting a family with you. He wants the little versions of you both running around the house. When his friends took the initiative to show him how he has changed and it's for better he knows that it's true. He wonders if all the frustrations were because his heart wasn't ready to seek out the real feelings.

But now he has figured it all out, he likes you, likes you a lot. So he wants this marriage to work out.

He hopes for you to like him back. So who's gonna tell him the truth?

Some free time at work and he's watching new recipes to cook for you. Before going to bed, he's open the phone gallery and goes over your pictures, the pictures which are candid, the ones in which you posed, the best where he's with you in them.

Would you like it, if he throws pebble at your window and serenades you at the middle of the night? Would it be a good idea if goes down on his knees because he hasn't done it before and know he wants to.

Mingyu is all giddy making up scenarios in his head. He wishes to watch them all happen successfully.

"Are you having mood swings?", Jeonghan asks him one day when everyone gathers at the former's home, "Or do you have dissociative identity disorder? You were regretting getting married to her some weeks back and now you're saying that you like her?"

Junhui is grumpy, he takes a look at Mingyu and smacks him hard on his head causing the later to scream out in pain.

"He claims he is the most closest to Y/N and he is grieving because she is not responding to his texts.", Seokmin clarifies and eyes Mingyu in disbelief, "Seriously dude, what's wrong with you? How can you mess up this bad?"

Before Mingyu could speak up, Hansol interjects, "How hard it is to sort out your feelings? How could you even utter such ridiculous things about her when you know how difficult it had been for her, the whole life. Now she even lost her uncle. Imagine listening to your husband yapping about how much he dislikes you when you think he is one you can lean on? And that too instead of voicing out your mind to her first, she heard you telling it to us."

Hansol is a calm man, he never loses his cool except for some situations and this being one of it.

"It's not only me and Jun. Everyone is upset.. I know I'm making it sound bigger, we know that she is your wife, first and our friend, second but we can see that even though she never shows it she cares a lot. I'll tell you no one has ever entertained me constantly to help me, not even you guys. She even suggested me tools that she thought might help me with the editing though she had to invest time on getting to that point. She gifted Jun a diffuser as the previous one was causing him throat irritation but he was too stubborn to discard a newly bought machine."

Seokmin adds up to Hansol, "Didn't she help you with the paperwork late at night even though you both work in an entirely different industry? I'm sorry but did Sora ever do that being in the same line of work? No right. If you would have noticed she has always tried to accomodate herself within us even when it was difficult, it was all new to her."

Mingyu sinks his face into the palm of his hands, as he says regretfully, "I made a huge mistake. I let my intrusive thoughts win and ended up hurting her."

"What if it's too late to fix things?", Soonyoung speaks, his vision dazed as your words from before keeps reeling in his mind, "You should resolve the matters before it's too late."

The following week is hectic for Mingyu. The clients are visiting and everyone has to stay late attending them. It's a whole damn hustle, draining the employees out. The week goes on and out with him spending most of the time in office when all he wants is to go home just to see your face.

It's the last day of the visit and Mingyu thanks the heavens. He's usually patient but now all he wants is to avail the comfort of his home.

It's around one at night but unlike other times the hallway is lit in dim lights flooding  into the dining. There's an eerie silence and something unpleasant awaits.

"Let's get divorced."

When Mingyu came home late at that night to see you awake and waiting for him, there was an uncanny feeling that settled within.

Your hands are crossed, face void of any expression. He almost misses your words. If not for your next words, he would think he's hallucinating.

"We can decide on the terms and clauses, all as per your convenience.", you stress, "I do not expect any trouble from your side."

Mingyu finally registers everything you have said till now and everything hits him all at once.

"W-What are you talking about? Why do you want a divorce all of a sudden?"

Your monotonous tone rather asks him another question, "We have been married for over two years, nearing its third anniversary. Do you really want to be tied in this marriage?"

Though Mingyu thinks he doesn't know you well enough but he knows you enough to catch the wind of your words. He knows its not because of something he had said that day.

A familiar set of papers lying on the table catches his attention. His gaze then turns towards his office room and his suspicion confirms to be correct when he sees the door opened ajar.

"Why did you enter my office? I had clearly warned you about not doing so.", he says in a strict voice.

"That doesn't answer my question.", you say getting up, "Anyways it doesn't matter anymore. I'll get a lawyer, you get one too and proceed with the divorce. Oh, you already have Jeonghan."

As you turn back, you feel your husband's hand wrap around yours.

"How are you so calm? Why are you not asking me anything? Do I really mean nothing to you?", you hear his voice laced in frustration, "We are married for almost three years now and your cool headedness after, I'm assuming, knowing everything makes me aware of the fact that I really don't know you."

You jerk your hand out of his grip and turn back to look at him, "And how is that my fault? Maybe you've never tried to know me.", your voice drops another octave, "You can stop with the doting husband act now that I know the truth."

Mingyu doesn't miss the way your eyes show vulnerability for a moment. Your words strike a chord within him.

"You signed a contract with my uncle in exchange for marrying me.", you chuckle bitterly, "All you wanted was the stocks of the company uncle owned, a goddamn promotion, this house, everything else but me. I was never on the list. I was just a pawn. I don't know what my uncle saw in you to desperately marry me off to you. I hope all of this was worth it. The stocks must have passed down to you smoothly as it can only be acquired by someone working in the company. You can keep this house, keep everything."

"Y/N--"

"I don't wanna hear anything. I was waiting for you to come back so that I could make you aware that you're busted. I'll to go bed."

Mingyu reaches out for you again but you lay out a hand, "Please, I'm tired."

"O-Okay.", Mingyu backs down noticing the resignation in your demeanor, "But we're gonna talk it out tomorrow morning.", he sounds sincere when he says, "I'm sorry. I hope you'll give me a chance to explain everything."

But little does he know, you've already closed the room for any diversions, that you've decided to part ways with the person who has betrayed your trust.

��� Do not copy, re-post, translate, or share any of my works on other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, joonsytip.

[redr0sewrites]

DabiHawks comfort after a break up? Why have one when you can have both...

Only if you're comfortable, Rose. You deserve so much love and I'm here for you ❤

-B3an

📷 A/n: bean im literally gonna cry ilysm!!!! i love this idea URGH (also to anyone who doesn't know, this was inspired be my recently being cheated on.... yippee for healthy coping?)

📷 Cw: angst to fluff, self indulgent, reader has an ex, cheating (by ex), gn ex, post war (but the lov survives + keigo n touya (and reader) are friends, pre establishd dbhwx relationship

📷 dividers

you had been ignoring your phone for hours now. it had been buzzing practically nonstop, between friends and family all messaging you about your apparent breakup. why your ex had to post about it on social media you didn't know, but the fact that they were already posting about their ex wasn't surprising. you couldn't help but feel hurt, because honestly? it stung. being cheated on wasn't fun, especially with your ex's own damn ex, and even though you had been the one to break it off, the weight of the decision laid heavy on your shoulders.

the repetitive vibrations of your device against your bedside table finally forces you out from beneath your cocoon of blankets. groggy and bleary eyed, you read the caller name blinking on the screen- Keigo. you hadn't replied to anyone's messages, not his, not Mirko's, not Touya's, not even anyone from the league or your family- but now, you felt slightly guilty for doing so. Keigo rarely calls unless he has something important to say, and with that idea in mind you shakily pick up your phone and bring it to your ear.

"hello?"

"y/n!"

Keigo's warm voice reverberates through the phone, filling you with a soothing, fuzzy feeling that almost dulls the ache in your chest. you can hear the faint rush of wind in the background, leading you to believe that he's currently.. flying? or possibly even driving.

"how are you feeling?" he asks, voice so gentle it felt as though he was whispering in your ear. "can't have my favorite birdie all broken hearted, can i?" he teases, and despite yourself, you can feel a small grin creeping up on your features.

"it's certainly something. i just... can't believe they'd cheat, y'know? i mean, i guess no one ever expects it, but..." you trail off, sighing heavily and you can hear a soft clamour in the background as Keigo hums in agreement. a familiar raspy voice grumbles something about being motion sick, and suddenly it's your turn to ask questions.

"Kei... where are you? are you driving? also, is that Touya in the background?"

"oh yeah, about that.." he trails off with an awkward chuckle, and suddenly Keigo yelps, accompanied by the telltale sound of the phone rustling, evidently being snatched from his hands. it wasn't surprising that Touya was accompanying him, especially since they had been seeing eachother. you weren't really sure if it was dating or just a casual thing, but honestly? you were rooting for them- at least they were loyal.

"hey,"

the sound of Touya's deeper voice greets you now, and you blink hard for a second.

"..hi? what's going on?"

you hear scuffles in the background, Keigo grumbling something about surprises and Touya being "no fun"- that was certainly odd.

"we're on our way over," Touya supplies, and before you can even begin to splutter out any complaints, he cuts you off. "and no bargains, hon. we weren't even sure you were gonna answer the phone, so we decided to show up at your door whether you picked up or not."

you gape for a second, confused, but also... grateful?

"what- why?"

"i don't know-" Touya is immediately cut off by Keigo practically wrestling the phone from his grasp, and the fire user lets out an undignified hiss at the apparent swerving of the car. ah, so Keigo was driving. any potential road accidents caused by Touyas less than satisfactory vehicular skills were momentarily avoided... for now.

"anyway," Keigo stresses, clearly hushing an indignant Touya in the background. "what hot stuff means to say is that we're coming over because we care about you. a lot."

"and we didn't want you to be rotting all alone in bed all day!" Touya interjects from the background, and Keigo audibly slams the breaks.

"i swear i will crash this car-"

sniff.

"..y/n?? are you okay?"

you weren't sure when the tears started, but now they came rolling over you in an onslaught of pent up emotions. everything you had been holding back for the past few days for the sake of cordiality suddenly came crashing down as sobs began to wrack your body.

"is she crying?" Touya's alarmed voice can be heard faintly, and you realize you must be on speaker.

"thank you," you choke out between tears, struggling to regain your breathe as hot, wet tears continue streaming down your cheeks. "i'm so sorry for- hic- being s-so, so upset,"

you let out another little hiccup, and Keigo's immediately attempts to soothe you.

"shh, shh, it's okay," he coos, worry evident in his voice. "we're pulling in to your development/apartment complex now, and we picked up some food on the way.. we'll be up in a minute, okay?"

you let out a small whimper of affirmation, trying to calm your tears before their imminent arrival. Touya is uncharacteristically silent in the background, almost.. nervous.

"i'm gonna end the call now honey, okay? i'll see you in just a minute," Keigo mumbles, and you agree.

"ok," you whisper, holding the phone so close to your lips they can hear every syllable. "bye Kei, bye Touya, see you in a few.."

the call disconnects, and you slump back into your mattress, staring at the whirring ceiling fan above. the sudden rush of emotions that had overcome you earlier had all but subsided, and the lump in your throat remained as tears threatened to bubble up again.

it was strange, hearing them be so.. loving. maybe it was just your insecurities speaking, but you had been afraid that your friends wouldn't want to hangout with you anymore- it was so fucking embarrassing to have been cheated on by someone you had defended constantly. they're not that bad, you had said. you don't know them that well, give them a chance! oh how you had eaten your words. the thought of facing anyone had been downright terrifying, but now.. you felt safer, if only a little bit. it was nice to know they cared.

the sound of the doorbell ringing catches your attention, and you stumble out of bed to go greet your guests. only now do you realize how unkempt you look, and that your wearing the same mildly gross pajamas you'd fallen asleep in.

whatever, you think. its too late to change now. besides, neither Keigo nor Touya would be one to judge- their fashion choices were much worse than yours.

the warm smell of takeout greets your nose before you even manage to opwn the door, and the second you do you find yourself practically drowning in a tight hug. Keigo's soothing, familiar scent overwhelms your senses as he practically tackles you into your apartment, while Touya sidesteps the both of you to kick his shoes off to the side. the takeout bags sway in his hands as he watches you both hug with a half smirk, and his eyes flick to your own with almost uncharacteristic softness.

"how're you..." Keigo mumbles against your hair, voice muffled and warped. "missed you s'much, m' gonna fucking kill your ex,"

"thats my line," Touya interjects, and although he doesn't join the hug, he rubs your back with a scarred hand. you let out a breathy giggle at that, and Keigo pulls away from you to take the bags from Touya's hand and proceed towards your kitchen table. you follow the blonde eagerly, only now realizing how long it had been since you had last eaten- or drank anything, for that matter. Touya seems to catch on to this rather quickly, and pours you a glass of water with little haste before joining you at the kitchen table. meanwhile, Keigo unboxes the food, handing you your order.

"wow," you murmur, staring at the food in front of you. "i can't believe you remembered my order- how did you even know?" Keigo chuckles before replying with a lazy smile.

"wasn't me, birdie. that was all hot stuff over there- don't let him fool ya, he's actually a big softie."

Touya shoots Keigo a half hearted glare, and your heart swells in appreciation.

"i can't believe you remembered that, i haven't ordered from here in forever.."

Touya shrugs, trying to brush it off. "eh, y'pick stuff up here and there. i'm just glad you're feeling okay.." he trails off, sitting next to you and Keigo while you begin to eat.

"speaking of that," Keigo murmurs through a mouthful of food, "y/n, why didn't you answer anyone's messages? we were worried sick!"

you wince at the memory, and your cheeks heat as you swallow before replying. unbeknownst to you, Touya kicks Keigo under the table, muttering something about "being inconsiderate."

"sorry," you mutter, and take a deep breath before continuing. "i was just, embarrassed, i guess? i don't know." you trail off, and Keigo looks at you, not with pity, but with gentle affection.

"you know we'd never judge, right? hell, we've all had our relationship struggles but.." he trails off for a second, grabbing Touya's hand before reaching to rest his other over your own. "i'm here for you. we're here for you." he gives Touya a pointed look that he doesn't notice, instead focusing on you and you alone.

"yea," he whispers, "what Kei said. we're here. especially with shit like this."

another small smile creeps its way across your face, and you squeeze Keigo's hand. the melancholy feelings from earlier were ebbing away, slowly becoming replaced with something lighter and more... fluttery.

"i know. and thank you, really. you're both wonderful, i can't even begin to talk about how grateful i am.."

"eh, don't mention it," Touya scoffs, and you for some reason, you notice how nonchalantly he rubs gentle circles over the back of Keigo's hand intertwined with his own. "y'know, killing your ex is still on the table.."

"no!" you interject, which causes them both to giggle. "we are NOT killing my ex!!!"

"what about maiming?"

"Touya!!"

Keigo has nearly collapsed with laughter, and you shoot him a half hearted glare.

"don't you start too," you grumble, and he snickers.

"just a liiiittle maiming?" the blonde hero giggles, and you groan.

"you both are the worst!!"

"that's why you love us~" Touya teases, his eyes glinting with something unreadable. Keigo smiles at you lazily, his laughter finally subsiding.

"yea, i guess i do," you reply, and Touya immediately jumps out of his seat.

"See!!! i told you she'd say it back!" he blurts indignantly, and Keigo groans. "i guess i owe you $20 now," he grumbles, and you blink at them.

"were you.. betting on me saying i love you back?"

"...would you be mad if we said yes?" Keigo replies, and you roll your eyes.

"only you two could come up with something like that."

"i guess you're right on that one, sweetheart," Touya chuckles, taking the $20 bill from Keigo and giving him an unreadable look. "only us."

you raise your fork full of food in the air, your previous worries nearly forgotten.

"a toast to us?" you tease, and Keigo snickers, lifting his forkful of chicken while Touya rolls his eyes before reluctantly following suite.

"to us," you all murmur in unison.

THIS WAS SOOO FUN TO WRITE AND IM GEN CONSIDERING DOING A PT 2 AFYER LIKE A BIT OF A TIMESKIP WHERE READER REALIZES THEYRE CATCHING FEELINGS FOR DBHWKS AND FEELS HORRIBLE SINC THEY THINK THEYRE BEING A BAD FRIEND, BUT THE ENTIRE TIME DBHWKS JUST WANTS THEM TO JOIN THEIR POLY RELATIONSHIP LMAO- AND THEN EVENTUALLY DABIHAWKS ACTUALLY ASKS THE READER TO BE W THEM,,,, WOULD ANYONE BE INTERESTED IN THAT,,,; HEHEHEHEHE

[rebelliousneferut]

long-distance misunderstandings | jude bellingham x verstappen!reader

summary; a compromising photo that poses a threat to your relationship with jude

genre; angst, fluff

face claim; annie schröter

note; english is not my first language.

as soon as i saw the photo i knew i had to write something about it

masterlist!

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

wagsgossips

liked by y/nverstappen, yourbestfriend, footballwags and others

wagsgossips the 21 y/o real madrid star was seen last night in california in the company of his england teammate trent alexander arnold. but it was not that that caught our attention, but his closeness with a girl whose identity we still do not know.

jude bellingham has been in a romantic relationship with y/n verstappen, the younger sister of the triple world champion in formula 1.

are there problems in paradise? follow me so you don't miss any news

view comments

y/njudefans you are creating drama where there is none. it is a simple photo and we don't know the context behind it.

username he is a footballer, that already makes him a cheater

username i agree

vertappenssource was max's warning not clear enough?

username i saw it coming, she deserves better

username poor y/n:( i always thought she looked more in love than him

username for god's sake, stop assuming things and creating meaningless gossip

sunshine streamed through the window of our shared madrid apartment, casting a warm glow on everything it touched. except me. my phone, usually buzzing with life, lay silent on the coffee table. the cheerful chirping of birds outside mocked the turmoil brewing within me. a single picture, a single stolen moment, had shattered my world.

jude was in california for a commercial shoot. missing him terribly, i was holding down the fort back in madrid. social media, my usual source of joy, had become a minefield. a gossip page had exploded with a photo: jude, seemingly handsy with a random girl at a party. the caption screamed betrayal. my phone had become a vessel of concern, overflowing with messages from worried friends and fans.

"he wouldn't do that," i whispered, denial laced with a sliver of doubt. i knew Jude. i knew his loyalty, his unwavering love and i knew how harmful the networks could be. yet, the photo gnawed at me, a seed of suspicion taking root.

i decided to take my phone, just because i knew how worried my brother would be until now and i had to talk to him. and almost as if he read my mind, a video call from him came in

"hello liefje," he muttered, almost as if he was expecting me to explode at any moment. "i know how things may look right now, talk to jude before you do anything rash, you know how the media is."

"I know, it just took me by surprise. and I'm not going to lie, it hurt me a little but i know there is an explanation behind it." i told him, even though it wasn't a compromising photo, seeing him so close to another woman had made me think.

"in any case, let me know and i'll go beat him up." max answered me, pretending to hit his fists which made me genuinely laugh.

after talking to max for a while i felt calmer, but i still knew that i had to talk to jude, who i had not responded to for hours because i knew that my feelings were going to betray me.

days bled into one another. calls from jude went unanswered, my voicemails a silent plea for explanation. the silence stretched, a suffocating weight on my chest. i retreated into myself, a fortress of hurt and confusion.

then, the door creaked open, shattering the suffocating silence. jude, his face etched with worry, rushed in, his arms outstretched for me. i flinched, the photo flashing in my mind.

"where have you been?" he sighed, relief washing over his features. "why haven't you been answering my calls?"

his voice, laced with concern, chipped away at the walls i'd built. tears welled up in my eyes, a torrent threatening to burst. i thrust my phone at him, the photo accusingly displayed on the screen.

jude's brow furrowed in confusion as he looked at the picture. understanding dawned, followed by a wave of frustration.

"baby, i know what this looks like, but she was there for a photo. the media just took everything out of context, i would never be able to lie to you, you know." shame colored my cheeks.

"i should have called you," he admitted, his voice laced with regret.

i reached out, taking his hand in mines. "i should have trusted you," i whispered, the words heavy with unspoken hurt.

the silence that followed wasn't suffocating anymore. it was filled with the promise of a new beginning. we spent the night talking, clearing the air, the misunderstanding dissolving in the warmth of shared apologies and renewed trust.

the next morning, i woke up to the gentle sunlight and the feeling of jude's arm wrapped around me. he pulled me closer, his lips brushing against my ear.

"maybe next time, we travel together," he murmured, his voice a husky whisper.

i smiled, a genuine one this time. "no more long-distance misunderstandings," i agreed, snuggling closer.

the internet storm eventually subsided, replaced by messages of support and well-wishes. our love story, a little richer for having weathered a storm, continued, a testament to the power of communication and trust.

judebellingham uploaded to their story;

[caption; my one and only]

[the-void-via]

TW: TALK OF GUNS, INJURES FROM GUNS, DEATH, ANDROID GORE IG?

Second part of my Rota Fortunea fic!

“The leader of the resistance, Sunday, was found dead fifteen system hours ago. Forensic experts have deduced the cause of death to be a gunshot wound to the head. However, upon finding the gun at the crime scene, only Sunday's fingerprints were found on it. Law enforcement is investigating the crime scene-”

Ratio shut the TV off with a grumble, glaring at his reflection in the dark screen. He set the remote down and turned to the nearby table, Aventurine’s sleeping body laying atop it.

He glanced at Ruan Mei and Herta. Oil stained their hands, working on hooking Aventurine up to a power source before they worked on fixing him. He—reluctantly—stayed a few feet back, after both women had practically ripped the android from his arms when he walked through the door.

Barely a word had been exchanged between the women and Ratio, putting all their attention and focus into Aventurine. He could do little but stand back, peering over their shoulders from time to time to try and check their progress.

Ruan Mei moved, allowing Ratio a clear view of Aventurine’s face-

He cringed. Some layers of machinery had been stripped away near his right eye, leaving a red LED light to stare back at him. His eyes drifted, the metal of his neck slight exposed–

He turned away. It was too much to bear. Seeing someone who used to be his friend– no. The man he loved in such a state killed him inside. He moved to sit down, sighing heavily.

“Don't move much,” Ruan Mei softly scolded, not even turning to look at him. “You sustained three gunshot wounds from Sunday. You don't want them to open.”

He grumbled a little bit, muttering something under his breath as a reply. Ruan Mei didn’t say anything else, fully focused on the android laying atop the table in front of her.

Herta was no different, the only indication of her presence being her soft mutterings to herself, working with Ruan Mei as if they had some telepathic connection they were communicating through.

It was unnerving, to say the least. The silence in the room.

Ratio sighed again and leaned against the chair, staring up at the ceiling. His body relaxed into the chair; the adrenaline had long worn off, slowly being replaced with exhaustion. He fought it as long as he could, fought to keep his eyes open- but his body knew he was safe.

His eyes started to slip closed, hoping for just a little cat nap…it sounded nice at this point…

…

Knock, knock, knock. …knock-knock!

His body jerked, sitting up straight in the chair. The two geniuses had made progress on Aventurine, he deduced they were just over halfway in connecting him to a power source- but that wasn't the priority at the moment.

Someone knocked on the door.

Herta had walked away from the table, leaving Ruan Mei to continue for a moment by herself. She turned to look at Ratio as she heard the chair jerk, her expression unreadable.

“You're awake.” She said bluntly.

“W- ahem- what was that?” He asked, rubbing his eyes. “That knock. Is it-”

“Thank you, Miss Herta,” A voice—definitely not Herta’s—came from the hallway she had disappeared down a moment ago. “I'm sorry to inconvenience you at a time like this. I had a run-in with a few androids above ground, and I just need a few tune-ups on my arm–”

A male figure, clad in a dusty dark pink cloak, walked into the room at Herta’s side. He pulled his hood back, his hair dyed pink with long, white roots. Deep crimson eyes scanned the room as he stopped dead in his tracks, blinking at the two new figures.

“Oh.” He mumbled in surprise. “There's other men here. That's…intriguing.”

“Never mind them,” Herta shooed him to another table, aiding him in sitting atop it. “You said you need me to fix your arm? Which one?”

The man shed his cloak, revealing himself to be wearing a tight black tank top, as well as black shorts with knives tucked inside harnesses. He carefully extended a mechanical arm, using his other hand to point to his elbow. “This one, the joints got busted up real bad. I was afraid it would fall off before I got here.”

Ratio’s eyes widened upon seeing him. His arms and legs were very visibly mechanical, white metal with elegant dark pink accents. His stomach almost sank upon the realization.

Another android?

“Wow, Shilou,” Herta mused, taking his arm into her hands and examining his joint. “This is really badly damaged. You really are lucky it didn't fall off on the way.”

“I know,” Shilou chuckled a little. “Thank you again, Miss Herta. Are you sure there's nothing I can do for you? Any materials you need? I can't keep letting you fix me without any sort of payment-”

“Excuse me,” Ratio’s voice cut him off, his arms folded across his chest in an almost standoffish manner. “Who are you?”

Tags: @havanillas @serendipminie @blak-ie @blackcat2907 @drowning-in-cabbages @lumin-arii @kyl13sm1l3y @darkluminosity @smellofsnoww (lmk if you wanna be tagged or not when I post about my oc's!)

[loki-hargreeves]

In Another Life

Pairing: TVA!Loki x Reader (I tried to write it as a gn!reader) Warnings/Tags: angst, mentions of death (nothing graphic), Loki is a bit emo, romantic relationship Word Count: 1.8k Summary: PROMPT: wrong timing // When working with the TVA, Loki certainly doesn't expect to run into you. Especially after what he thought was a final goodbye. A/N: Using this prompt list by @ivystoryweaver . It's been too long since I last wrote for Loki so I'm going back to my roots with this one 🎃

Earth...2011....Timeline???

Loki steps out of the bright orange portal, straightening his suit jacket as he takes in his surroundings. It's definitely Midgard, or Earth as Mobius would call it. By the looks of it, they're in an alleyway somewhere and it's supposed to be 2011. If this timeline is anything like Loki's original timeline, he should be safe to roam these streets without people freaking out.

"So... we're looking for a needle in a haystack," Mobius sighs and rests his hand on his hip. The man glances at the device in his hand, one that's supposed to lead them to the temporal anomaly.

"I doubt it'll be more challenging than when we were looking for Sylvie," Loki smiles tightly. He is confident in his skills to track down the anomaly and figure out what's really going on in this timeline.

Mobius simply shrugs and looks at the end of the alleyway, into the town that is basking in sunlight, "maybe you're right."

"You know I'm right," Loki corrects him and takes the lead, walking out of the shady alleyway. They have a job to do.

It doesn't take very long for Loki to realize that this place is familiar, too familiar. After walking around town for a few moments, he knows it's not just his imagination. This is where he met you, in another timeline of course. All those years ago.

When Loki was younger, before Thor's attempted coronation and all that, he used to sneak through these portals that even Heimdall couldn't see. One of them would lead to Midgard, to this very town. At first, it had been fun, mostly something he did out of curiosity. Exploring the realm without being watched. Loki had been intrigued by people and their customs.

Then he had met you.

To this day, the Trickster's heart swells at the shared memories. To think the god of mischief had fallen for a mortal. If Thor or his friends had found out, Loki would've never heard the end of it. Looking back now, something like that would've been the least of his worries.

The few years you had spent together were brief yet some of the best years of his existence. You had fallen for him, not knowing he was a god, a prince or any of that. No, you fell for Loki for who he was. Saw the sides of him he kept hidden from everyone. And in return, Loki had seen just how wonderful humanity could be. How you, as an individual, made him believe in love. Selfless, real, passionate love.

Then Loki had trusted you with the truth. For a while, everything had been beautiful. No one on Asgard knew the prince was sneaking off to Midgard to see this mortal, and no one on Earth knew or tried to come between you. It had been just the two of you and nothing else mattered.

It's why Loki feels a mixture of overwhelming emotions swirling within him as he walks the familiar streets. It may be in another timeline and things could very well be different here, but many things look exactly the same. Everywhere he looks is a memory that unveils from the depths of his mind. He swears he tried ice cream from that shop once after you insisted he'd like it. You had been right of course.

"Weird…" Mobius mutters, his eyes glued to the device. "We're getting closer to it. It ain't moving at all," He explains and points at the red dot on the screen.

"Perhaps the anomaly is asleep?" Loki suggests, trying to figure out why it isn't moving. Something doesn't feel quite right though.

"Well they won't see us coming, that's for sure."

Loki just nods, too occupied with other things to even respond properly. Is it a coincidence that the anomaly has led them here? To a place so important to Loki?

Soon enough, Loki and Mobius are looking out to a field behind some houses. The sun is beginning to set, painting everything it touches with a golden hue. It's beautiful, just as Loki remembers it. That field out there is perhaps too familiar. By now, he's concerned about the coincidences. If the anomaly has anything to do with you, Loki isn't sure how he'd handle himself.

Do you even exist in this timeline?

A lump forms in his throat as Loki thinks about it. He had to say goodbye to you once already, over a decade ago. It might not be a long time for a being such as him, but a decade without you has already felt like a lifetime. Time is cruel, especially to mortals. What is even crueler is fate who had decided that the brief time you were promised in the first place would be cut so much shorter.

Loki had come to see you one last time without knowing it was the last. You hadn't been well. It was both a blessing and a curse that there had been enough time to say goodbye yet it had been the hardest thing Loki had done. Holding you, telling you how much you meant to him and promising you that he would find a way to cure you. That he would bring you to Asgard and make everything better, knowing damn well there was nothing that could be done. Now all these years later he can only hope that he had told you what you wanted and needed to hear before your time was up. Was it the right or wrong thing to do to create false hope? Did you know?

"What's going on?" Mobius asks with worry, noticing that Loki froze up. He knows Loki well enough by now to know when something's not quite right.

"This place," Loki shakes his head and decides to slip out a hint of truth without revealing too much, "I've been here before."

The wind plays with the flowers growing out on the fields, carrying the sweet late summer scent with it. There's a few people out there, some on a picnic as others read in the shade that the trees offer nearby. Everything about the scene seems serene. Once upon a time, Loki had been out there with you watching the stars. You loved his stories about all the places he had been. Loki recalls how deeply curious you were about the universe and all the beings living here.

"Do you think that's a coincidence?" Mobius asks with growing concern. Sure, Loki has been to a lot of places, he's a century old being but this still seems fishy. For all the places an anomaly could be hiding in.

Before Loki can answer, he sees someone.

There you are.

Healthy, living and breathing. You're in that shirt he remembers you loving so much because it had been a gift from a friend. You're walking down a path, on your way home presumably. That smile, so sweet and happy, is powerful enough to hit Loki's soul like a punch to the gut.

According to the TVA device, it's 2011. In Loki's timeline, you never saw 2011 yet in this timeline you're smiling and safe. Walking home as if nothing bad has ever happened at all.

Loki holds his breath, unable to peel his eyes off of you. There's only a few dozen feet between you and him but it feels like an ocean. After a decade of mourning you, to see your face like this is surreal. Even for him. Only now does the multiverse and multiple timelines feel like a reality. He's being hit in the face with the cold, hard truth that in other timelines everything can be so familiar yet so different all at once.

Mobius follows Loki's gaze, quickly noticing what has taken his friend's breath away. He has read Loki's file a million times so of course he recognizes you. Or rather this version of you. You're the one that got away, the last piece of happiness in Loki's life before the 'downfall' as some call it.

"Um... if you're wondering, they're not the anomaly," Mobius is the first one to speak, just trying to be reassuring. The device shows that the anomaly isn't moving so it can't possibly be you as you stroll down a path.

Loki nods, unsure if he should be relieved or disappointed.

"Of course," he clears his throat and takes a deep breath. It's surprisingly difficult to find his words in this moment. Then Loki looks back at you as the path brings you closer. With each step, his heart begins to race like crazy. What is he supposed to do? Should he say something? Would you recognize him?

You notice the two men just standing there, in strange brown suits. One of them in particular seems struck by the sight of you. Strangely, he doesn't scare you. He's cute.

"Hi," You smile at him as you walk past the man. Perhaps you look like someone he knows? That is the only sensible explanation that comes to mind. Not that you think of it too much, as they are just strangers.

Loki is frozen. You walk right past him. For better of for worse, you have no idea who he is. That kills that tiny piece of hope Loki felt in that moment, that hope that he can't deny no matter how hard he tries. After all this time, he still misses you. He's still trying to fix everything.

"Hey," he manages after a while, unsure if you even hear it as you don't stop to talk. Of course, you don't have any reason to. It's not really you. In this timeline, this universe, this other you has places to be and see. As bittersweet as it is, Loki tries to find comfort in the fact that in another life, you get to live even if it's without him.

Mobius looks at the screen again. Suddenly the red dot vanishes. The temporal anomaly just jumped timelines.

"Darn it," He curses and puts the device down.

Loki doesn't question it. He wants to see you make your way home safely. A part of him wants to run after you, talk to you, get to know you all over again. But he can't. Loki is stuck to the ground like a statue and he knows deep down that another you can't replace what he knew existed in the past. Nor would it be right.

As you vanish into a building, Loki finally tears his eyes away. His eyes sting with the threat of tears. Somehow, in this moment, it feels like he's gone back to his own time when he had just said his final goodbye. Loki can't forget, no matter how much he wants to, when he came to visit you but you had already passed. He could bury you but not these emotions.

"Hey, I'm sorry," Mobius puts his hand on Loki's shoulder, trying to offer him support.

Loki just nods and tries so hard to toughen up. As if seeing another you didn't just shake him up from the core.

"It's alright," Loki insists, "where were we?"

Mobius doesn't buy it but he won't pry either. Loki will talk if he wants to talk.

"The anomaly jumped," Mobius reveals while tapping the device, "kinda weird timing if you ask me. Didn't move the entire time and-" Mobius hesitates, unsure how Loki would react if he spoke your name. He decides not to.

"It's like we were led here on purpose. For you to see..."

"I know," Loki quickly spits out, sensing that Mobius is being wary. He isn't stupid. He can't help but suspect something strange is going on as well. It can't be a coincidence that they were led to this timeline, chasing some anomaly who vanishes as soon as Loki saw you. Loki is the god of mischief after all and he can tell when he's being set up for something.

Then the question is, who is the anomaly and why would they bring them here?

A/N: Writing this made me feel like it was 2017 again when all I could do was write weird angsty Loki fics with no real plot, just yapping.

Also, I've been busy so for writober I'm using a bunch of prompt lists (some were for september) and I'm picking and choosing prompts instead of going day by day. It's helping me get out of my writer's block without too much pressure ❤