#IT SOUNDS SO COOL AND IT SOUNDS LIKE IN THE PAST? LIKE IF SHE WAS STILL IN THE CONSTEST

[aliyahwritings]

THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (07)

MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Model!Female Reader

Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.

Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.

Word Count: 8.1k

Aliyah's Notes: the way i wanted this chapter to be around 5k... but anyw, the ending to that chapter is pretty good so y'all can rest in peace lmaoo but problems are coming hehehehehe

The sound of her heels clicking on the pavement cut through the evening air, each step echoing louder than the last. You barely registered the chill of the evening as her figure came into view—Chiara Romano, arms folded over her chest, her expression a delicate balance of innocence and something unmistakably venomous. A small, mocking smile played at the corners of her lips, her gaze roaming over you with the kind of appraisal that felt like a slap.

Beside you, Rafe tensed, his gaze hardening as he straightened, clearly prepared for whatever barbs she had in store. You forced yourself to stand taller, meeting her gaze with a coolness you could barely muster.

“Chiara,” you said, injecting a polite edge into your voice that you knew was as fake as her smile. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

She tilted her head, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Oh, I just felt like things ended a bit... strange at the party,” she replied, her tone sugary sweet yet laced with something bitter. “Especially after seeing the headlines about you.” She let out a small sigh, as though feigning concern. “I couldn’t help but worry.”

A sharp laugh almost slipped from your lips. The headlines. She was talking about the recent media talking about your “potential” relapse… which were true. News of your recent struggles had been going viral, and she was here to dangle them in front of you. The reality of your relapse was raw, but admitting it—especially to Chiara—was out of the question.

“Did you, now?” You kept your voice light, your smile tight as you watched her closely.

“Of course,” she nodded, her eyes darting pointedly between you and Rafe, her expression softening with feigned empathy. “Us girls have to look out for each other,” she added, a hint of mock sincerity weaving through her words. “I just hope Rafe’s taking excellent care of you. I mean, if he’s able to.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes or worse—to let your anger slip through. Instead, you returned her smile with a casual shrug. “He is, thank you,” you replied, forcing your tone to stay neutral. “And I’m doing just fine. I haven’t relapsed—.”

“You sure?” she pressed, her voice a touch too innocent. “You look... thinner than I remember.”

You felt a twisted sort of satisfaction creeping in, an internal smile that you kept hidden. It was strange—almost absurd—but her attempt to make you feel small, to jab at your insecurities, did the opposite. She said it to be cruel; she thought her words would cut you deeply. But instead, they landed somewhere softer, failing to sting the way she intended.

Rafe’s voice cut through the tension, his tone sharp and commanding, filled with an authority that even you hadn’t heard from him before. “Alright, that’s enough,” he warned, his words laced with a chill that could silence a room. “Keep talking like that, and you’ll be the one making headlines.”

Chiara’s gaze flicked to Rafe, her lips curling into a sly smile, undeterred by his warning. “Oh, Rafe, always so protective,” she cooed, her tone dripping with mock innocence. “I thought we were past all that. After all, we did come here together.”

You blinked, the words sinking in like a stone dropping into still water, each ripple spreading through you. “You… came here with him?” you asked, keeping your voice steady, though your heart was pounding.

Chiara’s smile widened, a hint of triumph in her expression. “Of course. We just thought it’d be convenient, didn’t we, Rafe?”

Your eyes shifted to him, searching his face for any denial, some sign that this was just another one of her games. But Rafe stayed silent, his expression tinged with guilt, lips pressed together as if he didn’t trust himself to speak.

He had, in fact, come with her.

The air thick, with Chiara’s truth and Rafe’s guilty silence. Every moment he said nothing, the disappointment pooled deeper in your chest, twisting painfully.

You crossed your arms, your gaze hardening as you looked at him. “Convenient?” The word slipped from your mouth, laced with bitter disbelief. “Convenient for who, exactly?”

Rafe opened his mouth, struggling to find the right words, but nothing came out. His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he looked like he might deny it, try to explain. But his shoulders sagged slightly, defeated, as he glanced away.

Chiara’s voice broke the silence, her tone feigning sympathy. “Oh, don’t be upset. It’s not like you’re the only woman in his life, right?” She leaned back with a satisfied smile, clearly relishing the wedge she’d managed to drive between you.

“Alright, you know what?” you said, forcing a calm into your voice that belied the anger bubbling beneath the surface. “I don’t really care what arrangement you two have. But what I’d like to know, Chiara, is why you’re actually here. What do you want?”

Chiara’s smile faltered, just for a fraction of a second, before she recovered, her expression shifting to a mischievous glint. “I’m here to support my father’s event, naturally,” she replied smoothly. “But I couldn’t resist the chance to catch up with Rafe and see how… everything’s going with you two.”

You felt the anger begin to surge again, but you reined it in, straightening and lifting your chin. “Then let’s hope tonight’s as memorable as you’re expecting.” You threw a final look at Rafe, disappointment flickering in your gaze.

With that, you walked toward the car and sat in the passenger seat, forcing yourself to ignore the ache in your chest as you disappeared into the throng of people.

From the corner of your eye, you watched Rafe and Chiara exchange a few heated words. His jaw clenched as he spoke, his eyes narrowed in a way that told you he was holding back the anger simmering just beneath the surface. Chiara, on the other hand, looked anything but apologetic, her expression smug as she responded with an air of indifference. You couldn't hear what they were saying, but every movement, every flash of irritation in Rafe’s eyes only deepened the tight knot of frustration in your chest.

Before long, they finally turned, heading toward the car, and you forced yourself to look away and just focus on the city lights ahead of you. The silence that filled the car was thick, unbearably tense. The engine hummed beneath you, but the weight of everything unsaid made each passing second feel longer. You kept your eyes on the window, refusing to break the silence, even as your exhaustion began to creep in, your eyelids growing heavy.

Just as you started to drift, you felt him lean forward, his breath warm against your ear as he broke the silence, his voice low and soft. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, the apology laced with a vulnerability that caught you off guard.

You exhaled sharply, holding back the initial pang of anger. “You’re sorry?” you replied, your tone dripping with sarcasm as you finally turned to face him, one eyebrow raised. “For what, exactly? For keeping me in the dark? For thinking I wouldn’t notice you driving here with her?”

Rafe’s expression softened, his guilt evident as he held your gaze, searching for the right words. “It wasn’t like that. She… she just showed up. I didn’t think—”

You scoffed, cutting him off. “That’s the problem. You didn’t think. Or maybe you did, and just didn’t care to clue me in.” As his apology hung in the air, you couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Unbelievable,” you muttered, refusing to look at him. “So what, Cameron? You thought I’d just sit there and take it?”

He shifted closer, his voice strained. “I told you, it wasn’t like that. I didn’t invite her. She just… she knew I was coming here, and it felt easier to—”

“Easier?” You turned in your seat to face him, disbelief and frustration clear in your eyes. “Easier for who, exactly? Because it sure as hell wasn’t easier for me.”

Rafe’s gaze dropped, his fingers tapping nervously on the steering wheel. “Look, I know how it looks, but… she was already in the car before I could even think about it. I didn’t want to make a scene.”

You narrowed your eyes, unimpressed. “So, you thought the best plan was to just go along with her? To let her be seen with you, knowing exactly how that would make me look?”

“Y/N, I know I messed up, okay?” He leaned closer, the regret in his eyes almost palpable. “I was just trying to keep things calm. I didn’t want it to turn into something it didn’t have to be.”

“Oh, so you didn’t want to ‘make a scene’ with her, but now you’re perfectly fine with making me feel like an idiot?” you shot back, folding your arms. “How considerate of you.”

Rafe let out a sigh, rubbing his temples. “Can’t you just trust that I was doing what I thought was right?”

You rolled your eyes, the bitterness evident in your tone. “I don’t trust you.” You turned away, staring at the passing lights outside. "And you’re only apologizing now because you got caught."

He was silent for a moment, the weight of your words settling in. “I don’t want to keep doing this, Y/N,” he said quietly. “I don’t want you to feel like this… like I don’t care.”

You laughed, but it was a hollow sound. “Then stop giving me reasons to feel this way.”

You leaned against the window, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the passing city lights. During the car ride, Chiara, for once, seemed to get the hint and kept her mouth shut, though every so often you caught her glancing at Rafe through the rearview mirror. Rafe, on the other hand, drove with a steady determination, occasionally glancing at you as though he was waiting for you to say something—anything—that might break the unbearable quiet. But you refused to give him that satisfaction, and instead, kept your focus outward, on anything but the two people in the car with you.

As the car rolled to a stop in front of the charity venue, Chiara was quick to jump out, immediately making a beeline for her father, who was waiting near the entrance. The flash of photographers’ cameras lit up the scene, and she threw a gleeful smile their way, basking in the attention as she reached her father’s side.

You took a steady breath and turned to Rafe, letting out a sigh that seemed to carry every ounce of frustration you’d been holding onto. He was watching you, his expression caught somewhere between apology and uncertainty.

“Alright, Cameron,” you began, forcing a professional tone. “Let’s get this over with. We need a story to tell about how we met, so listen to me; we met through a mutual friend at some rooftop party in the city. You were immediately smitten.”

“Smitten?” he repeated, arching an eyebrow. His mouth curved into a playful grin. “Strong word there. Don’t know if I’ve ever been ‘smitten.’”

“Well, you have now,” you said without missing a beat. “We sat at the same table, and you told me some fake, but charming story about how you don’t like crowds and would rather be anywhere else.”

“So, I’m just a liar?” he said with a grin.

“Yes, apparently,” you said, your voice flat as you rolled your eyes.

“That’s deserved, alright,” he shrugged, and leaned closer. “But, let’s make this fun. How about we tweak the story a bit? Let’s say you chased me down after that rooftop party, practically begging for my number.”

“You must be high,” you scoffed, looking at him like he’d just suggested the earth was flat. “No one would believe I’d chase after you. Besides, I’d rather walk across hot coals than let people think I was desperate for you.”

Rafe gave a lighthearted shrug, clearly entertained by your reaction. “Alright, but if anyone asks, I’ll just say I was the reluctant charmer who had to be convinced.”

You couldn’t help the sarcastic laugh that slipped out. “Yeah, because nothing says ‘charm’ like ghosting someone for two weeks.”

He winced but quickly recovered, that easy smirk slipping back into place. “Ouch. Alright, I deserved that one too. But admit it, you’d be impressed if I played hard-to-get. It’d add some mystery to our ‘relationship.’”

You deadpanned, “It’d add some credibility if you remembered the actual story. Try to keep up with the backstory, Cameron. We’re supposed to be in love, remember?”

Rafe placed a hand on his heart, feigning a wounded expression. “So cruel. Here I am, pouring my heart out, and you’re just brushing me off like I’m nothing.”

You stared at him, unimpressed. “How does that feel, huh? To be brushed off?”

His smile dropped immediately. “I’ll stick to the script. Mutual friends, a little bit of rooftop magic, and me falling head over heels. Got it.”

“Good. And try to remember: we’ve been dating long enough that you’d know basic things, like my favorite color and the fact that I don’t like seafood.”

“Got it,” he said with a nod, giving you a mock salute. Then, with a sly grin, he added, “Anything else I should know? Like, if you’ve got a celebrity crush, maybe?”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the urge to smile despite yourself. “This is a charity event, Cameron, not a middle school dance. Stick to the basics, and we’ll be fine.”

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, boss. Just wanted to know if I’ve got any competition out there.”

You couldn’t help but scoff. “Trust me, you’d know if there was competition.”

The banter fell into a comfortable silence, the tension lifting slightly as you both prepared for the performance ahead. But as you glanced out the window, watching Chiara drape herself over her father’s arm like she owned the place, the humor faded, and a steely resolve settled over you.

Rafe must have noticed, because he leaned forward, his expression growing more serious. “Hey, I know tonight’s going to be… less than ideal,” he said, his tone softening. “But we’ve got this. Just follow my lead if things get tricky, alright?”

You looked at him, skepticism still lingering, but his sincerity caught you off guard. “Let’s just keep this professional,” you replied, but your tone was gentler, almost reluctant.

“Deal,” he said, giving you a small, genuine smile. “Let’s make ‘em believe it.”

With that, he opened his door and walked around to your side, offering you his hand as you stepped out. You hesitated, then took it, maintaining a cool composure as camera flashes went off around you. The crowd erupted in a flurry of clicks and flashes, and you could already hear the low hum of voices speculating about the two of you.

Rafe leaned down slightly, his hand resting lightly on your back as he guided you forward. “Smile like you’re the happiest you’ve ever been,” he whispered, his tone playful but warm. “And maybe… just pretend you don’t want to strangle me for a few minutes.”

You tilted your head, flashing him a fake, overly-sweet smile. “Oh, trust me, that’ll be the hardest part.”

He chuckled, giving the reporters a charming wave as he leaned in, whispering back, “Keep smiling like that, and people might actually believe you like me.”

You leaned in closer, maintaining the smile for the cameras. “Don’t get too comfortable. This is just for show.”

“Right,” he whispered, a teasing glint in his eye. “But if we happen to have a little fun, is that so bad?”

Before you could answer, Chiara’s voice rang out over the crowd, all fake sweetness as she greeted her father, loudly proclaiming her excitement for the event. You caught Rafe’s eye, sharing a look of silent exasperation.

“Stick to the story. Don’t slip up.”

“Got it, boss,” he whispered back, his tone lighthearted as he gave you a quick wink. “Let’s go give them a show.”

You sipped your champagne, feigning interest in the event as your gaze flickered over the crowd, hoping to find something—anything—to break up the monotony. Conversations about Rafe’s latest matches, your recent shoot for Vogue, and even the upcoming Chanel campaign rolled through the evening like clockwork, the same pleasantries exchanged over and over. Rafe played his part perfectly, always flashing that magnetic smile, leaning in as if every word you said was his world. You kept a poised expression, smiling when necessary, but each compliment and question blended into the next, leaving you restless.

Just as you managed to suppress a yawn, a commanding voice sounded from behind. “Y/N Y/L/N, the woman of the hour.” You turned, and there stood Charles Kensington, a CEO of one of the event’s largest sponsors, known as much for his relentless pursuit of younger models as for his cutthroat business strategies. He extended a hand with a smirk that was more predatory than friendly, his gaze sweeping over you with an appreciation that lingered far too long. “I’m Charles Kesington. It’s a pleasure.”

“Likewise,” you replied politely, giving him a polite smile as you shook his hand. “And congratulations on your company’s recent acquisition. Impressive move.”

Charles smiled, clearly pleased. “Ah, you’ve been keeping up, I see. You’re as sharp as they say.” His gaze lingered, a touch too intense, and his hand remained over yours a second longer than necessary. “And I must say, even more beautiful in person. Your upcoming campaign with Chanel is already causing quite a buzz.”

Rafe’s arm tightened around your waist as he turned to face Charles, his smile polite but lacking warmth. “Nice to see you, Charles.”

Charles nodded at Rafe, though his attention stayed firmly on you. “I’ve seen your work everywhere recently,” he said, his voice dropping into an intimate tone. “Chanel made a wise choice—although I’d argue that any brand would be lucky to have you representing them.”

“Thank you,” you replied coolly, catching the faint annoyance in Rafe’s jaw as it clenched. But Charles either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

“You’re too kind, Mr. Kensington,” you replied, ignoring the way his eyes drifted over you. “And thank you. I’m honored to be working with such a renowned brand.”

“Oh, please,” he said, dismissing the formality with a wave of his hand. “Call me Charles. You know, I’d love to see you star in one of our campaigns someday. I’d love to discuss a potential collaboration over dinner,” he added, his voice lowering just enough to feel like a private invitation, despite Rafe’s presence.

You forced a polite laugh, though you felt Rafe’s grip tighten again. “Thank you, Charles. That’s very generous but—”

Rafe cleared his throat, the sound deliberate. “Actually, Y/N’s schedule is pretty packed for the next few months,” he said, his tone friendly but laced with an unmistakable edge. “With the Chanel campaign, her other upcoming works, and our time together, I’m not sure there’s room for much else.”

Charles raised an eyebrow, glancing at Rafe with an amused smile, as if he’d only just noticed him standing there. “Ah, Mr. Cameron. Quite a lucky man, aren’t you?”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, but he managed a tight smile. “I’d say so.”

Charles leaned a bit closer, his attention fixed back on you. “Well, if you ever find a free moment, I’d be more than happy to take you on a tour of our headquarters. You know, just to chat about future opportunities.”

The thinly veiled invitation hung in the air, and you felt a slight discomfort, but you kept your smile in place. “Thank you for the offer, Charles. But as my boyfriend mentioned, I’m quite busy these days.”

Charles’ gaze flicked between the two of you, his smile widening slightly, clearly enjoying the tension he’d stirred up. “Of course. I understand entirely,” he replied smoothly, offering you a final lingering look before excusing himself.

The moment he was out of earshot, Rafe turned to you, his expression thunderous. “What the hell was that?”

You blinked, feigning innocence. “What was what?”

“That guy was practically undressing you with his eyes,” he muttered, his tone low and irritated. “And you didn’t seem too bothered by it.”

You raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “Maybe because I don’t see the point in making a scene over a harmless conversation.”

Rafe scoffed, his hand still firmly around your waist. “Harmless? That guy was two seconds away from asking for your number.”

You rolled your eyes, barely managing to hide your smirk. “Jealous, Cameron?”

Rafe’s gaze hardened, and he leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “If you think I’m just going to stand there while some old fucker tries to flirt with you, you’re wrong.”

The intensity in his voice sent a flicker of satisfaction through you, though you kept your expression neutral. “Relax, Mike Tyson. It was just a conversation. It’s not like he’s the first man to ever show interest in me.”

“Yeah, well,” he muttered, his eyes narrowing, “he should know you’re off-limits.”

You shot him a sidelong glance, amused by his possessiveness. “Is that right? I don’t recall signing any contract that says I’m ‘off-limits.’”

His grip tightened, his face a mixture of frustration and something else—something deeper, something he was clearly trying to suppress. “You’re my girlfriend and about to become my wife, consider it an unspoken rule, then.”

You felt a thrill at his words, but you kept your tone casual. “If that’s the case, maybe you should make it more convincing.”

He leaned closer, his hand brushed against your cheek, fingers lingering just enough to send a spark through you. “Convincing?”

His eyes never left yours, flickering briefly to your lips, and you could feel the heat building between you, a tension that seemed to stretch out endlessly. The hum of the event around you began to fade, and suddenly, it was as if there was no one else in the room—just the two of you, drawn together by something that felt far more complicated than a simple arrangement.

His breath, warm and steady against your skin, made your pulse quicken. You found yourself instinctively closing your eyes as his face came even closer, the space between you narrowing with every passing second. The moment was electric, charged with an undeniable pull that you could no longer ignore.

For the briefest moment, you forgot all the reasons you’d been upset with him in the first place. His proximity, the way he looked at you, the way his lips seemed so close—it was almost impossible to think about anything else. You ached to feel him again, to taste his lips, to feel the weight of his body against yours. All that mattered was the way your skin burned for him, how every nerve in you seemed to come alive at the thought of him touching you again. You wanted him. 

Desperately.

But just before his lips touched yours, a familiar voice cut through the quiet intensity.

"Y/N! There you are!” Aisha’s voice was bright and unapologetic, carrying her trademark liveliness that filled any room. Startled, you and Rafe pulled apart just in time to see her approach, her arms outstretched and a radiant smile on her face.

You could only laugh as she practically tackled you with a hug, pulling you in tightly. Standing just a few inches taller than you, her warm brown skin glowed against the dark emerald of her satin dress, a color that complemented her deeply curly hair that cascaded freely around her shoulders. Her high cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes sparkled with joy, her makeup accentuating her features with a natural, dewy look and a bold cat-eye makeup.

"Oh my God!" you managed through your laughter. "I had no idea you’d arrived already."

She finally released you from the hug but kept her hands on your shoulders, looking you over with a proud, glowing smile. “As if I’d miss this! You look absolutely breathtaking, girl—that dress was made for you. No one else could do it justice.”

You spun around, letting the fabric fan out as you struck a playful pose. “You really like it?”

“Like it? I am in-freaking-love, are you serious?” she squealed, and the two of you burst into laughter, clapping your hands together with giddy excitement. “I’ve missed you so much.”

You pressed a hand to your forehead, sighing dramatically. “I’ve missed you way more—can you believe it’s only been a year and I’m already involved with a white man? Truly, how crazy is that?”

Aisha’s gaze snapped to Rafe, who stood a little behind you, clearly surprised to be noticed so suddenly. You stifled a laugh as he shifted, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. Aisha's eyes narrowed slightly as she took him in, her gaze appraising and unblinking, as if she was assessing him for every possible flaw.

“Rafe Cameron, meet Aisha Patel—my best friend,” you said, tugging Aisha closer. “Aisha, this is Rafe, my... boyfriend.”

She didn’t say a word, just let her eyes scan him from head to toe with a critical intensity. You recognized this familiar expression—it was her way of warning anyone interested in you that hurting you would come with consequences. She always put your partners through this silent scrutiny, hoping to rattle them and make it clear they had to earn her approval.

Rafe, though clearly aware of her intent, extended his hand, maintaining an uneasy but polite smile. “Nice to meet you, Aisha.”

For a split second, she didn’t budge, letting the moment stretch just long enough to make him shift uncomfortably. You quickly grabbed her hand, easing it into his before she could escalate the standoff. “She’s usually much friendlier, I swe—”

“My dad has a gun,” she said quietly, her tone so flat it made the tension in the air sharpen. “And he taught me how to use it.”

You laughed a little, trying to ease the weight of her words. “She’s just kidding… right?”

But she didn’t break. Her gaze stayed fixed on Rafe, unwavering. “Only one way to find out, Rafe Cameron,” she replied coldly.

Rafe’s eyes flickered, and after a long moment, he dropped his gaze with a tight nod. “Guess I know where Y/N got her threatening techniques from,” he said with a small grin, the usual smugness back in his voice.

His expression, so casual and light, cut deeper than you expected. It felt like he knew exactly what he was doing, toying with a conversation he’d read from a distance and kept deliberately unanswered. He’d seen your texts, read every one of them, and left them cold and untouched. You felt the hurt creeping up in a way that left you exposed, vulnerable in a way you swore you wouldn’t be around him.

You pulled in a slow breath, forcing your face back to neutral, hoping Aisha wouldn’t notice the flicker of pain in your eyes. She turned to say something to Rafe, and you straightened, pulling your walls up as fast as you could, sealing the hurt beneath a calm you’d mastered. Just one more second, and no one would ever know.

Aisha leaned forward, curious but amused. “So… how’d you two meet?”

You shot Rafe a quick look, and he gave a subtle nod, leaving you to tell the story. “We met a few months back at this party,” you started.

“Rooftop party,” Rafe corrected, unable to resist chiming in.

“Right, a rooftop party,” you agreed, giving him a playful look. “And the second he laid eyes on me, he was enchanted—absolutely down bad,” you teased, letting a smirk cross your face.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, giving a mock-serious nod. “Completely leveled me. Could barely walk straight after that.”

“Completely down bad,” you agreed, tilting your head with a smile. “Apparently, my beauty was just too blinding. He had no choice but to come talk to me, and once he did? Well, he realized I was so much more than a pretty face. He was hooked on how charming, funny, and—”

“And how sassy she was,” Rafe finished, his gaze lingering on you for a beat longer than necessary.

Aisha looked between the two of you, raising an eyebrow. “Sassy with you? Really?”

Rafe laughed, running a hand through his hair. “That mouth of hers—I swear, there’s not a single day where she’s not giving me that attitude,” he added with a soft smile in your direction.

“Interesting… Very interesting.” Aisha looked between you two with a grin, shaking her head. “And, what happened after that?”

Rafe leaned back, crossing his arms as he tried to act casual. "Well, after that, I pretty much chased her down just to get a date," he said with a smirk. "The rest is history."

You rolled your eyes, waving a dismissive hand. "Oh, he’s underselling it. He spent weeks trying to get my number, asking me out every day on Instagram, but I wasn’t having it. I kept hearing all these things about him…"

"Like what?" Aisha leaned in, eyes widening in anticipation.

"That he was a total player," you said, pausing for effect, earning a gasp from Aisha that you matched with a knowing nod. Meanwhile, Rafe just chuckled, shaking his head at your theatrics. "I know, girl!" you went on, shooting Rafe a playful look. "But he finally convinced me to go on a date… and he actually wasn’t so bad. So I gave him another shot, and, well…" You shrugged, glancing over at him with a smile. "Here we are."

Aisha took it all in, folding her arms and tapping her fingers thoughtfully.

“Wow,” she said, eyeing him with newfound curiosity. “I didn’t peg you for the persistent type, Rafe. Especially not with someone like my girl.”

Rafe shot her a confident smile, though there was a quiet warmth in his expression that didn’t quite match the usual cocky bravado. “Yeah, she’s special. Knew it from the moment I saw her.”

You couldn’t help the warmth that rushed through you at his words, a sudden rush of affection you hadn’t expected, especially not in front of Aisha. There was something in the way he looked at you that made the air feel thicker, charged with something unspoken. It sent an unexpected flutter through your chest, a reminder that underneath all the tension, the public facade, and the expectations, there was still something raw between you—something that felt real in a way you hadn’t quite anticipated. 

“Smooth talker, huh?” you teased, nudging Rafe lightly with your elbow. “You’re really laying it on thick tonight, aren’t you?”

Aisha’s sharp eyes flicked between you both, her protective instincts clearly on high alert. “Yeah, I’m picking up on that. But just so you know, Rafe, I’ve got my eye on you. You hurt her, and you won’t just be dealing with me, you’ll be dealing with my dad, too.”

Rafe’s lips curved into a smile, but there was something more guarded behind his eyes now, as though he recognized the weight of her words. “I get it,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Aisha seemed to size him up for a moment longer, letting the silence stretch just enough to make the air thick with tension. Then, after what felt like an eternity, she gave a slow nod, her stance softening just a little. “Alright, I’ll take your word for it,” she said, her tone easing. “But I’m still watching.”

You felt a strange sense of pride at that. Aisha had always been fiercely protective of you, and while it sometimes grated on your nerves, you knew deep down it was just because she cared. No one had ever had your back the way she did. You weren’t sure if Rafe fully understood that yet, but from the way he glanced at her—slightly uncertain, but respectful—you could tell he was beginning to get the message.

“Enough of the heavy shit,” Aisha said, breaking the tension with a clap of her hands and a sudden bright smile. “This is supposed to be fun, right? I’m here to celebrate, and I’m done with the interrogation. So, let’s have some fucking fun!”

You laughed, the sound light and genuine as you clinked your glass with hers. The champagne sparkled in your hand, and for the first time that evening, you felt a sense of relief. The weight of the conversation had shifted from uncomfortable to just... amusing. Aisha was nothing if not relentless in her approach, but you appreciated the way she could lighten any situation, especially when it felt like the pressure of your fake engagement was hanging over your head like a storm cloud.

“To my best friend and her very determined boyfriend,” Aisha toasted, her grin widening. “May you both drive each other crazy for a long, long time!”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Thanks, Aish’. Really. A long, long time,” you echoed, sipping from your glass as she gave you a knowing look.

As the evening wore on, the atmosphere began to shift. The crowd mingled, voices rose and fell in an endless tide of conversation, and the hum of background music seemed to fade into the distance. It felt like the world was in motion, but you and Rafe were standing still, caught in some kind of unspoken orbit that neither of you could quite navigate. 

People came and went, exchanging pleasantries, business deals, and compliments, but you and Rafe couldn’t seem to look away from each other. Even when he was speaking with someone else or laughing at a joke Aisha made, you felt his presence, heavy and undeniable.

You’d told yourself that tonight was about putting on a show for the cameras, about playing the part of the perfect couple, and you had every intention of sticking to the script. But as the night wore on, you realized how hard it was to keep pretending when Rafe’s touch lingered just a little longer than necessary, when his eyes followed you across the room with that possessive intensity you couldn’t quite ignore. There were moments when you caught him looking at you like no one else mattered, and for a brief second, the walls you’d so carefully constructed between the two of you threatened to crumble.

It wasn’t just the way he touched you when no one was looking, or the way he’d half-smiled at you in the middle of a crowd, as if sharing some private joke. It was the small things—the subtle ways he’d let you know he cared, even when he was keeping his distance. How his arm would brush against yours when you stood next to each other, how he’d glance at you in the middle of a conversation, as if checking to make sure you were still there, still paying attention. How he’d subtly reposition his hand on your waist, or how his thumb would brush against your back when you’d lean in close to hear something better.

And then, there were the moments when it seemed like neither of you knew how to deal with the chemistry that crackled between you. You’d both been avoiding it for so long, keeping your emotions buried under layers of professionalism and convenience, but tonight, it was becoming harder to ignore. The closer you got, the more the lines between what was real and what was fabricated began to blur.

A sudden vibration in your pocket startled you, pulling you out of your reverie. You slid your phone out, heart still racing from the interaction with Rafe, and your eyes immediately landed on the name that made your stomach drop: Mom.

Your heart skipped a beat as you unlocked the screen, only to see a simple message that made your blood run cold:

“Y/N, we’ve heard the news. This is a disgrace. This is not how we raised you. You’re nothing but a joke.”

You blinked at the message, trying to process it. News? What news? You hadn’t even talked to them in years. 

Before you could think further, the sickening feeling in your stomach intensified. Without even realizing it, you clicked over to the news app, and the headline that greeted you nearly stopped your heart:

“Rafe Cameron Engaged to Model Y/N Y/L/N: A Surprise Announcement”

Your pulse spiked, your fingers trembling as you scrolled down. The article was filled with blurry images from earlier in the evening, showing you and Rafe sharing moments too intimate for the cameras, your faces filled with a mix of affection and tension. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. It wasn’t supposed to be this fast.

How could this have leaked?

Your chest tightened as a suffocating wave of panic hit you. You could feel your breath quicken, the world around you suddenly feeling too small, too fast, and you couldn’t catch your breath. You looked around the room, your vision blurring as the walls seemed to close in. The voices around you grew muffled, the lights too bright, too harsh.

“Y/N?”

Rafe’s voice pulled you back to reality, but it was distant, like it came from a far-off place. You tried to focus on him, on his familiar blue eyes, but everything felt off, like you couldn’t quite make sense of what was happening.

The phone dropped from your hand, and before you knew it, your vision went dark. Your breath hitched in your chest as your body trembled with the onset of a panic attack. It felt like everything was spiraling out of control, and you couldn’t do anything to stop it.

And then, in the midst of it all, you felt it—something slipping from your bag pocket, a small metallic sound against the floor. But you couldn’t focus on it. Not now. Not with everything else overwhelming you. Your heart pounded in your ears, drowning out the noise around you as you tried to steady yourself, hands trembling at your sides.

You heard the faint clink again, but you were too far gone, too panicked, to care.

Rafe’s arms were around you before you even realized he was there, his voice low and urgent. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.” His hand was on your back, guiding you gently but firmly as he led you outside, away from the noise and chaos of the event.

“I—I—” Your words faltered, and you gasped for air, trying to calm your breathing, but it was like your lungs had stopped working.

“Shh, just breathe, baby, okay?” Rafe’s voice was steady, guiding you through it like he’d done this before. His hand was pressing into your back in rhythmic motions, trying to ground you. “You’re okay, I promise.”

You leaned against him, trying to steady your frantic breathing, but it was hard. Everything felt so chaotic, too fast. The news. The message from your parents. Rafe. Your relapse. The engagement. The shame. The eyes on you.

“I… I got a message from my parents,” you managed to gasp between breaths. “They already know... the news... I wasn’t ready for this. I wasn’t ready for any of this, Rafe.”

His face softened, but there was confusion in his eyes. He looked like he didn’t fully understand, but he didn’t push it. Instead, he just nodded and gave you a reassuring squeeze, his arms enveloping you in warmth. “Hey, it’s alright. We’ll figure this out. I’ve got you, okay?”

You buried your face in his chest, as if you’ve been doing forever, the tears finally coming, and you didn’t even try to hold them back. Your body shook as the sobs wracked through you. Everything felt like it was falling apart, all the control you’d tried so hard to maintain slipping through your fingers. The fake engagement, the pressure to live up to everyone’s expectations, the constant balancing act—it was too much.

“Shhh,” Rafe murmured again, his voice a steady, comforting presence against the storm inside you. “You’re okay, baby. We’re gonna get through this.”

Still shaking, you pulled away slightly, wiping your face with the back of your hand as you tried to steady yourself. Rafe didn’t push you away. He just stayed close, his hands hovering near you, ready to catch you if you needed him.

“I can’t… I can’t do this. Not like this,” you whispered, your voice breaking as you spoke. “Everything’s happening too fast. I didn’t expect it to go like this, Rafe. I didn’t plan for my parents to know about this. It’s not supposed to be like this.”

He seemed to register the panic in your voice, though he still didn’t fully understand why it was affecting you like this. Still, he didn’t question you further. He just nodded again, that protective instinct rising in him. “Alright, we’ll get you home, okay?”

You nodded quietly as he draped his jacket over your shoulders, the fabric warm against your skin. If you weren’t so caught up in your emotions, you might have found the gesture cute. “Yes, please…” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Just relax, okay? I’m right here.”

Before you knew it, he was guiding you toward his car, his hand firmly but gently around your arm as he helped you get inside. The drive home was a blur, your mind a chaotic mess of racing thoughts. You tried to fight the exhaustion pulling at you, but it was useless. As soon as you buckled your seatbelt, your body seemed to give up the fight.

You curled up against the seat, closing your eyes, and within minutes, you were asleep. The quiet hum of the car as Rafe drove was the only thing that kept you tethered to reality.

Rafe glanced over at you every few moments as he drove, the concern never leaving his face. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you tonight, not since the moment the tension between you had grown so palpable. He could feel it in his chest—the fear that something would go wrong, that something would happen to make everything fall apart.

As he looked at you now, sleeping peacefully, he couldn’t shake the worry gnawing at him. He didn’t understand it—didn’t fully understand what was happening between the two of you—but the depth of concern he felt for you surprised him. He couldn’t stop thinking about how he’d wanted to protect you, how he’d wanted to be there for you when you needed it the most.

But now, as you slept, he realized something he hadn’t allowed himself to admit before: he didn’t want to lose you. The idea of seeing you hurt, seeing you break down, sent a pang of guilt through him. He hadn’t planned on this feeling, hadn’t planned on the way he’d come to care about you, but it was undeniable now.

Being away from you for two weeks made him come to a few undeniable realizations. He missed you—more than he’d like to admit. He missed the way your smile lit up the room whenever you looked at him, the playful roll of your eyes when you thought he was being ridiculous. He missed the banter, the little jabs you’d throw his way, always keeping him on his toes. Most of all, he missed hearing your voice, the way it grounded him in ways he never expected.

He regretted everything—the distance, the silence, the mess he’d made—and he couldn’t stop thinking about how much he wanted to make it right.

The car approached your apartment building, Rafe slowed down, glancing over at you one last time. You hadn’t stirred for a while, and he didn’t want to wake you up too abruptly, but he knew you needed to get out. He gently reached over and brushed your shoulder, speaking softly.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice careful as if not wanting to startle you. “We’re here.”

You blinked a few times, slowly coming to, the remnants of sleep fading from your face as you sat up straight. For a moment, you looked around, trying to get your bearings, and then your eyes landed on him. You offered him a small, grateful smile, and his heart skipped a beat.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said softly, your voice still hoarse with exhaustion. “I really appreciate it.”

Rafe nodded, watching you with a mixture of concern and admiration. “No problem. You okay now?” His voice was gentle, but there was an undertone of worry that you couldn’t miss.

You gave a quiet sigh, nodding. “Yeah… I think I just needed some air.”

He stayed still for a second, waiting, as you unbuckled your seatbelt and started to gather your things. The quiet moment lingered before you stepped out of the car and made your way to the front door of your building. Rafe stayed in the car, just watching you, his gaze never leaving you. His chest felt tight again, but this time, it was different. It wasn’t fear of something going wrong—it was the simple concern of wanting you to be safe, wanting you to be okay.

As you reached the door, you fumbled through your bag, checking the contents. You muttered to yourself, growing more frantic as you checked again. A few seconds later, you pulled your head up in alarm.

“Shit…” you whispered under your breath.

Rafe’s gaze sharpened as he watched you struggle, a sense of urgency in your movements. He opened the car door slightly, ready to ask if something was wrong.

“Everything okay?” he called, his voice laced with concern.

You turned back, your eyes wide with panic. “I—I can’t find my keys.”

His brow furrowed. “You sure you didn’t leave them in the car?”

You shook your head, feeling your heart pound in your chest. “I’m sure I brought them with me. I always check for them before leaving... but I can’t find them. Oh god…” Your voice trailed off as the panic began to rise again, a wave of dread settling in your stomach.

Rafe’s gaze softened. He could see the distress building in you, and for a split second, he wished he could take that weight off your shoulders.

“Hey,” he called, getting out of the car now, taking a few steps toward you. “Maybe you dropped them inside, or—”

“No,” you interrupted, your voice shaking. “I’m sure I had them when we left the event… Oh my god…” You froze, your hands hovering over your bag again as realization hit you like a ton of bricks. “I dropped them,” you whispered, more to yourself than to Rafe, but he heard you clearly. “When I… when I freaked out. I must’ve dropped them at the event. Damn it.”

You turned around, scanning the ground as if your keys might miraculously appear, but you knew deep down they were long gone. You quickly pivoted and rushed back toward Rafe’s car, your anxiety spiking with each step. Rafe watched you for a moment before following closely behind, his own mind racing as he processed the situation.

“Shit,” you muttered again, coming up to his car and looking inside like you could find your keys by some miracle. Rafe sat there, waiting for you to catch your breath before he spoke. “I’m sorry… I know this is a mess. I just—everything’s falling apart tonight. I didn’t expect any of this, and now… now I’ve lost my damn keys. I don’t know what to do.”

Rafe could see the exhaustion on your face, the mental and emotional toll of the evening weighing heavily on you. The last thing he wanted was for you to feel more alone in this.

“It’s alright,” he said, trying to calm you, his voice soft but firm. “We’ll figure this out. Don’t worry.” He thought for a second, his eyes narrowing in contemplation. “I can call a locksmith, or we can check inside the building for a spare key. Maybe someone can help.”

You were already shaking your head, your eyes glossy with unshed tears. “I… I don’t want to bother anyone. And I don’t want to stay out here all night.”

Rafe saw how visibly shaken you were, how overwhelmed you seemed by everything. The night had gone completely sideways for you, and he couldn’t stand the thought of you being alone, stuck in your apartment, still frazzled.

“You could stay at my place tonight…”

chapter eight

[eupheme]

Not to be the little gremlin obsessed with Chappell Roan BUT… reader thinking Logan is too cool to want a proper relationship with them, so when things get physical they insist things are just “casual” in order to protect themselves from getting hurt. But secretly you’re in love with each other, so honestly, neither of you want things to be casual at all… (mutual pining my beloved) please & thank you!! Love you!

ahh hi hi avo I LOVE this song, and this request, and you - I could so see this being a situation that Logan and reader find themselves in. I had so much fun writing this, I hope you like it! (I added a couple winks to the lyrics as well.) 💖 thank you so much for sending this to me!!!

casual | variant!logan howlett x f!reader

1.2k | posessive!logan, fwb(???), use of alcohol, mutual pining, references to oral sex and PiV.

It doesn’t matter that your heart flips when you look at him. It’s Logan. It’s just casual.

It certainly feels like a dream, watching your worlds collide.

The heft of Logan’s palm fitting into your friends as he shakes their hand - the five of you squeezed into your usual booth in the corner of the bar.

You’d say the past couple weeks had seemed that way, as well. A late-night dose of bravery spiraling into something so raw and intense and real, that you feel like you could choke on it.

Even now, there’s heat in your cheeks as your eyes flick his way. Something stirring in your chest at the way his other arm slings across the back of the booth almost possessively.

But like all dreams, there comes a moment where you have to wake up.

Because you know it’s not.

Because you know your feelings aren’t requited. How could they be, when it’s Logan you’re talking about?

A legend.

A lone wolf.

Someone important, someone whose name carries a weight. Who saved the world, from what Wade tells you.

And you’re - you.

So even if you know what he looks like beneath that flannel, know what his mouth feels like when it presses against yours - what he sounds like, when he comes - you know that this is nothing.

It’s casual. A distraction, for both of you.

And if that’s how it has to be, then you’ll do your best to show him you’re cool with it.

You just hadn’t expected this moment to come so soon. It had been a genuine offer, your “you wanna come with?” when the hour rolled around for your weekly trivia night.

Not thinking his head would cock to the side. The look he’d give you - that arched brow, as his fingers splayed out across your bare hip. Still crowded together on your couch, sweat-dewed.

The “sure, sweetheart” that slipped out.

And now you’re introducing him as your friend - that quick history you’ve perfected - rattling off the “you know, Wade from work’s roommate” even though Wade didn’t work at the dealership anymore.

He had made enough of an impression that none of your friends had forgotten.

And you ignore the bitter jolt in your stomach, when all Logan does is hum.

You think you must have assumed right.

He doesn’t correct you.

Logan quickly solidifies himself as an asset to the team. He gets a lot of the history questions that you’ve always struggled with. A shy quirk of his lips when your friends cheer, and you get swept along with it.

His hand ending up on your thigh along the way. Squeezing, when you chime in. Almost as if forgetting - it’s easy to, when you’re having fun like this.

A low rasp in your ear, when the host takes a break.

“Lemme get you another.”

You can only nod, as he eases out - taking your glass with him.

It only takes a second, before MJ’s hand slaps down on yours.

“That’s Logan?” She hisses - leaning forward, “The one who-”

“Yes.” You cut her off, ignoring the sideways glance her boyfriend gives you.

You never should have told her about that.

Had a hard enough time climbing into your car without thinking about it, yourself - the way he had man-handled you in the passenger seat. Thighs thrown over broad shoulders.

Fingers twined in his hair, as he made you moan in the dark parking garage. Too eager to make it up to your apartment.

She frowns, the words petering out, “But I thought-”

Your teeth worry at your lower lip.

“Yeah. Me too.” You sigh.

MJ knows how much you like him.

Really like him - butterflies, and everything. How it’s been years since you felt this way - slipping from you during that rushed phone call at 6 am the morning after your first night together.

Her eyebrows raise, and it’s a look you know well.

“It’s, you know.” Your hand waves, “It’s casual. It’s-”

It’s easier, this way.

Maybe if you keep repeating it, it won’t hurt as much when he moves on.

The look she shoots you is one of pity, just as a drink is set down in front of you.

Your teeth clicking against each other as the words are swallowed. Forcing a smile as Logan slips back in the booth next to you.

The next round starts a moment after, and it’s a welcome reprieve.

You miss the way his eyes narrow, as yours fix firmly on scorecard in front of you.

But you don’t miss the way his hands stay folded on top of the table, for the rest of the night.

You suppose he must have remembered where he was.

“You wanna come up?”

He lingers outside your apartment door, hands jammed into his pockets. That look from the bar is back - all dark, narrowed eyes.

A low sound in his throat, close to a scoff.

“That what you want, sweetheart?”

Your eyebrows raise, “Yeah. I do, I mean-, that’s what we usually do, right?”

He’s spent just about every night at your apartment. His things still scattered across your room. A leather jacket slung across the chair that’s tucked against your vanity.

Logan’s lips twist at the edges, eyes dropping.

“Suppose we do.” Those hands slip from his pocket, crossing over his chest, “Back when I thought we knew what we were doing. But now…”

His head shakes. A tick in his jaw.

Your stomach drops.

“What do you mean?”

Logan huffs, “The bar, baby. Is that how you really feel?”

A step closer, until he’s caging you in. Voice dropping, rough and low - near gritted out.

“Does this,” His fingers flick between your chest and his, “feel casual to you?”

Your heartbeat gallops behind your ribs.

“I thought-,” You manage, “Thought that’s what you wanted.”

He’s too close, now. The dip of his head, those eyes burning in their shades of brown and gold.

“Now, why would you think that?”

You swallow, “Because you’re you, and I’m-”

“You’re?” He prompts, but you go silent.

A sigh, when your head dips.

Unable to say it out loud.

“Driving me crazy all night, you know that?” He rasps, “Giving me those looks. Calling me your friend, when we both know your mouth was around my cock this morning.”

A low rumble in his throat, “When I still taste like you.”

Your breath hitches, as his hand thumbs at your jaw, tilting it up.

“Lemme ask you again.” His mouth is close enough now to ghost against yours, “Is that how you really feel?”

Your head shakes.

“Wanna be yours.”

It’s breathed out, just as he kisses you.

His body pressing flush, as your hands twine around his neck. A palm around the back of his neck, pulling him closer as he deepens it.

Desire thrumming to life inside you, washing out the dregs of insecurity that you’ve been carrying this whole time. Melting them away completely with the hungry sweep of his tongue, the way he swallows your soft moan.

There’s a flash of white when he finally leans back, with the curve of his lips.

“Good.”

His hand closes around the knob. A rough twist, as his another arm wraps around your waist.

Walking you backwards, into the dark.

“The let me show you exactly how I feel.”

thank you so much, again!! 💖

[marysfics]

Whispers of Love

Alexia Putellas x Pregnant!Reader

Long Soft Smut

It had been a long day. The heat hung heavy in the room, making it difficult to breathe as you sat up in bed, staring at the now-darkened TV screen. You turned it off with a soft sigh, already feeling the weight of exhaustion setting in. It had been one of those sweltering days in Barcelona—hot enough to make you feel restless. The heat was one thing, but your little girl inside you was another. She had been particularly active today, kicking you with an almost playful intensity that made it hard to get comfortable.

You ran your hand over your swollen belly, sighing again as you adjusted your position on the bed. The third trimester had been harder than you expected, each day dragging a little longer than the last. But even when it felt like your body was reaching its limits, there was one constant that kept you going—Alexia. Your wife.

You missed her so much. It had been a busy day for her at the club, and although you’d woken up together, you barely had time to say more than a few words before she had to rush out. You smiled softly to yourself, remembering the way she kissed your forehead this morning, the promise in her eyes as she left. She had been your rock through this entire pregnancy, making sure you felt supported even when everything felt overwhelming.

As the heat made it even harder to focus, you shifted on the bed, lifting your arms to pull your t-shirt off. The fabric clung to your skin, the weight of it too much to bear in the sticky air. Once it was off, you settled back against the pillows, leaning against the headboard. The soft, cool feeling of your skin against the cool sheets was a small relief.

You couldn't help but chuckle softly to yourself as you looked down, realizing you were now dressed in just Alexia's boxers and your Calvin Klein bra—completely unbothered by the state of your appearance, but somehow feeling at ease in the quiet of the room. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to clear your mind, though the discomfort in your body and the fluttering kicks from your baby made it harder than usual to relax.

The house was peaceful, the only sounds the faint hum of the air conditioning and the occasional rustle of the sheets as you shifted on the bed. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to find the slightest trace of sleep, but the heat and your little one’s movements kept you from drifting off. It was a restless night, but at least it was quiet.

That was until you heard the faint jingle of keys from downstairs. The soft click of the door unlocking broke the silence, followed by the quiet thud of Alexia’s training bag hitting the floor. You smiled to yourself, feeling a warmth in your chest at the sound of her return, even though it had only been a few hours since you’d last seen her this morning.

You heard her footsteps now, light but purposeful, as she probably took off her shoes at the door before tiptoeing through the house. It was a familiar rhythm—the way she moved after a long day, still with that hint of quiet energy that you had come to love so much. You could imagine her smile, the one that she always wore when she came back home to you, even if she was exhausted.

It was late, already past 11 PM, and you knew she must have been thinking you were fast asleep by now. She didn’t want to disturb you, probably thinking you’d been resting all evening. You couldn't help but chuckle softly at the thought of her tiptoeing around, as though her mere presence might wake you.

Despite the quiet of the house, there was an undeniable pull to the sound of her entering. Even from upstairs, you could feel the weight of her presence—the quiet comfort of knowing she was finally home. And, as much as you longed for her touch, you stayed still, content to listen for now, waiting for her to reach you in her own time.

The soft creak of the stairs broke the stillness, signaling that Alexia was making her way upstairs. You could picture her, her movements slower now, the weight of her long day settling into her steps. As much as she always put in her best effort at the club, you knew she must’ve been exhausted, and still, she was careful, tiptoeing as though she didn’t want to wake you.

You closed your eyes, your heart warming at the thought of her trying to be quiet even though you were wide awake. It was a small thing, but it was just one of the many reasons you loved her so much. She was always looking out for you, even when she didn’t need to.

The sound of her footsteps got closer, and soon you could hear her at the top of the stairs. You lay still for a moment, letting her approach, and then you felt it—her presence, even before she entered the room. There was something calming about it, like the air was just different when she was near.

The door creaked open gently, and there she was, standing in the doorway. Alexia paused for a moment, her eyes adjusting to the dim light, a faint smile curling on her lips when she saw you still awake. "I'm sorry, Amor. I didn't mean to wake you."

You smiled, a little breathless at the sight of her, despite the day’s tiredness etched across her face. "I’ve been waiting for you," you replied quietly, your voice full of affection, as you reached up with one hand to pat the bed beside you.

Alexia’s smile widened, walking over to the bed and sliding in beside you, her warmth filling the space next to you. She leaned down and kissed your forehead, her lips lingering for a moment, soft and gentle.

Your wife's lips brushed gently against yours, soft and tender, lingering for just a moment longer than usual, as if she couldn’t help but savor the quiet intimacy of the moment. When she pulled back, her eyes softened, and without a word, she bent down to place a kiss on your swollen belly. Her lips were warm against your skin, and you could feel the love she poured into every touch.

She straightened up and reached for the soft bedside lamp, flicking it on with a gentle click. The dim light illuminated the room, casting a calming glow across the space. But as her gaze drifted back to you, her breath caught in her throat.

She had always thought you were beautiful, but now, seeing you like this, her heart fluttered with a new depth of love and desire. The way your body had changed, carrying your child—your daughter—it was as if you were glowing with life itself. The sight of you, pregnant and radiant, made her both fall deeper in love with you and feel a stirring warmth in places she hadn’t expected.

There was a slight pause, and she smiled, her voice barely above a whisper, but full of sincerity. "You look beautiful, mi amor," she murmured, her fingers gently tracing the curve of your belly. "So, so beautiful."

You let out a soft laugh, adjusting slightly on the bed as the heat of the room made it hard to relax fully. "It’s just the pregnancy glow, I swear," you chuckled, your hand lightly brushing over your exposed skin. "It’s hot in here. I had to get rid of the t-shirt."

Her eyes never left you, drinking in the sight of you like she couldn’t get enough, her fingers still caressing your swollen belly. The love in her gaze was undeniable, and even though she had seen you every day, this moment felt new. You were both changing, evolving, and it was in moments like this that she realized just how deeply she was in awe of you.

"How was your day?" you asked, your voice soft but laced with curiosity. You had missed her all day, and you wanted to know how things had gone for her, even though you knew she must have been exhausted.

Alexia sighed, her hand moving from your belly to rest gently on your side. "Long," she said with a smile, but there was a softness in her eyes. "Busy, but… it’s always worth it. It’s always better when I get to come home to you."

Her words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and you could see how much she meant it. You had both come to rely on each other in ways that were difficult to describe—there was a strength in your connection that had only grown since finding out you were expecting.

"It’s always better when we’re together," you murmured, your voice thick with affection as you reached up to touch her cheek, your fingers trailing lightly over her skin.

She leaned into your touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment as she kissed your palm. "Always, mi amor," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "Always."

Alexia leaned down again, her lips brushing against yours in a soft, tender kiss. It was slow and filled with a quiet longing, the kind that made your heart flutter in your chest. You responded instinctively, parting your lips to let her in, the warmth of her mouth sending a rush of heat through your body. Her kiss deepened, her tongue gentle and deliberate, coaxing a shiver of desire through you.

As she kissed you, one of her hands moved from your side, gliding down to rest on your upper thigh. The touch was light at first, but then her fingers began to knead your skin softly, sending a ripple of pleasure that made you moan quietly, the sound escaping before you could stop it. The sensation was almost enough to make you forget everything else, but Alexia pulled back just enough to look at you, her eyes full of tenderness and something deeper—something that made your pulse race.

"Are you tired, mi vida?" she asked, her voice low and filled with concern. She always checked in with you, always made sure you were okay, and you loved her for it. It made you feel safe, loved, cherished.

You swallowed, trying to steady your breath, and shook your head softly. "Not anymore," you admitted, your voice shy but sincere, your cheeks flushing as you spoke. "I want you."

Even after all these years together, Alexia could still make you blush with just a look, a touch, a single word. It was one of the many things that made your love for her feel so new, so full of wonder. You shifted a little, your heart racing as you met her gaze, waiting for her response.

Alexia leaned down again, her lips brushing against yours in a soft, tender kiss. It was slow and filled with a quiet longing, the kind that made your heart flutter in your chest. You responded instinctively, parting your lips to let her in, the warmth of her mouth sending a rush of heat through your body. Her kiss deepened, her tongue gentle and deliberate, coaxing a shiver of desire through you.

"What about you?" you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it. You needed to know—her needs, her desires. You had always been in tune with each other, and you wanted to make sure she was okay, that she felt as ready as you did.

As she kissed you, one of her hands moved from your side, gliding down to rest on your upper thigh. The touch was light at first, but then her fingers began to knead your skin softly, sending a ripple of pleasure that made you moan quietly, the sound escaping before you could stop it. The sensation was almost enough to make you forget everything else, but Alexia pulled back just enough to look at you, her eyes full of tenderness and something deeper—something that made your pulse race.

Alexia smiled softly, a bashful but sincere smile that made her eyes shine with something playful and warm. "I’m okay," she said, her voice a whisper as she leaned in to kiss your cheek. She pressed another kiss there, then another, each one a gentle, loving promise. "I’ve been wanting you all day."

The admission made your heart skip, and you felt a surge of warmth spread through you. There was no hesitation in her words, just raw, honest desire. She had been thinking about you, wanting you, just as you had been wanting her.

You closed your eyes for a moment, feeling the closeness between you both—how deeply you understood each other, how completely you shared this connection. It wasn’t just physical. It was emotional, it was spiritual, it was everything. And as Alexia’s lips trailed over your skin, you knew you wanted nothing more than to be close to her in every way possible, to feel her love as deeply as you could.

"You’re mine, mi amor," you whispered, the words slipping out almost without thought. "Always."

Alexia’s smile widened at that, and she kissed you again, this time deeper, more urgent. Her hand found its way back to your thigh, and the fire between you both began to build once more. The room was filled with the soft sounds of your breath, the beating of your hearts, and the quiet, unspoken promise that this moment was yours alone.

Alexia pulled back, her eyes locking with yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. There was that look again—the one that made your heart race and your cheeks flush. That quiet intensity, a mixture of love and desire, that only she could make you feel. You smiled shyly at her, your gaze dropping for a brief second, unable to hold her stare for too long, though you loved how she made you feel in that moment.

She didn’t say a word, just gently caressed your belly, her fingers tracing slow, soothing patterns over the curve of your bump. Her touch was light, tender—soothing in its familiarity. It was a gesture that had become so natural, a way for her to connect with you and the life growing inside of you.

With a quiet sigh, she pulled her shirt off, the movement graceful and confident. You instinctively tried to help her with the clasp of her bra, but with your growing belly, shifting in the bed was a little more difficult than usual. You tried your best, but Alexia gave you a playful look, the kind that told you not to worry—she had this. You both laughed softly at the exchange, the room filled with a gentle, comforting atmosphere. She didn’t need your help, but you loved how she let you try, even if it was just for a moment.

Her eyes sparkled as she moved to remove your bra next, her fingers grazing your skin. But she paused, caught in the fabric of the bra, and a small smile tugged at her lips as she marveled at the softness of it. The way it felt against her fingers—no cups, just the fabric—seemed to stir something inside her, and you could see it in the way she looked at you. A soft sigh escaped her lips, her gaze lingering.

Her hands found their way to your breasts, cupping them lightly, her touch reverent and gentle. You gasped quietly at the feeling of her hands on you, the sensation sending waves of warmth through your body. Her touch was soft but deliberate, as if she were savoring each moment, each caress. It made you feel so good, the way she moved with you, the way her hands knew exactly where to go to make you feel safe, loved, and desired all at once.

You let out a soft moan at the sensation, your body instinctively reacting to her touch. Alexia’s eyes flickered with satisfaction, her lips curling into a small smile as she heard you. It was always a quiet exchange between you both—one that didn’t need words to be understood. She was there, present and attuned to you, and in return, you gave her everything.

Slowly, she pulled your bra and boxers off, the fabric sliding over your skin with a careful slowness that made every movement feel intimate. She helped you shift, settling you onto your side, and for a moment, you just let yourself breathe. The room was still, the only sounds your quiet breaths and the soft rustle of the sheets.

Alexia slipped in behind you, wrapping her arm around your waist, her body pressing gently against yours. Her presence was grounding, and you felt the weight of her love in the soft pressure she applied, a perfect balance of closeness and comfort. She spooned you from behind, her body fitting perfectly against yours, the heat of her skin against yours soothing in its familiarity.

You sighed contentedly, resting back into her embrace. Her fingers trailed lightly up and down your arm, a calming rhythm that made everything feel right. She held you just the right amount of pressure, enough to make you feel safe, cherished, and loved without being overwhelming. The warmth of her body against yours, the sound of her steady breathing, made the room feel like your own little world—just the two of you, entwined in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

"I love you," she whispered against the back of your neck, her voice soft, but full of meaning.

You smiled, closing your eyes as you nestled deeper into her arms. "I love you, too," you murmured, feeling the steady beat of her heart against your back, knowing that in this moment, you were exactly where you needed to be.

Alexia’s lips pressed softly against the back of your neck, her breath warm against your skin as she kissed you tenderly. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, and you leaned into her more, the comfort of her closeness grounding you. Her hands moved with purpose, trailing slowly from your breasts down your body, as if memorizing every curve, every inch of you.

Her touch was gentle, careful, and filled with reverence. She moved slowly, savoring the softness of your skin as her fingers dipped lower, finding their way to your most sensitive place. The moment her fingers grazed over your bud, a soft sigh escaped your lips. You couldn’t help it. Her touch felt like it had all the time in the world to explore you, to make you feel safe and cherished. Your head fell back, resting against her shoulder, as you allowed yourself to melt into her embrace.

Alexia’s lips pressed softly against the back of your neck, her breath warm against your skin as she kissed you tenderly. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, and you leaned into her more, the comfort of her closeness grounding you. Her hands moved with purpose, trailing slowly from your breasts down your body, as if memorizing every curve, every inch of you.

Her touch was gentle, careful, and filled with reverence. She moved slowly, savoring the softness of your skin as her fingers dipped lower, finding their way to your most sensitive place. The moment her fingers grazed over your bud, a soft sigh escaped your lips. You couldn’t help it. Her touch felt like it had all the time in the world to explore you, to make you feel safe and cherished. Your head fell back, resting against her shoulder, as you allowed yourself to melt into her embrace.

She felt safe in this—being with you, loving you. You could tell in the way she moved, in the way she took her time with you. Her hands circled with care, slow and deliberate, making sure you were comfortable, making sure you felt every part of her love. You could hear the soft moans escaping her lips, the sound of her getting lost in the moment, in the intimacy between you both. You loved it. You always did. It was a reminder that you were not just her partner but her everything.

Her motions were soft but skilled, each movement calculated and perfect. She knew exactly how to touch you, how to make you feel good, how to bring you closer to the edge without rushing. Your body responded instinctively, and without even thinking, you tried to open your legs a little more, giving her more room, trying to adjust your body to the best angle. The weight of your swollen belly made things a little more difficult, but Alexia never faltered. She worked hard, her determination and care evident in the way she positioned herself, adjusting so that she could keep making you feel good.

She didn’t rush, taking her time to make sure you were always at ease, always comfortable. She was patient, never pushing, always focused on you, and that’s what made the experience so tender, so full of love. You felt her move with you, her fingers working in slow, steady circles that made your breath hitch and your body tremble beneath her touch.

"Mi amor," you breathed out softly, your voice thick with affection and need. "You feel so good."

Alexia's response was a soft murmur against your ear, her breath warm and steady. "I just want to make you feel good," she whispered, her voice full of love and devotion. "Always."

You smiled, feeling completely enveloped in her warmth, in her love, in the trust that you shared. In this moment, there was no other place you'd rather be—just the two of you, intertwined, making love slowly and tenderly, no rush, just love.

As Alexia’s fingers continued their soft, persistent circles, you felt the pressure building within you, that sweet tension coiling tighter and tighter in your core. You could feel your breath quickening, your body responding to her touch with each slow, purposeful stroke. She knew how to push you to the edge, to bring you closer and closer without letting you fall just yet. The sensation of her fingers on you, so skilled and tender, had your body trembling beneath her.

You sighed, a soft whimper escaping your lips as the pleasure intensified, the heat pooling low in your belly, spreading through your veins. It was so close now—so close to the release you so desperately craved. Your hips rocked instinctively, pushing into her touch, urging her on, desperate for that final push that would send you over the edge.

Alexia’s lips brushed your ear softly, her voice a low, hushed whisper. “I’ve got you, mi amor,” she murmured, her words wrapped in warmth and promise. Her fingers pressed deeper, moving faster now, pushing you right to that point where you couldn’t take it anymore.

But then, with a small, teasing smile, she withdrew her hand, just enough to leave you hanging, teetering on the edge. You gasped, your body shuddering in protest, desperate for the release that she was expertly denying you. Before you could protest, you heard the soft rustle of her shifting beside you.

You glanced over, confused and intrigued, as she reached into the drawer by the bed. You knew she always had a plan, a way to keep the tension building between you both. She pulled out a small toy, and your breath hitched at the sight. It wasn’t just any toy; it was sleek, smooth, and as she held it in her hand, you couldn’t help but feel the heat rising between you two, the temperature in the room escalating in sync with the growing desire.

Alexia’s gaze met yours, full of quiet confidence, as she slowly trailed the toy down her own body. You could hear the soft sigh that escaped her lips as it pressed against her, her fingers teasing herself in the same way she had been teasing you—deliberate and slow. Watching her, seeing the pleasure flicker in her eyes as she did it for herself, made the heat inside you flare. It was an unexpected, electrifying sight, one that had you aching with desire. The sight of her like this—so beautifully undone, yet still so in control—made your pulse race.

The contrast between the softness of her movements and the growing urgency between you two only fueled the heat that had been steadily building, and now it felt as if the very air between you both was charged. Watching her pleasure herself, seeing the way she writhed and moaned softly with each careful movement, made the desire within you almost unbearable.

Her gaze never left yours, even as she rocked against the toy, the pressure mounting in her own body. "I need you," she whispered, her voice low, rough with need. "But I want you to come first. Let go for me, mi amor. Let me see you fall apart."

The combination of her words and her teasing touch was too much. You could feel your body tightening, ready to burst. The anticipation was almost unbearable, but it only heightened the pleasure that surged through you, pulling you closer to the edge with every second. Your body tensed, your breath shallow, and with one final, skilled movement, Alexia pushed you over that cliff. The release was sudden, intense, as your body shook with pleasure.

The sight of her—of Alexia, lost in the moment as she let the toy press deeper, her own release not far behind—made everything feel hotter, more intense. You could feel her reaching her own high as her body quivered beside you, her moans soft but filled with the same desperate need you’d felt just moments before.

As your breathing slowed, and the aftershocks of pleasure faded, Alexia’s hand returned to you, gently cupping your face as she kissed you softly, lovingly, as if both of you had just shared the most intimate connection.

Your wife’s breath hitched not much later, her movements becoming more frantic as the pressure built, the tightness in her chest and stomach growing. You could see it in her eyes—the way she was teetering on the edge, just like you had been moments before. Her grip on the toy tightened, her body arcing slightly as she gave herself one last push. With a soft moan, she finally succumbed, her body shuddering as she went over the edge, her release washing over her in waves.

Her breath came in shaky gasps, her body trembling as she came down from the high, still holding onto the toy, the sensation lingering as she caught her breath. She leaned into you, her face pressed against your neck as her body melted into yours, the aftershocks of pleasure making her feel weightless.

You wrapped your arms around her, holding her close, letting the warmth of her body calm both of you. There was no rush now—just the soft rhythm of your breathing together as you lay in each other's arms, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment.

After a few moments, Alexia gently pulled away, her eyes soft and filled with love. She moved carefully, reaching for some wet wipes in the bedside drawer and cleaning you both up tenderly, her touch gentle as she wiped away the remnants of your shared pleasure. Every motion was slow, deliberate—she took her time, making sure you were comfortable, making sure you felt cared for.

When she was done, she tossed the wipes into the bin and then returned to you, her arms pulling you back into her embrace. She settled against you, her head resting on your chest as you stroked her hair, both of you enjoying the stillness that followed.

"Mi amor," she whispered softly, her voice quiet but full of affection. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," you replied, kissing the top of her head, feeling her heart beating steadily against yours. You both stayed like that for a long while—just holding each other, breathing together, letting the closeness wash over you as you drifted into the peaceful silence that came after a perfect moment.

[mapis-putellas]

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙫𝙤𝙞𝙘𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡…𝙤𝙧 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜

Pairing: Katie McCabe x reader

Words: 1000+

Warnings: none

Summary: Katie was definitely a star on the pitch, but on stage? Not so much

Katie was truly in her element, standing in the middle of your bedroom, folding laundry with all the passion of someone performing on a grand stage. She hadn’t noticed you’d come back early, and her voice—completely off-key—was echoing off the walls as she belted out It’s All Coming Back to Me Now with the intensity of a Celine Dion wannabe.

You couldn’t help but pause in the doorway, biting your lip to stifle a laugh. Katie’s back was to you, so she was blissfully unaware as she hit each note with her own dramatic flair. She tossed a shirt onto the bed, spinning around with her eyes squeezed shut and one hand in the air, belting out the lyrics like she was on X-Factor.

“Oh, I finished cryin’ in the ins—” Her voice cracked at the high note, but she powered through, undeterred, her accent thickening with each exaggerated lyric.

Quickly, you pulled out your phone, trying to record without shaking from suppressed laughter. This was too good to keep to yourself. You framed her in the shot as she warbled through the chorus, completely unaware of her unintended audience. Just as she spun around again, you stopped recording and quietly uploaded the video to Instagram. You even added a little caption: She may be a star on the pitch, but the stage might be a stretch… Then, with a wicked grin, you sent the video to a few of her friends for good measure.

Clearing your throat, you stepped into the room. “Hey, babe, I’m back.”

Katie spun around, her cheeks going a bit red as she realized she wasn’t as alone as she’d thought. “Oh, darlin’, didn’t know ya were back,” she stammered, trying to play it cool as she tossed another shirt into the drawer.

“Oh, don’t stop on my account. Sounded like you were really feelin’ that one,” you teased, biting back a smirk.

She rolled her eyes, folding her arms with a smirk. “Aye, laugh it up. Yer just jealous of me raw talent.”

“If by ‘raw talent’ you mean ‘raw nerves in my ears,’ then absolutely,” you shot back, grinning as you wrapped your arms around her. She pulled a face, nudging you playfully, but didn’t argue.

The next few hours passed in comfortable quiet, with you both curled up on the couch, her arm around you as your head rested against her chest. You were halfway through a movie when her phone, left on the coffee table, began pinging repeatedly.

Katie frowned, leaning forward to grab it. “What’s all this, then?” she murmured, unlocking it. Her brow furrowed as she read a series of messages from her friends, all filled with laughing emojis and comments like “When’s the album drop, Katie?” and “Absolute gold, mate.”

You clamped a hand over your mouth, barely able to contain your laughter as she scrolled down, confusion spreading across her face.

“Wait…” she mumbled, looking more puzzled with each notification. You took the opportunity to slide off the couch, feigning casual indifference as you started edging toward the door.

“I’m, uh, just gonna use the loo real quick,” you said, voice strained as you tried not to laugh.

“Oh, are ya now?” she said, glancing up with narrowed eyes. But before she could piece it together, you darted into the bathroom, barely shutting the door before bursting into silent laughter.

From inside, you could hear her phone pinging away. The silence stretched for a long moment before her voice echoed down the hall.

“WHAT did ya DO?!” Katie yelled, and you knew you were in trouble. The unmistakable sound of her bare feet padding down the hallway had you bolting from the bathroom.

“Katie, wait, I can explain!” you squeaked, trying to duck past her, but her eyes had that wild, determined look you’d seen on the pitch.

“Oh, yer explainin’, alright,” she said, eyes twinkling with barely restrained laughter as she chased you around the living room.

You darted around the couch, nearly cackling as she tried—and failed—to grab you. “Come on, Katie, it was just a bit of fun!” you gasped, dodging her hand.

“Fun fer you, maybe!” she hollered, a grin breaking out despite her mock indignation. “Yer lucky I don’t have a football on me, or I’d be sendin’ it right at yer head!”

“Please, you’d miss!” you teased, ducking just as she lunged forward, catching only air.

“Oh, yer cruisin’ for a ticklin’ now, darlin’!” she declared, sprinting around the coffee table as you squealed, barely managing to dodge her. She almost tackled you, but you sidestepped and ran for the hallway, laughing so hard you could hardly breathe.

Before you knew it, she’d cornered you near the bedroom door, her grin wicked as she took a step forward, arms poised. “I warned ya, didn’t I?” she smirked.

“Katie, no, let’s talk about this—” you squealed, but she grabbed your waist, dragging you down onto the bed and attacking your sides with relentless tickles.

“No mercy!” she laughed, her fingers merciless as you writhed and giggled uncontrollably beneath her. “This is fer all the embarrassment ya put me through!”

“Katie—please—I’m sorry!” you choked out between fits of laughter, wriggling as she held you down.

“Aye, not yet ya aren’t!” she teased, grinning as she tickled you even harder.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, she let up, allowing you to catch your breath, your cheeks flushed and aching from laughter. She lay back beside you, shaking her head with a sigh, though there was a fond smile on her face. “Honestly, yer impossible,” she murmured, brushing a stray hair from your face.

You looked up at her, still grinning. “You know you love it.”

She snorted, rolling her eyes, but you could see the affection in her gaze. “Aye, I do,” she admitted softly, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “But yer still payin’ fer this one.”

You giggled, wrapping your arms around her. “Worth it.”

She sighed, exasperated but amused, and you knew this wouldn’t be the last time you’d get her back for winding you up. It was all part of the game, and neither of you would have it any other way.

**

Tags:

@girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @marysfics @ceesimz @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan @silentwolfsstuff

[kayhi808]

I had this thought of bucky taking Abby and mama ice skating at Rockefeller Square, buck being a native New Yorker is just skating circles around mama and Abby having the little training frame!!!

Oooh! You started revving up my Christmas energy! And what a dreamier place than NYC! Thank you for this Ask. I love it!! And I hope you enjoy this.

The air is cool and crisp and everyone is bundled up in jackets. Abby is perched on Bucky's shoulders as you make your way to the rental counter to get your skates and training frame for Abby. It's her first time to a skating rink. Abby is amazed by the Christmas lights & music playing. She's clapping her hands and singing along.

This is one tradition Bucky remembers from his past life. Ice skating at Rockefeller Center. 19 year old Bucky and his friends came in from Brooklyn Christmas Day 1936 to be a part of the Opening Day. The memories of skating beneath the Prometheus Statue and Christmas tree are still powerful memories held within his heart and he's so excited to share this experience with you and Abby Rose.

Once your skates are collected, you all make your way down to the rink. Bucky quickly laces himself into his skates and is ready for the ice. "Are you ready Abby?"

Wide-eyed she watched the people on the rink, some doing spins in the middle, other speeding by and most just leisurely enjoying their holiday moment. Bucky holds his hand out to Abby, but she shakes her head waving him off, "No, tank you."

"What's the matter?"

She stays silent and chews her lip. "Maybe we can watch you skate around first. Does that sound good?"

"Uh huh. Lemme sees you do's it." Bucky winks at her and goes out onto the ice. As soon as his skates hit the ice, it's like a duck to water. He speeds off and Abby squeals and claps for him. You prop her on your hip and bring her closer to the barrier so she can watch him. Upon making his first lap, he speeds by blowing kisses to you and Abby. You love seeing Bucky this carefree and happy! It seems moments like this don't happen nearly enough for him. Abby squeals with joy and can't stop waving at him.

"He's so fast Mama! Like zoom!"

"With practice, you can be zooming with him."

She throws her head back and giggles, "No Mama! I can't go that fast."

"Then maybe we can start over there, on that end." You point to the far end of the rink where there's a section blocked off for beginners. There's about 7 children with the training frames skating about. "Want to give it a try?"

"Yous help? Pwomise you won't leave me?"

"I promise!"

"Ok, maybe a widdle bit." You give her a kiss and make you way down to the other end. Bucky catches up to you on the other side of the wall.

"Are you ready Abby?"

She nods, "Just for a widdle bit."

A big grin spreads across Bucky's face. He looks around before telling you, "Hand her over. I got her." You quickly pass Abby over the barrier into Bucky's arms. He grips Abby under her arms & skates away with her. You hear her laugh over the music. Even hunched over, Bucky zooms her pass the other skaters. At the next break in the barrier, you step out onto the ice. After a couple wobbles, it all comes back to you as well. You hurry to catch up to your man and baby.

"Oh Mama! You doing it! You so good!" Abby claps for you, too. Bucky slows down a little for you. After a few more laps, Abby is set to try it on her own. You stop off at the beginner section, giving them your ticket for a frame for Abby.

"Ok, all you have to do is hold on to the frame as you push off with your feet." Bucky hovers over her as she does a couple of laps back and forth, encouraging her all the way. You stand off to the side cheering her on.

One time she pushed off too quickly and her feet slipped out beneath her. She was going to take a spill, but with Bucky's quick reflexes, he grabbed the back of her jacket and she was left hovering over the ice.

"Whoa! I almost felled down!" Her big eyes meets yours.

"I saw! Bucky saved you."

After a couple more passes, she likes skating on the big rink with Bucky better so that's what you did until her nose was runny and her cheeks were bright pink.

"I think we should call it a day."

Shivering, "No, Mama. I wants to stay pwease." Grabbing napkins out of your pocket, you wipe her nose again."

"How about if we sit on the stands and watch the skaters & have hot cocoa? Does that sound better?"

"Hot cocoa? Okies, I'm done." Points Bucky in the direction of the door opening. "O'er dere pwease. I'm ready for hot chocolate."

Bucky takes a sip of his cocoa & looks down at Abby, sitting beside him doing her happy wiggle while drinking her chocolate. As a 19 year old kid from Brooklyn, never could be believe the life he would lead or the life that he has now. He found a beautiful and loving woman who completed every missing part of him. Made him feel whole. Who understood him better than anyone. And who has this amazing little girl that wrapped him around her fingers and hasn't let go of him from day 1.

@waywardhunter95 @rebeccapineapple @ordelixx @onceithough @thezombieprostitute @ilovetaquitosmmmm @julvrs @unaxv @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @winterslove1917 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @mrsnikstan @hisredheadedgoddess28 @itsteambarnes @otterlycanadian @purplecolordeer @buckitostan @littleredwolf @mcucatlady @silas-aeiou @hzdhrtss @florie1 @thecubanator2 @enchantedbarnes @selella @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @cjand10 @pancake-05 @ozwriterchick @crazyunsexycool @baw1066 @nommingonfood @jvanilly

[maddiethedogstories]

Saturday Morning Cartoons

As Lana's eyes opened, she was greeted by an all-to-familiar sight. Her small room, decorated like it belonged to a 3-year-old girl rather than the 30-year-old woman she was, was dimly illuminated by the warm orange glow of the princess nightlight plugged into an outlet in a corner.

I quick glance to the window told her that the sun hadn't risen yet. There wasn't a clock in the room, but she knew what time it was: 5:30 am.

A few years ago, being up this early any morning, let alone on a Saturday morning, would have been unthinkable. However, after years of living with Kyle, her husband-turned-Daddy, Lana's body was on the sleep cycle of the toddler her husband treated her as.

Every night at 7:30 pm, she found herself exhausted and ready to crawl into the pink princess sheets of her almost comically small daybed. As a result, every morning she found herself awake and unable to fall back asleep at 5:30 am.

This Saturday morning, Lana suckled her pacifier quietly as she listened carefully to see if anyone else was awake in the house. Unsurprisingly, it was silent except for the soft sound of her suckling and the crinkle of her soaked nighttime diaper.

Resigned to not being able to get back to sleep, Lana decided to slip out of bed. As she moved, she grimaced at the feeling of the cool soaking wet padding of her diaper being pressed against her crotch by the tight, fleece footed sleeper her husband's long-term girlfriend, Rose, had dressed her in at bedtime last night.

Hopeful for a change, Lana grabbed her favorite stuffed rabbit and waddled to the master bedroom as quietly as possible. When she passed the threshold of the door, she could make out the forms of her husband and Rose passed out on the king-sized bed.

Lana was not surprised to find Kyle and Rose asleep at this hour. She had woken up multiple times during the night to the loud moans and screams of pleasure from their usual Friday night escapades. Lana had no doubt that their adult activities continued well past her own childish 7:30 pm bedtime.

Lana almost rubbed herself over her padding thinking about the wild sex she had missed out on as she slept in her toddler bed. However, thinking better of trying to touch herself in any way in the same room as her husband and his paramore, she settled for suckling her pacifier a little harder as she stared at Rose's exquisite exposed breasts.

After staring at Rose's breasts longingly for as long as she dared, Lana waddled over to Kyle's side of her bed and dropped to her knees to be eye-level with him. She moved as quietly as possible so as not to wake her husband's lover.

"Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!" Lana lisped out quietly, just loud enough for her husband to hear.

His eyes opened, and he groaned as he reached for his phone.

"Baby! What time is it?" He yawned as the screen of his cell phone illuminated his face. "5:30? Why are you up? It's too early to be out of bed."

Lana blushed as her husband talked down to her like a naughty toddler who was out of bed too earlier. But, rather than try to fight his condescension, which she knew from experience would lead to a spanking, she leaned into it.

"But, Daddy, I can't seep! And I need changies. Pwease?" Lana gave her husband the most pathetic puppy dog eyes she could as she begged him to release her from her soggy diaper.

In response, he reached down and gave her soggy crotch an exploratory squeeze.

"Baby, that diaper is fine, unless your messy?" He raised a suspicious eyebrow.

Lana blushed again as she lisped, "No, Daddy, not messy."

Kyle sniffed the air suspiciously before responding, "Well, then, you don't need a change. Why don't you waddle your soggy little bottom back to your room and crawl back in bed? Daddy and Miss Rose are sleeping. You should be too."

Lana would have stomped her foot in frustration if she wasn't on her knees.

"But, Daddy," she whined, "I'm not tired!"

Kyle groaned in resignation like a father who knew his daughter wasn't going to do what he wanted. "Alright then, if you absolutely can't get back to sleep, you can go to the living room, sit on the floor, and watch your kid shows. But, you are not to come back into this room or bother me or Miss Rose until 9:30. Otherwise, you can go back to bed, and I will let you wake me up in two hours."

Lana grimaced at her choices. She could either lay in bed mind-numbingly bored for two hours in hopes of getting an earlier breakfast and diaper change, or be less bored, watching the children shows Daddy let her watch, but at the cost of two more hours in an already wet and potentially messy diaper.

Like the toddler she was treated as, Lana let her short term desires win out over her long term needs.

"Otay, Daddy, I go watch a show."

Kyle smiled and rubbed Lana's head reassuringly before she toddled out of his room, and he went back to sleep. Lana quickly made her way to the leaving room and settled her soggy bottom on her usual seat in front of the sofa as she turned on Sofia the First.

It only took one episode before Lana realized that she had made the wrong choice. Resigned to her fate, the diapered 30-year-old leaned forward, grunted, and released a huge load of poop into her soggy diaper with a trumpeting blech.

As she settled her ass back down into her disgusting, smelly mess, Lana couldn't help but groan at the thought of how long her morning was going to be, all because she wanted to watch Saturday Morning Cartoons like a child.

[forge7menot]

In The Air (Tonight)

Pairings: Patrick x Reader, Tashi x Reader, Tashi x Art

Word count: 2.7k

Content warnings: alcohol use, suggestive content

Notes: Hi everyone! This is my first time writing a ff but I love Challengers with all my heart so I thought I'd give it a try. English is not my first language so if there are any mistakes don't pay too much attention to them!! Also, I despise the use of “Y/N”, that's why I tried to make it as neutral as I could.

Summer 2006, New York: 10:45 PM

Your room was a mess. Not only were there piles of dresses, colorful crop tops and jeans scattered across the floor like confetti, but you still couldn’t decide what to wear. And it was getting pretty late —at least, too late for your liking一 as the faint sound of “SOS” by Rihanna drifting from nearby bars hinted at the start of another sleepless Saturday night.

“Where’s the mascara?”

“Right in there,” you said, pointing at your makeup bag while your head was still buried deep in your closet. This bra isn't even mine, you thought, picking it up before tossing it on the ground. Tashi was too busy curling her eyelashes to hear the cellphone that had been buzzing for the past five minutes.

"Tash, could you please get it?" you grabbed a pair of low-rise, medium-wash bootcut jeans and looked at them with a satisfied grin before sneaking your legs in them as Tashi’s manicured nail pressed the green button to accept the call.

"We're still not ready," you heard her say and Art groaned on the other end.

"Are you serious? You said that an hour ago!"

"We are, unfortunately. I'll text you when we're finished.” Tashi ended the call before he could say a word.

She's been your closest friend since middle school. It was around that time that she started to invite you to watch her tennis matches on Sunday afternoons, just to hang out later. You've been incredibly supportive of her love for tennis ever since.

She even tried to teach you how to play, which led to you spraining your ankle once—after that, she didn't push you to try again.

However, you were always there at her matches: front rows, holding a big sign with her name on it, rooting for her.

That's also how you met Patrick and Art, Fire and Ice: the two of them were also tennis players, which is why they already knew Tashi very well. The four of you quickly became close after your first encounter at a party, which ended with smoking cigarettes by the beach and engaging in meaningful conversations.

It was quite obvious that Art, the blond one, had a thing for her from the first night you all spent together. You still remember how he was staring at her in awe as she explained to Patrick, the brunet one, how “you can actually build something out of ice while fire just tends to burn shit down”—it was obviously an innuendo to his technique. Art could hardly hide his grin as she tore into it, watching her like he’d just discovered something rare. You wondered if she noticed—or if she was just used to his attention by now.

As for you, you weren’t really looking for a relationship and you’d come to peace with the fact that being single was probably the chillest you’d ever been. At the same time, you couldn’t deny that Patrick was a really cool guy—not just for his confidence and personality, but because he was fucking hot. Sure, he was flirtier with you than with most people and maybe that got under your skin a little. But you often asked yourself if it was real interest or just his way of being; you hadn’t quite decided yet.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

The clock on the dresser blinked 11:10 PM, the glowing digits reminding you both that Art and Patrick were probably rolling their eyes somewhere across town. They’d waited this long, but you knew they’d wait a little longer.

Tashi was finally dressed, wearing a dark blue one-shoulder mini dress and a wide black belt with a large buckle that you’d gladly lent her. She was already pretty tall, but that didn’t stop her from slipping on the black peep-toe heels you two had bought together just a few hours ago. “One thing I like about my height is that ugly short boys can’t even try with me. I can’t hear them at all!” she’d joked in the shoe aisle.

As she carefully helped you curl your hair, you slipped on a white vest-style top with a V-neck. “Do you think I should add a necklace or something?” you asked, gesturing to the empty space just above your collarbones.

“How about that black beaded necklace with the heart pendant your grandma got you for your birthday?” she suggested, turning off the curling iron. “It contrasts perfectly with white.”

“You’re a genius!”

You fastened the necklace, running a finger over the heart pendant, feeling a hint of comfort.

There was just one last thing left to do before leaving the house: post a photo of Tashi and you on MySpace - where, of course, she was placed first in your TOP 8 and you were placed first in hers.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

The two boys had been leaning against the stone ledge outside the club for a solid twenty minutes, watching people trickle in. Art had insisted on getting there early—“in case there’s a line.”

Patrick had rolled his eyes at the time, knowing you and Tashi weren’t even close to ready yet. They’d both checked their phones multiple times, refreshing messages and waiting for a sign. Then, Patrick’s phone buzzed.

He glanced down and let out a low laugh, nudging Art with his elbow. “Look at this,” he said, tilting the screen toward him: a freshly uploaded photo on Tashi’s MySpace page, clearly taken in your room. The two of you were posing in front of a mirror flashing playful peace signs with the caption “NYC nightlife, here we come!”

Art squinted at the screen, his smile widening. “Well, at least we know they’re coming,” he said with a chuckle. “Though judging by that post, they’re not exactly in a rush.”

Patrick shook his head, amused. He put his phone back in his pocket, feigning indifference but sneaking glances at the entrance.

Another ten minutes passed, during which Art fiddled with his phone, checking Tashi’s page and refreshing it as if a new post might appear any second.

Patrick caught him doing it and snickered. “Dude, you’re practically stalking her page. Can you look any more desperate?”

Art shrugged, unfazed. “It’s called keeping informed, man.”

Just then, his phone buzzed again—a new notification. But this time, it was a message from Tashi: “Almost there. Keep your shirts on, boys. ;-)”

Finally, Art spotted you and Tashi across the street, walking toward the club entrance, laughing and leaning on each other as you navigated the crowded sidewalk.

He elbowed Patrick, who looked up just in time to see you both smiling, looking effortlessly glamorous under the city lights.

“There they are,” Art said, relief mixed with excitement in his voice.

Patrick’s exasperation faded, replaced by a grin. “About time,” he muttered, though there was no real annoyance in his tone.

As the both of you got closer to them Tashi smirked, flipping her long brown hair over one shoulder with a dramatic flair.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, boys,” she said with mock sincerity. “Had to make sure the MySpace crowd knew we were out tonight.”

Patrick raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “Oh, trust me, we saw. Next time, maybe just send us a smoke signal instead.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” you shot back with a mischievous grin, clearly enjoying the whole situation.

Tashi turned to Art, who was still smiling as he took her in. “You think we look worth the wait?”

Art nodded, a bit too enthusiastically. “Absolutely. I mean, you posted a teaser and everything—how could we not stick around?”

As the two of them were already flirting, you turned your face towards Patrick.

“Hello, sweetness,” he greeted, slipping an arm around your shoulders with a familiarity that felt both bold and strangely comforting. He always called you that—sweetness—ever since you’d mentioned your obsession with the song “Bigmouth Strikes Again” by The Smiths. You weren’t sure if he was teasing you or if he actually liked the nickname, but you didn’t mind it, even if you’d never admit that out loud.

“I hope you still would not like to smash every tooth in my head,” he continued, his grin widening as he quoted the song. His gaze lingered on you, mischievous and a little too pleased with himself.

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. “I’m not that violent, you know. I’m more of a pacifist.”

Patrick chuckled, giving your shoulder a little squeeze as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a playful murmur. “Oh yeah? I don’t know. I think you’ve got a bit of a fire in you. A little spark.”

You raised an eyebrow, playing along. “A spark, huh? Guess I’m playing for your team then,” you hinted at the nickname people would always give to him on the tennis court.

“That’s the best decision you could ever make,” he shot back, flashing you a grin that was just this side of cocky. His hand lingered on your shoulder for a moment longer before he finally let it drop, but not before brushing his fingers lightly down your arm. It was a subtle touch, but enough to send a small, pleasant shiver down your spine.

As the four of you finally stepped into the club, you were hit by a wall of sound, the bass vibrating through the floor and up into your bones. The music was loud—really loud—the kind of beat that left no room for conversation, only dancing and shouted exchanges.

Strobe lights and neon beams cut through the darkness, casting fleeting shades of blue, purple and red across the crowd, turning everyone into silhouettes and glimmers. The air was thick with the scent of spilled cocktails (that’s what almost made you gag), mingling with a faint haze of cigarette smoke and the sharp tang of cologne and perfume. People were laughing, shouting, swaying in sync, some raising their arms in time with the music.

On one side there was a raised platform where a few braver dancers were showing off their moves, illuminated by a set of blinding white lights that flickered on and off. On the opposite end, a long bar stretched out under soft, glowing light, bartenders moving swiftly as they mixed colorful cocktails, sliding them to customers.

You felt Patrick’s hand on your back, guiding you gently through the crowd as Tashi and Art led the way, squeezing past groups of people until you found a good spot by the bar.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

You didn’t even know what time it was as you sipped on your Cosmopolitan, comfortably nestled into the soft cushions of the booth, when suddenly you felt Tashi’s hand on your shoulder.

“Everything alright?” she asked, sliding in next to you, nearly out of breath as she tried to recover from the last half hour of nonstop dancing: her cheeks were flushed and you could tell she was enjoying the break just as much as you were.

“Yeah, absolutely. This drink is bomb,” you said, pointing at your glass before downing the last sip. “So, what did I miss while I was out here living my best life?” you asked, giving her a playful look.

“Patrick and Art are still out there trying to one-up each other’s dance moves. It’s… something else. You’re missing quite the show.”

As the two of you were talking, a girl dressed in a bold, sparkly top and a low ponytail approached your booth, her arms loaded with a tangle of neon bracelets. She flashed a wide grin as she held them out.

"Hey, ladies! Care for a little light?" she offered, her voice barely cutting through the music.

Tashi’s face lit up as she leaned forward, picking out a few.

“Oh, these are perfect! Thank you!” She slipped a neon pink one onto her wrist, watching it glow under the lights. You took a couple yourself—a bright blue and green.

“Y’all look amazing, by the way!” the girl shouted with a wink before slipping back into the crowd, leaving you both with your new accessories.

Tashi tilted her wrist, admiring the soft glow. “Okay, this is exactly what I needed to get back out there.” She shot you a playful look, her neon-pink bracelet gleaming as she offered you a hand. “Coming with me?”

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

The thump of the bass vibrated through the soles of your heels as you and Tashi weaved your way through the crowd.

You found the two boys near the center of the floor, bouncing with the beat of the music.

The brunet spotted you and Tashi first, his eyes lighting up when he saw the bracelets glowing on your wrists. He flashed you a knowing grin and moved fluidly through the crowd towards you. Art followed his lead and came over too.

“Didn’t think you’d make it out here,” Patrick said with a sly grin, his voice cutting through the bass of the song.

Tashi turned to Art and gave him a wink.

“We couldn’t resist, could we?” she laughed as Art pulled her into the rhythm of the music, his hands gently guiding her into the groove.

You stood next to Patrick, feeling his energy just as strongly as he could feel yours and for a moment the connection was undeniable. The way his body moved with the music was drawing you in: he extended a hand towards you, his fingers brushing against your wrist as he gestured for you to join him.

“Don’t be shy,” he said, a teasing smile curling at the corners of his mouth. Without hesitation you placed your hand in his, allowing him to pull you deeper into the rhythm of the dance.

Patrick was a master of subtlety—his touch, his movements, everything about him felt so deliberate. The music wrapped around you and, for a moment, there was no one else in the room but the two of you.

As you spun into the next move, Patrick’s hand landed on your lower back, the contact warm and possessive as he gently guided you.

In response, you placed your palms on his clothed shoulders. The alcohol in your system gradually made you bolder than usual.

The proximity was intoxicating.

His gaze never wavered from you, his lips curving into that playful, knowing smile. When he leaned in closer the tension was thick and almost overwhelming.

“You’re a natural,” he whispered, his hand now resting at your side, fingertips grazing the skin of your hip. You couldn’t help but shiver at the contact.

“Probably because I’ve got such a good teacher,” you teased him.

Whatever was happening felt more than just a casual connection: the closeness, the unspoken tension, the way you moved together—it all felt too real to ignore.

The air between you felt charged, each beat of the music syncing your heartbeats closer together.

As the song transitioned into something slower, the change in tempo didn’t break the tension—it only amplified it. His breath was warm against your cheek and his lips hovered just near your ear. Your heartbeat was so loud, you thought it might drown out his voice.

“You feel that?” Patrick’s breath was warm against your ear, the words almost like a challenge. You swallowed hard. The music still pounded, but it felt like it was coming from miles away.

“Feel what?” you asked, trying to hold onto control but knowing you were losing it.

For a moment, neither of you moved, your gazes locked. You wanted to say something, anything to break the tension, but the words caught in your throat.

Patrick’s lips were so close to yours at that moment.

Your breath hitched as both his hands found the softness and warmth of your cheeks, holding the flesh.

You tilted your head, just enough to close the gap and in a move that felt almost inevitable. His lips brushed yours—soft at first, like a question. You feel that?

When you didn’t pull away, he deepened the kiss, one of his hands moving to your neck.

In that moment, everything else ceased to exist: the world outside of the dancefloor—the crowd, the flashing lights, the music—faded away.

The kiss was heady, slow, a direct answer to the question that had been hanging in the air between you two.

When you finally broke away, breathless, your forehead rested against his, both of you struggling to regain some semblance of control.

Needless to say, that night you didn’t fall asleep alone. And you certainly didn’t fall asleep in your bed.

[unabashegirl]

Lycan 19 — werewolf hs

Y/N Y/L/N returns to her hometown, Alsfield, when her father falls ill, only to discover the town hides a dark secret—one protected by the mysterious Harry Styles. As Y/N unravels the town's mysteries, her plans to return to San Francisco are derailed. 

check out my patreon (starting at $2) and get full access to all chapters, various one shots like The Cover and much more :)

--> lycan masterlist <--

The autumn air was crisp and refreshing as Y/N sat outside a quaint little café, sipping on a cool drink. The sun cast a warm golden hue over the small town, creating a serene atmosphere. She could feel the gentle breeze tousling her hair, a harbinger of the coming colder days.

The town was bustling with activity, people going about their day with purpose. Y/N watched as leaves gently fluttered to the ground, their colors turning from vibrant greens to rich hues of red, orange, and gold. It was a beautiful sight, a reminder of the changing seasons.

Taking another sip of her drink, Y/N closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the peaceful moment. She could hear the distant chatter of people passing by, the occasional car driving past, and the rustling of leaves in the breeze.

Lost in her thoughts, she thought about everything that had happened since she arrived in this town. The pack, Harry, the recent arguments—they all swirled in her mind, creating a whirlwind of emotions.

But right now, in this moment, Y/N allowed herself to simply be. To enjoy the simple pleasure of a cold drink on a warm autumn day. She took a deep breath, letting the crisp air fill her lungs, and exhaled slowly, feeling a sense of calm wash over her.

"Sit, please. I enjoy the company," Y/N invited Aiden, gesturing to the empty chair beside her.

Aiden smiled warmly and picked up his drink, settling into the chair next to her. "Thank you. It's a lovely day, isn't it?" he remarked, his voice friendly and inviting. Y/N nodded, glancing around the bustling street, noticing the small shops with their colorful displays, the cheerful chatter of people enjoying their day, and the distant sound of music playing from somewhere nearby.

“I am sure that the sunset will be just breathtaking” She followed Aiden's gaze towards the horizon where the sun was beginning its descent. "It's a shame about the curfew, though. I used to love watching sunsets and waiting until the sky turned that deep, dark blue before heading home," he said, taking another sip of his drink.

"What do you mean curfew?" Y/N asked, genuine surprise in her voice. She had no idea that a curfew had been installed. Harry hadn't mentioned anything about it to her.

Aiden looked at her, a faint furrow forming between his brows. "The curfew that Alpha Harry announced because of the murders," he explained, his voice tinged with concern. "It's just to keep us safe."

Y/N's eyes widened in realization as the gravity of the situation settled in. "Murders?" she echoed, her heart skipping a beat. "What murders?"

“Isabella? Patrick's oldest daughter," Aiden began, his voice heavy with sorrow. "He used to be the omega. She was murdered a few days ago, and her body was found in the woods."

Y/N felt her heart drop at the news, shock and disbelief washing over her. Isabella, Patrick's daughter, murdered? It was almost too much to comprehend. She had only met Patrick a few times, but the thought of his daughter meeting such a tragic end filled her with sadness.

"I... I didn't know," Y/N managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper. The weight of the news settled heavily on her shoulders, and she couldn't shake the feeling of sorrow that washed over her.

Aiden reached out, placing a comforting hand on her arm. "I'm sorry, Luna" he said softly, his eyes reflecting the pain of the loss. "I thought you knew."

Y/N shook her head, unable to find the words to express the grief and shock she felt. Isabella, a young girl whose life had been cut short so tragically. It was a cruel and senseless act of violence that left her reeling.

"Thank you for telling me," Y/N finally managed to say, her voice thick with emotion. She appreciated Aiden's honesty, even if the news was devastating.

Aiden nodded, his expression somber. "Of course. I just thought you should know," he said, his voice filled with sympathy. “You should stay safe. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to you”.

Y/N took a moment to compose herself before standing up from the table. The weight of the news lingered heavy on her heart, and she knew she needed to talk to Harry about this.

"Thank you, Aiden," she said, offering him a small, grateful smile. "I appreciate you telling me."

Aiden nodded, standing up as well. "Anytime," he said, his eyes filled with understanding.

As Y/N made her way back towards the pack house, her mind was filled with thoughts of Isabella and the tragedy that had befallen her. She couldn't shake the feeling of sorrow and anger that welled up inside her. She needed to talk to Harry, to find out why he hadn't told her about this, and to make sure that justice was served for Isabella.

"Where have you been?" Niall interrogated her as she crossed the front door of the pack house. "We’ve been looking for you all day!" His tone was stern, laced with concern and a hint of anger. He couldn't fathom why she had left without a word, especially given the recent events in the pack.

Y/N felt a pang of guilt at Niall's words, realizing that she had caused worry among the pack members. "I'm sorry, Niall," she began, her voice filled with remorse. "I just needed some time to clear my head."

Niall's expression softened slightly, understanding flickering in his eyes. "I get it, but you can't just disappear like that, especially now," he said, his tone gentler but still firm.

"Where is Harry?" Y/N asked, determined to find him despite the message she received.

"He's in his study," Niall replied, watching as Y/N swiftly made her way upstairs.

Y/N climbed the steps two at a time, her heart pounding in her chest. She needed to talk to Harry, to clear the air and get some answers. The news about Isabella's death had shaken her to the core, and she couldn't shake the feeling that Harry was keeping something from her.

As she reached the top of the stairs, Y/N made a beeline for Harry's study. The door was closed, but she didn't hesitate to knock firmly.

"Come in," Harry's voice called from inside.

Y/N pushed the door open and stepped into the room. Harry was seated behind his desk, a stack of papers in front of him. His expression was unreadable as he looked up at her.

"We need to talk," Y/N said, her voice firm despite the nervous flutter in her stomach.

Harry raised an eyebrow, his gaze flickering over her face. "About what?" he asked, his tone guarded.

"About Isabella," Y/N replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "I heard what happened, and I want to know why you didn't tell me."

Harry's expression softened slightly, a flicker of guilt passing over his features. "I was going to tell you," he began, his voice low. "But I didn't want to worry you."

Y/N's frustration bubbled to the surface, her emotions raw. "Worry me?" she repeated, her voice rising slightly. "Harry, she was part of our pack! How could you not tell me something like this?"

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I didn't want to upset you," he admitted, his voice filled with remorse. "And I didn't want you to feel unsafe."

Y/N took a step closer to him, her eyes locking with his. "I appreciate your concern, but I can handle the truth," she said, her voice firm. "I want to be part of this pack. I want to help."

Harry's gaze softened, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. "I know," he said softly. "And I'm sorry for keeping it from you. I just... I didn't know how to tell you."

Y/N felt a surge of empathy for Harry, understanding the weight of his responsibilities as Alpha. She reached out and placed a hand on his arm, the warmth of his skin grounding her.

"I guess it’s fine" she said gently, her voice filled with reassurance. "Just stop hiding things from me"

Harry looked up at her, gratitude shining in his eyes. "Thank you," he said sincerely, his voice filled with emotion.

Y/N gave him a small smile, feeling a sense of unity between them. "Now, tell me everything," she said, her voice firm. "I want to know what's going on."

"Alright," Harry began, his voice steady as he recounted the events of the past few days. "This all started a few weeks ago, before Isabella was murdered. We found another body in the woods, but we haven't been able to identify them."

Y/N's eyes widened in shock, her heart pounding in her chest. "Another body?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry nodded, his expression grave. "Yes. It seemed to be another rogue wolf, but we couldn't determine their identity. The scent was faint, but it was there."

Y/N felt a chill run down her spine, the realization sinking in. "And you think this rogue is responsible for both attacks?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.

Harry sighed, his shoulders tense with the weight of the situation. "It's possible," he admitted. "The similarities between the attacks suggest that it could be the same rogue."

Y/N's mind raced with thoughts and fears, the danger looming over their pack feeling all too real. "What are we going to do?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Y/N listened intently as Harry described the scene, his words painting a grim picture in her mind. The brutality of the attack made her stomach churn, and she couldn't help but feel a surge of anger and sadness.

Harry nodded, his expression grim. "we've been tracking the scent ever since. But it's been difficult. The rogue seems to be skilled at covering their tracks."

Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine, the thought of a dangerous rogue wolf lurking in their territory sending chills through her. "Have you found anything else?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Not yet," he admitted. "But we're doing everything we can to find them before anyone else gets hurt."

“What can I do to help?” She asked, worried about the situation and the safety of the rest of the pack.

"Y/N," Harry began, his eyes locking with hers. "The best thing you can do right now is to stay close. We need to keep each other safe."

Y/N nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. "Of course," she said, her voice steady despite the fear that gripped her. "I'll stay by your side."

Harry reached out and gently cupped her face in his hands, his touch warm and comforting. "And there's one more thing," he said, his voice soft but firm. "I need to mark you."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening in surprise. "Mark me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry nodded, his gaze unwavering. "Yes," he said, his voice filled with determination. "It will help strengthen the bond between us, and it will make sure that I can always find you, no matter what."

Y/N felt a surge of emotion wash over her, the gravity of Harry's words sinking in. She knew what being marked meant, both physically and emotionally. It was a symbol of their connection, a pledge of loyalty and protection.

"Okay," she said, her voice barely audible. "I trust you."

[weirdcat1213]

HYUNA'S PART WHEN SHE SINGS "MAKE ME YOIR GOD I CAN GIVE YOU EVERYTHING" IEHIEDHISHWJEHRIDUDKRHRU HYUNAAAAAAAAAA

[spidernerd625]

I actually love learning history, but we barely learn any of it in school. I want to learn EVERYTHING! ESPECIALLY the crazy stuff! Teach me the things that don't make sense! Teach me the details about how people loved, what they did! What shinanigins did they get up to? Make me reenact something ridiculous and crazy!

Gods, I love history!

Got these pictures from my for you page on Tik Tok

These pictures are NOT mine.

[deus-ex-mona]

rage is a ✨way of life✨

[bmpmp3]

i do think its kinda funny when i see someone in the year of our lord 2024 talk about vocal synth music like its all gone downhill since like 2010 because like dont get me wrong i love a good niconicodouga-ass 2008 ass vocaloid joint BUT also like. the past couple years have had the most fascinatingly creative and expressive uses of vocal synthesizers ive ever heard in my life DJFSKHJDFS dont write it all off just yet!!

[truecorvid]

ohhhhh my godddddd

[eats-the-stars]

Love to torment my sister's do-nothing boyfriend. easiest method is simply doing things to reinforce his belief that my cat is actually my familiar (he is genuinely superstitious to this degree). this is easy for me because my cat is very responsive and easily trained. our recent accomplishment? she is meowing and i say "Cashmere, inside voices" and she pauses and then takes up meowing again...but quieter. Saw my sister's boyfriend struggling really hard not to immediately "call me out" in front of my sister.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[cuntwrap--supreme]

My dog has been having senior moments, such as randomly forgetting what she's doing or trying to walk into a street, and I've been calling her "Mr. President" when it happens.

Like, "No, Mr. President, we can't walk into oncoming traffic. That's how we get killed!"