#and then she just takes him in the middle of the night

[gracie-rosee]

​how comfortable with someone do you have to be to just gravitate towards them without even speaking and take their scarred hands as if it’s the most natural thing in the world

This is one of my favorite Elriel scenes. It’s just so simple and sweet.

I love how Elain stands immediately as the words leave Azriel’s mouth and he takes a step towards her. Like maybe she was already planning to stand and greet him? Or she’s just that eager for him to escort her out.

Also, another thing I love about this scene? She’s already risen from her seat, meaning Azriel doesn’t need to offer her a hand at all. He didn’t need to touch her at all. And he could have offered her his arm. But no. He offers his hands to her.

And they walk outside, hand in hand. Even though it’s clearly not uneven terrain that he needs to offer his hand for. Even though Elain clearly knows where the garden is. Even though there’s absolutely no reason for them to touch each other. Other than them wanting to.

[harrywavycurly]

Worth The Fight: Good Hands

Masterlist: Here

CW: language, pregnancy things, jealousy, angsty bits and some light arguing.

A/N: This one is heavy-ish but has some light hearted moments so be prepared for some angsty bits but I’d say this is a very big step in a direction for them, is it the right direction? Only time will tell👀✨

Tag List: @kookjipao @msolbesg @lomlolivia @namoreno @outofthisworl-d @mema10 @watarmelon212 @natykn @sassamanda77 @st-ev-ie @ghayda0 @hannah9921 @indierockgirrl @chaoticthoughts2022 @lizsogolden @gmikaelson @styleswithaseaview @sofaritsalrightt @babegoals @fangirl509east @one-sweet-gubler @stylesftcher @umadirectioner @last-saturday-night @montgomery-929496 @laughterismytherapy @hisparentsgallerryy @jerseygirlinca

Summary: You decide to do some shopping for the twins while Harry decides he needs to apologize to you even if you’re not ready to hear it✨

You smile at the woman working by the door as you enter the small boutique that’s just down the street from the library you work at, you look around and suddenly feel extremely overwhelmed by the amount of baby things surrounding you. Being nearly thirteen weeks you finally decide that it’s okay to just take a look at things, seeing as you still don’t know if you’re carrying two boys, two girls or one of each you find yourself not exactly sure where to start. You look over and smile when you see a small section of onesies with animals all over them, you adjust your bag on your shoulder as you head over towards the table they are folded and laid out on.

“Oh the peaches will love those.” Ethan’s voice comes from behind you making you laugh as you feel a hand on your shoulder. “How’s my favorite produce dealer doing today? Have you eaten all the cookies my mom sent yet because I need the tin back.” You roll your eyes at the playful nickname he came up with for you ever since you started sharing the size of the twins with him as they grow each week, getting a kick out of the way all your apps are always referring to their sizes as vegetables or fruits.

“They aren’t quite peaches yet they have about four days till then so they are still lemons.” You explain as you rest a hand on your bump while looking at the little outfits on the table in front of you. “But I’m good just feeling tired today and uh no not yet there’s like fifty cookies in that tin Ethan and I may be pregnant but sweets don’t sit well with me right now.” You answer as the hand on your shoulder grabs the strap to your bag and without hesitation you let him take your purse and sling it over his shoulder making you let out a small sigh of relief once the weight of your bag is gone.

“She said they were what she liked when she was pregnant with me but that was also during Christmas time so that’s why they are pretty much all holiday themed.”

“That explains all the gingerbread men.”

“Exactly. So the peaches-”

“Lemons.”

“I mean come on they are pretty much a crossover between lemons and peaches right now so like leaches? Or is that-”

“Do not call my babies leaches Ethan.”

“Right sorry that was rude let’s just go back to looking at the cute and soft onesies okay?” He says in a slight panic not wanting to make you upset in the middle of a baby boutique having already made you accidentally cry in line at the bakery down the street from your apartment when he mentioned how good the blueberry muffins looked, forgetting all about your current aversion to the fruit ever since you tried a blueberry jam that didn’t sit well with you.

“You think the animals are cute? Or they have these.” You lift up a set of onesies that are white with gray and yellow polka dots on them so he can take a look from his spot behind you. “Is the gray and yellow too overdone?” You question as Ethan places a hand on each of your shoulders and gives them a nice rub making you relax as you look at the onesies in your hand.

“Yellow and gray is a classic color combination you can’t go wrong with it.” You let out a hum of agreement as he releases his grip on one of your shoulders so he can reach around you ever so slightly and grab the set with the animals on it. “But these are cute as shit.” He says with a smile as he looks down and sees you still holding the polka doted set.

“I could get both? Right?” Ethan just nods as you look at him with a quirked brow almost as if you’re seeking his approval.

“Excellent idea.” Is all he says before he takes the polka dotted set from your hands and holds it in the same one of his that has the animal set it. You smile as you feel him lean down and place a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m going to go look at all the weird baby gadgets.” He gives your shoulder one last squeeze before he turns and heads off towards the back of the store with the two sets of onesies in his hand and your purse slung over his shoulder.

Harry is chewing on his bottom lip as he walks down the street towards the library you work at, wondering if he’s doing the right thing coming to see you at work again when you haven’t reached out to him since the lunch at his mother’s house. He doesn’t want to make it a habit to just show up at your work when you refuse to speak to him or he can’t get ahold of you but right now he feels like this is the only way he can guarantee he will be able to talk to you. It’s been over two weeks and he just wants to get some things off his chest and maybe see if the two of you can start over and try to get to know each other a bit so the arguing can come to a stop or at the very least can be toned down. It’s not like he’s expecting the two of you to be bestfriends or anything, he just wants to be able to have normal conversations with you that don’t end with you in tears or annoyed with him.

He runs a hand through his hair and he feels as if the wind gets knocked out of him when he turns to his left and looks in the window of a store, he has to push his sunglasses into his hair so he can make sure he’s seeing things clearly and that the dark lenses weren’t causing him to mistake the person for someone else but the moment his eyes see the smile on the woman’s face he knows exactly who it is. You’re standing in front of a table of baby clothes but before he can even register that you’re looking at clothes for the twins, he quickly notices you’re not alone and all Harry can do is stand there and watch the scene unfold in front of him. He watches your neighbor stand behind you and place both of his hands on your shoulders and Harry feels his brows furrow as his eyes narrow into a glare at the way you seem to relax at his touch.

It’s then that Harry takes in the bag that’s slung over the man’s shoulder, it’s the godawful thing you call a purse and he doesn’t understand why he’s the one with it over his shoulder instead of you. Of all the times he’s been around you that bag is always over your shoulder and you’re either fighting with it to find something or trying to keep it in place making him assume you have a thing about keeping your bag with you. He feels his mouth drop into a frown as it dawns on him that maybe it’s not so much you like to keep it on you at all times, it’s just that Harry hasn’t ever tried or offered to take it from you minus when he snatched it from you in your hallway when you told him you didn’t want him to come inside.

Harry feels the all too familiar simmering of jealousy begin to bubble deep inside him as he realizes that to anyone passing by the two of you would seem like a normal couple shopping for baby things in this cute little boutique that just so happens to be a few minutes away from your work. They would have no clue that the babies the two of you are looking at onesies for are actually his, that the man currently making you smile is nothing more than just your neighbor you’re friends with or at least that’s all Harry thinks he is to you, a friend. That changes the moment he watches the man place a kiss to the top of your head, a very soft display of affection that has Harry’s hands clenching into fists at his sides because why is another man that he doesn’t even know the name of not only baby clothes shopping with you but also touching and now kissing on you in public while he can’t even manage to get you to want talk to him.

Harry decides he’s seen enough as he turns and heads back in the direction of his car that’s parked in some over priced daily parking garage because he was in too much of a rush to call for his driver and also because a part of him wanted to prove to you that he can in fact drive himself places when he needs or wants to. He slides his sunglasses back down so they cover his eyes, allowing his emotions to be somewhat hidden from the strangers passing him on the sidewalk while he reaches into his back pocket for his phone. His first instinct is to call his mom and talk through this with her, why seeing you out with someone else buying things for the twins is making him feel this way but he shakes his head as he scrolls past her contact because he has a feeling he knows what she’s going to say and he doesn’t exactly want to have that conversation right now. So he scrolls down to the name that he knows won’t ask questions and hopefully in a few hours Harry will forget all about what he saw in the window of that little shop and he’ll be able to try again tomorrow on telling you sorry.

“Hey H you finally have time for a round?” Harry laughs at how excited Niall sounds on the other end of the phone as he enters the main level of the parking garage his car is in.

“I do but uh not the kinda round you’re thinking of.” Harry says with a sigh and in true Niall fashion he just laughs and tells Harry to pick the pub and he’ll see him soon before hanging up.

“Oh fuck this hallway is so long-wait what floor is this?” Harry squints as he exits the elevator and when he sees the number five on the plaque on the wall he lets out a sigh of relief.

“Thank god.” He mumbles as he turns and heads down the hallway, half tempted to put his sunglasses back on due to the obnoxiously bright lights coming from the ceiling that while doing a good job at helping him see where he’s going and which apartment he’s walking by, are also intensifying the throbbing in the back of his head.

When he reaches the doors he’s looking for he closes his eyes just for a brief moment because keeping them closed for too long makes him a little dizzy. As soon as he opens them he raises a hand to knock, not caring about the fact it’s near three in the morning because to Harry it’s a new day and he has things he needs to tell you. He stands there and rests a hand on your doorframe as he waits for you to answer, when he doesn’t even hear the sound of you moving around on the other side of the door he knocks two more times because unlike the last time he was here knocking on your door he knows you’re home having seen your sad little car in the parking lot when his driver pulled into the complex.

“I know you’re home you’ve-you’ve got to be home.” He mumbles with a sigh as he turns so his back is resting against your door, before he can even stop himself he feels his body sliding down it until his bottom is hitting the floor and his legs are stretched out in front of him.

“I’m-I’m sorry I’m so sorry.” His voice is strained as he tries to get comfortable resting against your door, finally deciding to put his sunglasses back on in an effort to help slow down the throbbing that’s making its way from the back of his head towards his temples. He rests his head against your door with a groan as he tries to gather his thoughts so he can try to explain to you why he’s been acting the way he has ever since you told him you were pregnant.

You have to close your eyes and take a few deep breaths to get your emotions under control as you stand on the other side of the door that you now know is being used at a backrest for a slightly drunk Harry. You didn’t need to look through the peephole to know it was him, you knew by the first set of knocks and the mumbled voice that you could hear from your bedroom that it was Harry because he’s the only person that would ever bother you at this hour unless it was an emergency but even then normally people just call or text you, not show up at your door. You place a hand on your bump that’s covered by your nightshirt and give it a soothing rub as you stand there, deciding that even though you’re not ready to see him you’ll let him sit there and get whatever it is he needs to say off his chest so he can go home.

“I shouldn’t have left you that day-uhm during the exam.” He says as he looks up towards the ceiling. You swallow the lump that’s already forming in your throat, as being woken up abruptly and now hearing him apologize start to make a mess of your emotions that have already been kind of all over the place recently.

“I’m sorry I keep saying the wrong things and-and hurting you s’not what I want ya know? To hurt you.” Harry sniffles and lets out a sarcastic sounding scoff at his own words as you look down at your ankles and smile at Paris who has taken an almost protective stance, standing between you and the door. “S’hard to believe I know but fuck-you’re just so relaxed all the time n’it freaked or-really it freaks me out a bit.” He admits making you roll your eyes while he runs both hands through his hair.

“But my uhm therapist says s’a control thing an that’s why I lash out at you.” You quirk an eyebrow at the mention of his therapist, feeling a bit shocked he’s spoken to anyone besides Anne about the two of you.

“Because you-you have all the control here and have since day one like you-even when you told me you were pregnant you just I don’t know? You had it all figured out already? You were having a baby with or without me while I was fumbling around and panicking and deep down I uh know that you-you don’t need me and that’s sort of uhm my thing? I need to be needed I’m a bit of a narcissist and-and you just don’t need me like- at all and I mean that’s-that’s fine or I’m learning to uhm be fine with it.” You feel your heart drop at how sincere he sounds as he speaks between little sniffles, you know his emotions are getting the best of him when it’s quiet for a moment minus a watery sigh and then you have to close your eyes and fight back the tears that want to spill over as you hear his voice sound so desperate as it comes through your door.

“But I need you Cranky I need-I need you because I need them so just-just tell me what to do and I’ll do it okay?” Harry lets a few tears roll down his face as he practically begs you to just tell him what to do to make this situation right.

“Please.” He whispers in a last ditch effort to get you to talk to him. You let out a deep breath before you reach out and unlock your door and turn the knob so you can open it. Harry feels his heart begin to beat quicker and before he can even register that you’re really opening the door and willing to see him and possibly talk to him he finds himself laying flat on his back looking up at you from the floor, the shots he took with Niall a few hours ago making his reflexes slower than normal not giving him time to move from his sitting position with his back resting on your door before you swung it open.

“Hi Harry.” You say with a small smile as you look down at him, Harry just smiles as he reaches for the sunglasses still covering his eyes quickly pulling them off so he can get a better look at you.

“Cranky you’ve-wow.” You raise an eyebrow at him suddenly feeling a little self concious as his eyes go a bit wide as he takes in how much bigger your bump looks, especially from the angle he’s currently getting from his spot on the floor. “Lemons still right? Peaches in four-no wait now three days?” He asks and you just nod as you place both hands on your bump while he takes his time getting up, feeling a bit dizzy due to looking up from his back for too long.

“Do you mind uhm staying in-”

“Yeah yeah that’s fine I uh-I’m sorry for waking you up.” He says when you motion towards the hallway once he’s up and standing, already knowing what you’re asking of him, and he will happily stand in the hallway while the two of you talk because he’s just happy you actually opened the door. You open your mouth to say something but then you hear the jingling of a bell and both you and Harry look down and find Paris rubbing his head on Harry’s shin and you have to hold back a laugh as Harry’s eyes widen in fear.

“Oh god Paris please don’t-oh fuck god damnit that hurts.” Paris just purrs and rubs the same ankle he just took a bite of before he turns and heads back into your apartment, strutting off towards the kitchen as if he’s proud of himself for what he’s just done. “I deserved that.” Harry mumbles making you just shrug as he runs a hand over his face.

“So Mr. Popular is a narcissist huh? I never would’ve guessed.” Harry feels his cheeks get hot at your teasing words. He sniffles a bit and rubs the tip of his nose with the knuckle of his index finger while giving you a small shrug because he’s not sure what to say. “I appreciate you coming here to apologize Harry but uhm I also know you’re a little-”

“I’m not that drunk-m’tipsy at best and I swear I’d say the same things sober.”

“I believe you but it’s just everything can sort of seem a bit more emotional and heavy when said at three in the morning outside an apartment door after too many whiskey sours.”

“Who talks like that? Honestly you-you spend too much time surrounded by books.”

“Harry-”

“I’m sorry that was rude.” He lets out a sigh as he looks down at his feet. “I don’t know why I do this? Why I can’t help myself sometimes I just-you’re so easy to argue with?” You rub your lips together to hold off the smile that wants to form because he looks so distraught standing there with a hand in his hair and another on his hip as he tries to make sense of his need to just bicker with you as if it’s all his fault and you don’t also enjoy how easy it is to rile him up.

“You’re fairly easy to set off and I seem to know exactly how to do it.” Harry lifts his head to look at you as you start to speak. “We both enjoy a bit of back and forth but sometimes Harry you just say things that are very hurtful and very hard to take back.” You explain as you look down at your hands that are on your bump, trying not to think about some of the things he’s said to you in the past that have made you upset.

“I know and I’m-I’m working on that.”

“With your therapist?” You ask as you look up at him and he just nods making you feel that there might actually be a some hope that the two of you will be able to figure this whole communication thing out. “So are you really ready to be apart of this then?” Harry takes a very small step towards you just so he can reach a hand out, you look at it questioningly for a moment before you give in and place one of your hands in his.

“I don’t want to be outside the window.” He says as he gives your hand a squeeze, you look at him with a slightly confused expression because you’re not entirely sure what he means by that but you don’t want to ruin the moment so you just let him continue. “I want to be the one inside with you looking at baby stuff and holding your god awful fucking bag and-”

“Well well well if it isn’t Mr. Asshole himself.” Ethan’s voice coming from down the hall makes Harry’s eyes go wide as he drops your hand while you turn and look at your neighbor who you know is just getting home from work. “I see you’re really living up to that nickname since you have her up out of bed at this ungodly hour.” You roll your eyes at him as Harry turns so he’s facing Ethan who is now only a few steps away from the two of you.

“It’s Mr. Popular not-”

“Aren’t assholes usually popular? So it’s basically the same thing.”

“It’s nowhere near the same and-who even are you? Besides the guy who feeds her cat on Fridays?”

“I’m Ethan her neighbor but also the friend who picked her up from your mom’s house crying a week and a half ago.” Harry’s face goes pale as he realizes your neighbor is the one who came and got you from lunch, you watch Ethan take a step so he’s standing in front of his door facing Harry as he swings his key ring around his index finger a few times.

“Oh and I’m the guy who she calls when she needs something because unlike you Mr. Gucci sunglasses even though it’s dark outside-” Ethan takes his time eyeballing Harry’s attire before he continues. “I’m a source of comfort for her and those little peaches. I’m also right across the hall so I’m always available.” You feel the tension in the air as Ethan glares at Harry who is glaring right back but with a clenched jaw and a hand balled into a fist at his side.

“Those little peaches? You mean lemons?”

“Really? That’s-that’s what you got out of that?”

“I mean I think it shows that you might be the comforting neighbor.” You begin to chew on your bottom lip as Ethan crosses his arms over his chest and raises an eyebrow at the slightly tipsy man in front of him. “But clearly I’m their dad because I actually know how big they are.” You can’t help but chuckle at how proud Harry looks when he says the word dad while Ethan just rolls his eyes making you move to the side a bit from your spot behind Harry so Ethan can see you allowing you to give him a warning type glare.

“Oh so now you’re ready to be a dad huh? Well good. I’m glad because honestly picking out baby shit isn’t really a good look for me.”

“Either is holding her purse-that thing looks hideous on you.”

“I mean it’s a hideous bag-wait what? When have you ever seen me with her purse?”

“Today or uh technically yesterday? In that shop near her uhm work.” Harry admits shyly and that’s when it all clicks, his mentioning of the window and looking at baby things, it’s because he saw you and Ethan at the boutique. You close your eyes and run a hand over your face as a long sigh escapes you making both men turn their heads to look at you.

“Is that why you got drunk and came knocking at my door?” Harry swallows hard as he all of a sudden feels a wave of nervousness wash over him because he doesn’t want his answer to ruin the slight progress that’s been made while standing outside your door this morning.

“Uh well-yes that’s sort of the reason why I met Niall-”

“Niall? Niall Horan? Is he here?” Harry turns to look at Ethan with a quirked brow as your neighbor looks up and down the hallway for any signs of the Irish popstar.

“Uh no he’s at home.” He answers making Ethan let out a huff while Harry turns his attention back to you. “But the whole reason I even saw you two was because uhm well because I was on my way to the library to see you. I just needed to talk to you and tell you how sorry-”

“You can’t just show up at my work whenever you want because you need to talk to me Harry especially when you know how it went the last time we even saw each other that’s just-that’s not okay.” Harry just nods because he already knew that, before he even got in his car to drive to your work to see you he knew it probably wasn’t a good idea but he had to do something and that was the only thing that he could think of.

“I know I won’t do it again.”

“Wait you saw us at that boutique and that’s why you went and got drunk on a Wednesday?” Ethan’s voice takes Harry’s attention away from you and you watch Ethan place his keys in his back pocket before putting his hands on his hips.

“I don’t like what you’re implying.”

“What I’m implying? Dude I’m not implying shit. Just admit it you got jealous-”

“Jealous? Jealous of what? Of you? Yeah right State Farm.” You take a step around Harry so you can be ready to stop the two of them from getting any closer to each other when you see Harry take a step towards Ethan.

“State Farm? That’s cute and honestly it’s true because I am a good neighbor but do you see these?” Harry’s brows furrow as Ethan wiggles his fingers a few inches away from Harry’s face. “I am clearly Allstate because she is very much in good hands.” You roll your eyes at the two of them as you cross your arms over your chest not believing the conversation they are having in front of you.

“What does he mean by that? You’re in good hands? Have you-you been in his hands?” Ethan has to bring a hand up to cover his mouth to hide his laugh as Harry quickly turns to look at you with frantic eyes while he runs a hand through his hair. You let out a sigh and glare at Ethan who is quick to turn around and face his door so he can unlock it.

“What? No we aren’t-”

“I’m sorry it’s not uhm it’s not uh-not my business I’m sorry.” Harry fumbles over his words as he begins to turn taking a few steps backwards towards the elevators as his mouth drops to a frown and you feel the corners of your own mouth fall a bit at how hurt he looks. “It’s fine really I uhm I gotta go.” You want to tell him to stop and just let you explain your friendship with Ethan but Harry doesn’t give you a chance because before you can even open your mouth he’s turning around so his back is facing you and he’s three steps away from you. But you know you can’t let him leave like this so you let out a huff and take a step towards him and call his name.

He pauses and looks over his shoulder as his name falls from your mouth. “Tell Nick I said hello?” He gives you a small smile and nods as you mention his driver who is waiting for him in the parking lot down stairs.

“Yeah I’ll uh I’ll do that.” You smile and before he turns to head towards the elevators you see a very familiar glint appear in his eyes as the corners of his mouth curl up in a smirk. “Goodnight Cranky.”

“You mean good morning Mr. Popular.” You correct making him laugh and shake his head as he turns and continues down the hallway because of course you just have to correct him because of course you just have to be right.

“Oh he totally thinks we are fucking.” Ethan says with a laugh as he stretches his neck a bit just in time to see Harry step into the elevator. As soon as he’s out of sight you turn and give Ethan a smack to the chest making him let out a pitiful sounding groan. “So violent in front of the children.”

“Don’t be so crude. He at least thinks something is happening here and we both know it’s not.”

“What he doesn’t know won’t kill him.”

“Uh yeah Ethan it actually might? He came here after getting drunk all because he saw us shopping together.”

“Yeah well I say let him suffer a bit and think we are doing something scandalous and then when he’s maybe stopped being an absolute douchebag for more than a day you can tell him the truth.”

“God you just love drama don’t you?”

“I’m a young bisexual man my whole life is drama.” He teases as you stand in your doorway with a hand on your bump and the other resting on your doorframe. “But honesty him showing up here is like-”

“A big deal. I know.” You finish for him, the two of you stare at each other for a moment before Ethan takes the few steps between his door and yours and places a quick kiss to the top of your head.

“Everything is gonna be fine.” He reassures you before he opens his apartment door. You give him a smile when he looks at you over his shoulder. “Sweet dreams Cranky.” He jokes making you roll your eyes as he closes his door.

You can’t help but make a sour face at the sound of your nickname coming from someone else’s mouth besides Harry’s. Not liking how it sounds without his accent and deep tone of voice and how slowly it slips out of his mouth making it sound all the more condescending which is oddly something you enjoy about the way he says it. You turn and walk through your open door and let out a long sigh after you close it, you head back towards your bedroom and smile when you see Paris curled into a ball at the foot of the bed.

“Oh Paris.” You mumble as you climb back into bed making the cat instantly lift his head up and stretch his front paws out at the disturbance. “What just happened?” You ask as you stare at the ceiling trying to make sense of the events that just took place in your hallway, but as the minutes tick by and you find yourself falling asleep you decide you can try to decipher and dig deeper into all of that later because right now all you want to do is go back to sleep and momentarily forget that the man you’re having kids with knocked on your door a three in the morning just to leave in a frantic hurry forty five minutes later.

Harry feels as if he’s a mixed bag of emotions as he steps into the elevator, the first one being confusion because he’s not even sure why he cares if you and your overly friendly neighbor are more than friends because it’s not as if Harry has any sort of claim on you minus the fact he’s the father of the two lemon sized babies you’re carrying. He’s even gone as far as telling you he doesn’t like you enough to care about anyone you find remotely attractive but that brings him to the next emotion, jealousy. Harry has always been the jealous type, that’s just part of his personality but this is something different because he feels as if he could punch a wall at just the memory of seeing Ethan kiss the top of your head and holding your shoulders in such a way that would have people assume he’s your partner of some sort. The most powerful emotion swirling around in Harry’s body though is regret, he regrets walking away and not letting you explain things but he just couldn’t risk having to listen to you tell him you’re in love with Ethan or that you two have only gotten so close because Harry has made you turn to him for comfort and reassurance due to how horrible he’s treated you. He doesn’t think he would be able to stand knowing that it’s his own fault that you ended up in the arms of someone else, not that he wants you in his own arms either because he doesn’t, or at least that’s what he’s telling himself.

“I could go back? Let her tell me-no no that would be dumb.” He argues with himself as he presses the button for the lobby. “Why do I even care? Do I even care? No. No I don’t.” He lets out a frustrated groan as he paces the length of the small elevator while debating with himself. “Exactly. I don’t care. She can be with whoever she wants. That’s fine.”

“I don’t care.” He mumbles as the door opens to the lobby of your apartment complex. He runs a hand over his face as he steps out and heads for the parking lot. He looks around and sees Nick is parked towards the back of the lot, he mentally pats himself on the back for picking a time of day that not a lot of people are out and about so Harry doesn’t have to worry too much about being seen as he walks towards the black suv.

“How’d it go?” Nick asks once Harry is in the backseat of the car. He raises an eyebrow as he looks over his shoulder when hears Harry lets out a long sad sigh.

“Next time I ask you to drive me here past midnight tell me no.” Harry instructs as he slides his sunglasses on and turns to look out the window. Nick just nods before he turns and faces the front so he can start the car and take Harry home.

[apeachty]

₊ ˚ ⊹ ♡ . ⠀be quiet

⠀⠀⠀meany!beomgyu x fem!reader

genre : smut

warnings : beomgyu is mean and frustrated (and hot); a tiny bit of subtle cock worship; name calling ('slut' + 'pathetic'); NO protection mentioned; probably something else but i forgot.

word count : 0.9k

notes : getting a meltdown while trying to come up with nicknames beomgyu would call his s/o is... meh. if anyone has any suggestions for all the members—

also kinda tagging my bestie @biteyoubiteme because she loves gamer gyu, but it's... not much of a gamer gyu, but... ily sorry

happy new year everyone! i hope 2025 will be kind to you and people who are important to you ♡ thank you so much for reading, i'm happy to have you all in my life ♡

you weren't sure how you went there—one moment you were sitting cross-legged on the couch beside beomgyu as he played league of legends on his laptop, and the next, you found yourself kneeling on the rough fabric, face down, cheek pressed against the t-shirt he had carelessly thrown on the couch to prevent you from rubbing your cheek against it. you felt his hand on the side of your head, pushing your face further into the fabric as his other hand pulled your bottoms down to your knees, your underwear going with them.

"g-gyu—" you whimpered, unsure if you wanted him to stop or continue. it was the middle of the night in the dorm's living room, and while some of the members were known to wander around at random hours, you were too far gone to care. you had been wet for nearly an hour already, watching beomgyu groan and curse his "completely useless, good-for-nothing" teammates. his forearms flexed as one hand clicked the mouse buttons aggressively and the other flew over the keys, hands that seemed to be made by the gods themselves.

he pulled his sweatpants down, freeing himself with a soft groan. instinctively, you tried to turn your head to look back at him—you loved his cock so much, you could admire it for hours, for days from between his legs—but he quickly pressed your head back down, pushing your chin up so you could barely see him. this made you whimper in protest, your body aching for him.

beomgyu chuckled, pushing two of his fingers inside you, scissoring them to stretch you out. "ohh, what a pathetic little pup," he murmured, his voice filled with a pout. "wants to see my cock so badly. would do anything for it, wouldn't you?" his fingers curled inside you, making you clench around them and mewl into the fabric of his t-shirt.

you whined a quiet "please", already wet enough to take him. your inner thighs were slick with your arousal, and you pushed your hips back, trying to show him you were ready and couldn't wait. you didn't care about the stretching, craving the little pain that always came with his dick.

beomgyu wanted to torture you more, to make you cry, beg, and whimper. he loved seeing your face wet and your mind filled only with thoughts of him, loved seeing the dumb, lust-filled look in your eyes. sometimes, he managed to make you go dumb for his cock before it even left his pants. but this time, he knew you barely had any time. he knew should’ve pulled you to his bedroom and fuck you in his bed, but you’d been almost grinding the couch for half an hour, stealing his concentration completely. by the end of the game he could barely think about anything but you.

he rolled his eyes as he finally started pushing his cock inside, the tip alone feeling like heaven. it was wet, tight, and so warm, shaped just for him. he couldn't wait to feel you clenching around him. with a sharp exhale, he buried himself inside you completely, biting his lip to stay quiet. but you didn't do the same—your moan cut through the night air. fuck, he thought. it was hot but too risky, soobin would scold the shit out of him for fucking in a shared space.

when he pulled out, you whimpered—he stretched you out so good, you were praying for him to stay inside longer, but it only lasted a moment before he wrapped his fingers around your neck, pulling you up by it to stand on your knees. he told you to grab his t-shirt, which you did, clenching it in your hands as your back pressed against his chest.

not-so-gently, beomgyu left a bite on your neck, groaning "stay. quiet." into it before tearing the t-shirt away from your hands and turning you around, pushing you to lay on the couch. you swallowed thickly as he towered over you, your gaze immediately drawn to his cock, your tongue darting out to lick your lips involuntarily.

he pushed his bangs back, looking down at you sprawled beneath him, your eyes glued to his cock that you couldn't wait to have inside you. it was mutual, and he slapped your thigh quietly, saying "up". beomgyu knew you were a good, smart girl, so even in your current state, you lifted your hips up, letting him put his t-shirt under you.

you reached out for him immediately, hands trying to grab his arms to pull him down. he tsked, shaking his head, but you both knew he loved it. he parted your legs, positioning his cock at your entrance once more. lowering himself on top of you this time, he leaned on his elbow not to crush you, his palm finding its place on your face, covering your mouth. his fingers dug into your cheeks as he buried himself to the hilt with one sharp movement, making you arch your back and moan into his hand, eyes screwed shut.

"can never be quiet, can you?" beomgyu asked breathlessly, your reaction to him making his brain hazy. "if you wake any of them up, i'll ask that one to join. f-fuck— you're clenching around me. liking the thought, little slut?"

[chrissturnsfav]

singer!reader on tour for her new album and rapper!chris is with her. she’s performing one of the sexier songs on her album and he can’t wait to fuck the shit out of her later

I WILL KISS YOU IF U WRITE THIS PLSSS

⋆.˚✮ singer!reader's new song gets rapper!chris excited in the stands

you can feel his eyes on you, even from the shadowed corners of his private box. the stage lights are bright, the bass heavy, and the crowd is a swarm of hands and screams, but none of that matters right now. all you can think about is chris.

your new song—pornstar—thumps in sync with your racing heart as you slide your hand down your bare thigh, teasing the audience with a toothy smirk.

you know chris is devouring you with that low smirk he does when he has you pinned beneath him. you glance his way up in the private box, barely a flicker of your eyes, but it’s enough to spot him leaning forward in a manspread, elbows on his knees, his jaw tight.

you move with the music, hips rolling slow as you lower your body to the floor, your voice sultry and innocent as the ironically dirty lyrics pour from your lips. you sing to the crowd, but you perform for him.

chris is watching you like he owns you, and it sends a shiver down your spine. every movement you make—every arch of your back, every sway of your body—is deliberate. you know exactly what you’re doing to him.

you catch his gaze again, and this time, it lingers. his eyes are dark, intense, and you know he’s thinking about later. the way his tongue prods the inside of his cheek tells you he’s already planning exactly how the night will end, and it makes a familiar stickiness settle in your panties beneath your stage outfit just at the mere thought of it.

as your knees hit the stage, the beat picks up, and the song shifts into its sultriest part. your voice raises higher pitched, the lyrics melting into moans. it’s part of the song, part of the performance, but the sound feels real, raw, like it’s just for him.

you close your eyes, letting the moment take over as you put on your best fucked out face for the fans, but in the back of your mind, you know exactly what you’re doing. every breathy note, every movement of your pretty body, is calculated. you can almost feel his tension from here, imagine him gripping the tight bulge in his jeans, barely holding it together.

when you steal another glance, his body is taut with tension—still in the same position, but now his head is tilted slightly like he’s trying to memorize every movement. the way he watches you sends a flush of heat through your body, the kind you can’t shake, even with the stage lights blazing.

the song intensifies, your moans weaving seamlessly into the rhythm, and you drag your hands slowly up your thighs, just like you practiced. your fingers linger at your waist, teasing as you bite your bottom lip, and you swear you see him shift in his seat, running a hand over his jaw like he’s fighting to keep his dick from hardening even further.

when the music fades and the crowd explodes in applause, you rise to your feet, breathless, and send one last wicked glance his way. he’s no longer sitting. he’s standing now, his gaze is hot and possessive.

later after the show, you and chris are in your bedroom on your tour bus, and the night is ending just as you thought it would.

you're laying on your back, your stage outfit and chris' clothes pooled on the floor beside the bed, his fingers digging into the undersides of your thighs as he pushes them harder to your chest.

your bed is creaking as he fucks into you, squelch after squelch filling your ears and he hisses in pleasure, watching your face twist in and out of ecstasy as you moan softly.

"y'knew what you were doin' didn't you?" he murmurs, his brown waves framing his face in the most perfect messy way. "dancin' like that, moanin' like that, tryin' to get me hard in the middle of your show. got some nerve, ma."

"i-it was...a-all for you," you whimper, your eyes rolling back deep as a dark chuckle fills your ears that makes your thighs burn deliciously. "d-did it for...y-you..."

"yeah?" he chirps, smirking cockily as his hands push your thighs harder against your shoulders earning a whimper from you. "pretty lil' dance was all for me, yeah?"

"y-yes...yes..." you gasp, throwing your head back into your pillows, your jaw locked open while your hands tug at his hair making him groan in response.

"yeah, i know," he mumbles confidently, humming in satisfaction. his breath hitches followed by a grunt when your spongy walls tighten around him, a whine leaving your lips.

"mhmm, gonna cum, yeah?" he pants down at you, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip and smirking cockily when all you can do is moan and squirm in response, "squeezin' my cock so tight, c'mon baby, cum all on me."

your back arches off the bed as you teeter on the edge, your thighs twitching against his shoulders. your eyes snap open when he ruts into you harder. "o-ohh fuck...chris...mmph..."

chris hums, smiling down at you, moving one hand from your thigh to cup your cheek, "yeah, keep those pretty eyes open f'me. wanna see you ma."

thank you for reading! <3

tags: @sturnobsessedwh0re , @idrk2292 , @mattsbrat , @ribbonlovergirl , @swagalicious260 , @sturnhyyhblog , @matthewsroses , @mattsdemi , @emely9274 , @frankoceanfanpage , @ifwdominicfike , @marrykisskilled , @strnilolover , @cayleeuhithinknott , @forgottxen , @sophand4n4 , @sturnsrecord , @purpledragon222 , @faiyaz555 , @jocelyncsblog , @freakiolos , @slut4chris888

@chrissturnsfav ™

[finelinefae]

the regretful man

part 2 of the other woman

synopsis: harry is the regretful man who just needs to be loved

word count: 4.9k

contains: angst, smut?? if u could even call it that? (p in v, one night stand), smoking, mentions of alcohol

a/n: from me to you! happy new year !

. . .

Harry stood at the end of the aisle as people gathered to stand in the pews of the small church. Quiet chatter fell upon the families as they sat on opposite sides, eagerly awaiting for the ceremony to begin. He had double-checked the pockets of his suit to ensure he had everything with him to go perfectly. 

The best man nodded his head at the officiate who raised his hand and asked for everybody to stand. Harry got into position as the piano began to play a gentle melody and the doors to the church opened. 

In walked the bride with her arm looped with her father’s. Harry turned to face them both, capturing the sight of the families whose eyes were shining with tears and proud smiles. He held the camera to his eye and snapped a few shots of the bride before turning towards the groom who no longer looked nervous but relieved at the site of the woman he was going to marry.

Harry had lost count of the number of weddings he had photographed since leaving University ten years ago. He was thirty one now and over the years he had found himself enthralled in the world of wedding photography after setting up his own studio. 

It wasn’t the career he had imagined for himself when he was an art student all those years ago. He had all these plans to be much bigger, more creative and artistically free, but fear became the better of him and he opted for the safer route - the one that kept a roof over his head. 

As much as Harry’s job made other people happy, he couldn’t seem to find that happiness in himself. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt proud or fulfilled by the photographs he had taken. They’d become much too formulaic, people hired him because they liked his style and wanted it for themselves and he was beginning to grow tired of it.

After every wedding he promised himself he would move on to something new whatever that meant. Maybe he’d travel and start a blog or try and get into the fashion industry. Yet after every wedding, he’d find himself trapped in another and then another, until his ambitions of achieving something new were nothing but tiny dots in the distance. 

Maybe this was where he was meant to be. 

Taking pictures of love when the irony was he had never felt true love himself. 

He sighed when the picture he took of the exchanging of the rings turned out blurry, quickly snapping a lazy shot once more to Photoshop later. 

. . . 

Although Harry had slowly fallen out of love with his passion for photography, there was no denying that the perks of an open bar were high on the list of benefits he received in his line of work. 

The reception was loud and crowded, more people had arrived and filled up the marquet that was decorated with fairylights and a dance floor in the middle. Harry was a frequent visitor to the bar where they were serving wedding-themed cocktails that he had tested each one for himself. 

His camera hung heavily around his neck. Occasionally, he would peek through the viewfinder to observe people and guess what they were up to—a game he enjoyed when the reception got too rowdy. If the mood struck him, he often didn't mind going home with someone or spending the night in their hotel room nearby. 

Harry hadn’t been in a committed relationship for longer than a year. His longest standing girlfriend was his most recent ex who left him to move to Thailand with a group of people she had met. He wondered if it was his fault that people wouldn’t stay. Maybe there was something wrong with him.

He wasn’t even sure if he had been in love or what it was supposed to feel like. He had been told by most people that love was a craving, a longing to have a certain somebody close by even if it was just to be in their proximity. When people would ask him if he had ever felt that way he’d always say no but then a unsettling feeling weighed heavy on the back of his mind and memories of a certain someone would appear unwarranted. 

His eyes roamed the room until they settled on one of the bridesmaids who had been flirting with him ever since he photographed them getting ready that morning. She was stunning, with long legs and flowing blonde hair. May as well, Harry thought, as he made his way toward her, watching as her throat bobbed and she flattened her hair when she caught him sifting through the crowd towards her. 

“Hey,” Harry spoke, his voice coming out low. 

“Hi,” She replied, shyly, tucking her hair behind her ear. 

“M Harry,” He introduced.

“I’m-”

“Lauren, I got you a coke but I can’t remember which one has vodka in it,” A voice appeared and a person holding two cokes in his hand came up to them. 

“Ollie,” Lauren blushed taking one of the glasses, “You know I can’t drink.” 

“I know,” Ollie shrugged, “Let me try them both and I’ll tell you which one is yours.”

Harry frowned, “Why can’t you drink?” He hoped it wasn’t for the reason he was thinking otherwise he’d have to think up a new escape plan. 

“Oh I’m a model,” Lauren replied, “I can’t drink when I’m working.”

“This one’s yours,” Ollie handed her the coke with ice and a lemon floating inside it.

“Are you sure?” Lauren double checked before taking a sip and realising he was telling the truth. 

Ollie glanced at Harry, his eyes widening and his mouth falling open. “Harry?” 

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, “Do we know each other?”

Ollie nodded, “We went to University together, you came to my birthday party that one time remember?”

Harry froze. The muscles in his body tensed as fragments of memories he had spent a long time trying to forget began to resurface. It was a deep wound that hadn’t ever had a chance to heal and seeing Ollie standing in front of him after years of never seeing anyone from his uni days had opened the old wound up again.

“Of course,” Harry coughed, discomfort prickling his skin. He watched as Ollie’s eyes darted around the room, as if searching for someone. Seizing the moment, Harry quickly turned to Lauren. “I better get going.”

Lauren frowned, disheartened by his words. “Already? Don’t you want to stay and have a drink?”

Harry shook his head. “I think the bride’s parents are still waiting for their picture to be taken.” It was a lie, but it gave him the escape he needed. He made a swift exit before Ollie could divert his attention back to him.

Outside the tent, Harry exhaled, feeling the fresh, open air on his face. He reached into the inside pocket of his blazer, pulled out a cigarette, and cupped the end to light it. Taking a few drags, he shut his eyes, letting the smoke and the cool evening air calm his nerves.

The flicker of the lighter's flame had drawn a brief, warm glow on his face. As he leaned against a brick wall, Harry's thoughts raced back to the encounter with Ollie. The unease hadn't left him; it gnawed at the edges of his mind.

He inhaled deeply, savouring the nicotine rush, and then exhaled slowly, watching the smoke dissipate into the night. 

Footsteps bristled through the grass as someone walked beside him, “Mind if I use your lighter?” 

Harry froze, breath caught in his chest. The voice resonated with a haunting familiarity, like a whisper carried through the corridors of time. It stirred something deep within him, a forgotten tremor of emotion that had long been buried. For the first time in years, his heart stirred—a hesitant, stuttering beat, as if waking from a long slumber at the sound of someone in a past life he had tried to let go of.

A part of him recoiled, resisting the urge to meet the eyes he had spent so many years trying to erase from memory. But a deeper, more insistent part of him ached for revival, for the spark that only those eyes could ignite. Slowly, his head turned and he found himself captured in her gaze. Time fractured, spilling moments both painful and precious into the present. The world around him fell away, reduced to the space between them. In those eyes, he hoped to see the way she used to look at him - like he was actually worth something but there was nothing of the sort. Whatever she was feeling, she had learnt to shield. The ache in his chest tightened, raw and overwhelming. 

She wore a black, off-the-shoulder dress that clung to her figure, His gaze lingered on her collarbones, sharp and delicate, and memories surged back with startling clarity. He recalled the warmth of her skin under his lips, the way she shivered as he traced tender kisses along her chest. The memory was so vivid it burned. 

“Y-You smoke?” were the first words he spoke. Not hello, not how are you? Not how have you been? Do you have a boyfriend? Are you okay? I miss you—do you have a boyfriend? 

“Not really,” She shrugs, “I just like the smell.” 

The silence was palpable. Years of not knowing each other meant Harry had no clue how to start a conversation. His suave and charisma that he used with all the women he encountered had left him, she had rattled his bones, awoken the sleeping soul within his body. How was he meant to begin a conversation with a woman who had the power to do that to him?

“How have you been?” She asked. 

He was startled by the question, it was unexpected and he wondered if she really cared. After all, the way he had left her in the bathroom at the birthday party had been his biggest regret. He could still remember the heartbreak on her face as he left her. 

She scoffs, “I loved you once before Harry, do you honestly think I wouldn’t at least ask you how you were?” 

He didn’t think that, he actually thought she wouldn’t remember him at all. He was a shitty person but there was nothing new about that. 

“I’m okay,” He said, unconvincing. “I feel slightly unprepared. I wasn’t expecting to see you here or ever.”

“Do you need to be prepared to speak to me?” Y/N seemed to find that amusing, the slight tilt of her head and the hint of a smirk made his heart skip. 

“Never,” He whispered. He never had to be prepared to speak to her because he was entirely himself whenever he was around her. 

“I saw you at the wedding. Congratulations on the business by the way.”

“Yeah thanks.” He said, “It’s been good. Busy. You know how it is. How about you?” 

“I’m an art teacher at a high school.” Harry nodded catching the look of pride on her face. Flashbacks of being in the same class as her and watching her paint. Despite having slept together and seeing her naked, he had never seen her more vulnerable than when she was painting. “It’s not a lot but I love it.”

“That’s what matters right?” Harry said, feeling like a hypocrite when his life was full of things he did just because he had to. 

“It’s definitely a change from my university days,” she said with a chuckle, tucking her hair behind her ear. “God, I’m actually embarrassed thinking back. I was a train wreck.”

“I didn’t think so,” Harry blurted out, too quickly, his voice tripping over itself. “I—I mean—”

She raised an eyebrow, her smirk creeping back, though this time it was softer, almost fond. “Really? You were around for most of my breakdowns. I actually feel like I should apologise.”

“Don’t,” Harry said firmly, meeting her eyes. “You don’t need to apologise for anything.”

Her expression softened, the teasing edge giving way to something quieter. “Are you staying at the hotel next door?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, shifting slightly. “Third floor.”

“We’re on the first,” she said casually, though Harry caught the faintest pause in her tone. “It was the last room they had available.”

He stilled.

We.

His mind tripped over the word, echoing it back to him louder and louder. We. We. There was a we?

Of course there was. How could there not be? She was stunning, even more so now than when they were younger. Her skin seemed to glow, her cheeks were fuller, her eyes brighter. She looked healthy. Happy. And the thought of someone else seeing her like this—touching her, laughing with her the way he used to—made his chest feel tight, like something inside him was splintering.

“Ollie and I had to go halves,” she said, breaking through his spiralling thoughts. “He actually sewed this dress we found at a thrift store, and I bedazzled the flower on his suit.”

Harry’s shoulders dropped before he could stop himself, the tension ebbing away like a tide receding. He hoped to God she didn’t notice the relief that must’ve been plain on his face when she mentioned Ollie. Not a boyfriend. Not a lover. Just Ollie.

“It’s good to see you two are still friends,” Harry spoke. 

“What about you? Are you here with anyone?” He noticed the way her collarbones tensed like she was holding her breath as she waited for his reply.

“No,” He confessed, “I’m alone.” He said, the word carrying more than she had asked for. 

The air was heavy and quiet, the faint glow of the cigarette casting soft shadows as the smoke curled lazily around them. Y/N took one last drag before flicking the cigarette to the ground near his feet, her movements sharp and deliberate. When she turned to face him, her tear-streaked face caught him off guard.

“I thought I would hate seeing you,” she said, her voice breaking.

Harry stood frozen, words sticking in his throat.

“But suddenly…” she continued, her voice trembling as fresh tears fell, “I feel like I’m twenty years old again. And you were... really mean to me, Harry.”

His chest tightened at her words, at the raw vulnerability in her tone. His eyes softened as he stepped closer. “I know,” he murmured, his voice low and heavy with regret. “Hey, I know.”

Her shoulders shook, the sobs overtaking her, and without hesitation, Harry pulled her into his arms. He held her tightly, as though holding her might somehow take away the weight of all the pain he had caused.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice cracking as he pressed his cheek against her hair. His own eyes burned, the threat of tears rising to the surface. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried, but now it felt inevitable. “I didn’t mean to hurt you—not the way I did. I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t respond, but her grip on his shirt tightened as her tears soaked through the fabric. He didn’t say anything else, didn’t try to fill the silence with empty reassurances. He just held her, letting her cry, letting her feel whatever she needed to feel.

He thought to himself if there would ever come a day where he wouldn’t be the cause of her pain. 

Eventually, her sobs quieted, leaving only the sound of her steadying breaths and the faint rustle of the wind around them. Y/N pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, her eyes red-rimmed. Her fingers stayed curled in his shirt.

“I don’t even know why I’m crying,” she said with a shaky laugh, brushing at her cheeks. “It’s been so long, and I told myself I was over it. Over you.”

Harry’s hands stayed on her waist, his touch firm but gentle. “You don’t have to explain,” he murmured. “I get it.”

She shook her head, her lips pressing into a thin line. “No, you don’t. You don’t get how much it hurt, Harry. You have no idea what it feels like having the one person you loved leave you.” 

“I do,” he said, his voice firm now, his eyes searching hers. “I do, Y/N. And I hate myself for it. Every single day, I hate myself for it.”

Her breath hitched at the raw honesty in his tone, and for a moment, they just stared at each other, the air between them charged and electric. She wasn’t sure who moved first, but suddenly, their faces were inches apart. Her eyes flicked to his lips, and he caught the movement, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Y/N…” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“Don’t,” she said, her voice trembling but insistent. “Don’t say anything.”

And then she kissed him.

It was sudden and messy, her lips crashing against his with a desperation that mirrored everything she was feeling. Harry didn’t hesitate, his arms tightening around her as he kissed her back just as fervently. The years of distance, the pain, the anger—all of it seemed to melt away in the heat of the moment. His hand came up to cradle her face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear as his lips moved with hers.

She let out a soft, broken sound, her hands gripping his shirt as though afraid he might disappear if she let go. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss, pouring everything he couldn’t say into it—his regret, his longing, his love.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested against each other, their breaths mingling in the cool night air. Her eyes fluttered open, searching his face, and he could see the conflict written across her features.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Neither do I,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“Let’s go to your room,” She whispered. 

“A-are you sure?” He furrowed his brows.

“One night,” She said, “Just one night.” 

Harry searched her eyes, his breath catching in his throat. He saw the resolve there, mixed with a vulnerability that mirrored his own. For a moment, he hesitated, the weight of what this meant pressing down on him.

But then she nodded, as if to reassure him, and he found himself nodding back. “Okay,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, though his heart was pounding like a drum. “Okay.”

She took his hand, her grip firm but trembling slightly, and he let her lead him through the dimly lit courtyard toward the hotel. The air between them buzzed with an unspoken tension, neither of them saying a word as they walked, their footsteps echoing softly on the pavement.

He led her to the elevator, the soft chime of the doors opening breaking the silence. They stepped in, the small space suddenly feeling suffocating as the weight of what they were about to do settled over them. Harry’s thumb brushed against her hand absentmindedly, grounding himself in the contact.

When the elevator doors finally opened, Harry guided her down the hallway, stopping in front of his room. His hands shook slightly as he pulled the key card from his pocket and slid it into the slot. The door clicked open, and he stepped aside to let her in first.

She walked in, pausing in the middle of the room, her arms crossed loosely as she took it all in. The space was small and unremarkable, a standard hotel room, but it didn’t seem to matter.

Harry closed the door behind him, turning to face her. “Y/N,” he began, but she shook her head, cutting him off.

“One night, Harry,” she said softly, her voice tinged with a mixture of determination and fragility. “Just one night. No promises, no expectations. Just... this.”

He swallowed hard, his chest tightening as he nodded. “Just this,” he echoed, stepping closer.

She met him halfway, her hands reaching up to cup his face as their lips met again, this time slower, more deliberate. There was no rush now, no frantic desperation—just the quiet intensity of two people trying to find something they’d lost.

His hands settled on her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss deepened. Every touch felt charged, every movement intended, as if they were trying to memorise each other all over again.

Harry pulled back just enough to search her eyes, his thumb brushing against her cheek, as if grounding himself in the moment. “Are you sure?” he asked one last time, his voice rough and unsteady.

Her answer wasn’t in words but in action—swift, certain, and unrelenting. She hooked her hands behind his neck and pulled him down into another kiss. It was messy, all-consuming, the kind of kiss that left no room for hesitation. Their teeth bumped, tongues tangling in a way that was almost desperate, as though both of them were trying to erase years of unspoken longing.

Harry’s hands found the back of her thighs, gripping firmly as he lifted her effortlessly. She gasped into his mouth but didn’t break the kiss, her arms tightening around his shoulders as he carried her toward the bed. The soft thud of her back meeting the mattress sent a jolt through him, his breath hitching as he hovered over her.

Her hands were already tugging at the hem of his shirt, fingers brushing against his warm skin as she pulled it upward. He shifted, breaking the kiss just long enough to help her remove it, the fabric landing somewhere on the floor.

Harry’s hand slid to her shoulder, his fingers trailing along the strap of her dress. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering to hers for silent permission. She gave him a small nod, and he pushed the strap down slowly, his fingertips grazing her bare skin and leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

As her dress began to fall away, her hands roamed over his chest, her nails scraping lightly against his skin. His breath hitched, and he leaned down, pressing his lips to her collarbone, then lower, his movements deliberate but unhurried.

His hand travelled up her thigh, his fingertips brushing against her soft skin, sending shivers through her. He moved with a reverence that made her heart ache—a mix of tenderness and hunger that felt like it might undo her entirely.

His hand slipped lower, finding the edge of her underwear. Gently, he hooked his fingers into the delicate fabric, sliding it down her legs in one fluid motion. He paused, his touch lingering just enough to let her know he wasn’t rushing, wasn’t taking anything for granted. His eyes found hers again, and the unspoken connection between them felt like it might swallow them both whole.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, his voice barely audible but thick with meaning, before leaning in to kiss her again, his lips brushing hers with a tenderness that sent a shiver down her spine.

Y/N’s eyes burned with emotion, her chest tightening as she watched him. It had been so long since someone had looked at her the way Harry did, with a mix of tenderness and hunger that made her feel like the only person in the world. She knew he hadn’t always loved her—not the way she’d wanted him to—but in moments like this, she let herself believe he had.

Harry sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his messy curls, his movements slow and deliberate. The soft clink of his belt buckle echoed in the room as he undid it, placing it aside before reaching into the bedside table for a condom.

Y/N moved closer, her chest pressing warmly against his back. Her lips found his shoulder, pressing a gentle kiss there, lingering just long enough to make him pause. She felt him still under her touch, his breathing deepening as he tore open the foil.

“Remember when I did that for you?” she murmured, her lips brushing against his skin. She couldn’t see his face, but she could feel the small smile spreading across his lips.

He chuckled softly, a low sound that made her heart ache. “Yeah,” he said, his voice rough with fondness and something heavier. He turned just enough to kiss the corner of her mouth,

Harry shifted, turning fully to face her, capturing her lips in a full, unhurried kiss. His hands moved to her waist, guiding her back onto the bed, her body sinking into the soft mattress. For a moment, he just looked at her—her hair splayed out like a halo on the pillow, her lips slightly swollen from their kiss, her chest rising and falling as she pushed her legs apart for him, ready and waiting, like she always did whenever they had sex. Spreading herself open to him. 

His cock slid into her, her eyes squeezing shut, her mouth falling open in a silent gasp. He could feel every inch of her around him, all of his senses were overwhelmed by her. They were like two pieces of the same puzzle coming together as he pushed himself all the way inside of her.

Y/N released a shaky breath, her eyes fluttering open, and Harry couldn’t look away. Her gaze sparkled in the soft yellow glow of the hotel room light, and when she reached up to push his curls back and cup his cheek, he leaned into her touch like a man starved. A tear slipped from his eye, unbidden, and she brushed it away with her thumb. 

He began to move, slow and deliberate, his hips rolling with a teasing gentleness that made her lips part. He wanted this moment to last forever. He wanted to stay inside of her forever. He wanted to feel every piece of her forever. 

She writhed beneath him, whimpering and whining and begging for more of him. He would give it all to her, everything she asked of him he would give it all. “Harry,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“I don’t want to stop,” he murmured into her ear, his voice raw and honest. His chest tightened with the weight of the moment, of the years between them, of the undeniable connection they still shared.

“Then don’t,” she replied, her breath hitching as she pulled him closer. “Don’t stop.”

. . . 

They lay down flat on their back looking up at the ceiling, sated and empty. Her head was on his chest as he smoked a cigarette. The smell bought them both back to the times he would smoke whenever they had sex. 

"When you walk away tomorrow," she murmured, her voice soft but laced with a hint of vulnerability, "you walk away with a piece of me."

Harry paused, the cigarette resting between his fingers as he turned his gaze toward her. His chest tightened at her words, an ache that had nothing to do with the smoke still curling in the air. "I feel like I’ve been walking with you for much longer than you think," he replied quietly. 

She smiled at that but inside he was dying. 

. . . 

A year later, Harry stood in the soft glow of a local art gallery. His photographs adorned the walls, strangers moving among them with quiet murmurs of appreciation. The evening had been surreal—people lingered, commented, and even bought pieces he’d always thought too personal to share.

As the closing hour approached, Harry found himself alone with one particular photograph. It was his favourite, though he’d never admitted that aloud. A pair of beautiful eyes that he had spent a small chunk of his youth watching the world through. The gallery was quieter now, and the chatter of earlier felt like a distant echo. He stared at the image, letting his thoughts dissolve into it.

The click of heels against the polished floor shattered the stillness. He felt the presence beside him before he turned.

“That’s the ugliest piece of shit I’ve ever seen,” a voice said, low and familiar.

His heart skipped, his breath catching in his throat.

“Yeah?” His lips twitched, caught between amusement and disbelief. 

“I love it.”

“You do?”

“I adore it.”

“Good.”

He finally turned his head, but the space beside him was empty. He froze, scanning the room, his pulse hammering in his ears. For a moment, he swore he caught the faint smell of paint and lavender in the air.  His head spun in search of them only to find a man standing alone in the room, “Excuse me,” Harry approached, “Did you see a woman walk in?”

The stranger shook his head and turned back to the photos without another word.

Harry’s shoulders sagged under the weight of disappointment. With a quiet sigh, he reached into his suit jacket for his phone to call a taxi. It was the same suit he always wore for work—every wedding, every shoot. The fabric was worn at the elbows, but he didn’t have the time or effort to go out and buy a new one. 

As he pulled the phone free, something slipped from the pocket and fluttered to the floor.

A slip of paper.

Harry blinked, crouching to pick it up. His breath caught as his eyes landed on the words scrawled across it in hurried, looping handwriting: A piece of me.

He flipped it over. A phone number stared back at him.

Harry’s heart raced, each beat echoing in his ears. His hands trembled as he entered the phone number into his phone. He put the number into his phone and typed out the only response he had been desperate to give her in answer to the plea that had haunted him for years. 

I love you.

[kumkaniudaku]

Me and Your Mama

Summary: Terry and Patrice learn more about their love through life changing news on New Year’s Eve.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 4,436

Warnings: Mentions of Pregnancy

Recommended Reading: Spoiled, Caught

Author's Note: We're at the end of Ficmas! Thanks for all the requests sprinkled in the middle. This has been a fun little ride and hope you feel fulfilled at the end of this one. Stay safe this New Year's Eve. See you in 2025.

Several mornings passed between Christmas, New Year's Eve, and their five-hour drive up north with no attempt to confirm Patrice's suspicion. She'd purposely avoided all conversation about it, preferring to push the thought to the back of her mind until she and Terry could no longer tiptoe around the growing elephant in the room. 

Moments after luggage was rolled into their downtown D.C. hotel room, the pair braced themselves for punishing winds and bitter cold in search of the nearest convenience store to pick up comfort snacks and three different pregnancy tests. Terry did the honors of selecting what he thought were the best options based on his research, while Patrice forced herself to take an interest in potato chips and snack cakes a few aisles over. 

She couldn't bring herself to engage. Talking about it, whatever it was, would make the dreams more real. And if what she dreamed wasn't true, she didn't know how she could pretend that all was well while her heart chipped and shattered inside her chest. So, she stayed away and let Terry put on his brave face for the both of them.

In the bright convenience store nearly empty as people prepared for a night out to celebrate the incoming new year, they felt like children caught doing something wrong instead of an adult couple on the precipice of discovering what the rest of their lives could look like. 

Terry mumbled through passive small talk with the smiling cashier, staying just vague enough in his answers to avoid the glaring topic of the day before ushering Patrice out of the automated sliding doors and back toward their home for the next few nights. 

Once they returned, neither of them spoke. Patrice slowly unpacked plastic bags filled with items, leaving the slender white boxes for last. 

She drug a fingernail across the box on top, then looked at Terry, who couldn't take his eyes off her. "I think I'm gonna pee by myself if that's okay." 

"That's cool," he answered, offering support with a weak smile. "I'll be out here if you need me."

Most of Patrice's time in the bathroom was spent staring at her reflection in the mirror. She slowly lifted the hem of her thick, cashmere sweater to examine her stomach, twisting side to side for the best angle. Nothing of note. The small bump that did exist was no different than any other day. At least, that's what she told herself as she ran her fingers along the slight curve. 

Unfolded instructions littered the bathroom counter, each saying a variation of the same thing: Pee, wait, have a minor panic attack, then check the results. Or something like that. Patrice's eyes were starting to cross from information overload. 

On the other side of the door, Terry stared out of the large bedroom window at nothing in particular as thoughts quickly ran in and out of his brain. He'd never considered being anybody's dad unless Patrice was on the other side of the fantasy. Maybe once or twice when other partners brought it up, but nothing concrete. Nothing this real, nothing that felt this right. 

Sure, it was quick. And sure, it was probably not a great idea to introduce a child into a relationship that was only recently recognized by the state as a legal union. Any boy, girl, or otherwise would be dropped into a marriage not much older than them and cared for by two humans still trying to understand life. But they'd be loved. They'd be showered in affection from sun up to sun down. He had no doubt about it. What greater joy than to hold a child that was half him and half the woman he loved with every fiber of his being? 

But he was only one part of the equation. Ultimately, Patrice was the deciding factor. Patrice and a collection of three pregnancy tests two minutes away from unveiling their fate.

The toilet flushing made Terry blink back into reality from daydreams of diaper changes and kindergarten graduations. He caught a glimpse of himself in the window's faultless glass before turning in enough time to see Patrice poke her head out of the bathroom for his attention. 

She fiddled with her fingers and rocked on her heels. "You can come in if you want." 

He nodded, careful not to appear too eager or unconcerned, and moved to join her for the wait. 

The soft click of the door closing sealed them into the room together. Terry silently shuffled into the room past Patrice to sit on the closed toilet lid and nervously ran his palm down the back of his head. He took a deep breath before looking over at Patrice, who'd gone back to obsessing over how her stomach looked beneath her clothes. 

"Hey," he spoke in a sweet, low tenor to avoid startling her. She looked over, eyes shining from suppressed tears, and found him looking at her with round doe eyes. He grabbed her hand and pulled her closer. "Come here, sweetheart." 

Sweetheart. To Patrice's soul, the word felt like warm chicken soup on a winter evening. She could never question how Terry felt about her. He'd been there to offer comfort through a tumultuous, frightening week. Feeling his large hands grip her waist to pull her between his legs grounded her in the right there and then. Regardless of the results, he'd still be around to kiss away the bad times and laugh with her through the good. 

Patrice lightly placed her cold hands on his face while he looked up at her, waiting for anything she decided to say. 

She closed her eyes and sighed. "What if it's negative?" 

"Well. We'll go out and drink champagne all night like we planned. I hate the taste on its own but know I'll love it on your lips when we kiss at midnight. Then we move on. Maybe have a conversation that we should've had a long time ago on the drive home." 

"And if it's positive?" 

Terry took a deep breath, allowing the words to come out in a mind-clearing huff. "We skip the champagne and keep the kiss. But we have to celebrate either way, baby. Time's gonna pass no matter what." 

For all his mixed bag of positive and negative traits, Terry's sneaky optimism was Patrice's favorite. A short, airy laugh came through Patrice's nostrils as she tossed her head back and groaned. 

"You're always so sure of things and I'm sitting here about to throw up my lunch." 

Terry rubbed his hands up and down the back of her legs with a smile. "I'm not sure of shit, really," he laughed. "I just know that we'll be alright in the end. This Gunny I was close with told me everything goes back to baseline. Don't sweat the bullshit in between. So, that's what I'm doing. Waiting it out."

"That doesn't scare you? The waiting?" 

"Sometimes." A quick glance down convinced him to slowly lift Patrice's sweater with one hand and hold it in place while he pressed feather-soft kisses across her abdomen. Kisses for her? Kisses for who he hoped lived inside? He didn't know. But he spoke against the area to communicate with whoever would listen. "But waiting always brought me something better than what I had. How could I not trust the process when I have the result standing right in front of me?" 

A rush of emotions broke the levees holding Patrice's tears back, sending a wet stream sliding down her hot cheeks. Terry wiped her face with the back of his hand in silence, the gentleness in his care working double time to soothe whatever thoughts and feelings were coming forward for her. 

When the short bout of crying had ceased, and she was left with nothing but her husband, a timer ticking down to mere seconds and a looming result hanging over their heads, Patrice ran her thumb along Terry's cheek and smiled down at him. 

"I love you more than I ever thought I could, but we gotta slow down, Terrence. I'm worn out." 

Terry answered her joke with a low chuckle that bounced his shoulders and spread his smile wide. "I'm with you, baby. That should be our New Year's resolution." 

"Either that or finally getting around to that budget we've been talking about. Might have to add a baby fund line item." 

"We got it. Don't worry." Terry assured before kissing the inside of her wrist. "Whatever happens, we're okay. Gimme a kiss."

Sweet affection in the face of potentially life-altering change offered some sense of normalcy as they allowed the world to turn into abstract concepts with shared, tender smooches. 

They'd almost forgotten what brought them into the bathroom until the harsh trill of Patrice's phone timer ripped through space and time, again placing them smack dab in the middle of the present. 

When Terry reached to grab one of the tests after silencing the noise, Patrice jolted forward to grab his wrist. "Okay, wait!" she panted. "I-I'll grab one, and you'll grab one. Then we'll do the third one together. Does that make sense?"

"Alright. Which one do you want?" 

"I don't fuckin' know! Choose for me! I can't do this, TJ!" 

Terry wore a crooked smile as he calmly plucked two tests from their containers and placed the digital option into Patrice's palm face down. He took the analog test and covered the result with his thumb before swallowing the lump in his throat. 

A deep breath rushed through parted lips. "Turn it over on three. One, two…" 

Three never came for Patrice. Even after Terry had uttered the number and turned his test over slowly, Patrice kept her eyes closed, waiting for him to spill the beans. She couldn't bring herself to verify on her own accord. He'd have to be her eyes and ears. 

Silence hung in the air for a few seconds, making the wait agonizing until Terry broke the seal. 

"Treecey," he called out. "Please look with me. I need you to see." 

A deep breath helped her blink her way back into clear eyesight. She didn't look at Terry or try to peek at the pink test in his hand. Instead, she flipped her test over with trembling fingers and stared at the small digital screen displaying a single word. 

"Oh –" was all she managed to choke out before looking up at Terry's beaming smile and tear-soaked face. "Does yours say –?" 

"Two lines, baby. Two!"

Disbelief gave way to unadulterated shock. "Oh. My. God. Look at the other one!" 

"You have to do it with me!"

Another countdown as they held on to the final test together preceded an excited flip and harmonizing reactions that could only be described as happy sobs. 

Patrice rocked Terry in a tight embrace while he clung to her, crying into her sweater's soft fabric more than he'd cried in years. An avalanche of emotions wrapped in disbelief that he'd been immeasurably blessed after his year started with so much strife. His losses came with gains ten times above what he could ask or think. 

His wife brushed tears from her already stained face before kissing the crown of his head and repeating, "You're gonna be a daddy, Pooh. You're gonna be a daddy!"

Emotions distorted his deep voice. "Swear?"

"Swear, baby. You're gonna be a daddy."

He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, not caring who he disturbed. Then, he'd run down the hallways, through the lobby's doors, out into the cold D.C. air, and holler to anyone who would listen that his wife, the girl he fell in love with before he could legally drink, was carrying a child that might look just like him someday. 

But he couldn't get past sharing the excitement seemingly gushing out of his pores with the only other person who could understand his joy. He chose to lift Patrice up in the air as he stood tall, spinning her in a slow circle before gingerly placing her back on her feet and pressing his forehead against hers. 

"What the fuck," he laughed as he tickled her sides, causing her to giggle back. "I'm having a baby. With my baby!"

"I guess I couldn't beat teen pregnancy. My parents are going to be so disappointed in me." 

"Stop it." The thought of his parents sitting in their living room without a clue that their firstborn was miles away receiving such big news flipped on a light bulb in Terry's head. "Our parents! Should we call? We should call them now. Do you wanna do a group FaceTime or like a conference call or what?" 

Patrice watched Terry fumble around his pockets for his phone until he came up empty-handed and reached for hers. She pushed the device further away and shook her head. "Nuh-uh. Can we just…enjoy the news by ourselves tonight. I want it to be our secret a little longer. Is that okay?" 

"Of course, Piggy. Whatever you want. I'm sorry, I just - shit. This is insane. You have a baby in there. Should we tell them we're a party of three tonight at dinner?" 

"No," Patrice laughed, finding his unbridled excitement adorable. "If they cancel this reservation because you playin', me and you might have a problem, Daddy." 

Terry bit his lip and lowered his head to kiss at her neck. "Damn, I love hearing you say that. Say it again."

By the time they were approaching a swanky steakhouse on Patrice's long list of places to visit, she'd called him Daddy so much in jest that she almost told the hostess that that was the name on their reservation. 

Pockets of quiet conversation held over candlelight and crisp white tablecloths greeted them as they were led through the dimly lit restaurant to the table for the evening. Terry moved to pull out a chair for Patrice, but she stopped him with a kind smile. 

"I'm gonna run to the restroom. Mommy bladder is starting early. Order something cute for me?"

Her joke made Terry smile like a little boy until she was out of his sight and safely inside the ladies' room. 

Romantic jazz music oozing out of speakers concealed inside the walls like smooth red wine gave Patrice time to replay the day in her head, unable to contain the elation on her face as she washed her hands at the sink. 

Another woman, tall like a model and beautifully sepia-toned, applied lipstick in the mirror and noticed how she tried but failed to stop grinning. She smiled at Patrice before speaking. "You're glowing," she complimented. "I need whatever you've got going on tonight." 

Patrice chewed the inside of her cheek after a bashful thank you. She wanted to keep the words in and pleaded with herself to walk out of the restroom and return to Terry without uttering another word. 

"I'm pregnant," she blurted, unable to fight the urge. "My husband and I – he's the tall one out there waiting on me – we just found out that I'm pregnant. We were best friends over a decade ago, and I still can't believe we're married. Now, there's a baby inside me with half his DNA. I'm having a baby with Terry Richmond. Oh my God." The realization of her social blunder hit her like an 18-wheeler. "And I just told a stranger all my business. I am so sorry!" 

"No, no! That's incredible, girl! Can I hug you?"

Patrice didn't know why she obliged, but she did, allowing herself to sink into this woman's arms like she was an old friend and not someone whose name she didn't know. The woman rubbed her back and squeezed tight before pulling away. 

"Congratulations, sis. Happy Holidays." 

While Patrice received well wishes on the other side of the establishment, Terry gave his full attention to the cocktail menu as a server attempted to provide recommendations. 

"That one is a crowd favorite," the young man pointed out. "Is she a rum lover? It comes with top shelf Appleton Estate if so." 

Terry chuckled to himself. "She is, but she can't have any right now. We just found out she's pregnant before we got here." Further explanation caught in his throat. He didn't mean to offer up their secret. Excited Terry had done the talking, not calm and reserved Terry. 

He watched with wide eyes and an internal scolding rattling around the container of his mind as the server smiled and jotted a note on his pad. "First, congratulations! I'll note that to the staff and see if we can't do something special for you and your beautiful date. Second, no worries at all. We can turn that one into a mocktail and not lose too many of the flavor notes." 

"Thanks," Terry breathed out. "Hey, can you make sure you don't tell her I said that? It was supposed to be a secret." 

"Our lips are sealed, Mr. Richmond. Consider it a little something extra to celebrate the new year." 

Terry made a mental note to leave a handsome tip behind as Patrice reappeared from her time away. Her smile hypnotized him until she was close enough to remind him about her chair. He scrambled to his feet to take care of his duty, nervously pushing her to the table as if this were their first date. 

When he was back in his seat, he watched her survey the room and menu, taking in each of her features. 

High cheekbones passed down from a long line of majestic women. Soft, mahogany skin that mesmerized him in golden hour light every evening. Dark, expressive eyes that told the story of her inner thoughts, even when she tried to hide. Full lips he couldn't resist. The total package. Everything he hoped for was wrapped in one person. 

Terry sat across from her, smitten. His grin showcased all of his teeth and then some while she scanned the appetizers for something to satiate her peckishness. 

Prolonged silence made Patrice glance up and then double-take when she noticed Terry's one-sided staring contest. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?" 

"Just trying to remember how you looked on the second most important night of our lives." 

Sudden bashfulness sent heat rushing to her face. "The third," Patrice corrected with a smile. "Don't leave out New Orleans." 

Terry chuckled at the memory. "Baby, the sun was barely in the sky when you decided to disturb the whole third floor."

"It was time to wake up anyway. That's what's wrong with the world now." 

Jokes and discussions about the possibility of dessert before dinner dominated the conversation until their server returned with two drinks meant to loosen their lips and hips for the evening. A subtle wink between Terry and the server communicated all he needed to know without tipping off Patrice as she excitedly watched beautifully decorated glasses hit the table. 

"To our first night out as Mom and Dad," Terry toasted, prompting Patrice to raise her glass. 

Mom and Dad—parents to be—two bodies forming one in a few months—a culmination of thousands of experiences leading them to a fate written before they were born. The concept sounded so foreign yet so familiar. 

Patrice dabbed at misty eyes, sniffling out a breathy, "To Mommy and Daddy." 

Glasses softly clinked before she joined Terry in a long sip and starry-eyed gazes across the table to officially kick off a night of celebration. 

Or so they'd hoped. Full bellies caught up with exhausted minds and bodies once silver forks hit clean porcelain plates well before their planned 10 p.m. exit. They tried to negotiate the next move with each other: a little walk for digestion, maybe a minute to listen to street performers play go-go renditions of oldies their parents would enjoy, perhaps another dessert to keep the mood high. 

All of their suggestions paled in comparison to hearing the mechanical whir of the hotel's lock precede the door swinging open to a warm room. There were no crowds trying to cram their bodies onto a rooftop brimming with eager folks anticipating good fortune as the clock flipped forward on a new year. There was only each other and the comfort of familiarity. 

Bottles of Sprite from the downstairs market acted like expensive bottles of bubbly poured into scavenged plastic cups next to a collection of fatty snacks, and cell phones switched to silent mode to avoid distractions. 

Terry and Patrice two-stepped hand in hand to jams playing from the television broadcast, dressed down in comfortable clothes and sporting ever-growing smiles. 

Under warm lamplight, Terry held Patrice's hand over her head to help her spin like a wind-up ballerina before pulling her close. "What were you doing last year around this time?"

"Ugh, don't remind me," she groaned, a sour look making her frown momentarily. "I was in a bathroom stall breaking up with my ex. Then Phee got us so drunk that we ended up blacked out before the countdown. I still don't know how we got back to her house or why we were cuddled up in her bed like that."

"Sounds like the kind of chaos you three get into when you're unsupervised."

"Whatever." Patrice laughed before making her fingers dance across Terry's broad shoulders. "What about you? What were you doing?"

Terry let a wry smile creep across his face. "Alone and sleeping. I didn't think there was much to look forward to, and I had to work in the morning anyway. Don't even think I turned the TV on."

The thought of Terry sleeping in on the night handpicked for blind optimism drew a sympathetic look from Patrice. "We both had a rough go at it, huh?"

"I don't know, mine was pretty chill. You were the one missing chunks of time." Patrice took faux offense at his joke, slapping across his chest before they let off laughs that slowly dissipated into a comfortable silence. 

Terry rested his head atop Patrice's, his mind taking a winding road back to the beginning while she hummed a made-up tune to herself. 

"Fifth-period Forensics with Mr. Turner. Junior year. You were wearing little strawberries crocheted on a pink sweater and your hair in a high ponytail. Kind of like tonight."

Patrice looked up and tilted her head in confusion. "What?"

"That's the moment I fell in love with you. I'd always liked you, but that's the moment I realized that I loved you," he clarified. "I spent so much time denying it, tiptoeing around how I felt and trying to find you in other women long after we were done, but I kept coming back to you acing that pop quiz in a pink strawberry sweater."

Patrice chuckled and smiled, recalling the time when her feelings blossomed beyond butterflies in her tummy at the mention of his name into a full-bodied, ever-present yearning for his heart. 

Terry waited expectantly, longing to know if there was a moment for Patrice – if her love had a spark that rocked her world the way she did so long ago for him. 

Flashes of bright light and distant cheering cut in just as Patrice seemed ready to confess, stealing her attention for a second too long. 

She gasped like a child on Christmas morning. "Look, baby! We can see the fireworks from here." Patrice tugged Terry along, all two hundred plus pounds of him yielding to her will slowly but surely. 

He had to admit, the sight was beautiful. Bright flashes of light turning into whimsical bursts kept him captivated as the clock ticked down the final minutes of the year. He slowly embraced her from behind, needing to feel her warmth combined with his for comfort. Patrice watched in content silence, smiling to herself while Terry watched the show unfold from the reflection in her glasses. 

Two minutes left. Two minutes to cap off a whirlwind 365 days and march triumphantly into a new slate. Two minutes to release long-forgotten truths buried in the recesses of Patrice's mind. She leaned back against Terry and craned her neck to admire him from her vantage point. 

A jawline fit for a man meant to be showcased to the world. Piercing eyes that shifted and changed with his emotions. Skin marked with blemishes telling countless stories – some he'd share and others that would follow him to the other side. Full pink lips that talked her through good, bad, and intimate times. All the features that might grace a child not yet named and growing in her womb.

"Senior prom night. You told me you loved me, and I said it back because I always said it back. But, that time, it felt different. It wasn't like sayin' it to my parents or my friends or the stray cat Mama let us feed. A different part of my heart meant it. That was the first moment."

Terry looked down at her, smirking and silently encouraging her to continue. She turned in his arms and then took hold of his ears to rub gentle circles against them. 

One minute left. Seconds dwindling. She continued. "The second time was today. And I hope there's a third, a fourth, and one hundred more to come. I never want to stop falling in love with you, TJ." 

Terry squeezed her a little tighter as if she might vaporize and blow away if he didn't hold on for dear life. "Yeah, me too," He whispered, drawing closer to her lips. "Never." 

Faint voices shouting a countdown in unison floated through empty streets and up to the 10th floor to surround a couple preparing to embark on a new journey. 

“Ten…nine…eight…seven…”

An excited buzzing, nearly perceptible by touch, sparked across the city. Heartfelt 'I love you's' shared as one breath passed between Terry and Patrice just before they connected lips and tongues. 

“Six…five…four…”

Colors painted their bodies from the window, bathing them in light one last time from January to December. A final salute from the Most High. 

"Three…two…one! Happy New Year!" 

Endless possibilities coated in an extra dose of magic felt real for the first time in forever. A lover's embrace carried hope and a promise. They'd start anew in lockstep the way the stars intended, with an extra set of fingers and toes to usher through life at some point in the future. 

But, for a moment, Terry and Patrice stood suspended in time, drunk off the taste of each other, ushering in the new year the only way they knew how. 

Together.

———————————

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[eiralunaire]

AU soulmates: with the same theme because if

Since time immemorial, mankind has known an inexplicable phenomenon: soulmates. Those destined to meet each other have the first words they will share with their other half inscribed on their bodies. The phrase varies from person to person, often leaving more questions than answers, and many spend a lifetime waiting to hear those exact words spoken by their soulmate.

For Damian Wayne, heir to the Wayne dynasty and apprentice under the shadowy mantle of Batman, the words inscribed on his right arm were both a mystery and a source of constant irritation:

*"I don't give a shit that you're Robin and that you came out of the sewer, but this is a public road and therefore, get out of here. You're in the way!"*

For as long as he could remember, those words were there, etched in elegant black cursive. He often wondered how anyone could say something so disrespectful to him. He, Damian Wayne, grandson of the infamous Ra's al Ghul, a prodigy trained in combat and strategy since childhood, getting in the way? The mere concept filled him with an indignation that his mother, Talia al Ghul, often found amusing.

Damian had tried to ignore the inscription. During his years of training with the League of Shadows, soulmate tattoos were considered a distraction, something irrelevant to a warrior. But ever since he joined his father, Bruce Wayne, in Gotham, he couldn't help but notice how other people around him spoke excitedly of finding their soulmates. Dick Grayson, his adopted brother and former Robin, had even told him with a goofy grin the story of how he'd recognized his mate thanks to a phrase inscribed on his collarbone.

Damian didn't see the romance in his situation, though. How could someone who insults him be his soulmate? If one thing was clear, it was that his soulmate would be just as irritating as the words implied.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

It was a night like any other in Gotham. Damian, now 15, was patrolling as Robin. He had perfected his combat style and had earned the respect of his father and Batman's allies. However, patrolling always came with its drawbacks, especially when nosy citizens interrupted his mission.

Reader, a young high school student with a character as strong as her will, was heading home after a long day at the library. She carried her backpack on her shoulder and a coffee in her hand, trying not to think about the exams that awaited her. She had no time for distractions and no patience for trouble. As she turned the corner of a lonely street, she came upon a peculiar scene: a boy dressed in a strange suit, standing in the middle of the sidewalk, blocking the way.

Unaware that she was about to change the course of their lives, Reader blurted out the words that had been inscribed on Damian's arm for her entire life.

“I don’t give a shit that you’re Robin and that you came out of the sewer, but this is a public road, so get out of here. You’re in the way!” he snapped, with a mix of exasperation and frustration.

Damian turned around with a withering look. His green eyes locked on the young woman who was staring at him with her arms crossed, completely oblivious to the importance of what he had just said. For a few seconds, the world seemed to stop. Damian, who rarely showed any emotion other than indifference or anger, was speechless.

“What’s wrong with you? Didn’t you hear?” Reader continued, taking a step towards him with all the confidence of someone who has no idea who he’s talking to.

It was then that Damian remembered the words on his arm. Everything fell into place suddenly, like pieces of a puzzle that had refused to come together for years. His heart, for the first time in a long time, raced.

“It can’t be…” he murmured, almost in a whisper, staring at Reader.

“What can’t be?” she asked, confused but still defiant.

Damian didn’t answer right away. His mind was racing. How could this ordinary girl, with her messy hair and irreverent attitude, be his soulmate? Everything he knew, everything he had planned, suddenly felt irrelevant.

Although the first meeting wasn't exactly romantic, something changed in Damian from that moment on. Reader, for her part, didn't understand why Robin, Batman's famous sidekick, seemed so intent on finding out more about her. What had started as a casual street meeting soon turned into something more. Damian found himself looking for excuses to see her again, intrigued by her brutal honesty and the way she treated him like a normal person and not the prodigy he was.

Reader, in turn, found herself drawn into the chaotic world of Gotham and its vigilantes. At first, she found him irritating, but over time she began to see beyond Damian's serious facade. She discovered a boy who, despite his arrogance, was surprisingly vulnerable and who, like her, was just looking for his place in the world.

[minniesmutt]

No idea if you're taking requests or ideas right now but I just thought of this and I think it would come out really well if you were the one who wrote it. ChanLix threesome with Lix in the middle of fem!Reader and Chan. His deep groans would be so so so amazingly perfect. Anyway, I know you're busy with other wips and requests and just life in general so if you do eventually decide to take this on, thanks. Take care of yourself and have a good day/night 🩷

Ps. I love your work and it inspired me to start posting my writing on here and I'm all the better for it and I never got the chance to tell you how your incredible writing skills have impacted me in such a positive way so thank you for sharing your writing with us on this hell site

☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐰

☾ ━━━ PAIRING: CHAN X READER X FELIX ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP (READER AND CHAN), SWITCH!READER, DOM!CHAN, SUB!FELIX, THREESOME, MXM ACTION (forgive me if it’s terrible), TEASING, MOMMY/DADDY KINK, PRAISE, NIPPLE PLAY, MARKING, DRY HUMPING, TIT SUCKING. FINGERING (V. AND A.), FINGER SUCKING, ORAL SEX (F. & M. REC), FACE SITTING, HAND JOB, CUM EATING, OVERSTIM, PROTECTED SEX (V. AND A.), MULTIPLE ORGASMS, SUBSPACE (?), AFTERCARE ☾ ━━━ WC: 3.1K ☾ ━━━ NOTE: we don't talk about how long this sat in my drafts before I actually started working on it... also, I'm so glad I have inspired you annonie ���� ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

     Y/n always enjoyed her relationship with Chan, everything was always great, even in bed. But when you've been with someone so long, and share desires and fantasies you think you'll never get when it comes to a long-term relationship, one or more parties start to wonder.

     "Hey baby," Chan said as he walked out of the bathroom and into their bedroom.

     “Yes, love?” Y/n asked

     "Do you remember when we were talking about sexual fantasies when we first got together?" the producer asked, lying on their bed facing her.

     "Is that why you were in the shower for so long?" Y/n teased him as she set down her phone.

     "I wasn't in there that long," Chan defended himself. “But I was thinking about it when I was in there."

     "What exactly?" Y/n asked as she scooted over to him.

     "Remember how you said you've wanted to try domming, but I've never given you a chance to?" 

     "Yeah. Finally going to put down the controls and let me dom you?" 

     “Let me finish,” Chan said before she got too excited, “And how both wanted to try a threesome at least once?”

     “What are you getting at, Christopher?”

     “Do you want the long or the short version?”

     “There’s two versions?” Y/n was very interested in this now. 

     “Which one do you want?” Chan asked again

     “Short?”

     “Was talking with Felix and he agreed to both.”

     “Long version because what the fuck does that mean?”

     “Felix and I were talking earlier today and he was kind of complaining —“

     “Felix complained?”

     “Yeah. But you remember the girl he was seeing for a bit?”

     “Yeah. The one none of us liked.”

     “Correct. I guess she told Felix she liked experimenting in the bedroom and it turns out it was only with things she wanted. So he had asked her once to dom him and she flat out refused.”

     “Bitch.”

     “Yeah. That led me to say how you’ve always wanted to try but I have a hard time giving up control in the bedroom then I don’t know how we got on the topic of threesomes but eventually I asked if he was okay with it, I would talk to you and see if you were okay with a threesome between me, you, and Felix.”

     “He’s okay with it?”

     “One hundred percent.”

     “We’ll need rules.”

     “Should I call him?”

     “Yeah.”

     It was an interesting conversation. Never did Y/n think they would find someone willing to indulge her and her boyfriend. Especially one of their close friends. The three ended up having a pretty long conversation about boundaries, safe words, hard no’s, all of it. Y/n could tell Felix was excited, to say the least. Part of him was really glad he confided that information to Chan. Originally he just wanted someone to vent to and who better than Chan?

     The younger Aussie did feel like he was in a fever dream when Chan offered to talk to his girlfriend about it. Felix knew that Chan could be a little possessive of his girlfriend in a good way. So a threesome was the last thing he expected from him. But now it was real. 

     He and Chan had driven back to his and Y/n’s together. It wasn’t awkward in the car but he felt a little nervous when the two idols entered the house. Y/n was cleaning up their kitchen when the two walked in after setting their things down. 

     “Hey,” Y/n greeted the two.

     “Hey,” Chan said as he came around their counter and kissed her lips

     Y/n picked up on Felix’s nerves, “You okay, Lix?”

     “Yeah,” He answered as he sat at their bar

     “He’s been nervous since we got in the car,” Chan teased

     “I have not,” Felix defended

     “It’s okay Lix,” Y/n giggled, “It’s new for everyone involved.”

     The younger one watched as she came around the counter to him. His eyes darted from her to Chan. Chan just watched as his girlfriend cupped the other idol's face and pressed her lips to his. Smiling to himself when he heard the boy whimper into her mouth. Walking around to stand behind the Aussie, hands grabbing his waist.

     He watched as Y/n pulled away and Felix chased her lips. Giggling behind him, “She’s good at that,” he said, pressing his lips to his neck.

     “Don’t tease him too much,” Y/n told her boyfriend as she ran her fingers through Felix’s long hair.

     “Why not?” Chan asked, “He wants more of those pretty lips, don’t you, Lixie?”

     Felix nodded as he looked up at Y/n. “Words Lix. Closed mouths don’t get fed, right?”

     “Please kiss me, mummy,” Felix said without a second thought

     “Mummy, huh?” Y/n asked him, a smile on her lips

     “Does that make me daddy?” Chan questioned

     “Sorry. It just—” Felix stammered.

     “It’s okay Lix. Chan has a daddy kink anyways,” Y/n giggled, pecking his lips again. “You don’t have to apologize.”

     “Just let mummy and daddy take care of you tonight, okay baby boy?” Chan said as he slipped his hands under the other boy’s sweater and shirt. Warm hands on Felix’s stomach.

     “Okay,” Felix agreed

     “Good boy,” Y/n said as she pressed her lips to his.

     Felix moaned into her mouth as he felt Chan’s lips sucked on the skin behind his ear. Hands moving up his torso and fingers lightly pinching his nipples. He could feel both of them smiling at his reaction. Y/n’s own hands ran down from his hair to the waistband of his sweats. Hand running over the bulge in his pants.

     “Think we should make our baby boy more comfortable, mama?” Chan asked

     Y/n pulled her lips away from Felix’s and looked at the older Australian. “We should.” She agreed. Y/n took the younger man’s hand and pulled him up to their bedroom. Chan followed behind them.

     Felix was almost in a daze from everything. It was honestly— at where they were at currently— better than he imagined. Especially as Y/n sat him on the edge of the bed and helped him out of his shirt and sweater. Chan stood behind her and Felix watched as he pulled her shirt over her head, leaving her without a bra in front of him. He could see a few vague hickey marks on her neck that he knew were Chan’s doing. The dancer blubbing like a fish. He hadn’t even noticed till now but he figured she hadn’t worn a bra in her own home. 

     Chan smiled at Felix as he turned his girlfriend’s head towards him and kissed her lips briefly. His other hand pushed one of her legs between Felix’s— her knee pressing right against his hard cock. Y/n looked down at him and grabbed the back of his head, pulling him closer to her. “Feeling okay, baby?” Y/n asked as she brushed a few streaks of hair out of his face.

     “Yes, mummy.”

     “Been staring at mummy’s pretty tits?” Chan teased

     “Mhm,” Felix nodded

     “Taste good too,” Chan added as he bit her shoulder

     “Can I…” Felix started

     “Can you what, bub?” Y/n asked

     “Can I taste?” Felix asked

     “Of course you can.”

     Felix didn’t waste another second. His lips wrapped around one of her nipples while one hand groped her other boob. Chan smiled as he captured his girlfriend’s lips in his and pushed his tongue past her lips. Y/n moaned into his mouth as Felix sucked on her nipples and slowly ground against her knee between his legs.

     “Lixie making you feel good, mama?” Chan asked

     “Mhm,” Y/n hummed in response.

     Chan’s hand slid past the waistband of her lounge pants. Fingers gently rubbing between her folds and collecting her slick. Chan chuckled to himself as Y/n leaned her head back against his shoulder. Her fingers grabbed the roots of Felix’s hair as Chan’s fingers dipped into her aching hole. Slowly moving in and out of her then making eye contact with Felix in front of them. His eyes softened with one of her boobs in his mouth still as he looked up at Chan.

     The producer pulled his fingers out of her and her pants. He gently pulled Felix’s head back, leaving his mouth hanging open after he unlatched from her nipple. Chan slipped the fingers that were in her cunt into his mouth. Resting them on his tongue and watching his mouth close. His eyes almost crossed as he sucked the juices off his fingers.

     “Mummy taste good?” Y/n asked him

     “Yes,” Felix said with Chan’s fingers in his mouth

     “Wanna taste mummy yourself?” Chan asked

     “Mhm,” Felix said

     “Words, baby.” Chan reminded him

     “Yes, please.”

     “Good boy,” Chan said and slipped his fingers out of his mouth and helped Y/n out of her bottoms. Felix laid back on their bed and watched as Chan slowed off her clothes and his shirt.

     “Want mummy on your face?” Chan asked him

     “Yes please,” Felix responded

     Y/n grabbed one of their pillows and placed it under Felix’s head before climbing on top of him, legs on either side of his head. The dancer’s hands grabbed the tops of her thighs as his tongue slipped into her. Moaning as her taste touched his tastebuds.

     Chan watched for a moment as his girlfriend rode his friend’s face. Both of their moans filled the bedroom. His dick was already aching and the sight before him made him harder as he pulled Felix’s sweats and boxers off him. The younger one’s dick springing up the moment it was out of its confines. Tip leaking with pre cum. 

     Chan leaned down and licked the pre cum that dribbled down his length and out from his tip. Felix shaking a little from the contact. Chan chuckled and swallowed the precum before standing straight up and opening the drawer to their dresser. He pulled out a couple of condoms and their lube. Setting all the items on the bed. 

     The oldest grabbed the lube and squirted some on his finger. Pushing up Felix’s legs and exposing him to Chan. He took his libed finger and gently pushed the digit inside him. Taking his time getting in so Felix could get used to it before finally letting himself properly finger the man’s ass. Working slowly as he moaned into his girlfriend’s cunt. Y/n looked back at Chan, seeing him prepping the younger one. 

     Felix was so involved im pleasing the woman on top of him that it was easier for Chan to slip in and out of him. He had to pull away from Y/n for a moment a couple of times to beg Chan to pick up the pace and slip a second finger in. Chan’s fingers were longer and thicker than Felix’s. 

     The rapper wasn’t afraid to admit he’d fingered himself quite a bit when jacking off. It felt good but when someone else did it for you it felt better. Places he typically couldn’t reach on his own were getting reached down and he could feel himself getting addicted to it. 

     Felix’s hands gripped Y/n’s thighs tighter as his nose nudged her clit as she rolled her hips against his face. Chan’s fingers pumping in and out of him. His hips twitched desperately. Chan could see his dick twitching and wrapped his free hand around his shaft, pumping him in time with his fingers inside him. The producer watched both his girlfriend and friend fall apart, one right after the other. He smiled as Felix’s cum landed on his hand and the Aussie’s stomach. Twitching under him and Y/n while Y/n gripped his long black hair and Felix drank up her cum.

     Y/n climbed off him once both had come down from the highs and looked back at her boyfriend, fingers still in Felix. Felix himself looked down at Chan and moaned as the older man’s fingers scissored his hole. Y/n grabbed her boyfriend’s other hand and licked the cum off his fingers then leaned down and cleaned the remaining cum off Felix’s stomach and cock.

     The dancer’s mouth fell open as he watched her swallow the cum then Chan pulled her in for a kiss. Once he pulled away from her, he pulled his fingers out of Felix. He whined a little at the emptiness. Y/n sat Felix up as Chan pulled his gym shorts and boxers off. Felix got a glimpse at his size before Y/n pulled into another kiss. He melted into her lips again. Moments later Chan pulled him off her lips and pressed his to Felix’s. A moment later his lips were gone Chan moved to sit back on the pillows behind them. Grabbing one of the condoms and rolled it down his length. One look at the younger Australian and Felix straddled his lap. Y/n was next to Felix and helped him adjust his knees so both the men were comfortable— Chan did turn Felix. Chan held the base of his cock as Y/n helped Felix lower himself down onto Chan. Watching his face contort in pleasure as his tip pushed into Felix’s tight hole. 

     “Big…” the younger one moaned.

     “Is daddy too big for you, baby?” Y/n asked as she cupped his face, Chan’s hands grabbing his hips and holding him still

     “No. Can take it…” Felix moaned 

     “You sure, baby?” Chan asked for confirmation

     Chan was on the bigger side for Felix. All he had done was have a couple of fingers in himself so having a cock in his ass was a new feeling. A good feeling. Once he was more comfortable, he took more of the leader. Both parts of the couple were very patient with him. Chan’s warm hands kept him still and rubbed his hip bones with his thumbs as Y/n held him and kissed his neck, cooing at how good he was doing for them.

     Once Felix was fully comfortable and took as much as Chan as he could, Chan pulled him against his chest. His turn to kiss his neck and shoulders again. He watched as Y/n moved down a bit and leaned down, taking Felix’s cock in her hand and stroking him.

     Felix moaned and practically threw his head back onto Chan’s shoulder. Chan slowly started thrusting in and out of Felix which just increased the volume of his moans. Especially when Y/n replaced her hand with her mouth.

     He looked back down to see Y/n looking up at him and Chan. Chan’s thrust pushed Felix’s cock into her mouth. Between the both of them,—from the foreplay and what they were doing to him now— Felix’s mind had all but stopped working. Turning to mush.

     Chan noticed, he always noticed everything. He pulled his girlfriend off his cock and motioned for her to straddle the both of them. He paused his thrusts for a moment and rolled a condom over his cock and helped her onto him. Keeping one of his hands on Felix’s waist and laced the fingers of his other hand with his girlfriends. Y/n leaned over the two and grabbed the headboard behind Chan. Holding herself up a bit and bounced herself up and down on Felix while Chan thrusted in and out of him. Both of them meeting in the middle occasionally.

      All three moaning in sync. The bedroom was filled with moans and skin slapping. Felix’s moans were the loudest of the three. The poor boy was fucked out of his mind now. The only thing was the pleasure that surrounded him. Nothing else was on his mind. Especially when he couldn’t handle it anymore and came into the condom he was wearing, cursing and shaking between the two of them. Both Chan and Y/n continued their movements as Felix rode out his high. Chan didn’t take long to cum after. Shoving himself into Felix and came into the condom he wore. 

     Y/n watched the two men lose themselves in the pleasure as she rode on top of them. Chan came out of it quicker than Felix and took his dominant hand, thumb pressing to her clit and helping her while she did her best to keep the rhythm. She was putty in Chan’s hands. He knew every motion to get her off quickly. All the quickies they’d have between his stages, practices, and even early in the morning before they had to work or he had a flight to catch, somehow always helped in his favor over the years. Especially now, he refused to let his girlfriend be unsatisfied, no matter what.

     He watched as she came apart on Felix’s cock, holding herself on the headboard while she rode out the high. Felix moaned as she clamped down on his softening cock. Chan smiled and helped his girlfriend off Felix before they both helped Felix to lie on their bed. Chan fought with his girlfriend about her letting him do all the aftercare work. She didn’t let him though.

     Y/n grabbed a few warm wet towels for them and returned to the bedroom. Chan had discarded both the condoms and when she came back. He took the towels from her and cleaned up Felix as she left to grab some water and a small snack for them. Chan ended up stopping her at the door, took the items from her and set them on the nightstand before cleaning her up himself and tucking her into one of their oversized shirts.

     “You left Felix all alone in our bed,” Y/n judged her boyfriend

     “I told him I had to clean up mummy and gave him one of your plushies for the time being,” Chan told her.

     “Did we fuck him into a sub-space?” Y/n asked

     “Maybe. He does what cuddles though,” Chan informed her.

     “So do I,” Y/n pecked her boyfriend’s lips and the two got back in the bed with their friend.

The couple got him to drink some water and eat a bit of the fruit she had brought up before he ended up falling asleep in their bed. The couple agreed to let him sleep in the bed with them, neither of them having an issue with it. Figuring they’d all talk about everything else in the morning. The two had managed to ask him a few things to make sure he wasn’t fully dropped in subspace. Mostly he was just tired and Y/n understood fully, and she knew Chan had gone a lot softer on Felix than he usually did with her. 

     She for sure was giving them both shit later once they were all rested. The couple drank their water and shared the snacks she’d brought up to get a bit of energy as Felix slept soundly between them.

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[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Someday my prince will come

Written for day 30 of the @steddieholidaydrabbles and the 12 Days of Christmas bonus card of the @steddiebingo

Prompts: Sing & Movies

Rated: G

Tags: Post-Vecna; Pre-Steddie; Everybody lives; Injured Eddie; Hospitals; Eddie has a crush on Steve; Accidental love confessions

Notes: I wrote this, then googled the release date of the VHS and realized it didn't come out until 1994. Shut up, this is an AU now. 🤣

A high-pitched trill pierces through Steve’s foggy mind. He jerks awake and almost topples from his chair, hands grasping for his nail bat, for his ax, for anything. It’s the goddamn bats again, or police sirens, come to take Eddie away. He won’t let them, they’ll need to kill him before-

It’s not the bats or the police. 

Someone is singing.  

The realisation leaves him floundering and confused, even as the adrenaline slowly seeps from his body. Why is there a random woman singing operas in Eddie’s hospital room in the middle of the night? 

It takes him a few seconds until he makes out the source of the music: the television set in the corner of the room. 

The hospital doesn’t have video recorders, usually, but it quickly turned out that Eddie liked having noise and lights around, even during the first few days, when they weren’t sure he’d ever wake up. They tried the local stations at first, but the news are still full of Eddie’s face and murder allegations, and Robin needed to pry the remote from Steve’s fist before he could crush it. So Dustin brought in the video recorder, and everybody pitched in with their favorite movies, so that the hospital room never needed to be quiet. 

Right now, Snow White is singing to the seven dwarfs about how her prince will come someday. 

Who the hell picked that kitschy shit?

Steve cringes as she hits another ear-piercing note and turns to the nightstand to find the remote. 

And that’s when he sees that Eddie is awake and watching the screen. His pupils are large and unfocussed, but he’s smiling. It’s small and hesitant - a mere ghost of the bright, bold thing from before - but it’s the first smile Steve has seen on him since they brought him out of the coma. 

The song continues.

“I love this one,” Eddie says after a second or two. “We have it at home.” 

“Oh,” Steve says, realization slowly trickling in. This probably is the very copy Eddie is talking about. Wayne must’ve brought it. Must’ve dug through the rubble and debris that used to be his home to unearth this tape for his nephew. 

Eddie just keeps watching the movie and humming along with the song. It comes out raspy through his shredded throat.

“Haven’t watched it in a long while,” he whispers. “Thought I was too grown up for it. And ‘sides, fairytales never come true, right? No Prince Charming for me.” 

“Eddie,” Steve says before he can stop himself. The hand that was just reaching for the remote grasps for Eddie’s fingers instead. Eddie’s eyes shift over to him and that smile goes a little wider. It makes one of his dimples appear. 

“But now you're here,” he says. His voice is getting slurred from using it so much. “What took you so long, huh?”

Steve blinks. Oh God, is Eddie mistaking him for the stupid prince from the stupid movie? He looks a little bit like him, he guesses - if you’re high on pain meds and stuck in a dark hospital room, that is. He opens his mouth to tell him the truth, but Eddie tilts his head in the pillows, eyes stupidly large and dark, and the words die on his tongue.

“Sorry,” he shrugs, ignoring the red-hot blush that’s rapidly overtaking his face. “Got a bit delayed. You know how it is.” 

“‘s okay,” Eddie nods graciously, then frowns. “Where’s your horse? ‘s it not allowed in the hospital?” 

Steve quickly disguises his snort of laughter as a cough. Eddie’s brow wrinkles. 

“Um, yeah,” he says. “Had to leave it outside in the parking lot. Stupid hospital rules, right?” 

“Right,” Eddie agrees, and tries to lean in for a conspirational whisper. He’s still too weak, so Steve ends up bending down until his ear is nearly at his lips. “This place sucks. Stupid nurses won’t even let me have a smoke, can you believe it?” 

They both laugh, only that Eddie’s turns into a cough real quick. 

“Don’t worry,” Steve says, squeezing his fingers gently. “We’ll get you out of here in no time. You can stay at my place for a bit, I have it all figured out.”

Eddie freezes. 

“Oh,” he says, and suddenly he sounds all dejected and fearful. “That’s right. I need to’ tell ya somethin’.”

“Huh?” Steve says, resisting the urge to sweep a stray curl out of Eddie’s face. “What’s that?” 

Eddie sighs. It turns into a yawn halfway through. “You took so long to show up and … I wanted t’ wait for you, I really did, but … There’s someone else. Sorry.” 

Steve feels his frown melt into a smile, even as his heart gives a little tug. 

“Hey, that’s okay,” he says. “Are they good to you?”

Eddie bobs his head up and down, motions jerky and uncoordinated. Steve can tell he’s about to fall back asleep. 

“He’s brilliant, man. S’much more than I gave’m credit for. Kind and generous and brave and strong. Carried me outta that shithole all by ‘mself. And the way he tore that bat apart with his teeth? Holy moooh-... “ He yawns again, long and drawn-out. “-ley.” 

Steve doesn’t say anything. He thinks Snow White has finished her song by now, but he can’t be sure. The rush of his own blood in his ears is too loud. 

“Eddie, I-” he croaks after what seems like an eternity, but the only reply he gets is a long, hearty snore.

It’s okay, he guesses, brushing Eddie’s hair from his face before leaning back in his chair and focussing back on the movie. He’ll tell him some other time, when he’s feeling better and more clear in the head. It may still take a while, but until then, he can be patient. 

He’ll make it worth the wait for both of them. 

More holiday drabbles

More Steddie bingo

[dreamlandbarnes]

f1 fic recs

a compilation of all the fics i've been reading in the f1 rpf tag on ao3! please leave comments and kudos for the authors, and check the tags before reading. sorted by pairing, and summary and word count are provided. none of these fics are mine.

if your fic is on here and you want it removed, please let me know!

charles leclerc / max verstappen

bloodsport by 140445 | 37,711 words | M

“I don’t care about then, you are here now,” Charles says. “You are on my side now.” Max is on his side. It’ll feel like that, too, at some point. Surely. Or: Max and Charles as teammates for the 24 hours of Le Mans.

such murderous and vengeful desire by foggystars | 20,676 words | E

Where Carlos’ girlfriend has her fingers crossed, keeps covering her eyes as if she can’t bear to watch, Max is focused, mouth set in a hard line. He’s leaning in, balancing on the edge of his seat. To anybody else he looks intent, focused on the screen. To Charles, he looks like a bird, poised to take wing. Like he’s about to fly right through the screen and take the steering wheel from Charles’ clumsy hands, get in there and drive the car himself. When Max Verstappen suffers a career ending injury, he pours all his effort into turning his old rival, Charles Leclerc, into a worthy champion. Five years and two world championships later, they finally decide to talk about it.

like in love with me by linearity | 7,800 words | T

Austria 2019, a two-person house party, Abu Dhabi 2021, a silly lover’s quarrel, and a stove-side morning proposal.

Anonym by additiv | 13,971 words | E

The truth is, Max finds Charles unbelievably annoying. He’s chaotic and unpredictable. He’s staring at Max across the room one moment, and in the next, seems to have forgotten he exists. He swaps clothes with people at random, whipping off his faded Gucci t-shirt in the middle of the dance floor, to trade it for some girl’s crop top, laughing and crowding close to block the view of her body while they make the exchange. When he disappears to the bathroom, Max never knows whether he’ll reappear with glitter on his eyelids, or white powder on his nose. He flirts with every person in the room, and probably sleeps with them too. He ignores Max completely, then goes home with him. He’s always gone when Max wakes up; nothing left behind, nothing missing. He refuses to stay the night, but refuses to let Max get over him. And, he refuses to let Max know anything about him.

when you cut me open by triangularity (linearity) | 44,900 words | E

Well, Charles concedes, miserably. He did die last night. A few days staying with his vampire ex-boyfriend probably isn’t the worst thing he’ll have gone through in January.

a life in your shape by weiwuxian (BreathOfDream) | 29,431 words | E

“Oh god, not you,” Charles groans, crossing his arms on his chest. The Batman visibly rolls his eyes (blue, of course, because all men that messed with Charles’ life had that in common apparently) at his reaction, but another look at Charles makes him step closer. “Yes, always a pleasure. Are you ok?” or: 5 times both Max and the Batman makes Charles' life a lot more complicated than needed + 1 time he doesn't

Frecheit by additiv | 208,723 words | E

The first time that Max heard the name Charles Leclerc was in 2022, just after winning his first WDC. Maybe it only stuck because he heard it twice in one night; first as Leclerc was announced as the 2022 F3 champion. Second, as Helmut lamented not signing him to the Red Bull driver development program. Now, Max is ready to put the newly-promoted Ferrari driver in his place. The problem is, Leclerc seems to think his place is on the top step of the podium. And he is not playing by the rules. An age-difference fic, where they never got to work out their differences as kids. 3-time WDC Max's experience of being personally victimised by baby-Charles.

in dream by 140445 | 81,025 words | E

Charles tried to figure out the dream on his own. In the morning he sat down with a cup of coffee, trying to make sense of what he had seen—he even googled it. Surely, Charles couldn't be the first or only person to dream about someone he shouldn't. But there were no search results for my professional rival is suddenly also my soulmate or soulmate dream of someone i'm not supposed to want???.  (In a world where soulmates identified each other by sharing a dream, Charles dreamt of the last person he expected.)

heart of the wind by pipitass | 13,830 words | M

There’s a slip of paper taped next to one of the doorbells — third floor, second door. It should, in theory, be the one directly across from his own. Max V. “Yes?” “Uh— hi.” He clears his throat. “It’s your neighbor. From across the street. Your, your clothes…” He doesn’t really know what to say after that. Hi, I got into a street fight with your bedsheets yesterday. Welcome to the neighborhood.

charles_leclerc ✔️ posted: 😘 by ninetqs | 11,500 words | M

Charles posts a photo with a mystery man and casually breaks the Internet in the process.

cameras in the traffic lights by c_e_1 | 9,958 words | M

Pop Crave @PopCrave • Aug 13 2023 Popstar Charles Leclerc has put his instagram on private after fans spotted Formula 1 driver Max Verstappen in the background of his vacation photos 303 comments | 1.6K retweets | 10K likes

(don't read) the last page by mintchocolatechip97 | 7,475 words | E

Max feels a light tap on his arm, and turns to see the beautiful door-opener, chestnut brown curls fluffed up on his head like he’s been running his hands through his hair. “I have been on a set a time or two,” the man says, trying and failing to wink, “but this is my first time in a writers room, so you are not the only rookie here.” He clearly speaks English fluently, but has a smidge of a European accent, which Max thinks might be French. “I’m sorry,” Max says, a little annoyed that this stranger is speaking to him as if they know each other, “I didn’t catch your name?” Several emotions flit over the man’s face, in such quick succession that Max can’t quite catch them all. In the end, he looks mortified. “Oh, I am so sorry,” he says, “This is going to sound terrible, like I am the worst kind of person, but I thought you would know who I was.” Dr. Max Verstappen gets hired as the expert medical consultant for a new Netflix show. Charles Leclerc, former teen heartthrob, stars.

all i know of love is hunger by 140445 | 28,509 words | E

Anger flares in Charles’ chest. Not the kind that he feels in the car, when he’s on Max’s tail, when they are braking late and later. The one that’s been looming over his head ever since Max announced his retirement. The one he hasn’t been able to tame until now, until he can give it a name. Betrayal.

hollywood and highland by japrufrocks | 26,730 words | E

Max had left New York a week before Charles had, seven days exactly. Max had gone to Hollywood; Charles had gone to a hospital. Now they're starring in the same film. Hollywood gives its darlings everything. It takes everything too.

straight lines (that unwind you) by 140445 | 16,330 words | E

“Do you know him?” Arthur asks. “No,” Charles decides. Because he does not. He knows Max is a mathematics major, and that he plays chess. And that he hits the gym. And what he looks like when he comes. Details.

all to play for by linearity | 49,300 words | E

Charles Leclerc is not at Red Bull to win races. He is here to win championships.

my thoughts will echo your name by witchee_writer | 38,826 words | M

“Do you think you’ll ever want to do Le Mans one day?” asked Max, glancing sideways at the man sitting next to him. Charles’ eyes lit up, a grin spreading across his face. “I think I want to win Le Mans one day.”

heart on your sleeve by nyoomfruits | 4,812 words | T

The thing about having a racing helmet that constantly displays your emotions for the whole world to see, is that you kind of get used to it after a while. These days Charles almost forgets it’s even a thing. Almost. But then he goes and falls in love.

ghost of you by nyoomfruits | 3,436 words | T

“All right, are you now finally ready to explain why four time world driver champion Charles Leclerc is currently in my living room?” Max says, as Charles towels off his hair. Charles pauses, lets the towel fall into his lap, stares at Max with wide eyes. “I’m sorry, did you say four time?”

The HR Situation by thearchercore | 3,027 words | Gen

Jacob found out many things during his first month in the new HR role - Mary and Connor from Aero Engineering were dating. Thomas and Nick from Comms got recently divorced and it's a sensitive subject. Eddie from Legal had to go to an Anger Management class but hasn't had any issues since his return. Oh, and also - Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc were fucking weird about each other. or: Charles and Max go to Mercedes and the HR Department is in shambles.

Sawtooth by nottonyharrison | 40,305 words | E

In another universe, Max rejected karting at the age of fifteen, no longer prepared to be a proxy for his father’s dream. He moved back to Belgium to live with his mum and sister, excelled at school, and eventually went on to complete a Masters of Mechanical Engineering. Now 27, after four years working for Alfa Romeo and Sauber, first as a junior performance engineer and then on the pit wall for Zhou Guanyu, he’s put forward for a job with Ferrari when Carlos Sainz is left without a race engineer thanks to the increasingly hectic F1 schedule. The problem is, Max has a crush on Carlos’ teammate. A huge, obvious, embarrassing crush that leaves him stumbling for words, face burning every time he’s within six feet of the guy. What makes it even worse is that sometimes he’s sure that Charles is looking right back.

leminiscate by weiwuxian (BreathofDream) | 27,799 words | E

Charles tries to imagine Max, on the opposite side of the kitchen. Eating bread too, like he did that first morning of the After—gross and charming. Tries to think about the way he would hold him, maybe. Of the softness of his lips, glossed by butter; and how he would laugh and push him away. His phone dings and he blinks himself awake once again.

achilles comes down by sincerelylancelot | 21,068 words | M

The World Championship trophy rests in his trembling hands, his name etched in fine gold. It isn't until he's staring down at it—his name nestled close to Max’s—that he realises his dreams have always been carved out of someone else’s pain. Jules. Max. And now, maybe even himself.

charles leclerc / carlos sainz jr

a bad recompense for your love by steviethenarwhal | 65,162 words | M

“I do not want to date you,” Charles says. Carlos’s eyes slide warily over to him. He tries to explain. “I do not date men. It would be… not smart.” “I don’t want to date you either,” Carlos says. “I do not date racecar drivers.”

translation theory by linearity | 9,500 words | E

Charles Leclerc, Ferrari’s golden boy, their Il Predestinato. He likes it up the ass and likes getting fucked by rockstars who have more tattoos than thoughts in their brains. What a fucking joke.

semiotic study by linearity | 8,600 words | E

Carlos knows. He knows what this is and what this is not. This is not romance, this is not love, but Charles makes it so easy to slip into that illusion. Charles makes it so hard, and Carlos cannot be without.

last night by venerat | 24,259 words | E

Rule #1: When you go to America, don't lose your virginity to your best friend's roommate. Charles fails Rule #1.

Good Boy by chiliconcarlos | 8,445 words | E

Really, it’s all Alex’s fault. ~~ Or: the one where Charles and Carlos want to settle the question of who's better in bed.

at the dinner table with god and my father by Cloudcollector | 4,599 words | M

There is a table in his house that knows more about him than his father. Or, Carlos and his father. And the family dinner table through the years.

win or lose (it's how you play the game) by chiliconcarlos | 18,321 words | E

It all starts because of a stupid bet.   Or: Carlos suggests a hickey bet for their '23 season, and it goes about how you'd expect.

darling by magnificentbirb | words | T

The pet names begin as a joke.

carlos sainz jr / oscar piastri

take it or leave it by venerat | 6,771 words | E

r/relationships: My (22M) coworker (29M) keeps irritating me at work

he just turned in like i didn't exist by linearity | 36,500 words | E

Oscar doesn’t have a problem with his soulmate. It’s his soulmate who has the fucking problem.

Happy Death Race by powerfulowl (playmyace) | 28,390k words | E

Carlos gazes up at the fake blue sky. Dopey grin, contrapposto pose, head as empty as the cottony clouds above. “Look, look. Look, Piastri. It is always daylight.” Oscar imagines pushing him into the piss water canal. "Yeah, cool. Stop dying!" (Oscar is in a time loop and Carlos won't stop dying.)

when both our cars collide by buildyourfences | 8,483 words | M

It’s race day, which means his phone shouldn’t be ringing. And yet, it is. “Carlos, why are you not at the track yet? We are waiting for you.” “But–” “I sent you the updated schedule last night, please get here as soon as possible.” The call ends. He blinks down at the phone in his hand. Friday, March 1. Well, that’s not right. Carlos is trapped in a time loop. He can't stop crashing with Oscar.

at a constant speed by wisteriagoesvroom (bobaheadshark) | 11,676 words | E

“Are you close?” Oscar asks. “What does it look like?” “I wasn’t expecting it to be, uh, so…” What? Oscar wants to add. Hot? Desperate? Pathetic? All of the above? --- Or, carcar get themselves into a situationship, and it just keeps situating.

left a calling card so they would know that it was me by xxxdeerlordxxx | 6,139 words | E

Carlos continues to sit there, in the cockpit with his back to the wall, pieces of the torn advertisements raining down on him. He can see a big screen from where he’s at, the replays they show over and over, of Carlos spinning out, of Oscar driving away from the incident like nothing happened. Because of course no one believes him. But Carlos knows that Oscar’s to blame. Just not in the way people might think.

hatred cradles you by foggystars | 6,829 words | E

“You see?” Carlos asks, hanging up the phone. “He does not pick up.” Oscar shrugs, unsure why Carlos seems to think this is his problem. Just because Oscar’s his teammate doesn’t mean he knows where Lando is at all times, like some sort of twink-seeking missile. Then Carlos says, “I wait for him in here,” and nods to himself. He’s walking into Oscar’s hotel room before he can stop him, and all Oscar can do is blink stupidly at the empty stretch of hallway where Carlos once stood.

in midnight’s jaws by Springsteen | 30,806 words | E

Werewolves are fiction, the stuff of books and movies just like witches and zombies. Men do not turn into wolves, or fly on broomsticks, or raise the dead. There must be a logical explanation for the restlessness in Carlos's blood, for the waves of pain so sudden and intense it feels as though his bones are trying to break free of his body. Surely there is a perfectly good reason for Carlos to have woken in the dirt the morning after a full moon, with no idea where he is or how he got there. And surely there was a reason he turned to Oscar Piastri, of all people, for help.

pulling teeth by arboretics | 9,030 words | Not Rated

Oscar is very private, very in control. Carlos pretends he is both of those things, too. But after a late night collision in Baku 2024, things spiral between them into something straddling a game and an uncomfortable intimacy. A year on, Oscar and Lando are battling for the championship, Carlos is fighting for low points finishes, and Oscar loses his grip on the whole situation.

the better half of a good time by antimonyandthyme | 4,413 words | E

“Most guys, they look at the date.” He manages to make it sound both admiring and chiding. Oscar is very quickly losing control of this conversation. “Do you make a habit of just giving your license out? To every stranger you meet?” “Only those I really like.”

reckless attention by crescenteluce | 4,290 words | E

It’s probably on Oscar to be the bigger person here, to tell Carlos if he can’t do it sober, he shouldn’t be doing it at all. But that’s the thing about Carlos – he doesn’t exactly inspire Oscar to be the best version of himself.

george russell / max verstappen

winning mentality by linearity | 18,500 words | E

It’s not, like, a thing. It’s only happened twice, if you don’t count the time during the pre-season when Max shoved a thigh against George’s crotch, and George, touched-deprived and broken-hearted, let out a sharp gasp and came instantly. Max, looking shocked and frightened, stormed away.

cut your teeth by 140445 | 9,224 words | E

And that is the thing that brought George here. Eat or be eaten. It’ll happen either way. Maybe here, he will like the taste.

full throttle by calenmirel | 3,397 words | E

Later, Max will turn to him, meeting his gaze head on, and ask if George truly hadn’t seen him in his mirrors at turn eight, like George had claimed. He'll rub his hands on his racesuit as he says it, like he'll be rid of the phantom feeling of George's hair from between his fingers if he wipes them hard enough. George will look back at him, licking the taste of Max from the back of his teeth like he can savour it, and will reply, “of course I didn’t,” lying through his smile.

alexander albon / george russell

a feeling all brand new by ginnydear | 16,481 words | M

Alex is halfway through his sandwich when he starts to feel talkative, so he takes a sip of his tea and waits for Logan to finish chewing before he says what’s running through his mind at full speed. “I think I’m homophobic.”

nothing but teeth by crescenteluce | 25,057 words | E

“Oh, come on.” Alex says, poking George in the thigh again with his foot. “Don’t tell me you’ve never done a little-” Alex makes a complicated hand-wavy gesture that has the contents of his glass nearly sloshing over the sides. “At your fancy boy schools, a little stiff upper-lipped make-out amongst the chaps? In between rounds of cricket and fox hunting?”

carlos sainz jr / max verstappen

ease the madness by magnificentbirb | 12,231 words | M

Max signed away his soul on his sixteenth birthday.

pierre gasly / charles leclerc

a long time (maybe forever) by strongestavenger | 10,021 words | T

AITA: homophobic but only to my roommate/best friend? First of all, I swear I have never been a discriminatory person – I have lots of gay friends and my little brother is bisexual. I know that sounds stupid as hell but it’s my only defense right now. My problem is that I (Marc, 26M, straight) have a roommate (Jacques, 28M, gay), who has also been my best friend since we were kids, and I think I’ve started to feel homophobic towards him? (or: Charles needs some outside help to figure things out.)

miscellaneous / general / multi

One thousand laps of jeddah by in_in_in_in_in_in_in | 68,585 words | Gen

George feels sick for the whole ride to the track. He has no idea how he got from breakfast to the car, let alone how he shook off Alex. He knows that he said ‘for god’s sake, Alex, I’m not on drugs’ about a hundred times, even though he’s not at all sure that it’s the truth. What else could have happened to him? Did he dream the race last night?

eat them alive by linearity | 57,000 words | E

Oscar lost Lando a championship and left McLaren. There was still a year in between.

the condominium community committee by jusst_you_wait | 36,452 words | T

the condominium community - 2:36pm Oscar and Logan have been added to the chat George Hello, welcome to a group chat we have for the Formula apartment building! There are only 18 (20 now) of us so we like to keep in contact about the building maintenance and other neighbourly orders of business. I’m George, and I liaise with the building manager on behalf of all of us when there is a building specific issue rather than an apartment issue. Welcome to the building! Lando do u copy and paste that from ur notes every time Alex I bet he has it memorised ~ or, the ridiculous chat fic where the f1 grid all live in the same apartment building

temperature get to you by minieggs11 | 9,339 words | E

It’s Logan’s last ride of the night, it’s clearly two drunk tourists going back to their hotel. As long as they give him a five star rating, he doesn’t care what happens.

sugar and spice by pipitass | 10,785 words | E

“Do you know already? Who you’ll pick?” Oscar frowns. Eyes still closed, scrunched now. Sharp brows downturned, meeting in the middle of his face. “When you win.” The frown deepens for a second. Then his face releases, and he shrugs. Shuffles as he goes to lay down, kicking his shoes off before he brings them up so his toes are poking at Max’s thigh, settling in. “Someone nice.”

triple header by 140445 | 7,890 words | E

Because Oscar isn’t here with Charles. And he’s not here with Max. He doesn’t get it, this thing between Max and Charles. They look like they’re here together, share glances that make Oscar feel like an intruder—but Max brought Oscar back to the booth to sit with them. For Charles to flirt with him. As if it’s some kind of game, where Max brings back prey for Charles to take.

somebody else by piastrism | 31,252 words | E

Oscar misses the color lilac — the color of the twilight sky behind Charles as they drank wine on Sedici, and the long-faded color left behind on his hips by Max’s fingertips.

we'll take the shadows (since the limelight isn't ours) by magnificentbirb | 2,177 words | T

Lando hears the screech of tires on asphalt behind him, the distant crunch of carbon fiber colliding with a wall. He glimpses only the aftermath of the carnage—the dust and smoke, the flashing lights, the unmistakable gleam of bright red—and then he’s clear. And that’s when the seconds slow down.

possessed by light by Anonymous | 6,885 words | Gen

It is a lesson you learn alone. Or that you are supposed to learn alone. At some point you will look at yourself in the mirror and see not just flesh and blood. You will see the capabilities beyond that. You will see your body as a ladder to forever ascend, to always want more. You will see just what you’re made of—and you will realise it has to be used. You will learn not to waste it. Charles did not learn that on his own.

[multiwreckedmess]

[12:39AM]

Remember when i said i'd write some mean yunho? for @yunlazia​

Pairing: cheater!yunho x cheater!fem!reader WC: ~3k Summary: A lowkey continuation of my Kinktober - Intercrural fic. You and Yunho have too many friends in common to avoid each other. So what if you don't? Standard disclaimer, this is meant for 18+ and my blog is 18+ please do not interact if you are not 18+ because I AM OLD. You don't WANT to interact with me just as much as I don't want to interact with YOU.

This fanfic is, as the genre defines it, FICTIONAL. It is in no way a representation of Yunho or any Ateez member.

TW/CW: Cheating. If you aren't down with a fictional cheating fic, just back out now. Also it is consented but not really? Extended below the cut.

TW/CW: Unrealistic, time-jumpy, not proofread. PIV sex, unprotected sex, cumming inside. Big cock Yunho. Minor hand kink. Fingering (fem receiving). Rough. Reader doesn't say yes but also is given very clear direction that if she says no, Yunho will stop. Reader called Princess a fair amount.

 It would’ve been more understandable if you were blackout drunk. Or even just more than half a watered down drink into the night. This, this you couldn’t blame on anything but your own weak will.  “I need some air,” Yunho tugged at your elbow, more lightly than you’d care to admit for how easily you followed him. A bad idea. “Be back soon,” he volleys a wink at the pretty thing he’s been chatting up for the last fifteen minutes. Dickhead.

 Yunho’s strides are long, his legs extending much farther than you remembered, as you practically trot alongside him to keep up. “Where the fuck are you taking me in such a fucking hurry?”  He stops and blinks. “I’m getting a pack of smokes.”  “Why the fuck do you need me?”  “I don’t.” He resumes his strides as you follow, indignantly half stomping when you’re able to catch him.  “Then why did you pull me along?!”  Yunho shrugs, “I tapped your elbow. I didn’t expect you to follow me. You could always turn around and head back to the party.”  You groan. Mostly upset with yourself for falling so easily back into his stupid games. “You’d leave a lady alone in the middle of the dark?”  “No, I wouldn’t leave a lady alone,” his gate slows as he eyes you up and down meaningfully. A smirk tickles his cheeks. “Yeah, I wouldn’t leave a lady, would I?” He resumes his brisk pace with you in tow.  “What the fuck are you implying?”  Yunho turns quickly on his toes, letting you smack full velocity into his chest. One hand holding you by the base of your spine to him. “A lady,” he sneers, “wouldn’t let a man cum in her panties while her boyfriend waits for her in the adjoining room, would she? If I can remember correctly your tight little cunt was practically begging for it. So no, I wouldn’t leave a lady in the dark, but you, I’d do a lot of things to you I wouldn’t do to a lady.”

 His hand burns in its place miraculously through your layers of coat and sweater. His leg slotted between yours just subtly enough to make it feel unintentional, natural, like he’d never left. As if the flames of hell themselves had come from the ground to lick the side of your face you can feel arousal creeping up from your core and catching in your gut. It’s not until he releases you to start briskly walking towards the light of the gas station that you realize you hadn’t breathed since he caught you. You follow after him, jaw tense and tongue tied. If you could prove him wrong you would, but you can’t, so you stew.

 Yunho stays exactly one pace ahead of you. Just fast enough that to keep up with him you’d need to swap to a slow jog instead of a quick walk. The bright lights burn cold overhead. Nasty lighting. It turns the white propane tanks dingy and grey below it.  “I hate it when you smoke.” The words hit him as his hand presses into the metal push bar of the door.  “So why did you keep following me?”  “I don’t feel right about that-- what we--you--no, we. What we did.”  Yunho smirks over his shoulder, “first time?” The door swings open as he continues through, leaving you staring aghast at his sheer audacity momentarily before following after him. “It was fun though, right? Exciting?” His eyes scan the shelves of snacks, not seeming to really look for anything.  “Immoral.”  “But that doesn’t preclude being a good time. In fact-” he turns suddenly to you, arm reaching just over your shoulder, as if you weren’t even there “-it can make it even more erotic. Found them.” Yunho winks down at you, pulling a bag of chips off the shelf as if the position hadn’t stopped your heart.  A thin stream of air escapes as you deflate. “We shouldn’t have, regardless. Regardless it was wrong and- Yunho- can you listen to me? What about that…her…that girl I keep seeing you with?”  Passing the chips over the counter and asking for a fresh pack, Yunho shrugs at you. “As replaceable as what’s his nuts- your beau.”  “I thought you were friends!

 Yunho lights his little half-sober ill-advised treat. Even though he’d told everyone who cared that he’d quit, even though he didn’t take breaks at work anymore, even though he knew each consumed cancer stick took from his life, he couldn’t help himself when his judgement was loosened. His nose is red with the cold. Ears too. “Did you want anything?” He mumbles, cigarette tucked between his lips.  You sulk, leaning into the cold cement slab wall. “No.”  He cranes his neck up and to the side, blowing smoke away from you. There’s something alluring about his neck. His jawline is perfect, especially in this strange harsh light.  “I’m cold,” you complain to get him to hurry up. There’s no sign of movement as he takes another slow, steady drag. Yunho unbuttons his peacoat with one hand, tapping inside slightly with one brow raised.  “Cuddle up, buttercup. Or freeze. I’m not moving.” He smirks as you begrudgingly shuffle in front of him, leaning in to fold yourself into his embrace. Cold face pressing to his cozy sweater, a warm sigh reveals your true feelings.  “You’re such a shit.”  “You doth protest too much, methinks.”  Yunho smells like sweet smoke and cedar, cozy and inviting. He’s easy to get sucked into, easy to let yourself relax against. It feels like a home that you’d never left. The world spins when you close your eyes. Maybe you’re more drunk than you give yourself credit for. Maybe you’re just more tired than you realized. Maintaining appearances, spinning the plates just so, making excuses where needed. Slowly without you completely realizing it, your arms snake around his waist. Blame it on muscle memory or maybe you just wanted to warm your hands. All excuses. His back feels strong as ever, long lean muscle from top to bottom. Good for wrapping your legs around.  Yunho crushes his half finished cigarette against the wall. A better treat easily in his grasp. His newly freed hand roams south of your waist, testing to see if you retaliate. Instead he feels your face press harder into him, trying to hide your guilty expression. Suddenly he fully gropes your ass, fingers digging into the flesh through your skirt and stockings, peeling your cheeks apart slightly.  “Yunho!” Your head jerks away to blink up at him.  “Princess,” he responds with a purr.  “Your…whatever she is!”  He leans over and kisses your indignant mouth, half expecting a slap. Instead you seem to yield into it, still holding onto his waist, your hips bumping up against him. “I’m not too worried,” he barely breathes, eyes fluttered shut. He kisses you again just to make sure. Just to test his fate. To be positive you weren’t just stunned.  Yunho’s mouth tastes like the ashes of a burnt marshmallow. Kissing him leaves you thirsty, mouth dry, getting high off the nicotine remnants that cling to his lips. A disappointed moan pulls from your lungs as his lips leave yours. Your weight falling into his chest fully, he takes the opportunity to turn your back into the wall, caging you with his body. Still as hard as he presses to you you pull him in. Breathless and stunned your eyes study his face, both of your mouths panting, sharing clouds of condensation between you.  “I have to pee,” you manage to squeak out as a lame excuse.  “I have the code on my receipt.”  “Code. Right.” You make no move to escape despite your brain practically screaming at you to do something. Anything to make some plausible deniability. You cannot be complicit in this as fully as your heart is. Instinctively you reach into his front pants pocket, fishing for the slip of paper.  Yunho chuckles, loosing a tense exhale into the air. “Careful there princess, a man might get the wrong idea.”  “Shut up and give me the code.”  “Paying customers only,” he winks, hand dipping under your skirt. Your eyes roll back as his fingerings worm their way between your thighs, sliding along your slicked tights. He presses more instantly as you shudder. “Only one of us has paid babe. How bad do you want it?”  Your hips betray you, canting up towards him. “Yunho-,” your voice warbles as you try to sound stern and commanding.  “How badly? Do you? Want? It?”  “Please.”  Yunho smirks, suddenly pushing himself off the wall, pulling his hand from between your legs swiftly. Popping his damp fingers between his lips he tilts his head towards the building. Looking at the ground you scuttle behind him. The kid at the counter barely looks up from his phone as the two of you make your way to the back, down the service hallway lined with overstock, and to the unisex bathroom door. A few swift presses and the door chimes an alert that its successfully unlocked, Yunho ushering you under his arm inside. It’s all so fast you barely notice him slipping in behind you and shutting the door. Every move is so slick, you know he’s done it before.  “Yunho! I really-” your gasp breaks your sentence early, Yunho pulling you to him, pressing his fingers to your pussy once more.  “We both know how dumb of an excuse that was,” he hisses. “I can feel how much you want this, or are you going to lie again?”  “Yunho, we can’t-” “You keep saying we can’t. So tell me no. Tell me stop. Lie and tell me you don’t want to fuck your propper little pussy in this nasty bathroom. Do it and I’ll leave.”  You whimper and grind back against him. You can’t do any of it. You were never good at denying yourself of what you really wanted, even if you knew it was bad for you. Chocolate ice cream during a cold, caffeine past 6pm, stalking his profile on social media, all things you couldn’t help but indulge in. His fingers grip either side of the seam of your tights, ripping them down the middle with such force you topple forward through his arms, bracing yourself on the sink. You can just see your eyes in the lower portion of the dingy mirror, Yunho's full face in view until he leans over you. His long fingers push your panties aside, slicking himself up with your release before sliding two digits between your warm walls. Your breath hitches, leg kicking up as your knees tremble.  “Can’t ever say what you really want can you,” Yunho muses. His lips rest between the shell of your ear and your hairline, speaking with an intense hushed whisper. “Can’t even admit how wet you are for me. Feels good being bad, right?”  “Yunho,” his name is a wet shaky word drizzling out like water from a leaky pipe.  “You can’t even say yes, can you?” His fingers beckon inside you, rubbing along that front wall, stroking that small gummy spot that most hadn’t taken the time to find but he knew so well. “Can you tell me, do his fingers feel as good as mine do? Does he push your buttons like I do?”  “No,” you sob an honest response as Yunho abuses the spot faster, making the knot in your core twist and tighten into a ball of ecstasy. His cock pokes the meat of your ass, a promise of what’s in store for the two of you.  “Does he know how hard you cry when you cum?” You gulp back another heaved half sob half reply. Of course your boyfriend didn’t. Only Yunho could take you apart like this. The sweat slicked porcelain sink slips beneath your grasp. He catches you just barely with his other arm wrapping up over your chest, his fingers resting at the base of your throat.  “You going to cum for me princess?” He taunts you.  You nod, biting your lips shut between your teeth. “Yunho-” his name leaks out of the corners of your mouth.  “Let go, I’ve gotchu,” his hand fully eclipses your mouth, clamping firmly to muffle your wail. Your entire body tenses as you peak, coating his fingers in your essence. His arms hold your stiffened body before you collapse into boneless bliss. “Hold onto the sink, princess. It’ll only be a second.”  You whine as his fingers leave you empty, wobbling like a newborn giraffe. The telltale zip and shuffle is all you need to know of what's going on behind you. The blunt tip of his heavy cock prods your greedy cunt.  “I’d love to savor this moment but if we take too long that kid will get suspicious and come looking.” Your hips rock against him subconsciously.  “You know how much I love taking what isn’t mine.” He barely buries the tip inside of you, relishing in the way your walls attempt to draw him deeper, the way your body trembles on the edge of anticipation. “Just the tip right? If it’s just the tip it doesn’t count. That’s what I’ve heard.”  “Fucking jackass,” you seethe.  “You don’t want to be a cheater, right? You’re a good girl.”  You stomp your heels, you can’t be the one to break. It has to be him. It’s your last vestige of deniability. Your last claim to him being the tempter, the actor, the one in charge and at fault for all of this.  Yunho fucks his tip in and out maddeningly slowly, chuckling as he watches your hole flutter and clench. Teasing as he stretches you around his thick length. “Oh you poor thing, big mean Yuyu dragged you away to get smokes and wouldn’t let you go so you just had to fuck. Right? That’s how this happened, right? You never said yes so really…it was all him. Mean ol’ Yunho. You didn’t want it at all.”  Except you did. You did want it. You wanted him to fuck you so badly the anger was seeping out of your pores. You needed him to push himself as deep as you knew he could go, deeper than your boyfriend ever had. Mold your walls to him again. “Yunho- please-”  “Please what?”  “Yunho! You know I can’t say it! Please!”  His fingers tighten at your hips.  “Please what?” He asks again, cruelly thrusting just a bit deeper, angling just enough to skim your spot.  “Just do it already, just do it. Please, god, fuck, Yunho. Please. I can’t- I can’t-” you repeat until your breath runs out, arm reaching behind for something to pull him closer, fingers waggling as they search for fabric to grab.

 He pulls your hips flush to his suddenly, the glide easy but the stretch sinfully tight. Both of you groan deeply as the wind leaves your lungs by force. Yunho doesn’t waste time, setting a grueling pace as his hips snap against your ass. Rough and claiming as he curls over you. His pants and subvocalizations clear in your ear as you fight to stay standing. Your skirt is more a belt around your waist as he uses the band as leverage to maneuver your hips back against him. His lips settle concerningly close to the juncture between your neck and shoulder, his favorite place to nuzzle, and to bite.  “No marks,” you plead. “Yuyu, no marks. I just can’t have any marks.”  “Yeah, got it,” he growls, tilting his head down between your shoulderblades. “Cock’s going to leave an imprint.”  “Fuck, I hope.”  “Going to go home and have him fuck my cum deeper into you? Going to pretend you’re just that wet for him? Bet he wouldn’t know the difference.” His pace slows and stutters, close to his climax. The thought excites him too much, gets him just too close to the edge. Stilling completely his hand finds your clit, tracing quick circles around it, attempting to pull another orgasm from you.  “Shit, Yunho, I can’t- I can’t- I really have to pee- Yunho-” your voice shakes as fear grips your chest.  “It’s fine- you won’t- just let go-” he bounces your hips just slightly, jostling against that spot inside you with his length. Your gut flips and turns, eyes rolling back.  “Yunho-” you whine pitifully once more, trying to warn him.  “Cum for me princess, you know you can, cum on my cock.”  His fingers press against your clit harder as your eyelids flutter, vision going dark as you gush over him. Your walls work him, clamping hard down, trying to pull him deeper. His hips snap, a couple resounding hits before you feel him paint your walls in return. His cock pulses as your cunt milks him. Traitor.

 “Now go fuck that clumsy bastard with your eyes closed and try to pretend he’s me,” Yunho doesn’t mince words as he pulls from you, yanking your skirt over your rear. “Go put together your perfect pollyanna life. I’ll be here. Waiting.”

hopefully that fits the mean yuyu bill!

[quokkaholic]

Locked in🍺 h.j

Warnings: Suggestive fluff, cussing duh, alcohol consumption, kissing and touching(tehe), claustrophobia maybe. Lightly edited

Synopsis: y/n is a student by day and flirty/sassy bartender by night. On a busy night, Han comes in and matches her freak. Han referred to as sexy man before y/n knows his name.  They may or may not get stuck in the fridge. 

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It's going to be a rough night tonight. Even though the dive bar you work at is on the smaller, more local side, you get pretty busy on Thursday nights. Busy enough that you typically have two bartenders, but tonight your literal other half and best friend  got a call about her boyfriend having a family issue in the middle of her restocking the cooler. You know she doesn’t want to  leave you high and dry, but he needed her, and you aren’t soulless. You tell her to go to him; its already 1am, so you just have 3 more hours till close. It’s not like she hasn’t covered for you on many different occasions. She gives you a tight squeeze before grabbing her stuff and jogging out the door. While you’d like to sit and relish in the feeling of being the greatest friend of all time, you now have so much more shit to do. 

You’re so busy trying to catch up on dishes, you can’t check who walks in when the bell that hangs on the door rings. You shout to the front, that you’ll be right there as you grab the rag that's hanging through one of the belt loops on your jeans. 

As you speed walk to the front, you see the man that just came in is not a regular; you would remember if you had seen him before. He’s fucking stunning, and if you weren’t working, it would take some serious courage to go up and talk to him. Thankfully, you’ve been working on your bartender persona.

“Hey love, what can I get you?” you say to the patron as you lean over the bar to grab some empty bottles nearby.

“Oh hi baby. I uh…” he says as he squints at the torn and marked up beer and liquor list trying to read it under the dim neon lights.

“If you say “surprise me” it’ll be a bud light” you warn as you pour some pints for the couple at the other end of the bar. Sending you a playful glance over the paper, he slowly lowers it.

“Well what do you recommend?” He raises his voice just loud enough for you to hear him as you're running around doing little tasks but not loud enough to disrupt the others. 

“I go for a paloma, personally. Its fresh, and bubbly, and not too sweet, but I'm warning you, the grapefruit soda we keep is pretty sour.”

“That sounds lovely” he gives you a soft smile kinda relieved he didn’t have to make a decision. 

“I gotcha”

You pour some more shots for the group at the pool tables before mixing up the sexy man’s drink and pouring it into a sugar rimmed highball glass. 

“For you, my dear” you say as you hand him the finished drink. He grabs it with both hands allowing his fingers to graze yours; his touch is warm and tender and dreamy, nothing like the usual snatching of other customers. Before you walk away, you pour him a little bowl of snack mix.

“Hey y/n! Why is he getting so much attention” a crotchety old man and regular of yours shouts to you as you make your way to the back. 

“Oh shut it. If you want snacks, use your words next time and ask, asshat” biting back, as you walk right past him. 

You are shuffling around clearing off tables, tabbing people out, and wiping up spills. It takes a minute before you realize sexy man has not made much progress with his drink. Going back to him, you try to figure out the cause,

“How does it taste, babe?” striking up a conversation again. He gives only an innocent and sorry look in response, you can't stop the corner of your mouth from raising to a smirk.

“I swear to god, if you say its too sour”

“I'm sorry miss y/n” he says after sucking a breath through his teeth. 

“You motherfucker” insulting him between laughs.

“I tried to warn you! I can add some simple syrup to it, but I think you’d rather have a beer, it’ll be on me”

Before sexy man can reject your offer, you reach into one of the beer ice chests, but are once again heckled by the wrinkly regular.

“Why does he get special treatment, huh? I’m supposed to be your favorite”

“I don't remember saying that” responding while opening the beer (idk but i feel like if han had to pick a beer found at your average US bar it would be modelo)

“You literally told me last week!” He’s probably right, you’ll say quite a lot to get a bigger tip.

“Well..” muttering as you wipe off the bottle. You lean to sexy man close enough so that when hold your hands up, it blocks both of your faces.

“What's your name, dear?” you whisper after you place the beer in front of him and he whispers his answer back to you.

“Han, is my favorite now. He's cuter, and nicer, and I bet he tips better too.” You and Han snicker together about it for a minute before you have to get back to running the damn bar.

You keep cleaning, and serving drinks, and running tabs; its nearing 2:30am before you can stop and talk to Han again.

“Han my sweet, you want some company?”

“That would be amazing, actually”

“So, what brings you here, at this hour I might add?”

“Honestly, jet lag. I just needed to get out of the hotel room, and I’ve been living the dream ever since. And you?” such a smooth talker, and he keeps eye contact with you the whole time. Not in an intimidating way but in the way where he is genuinely engrossed in your conversation, and it makes your heart pound. 

“I’m a student so working nights works best with my schedule”

“Oh, an educated woman! Sexy”

“Yeah it would be, if I could get a good job with my four year degree, but alas, I make more as a bartender than I did as a lab tech. So, here I am, grad student by day, bartender by night.”

“Sexy and driven” He mumbles against the mouth of his bottle before he tips it back to finish it off. You and Han chat consistently while you take care of the handful of other patrons. You try to get him another beer, but he declines. 

“You ready for the check, HANdsome? Sorry, that wasn’t good.” Its starting to get late in the night, and your charm is starting to wear off.

“No…uhh. What time do you get off?” Han seems to be infected by your shyness.

“Oh um. We close at 4, but i won’t leave until 5 or 5:30”

“Is it cool if I just wait till then? Maybe, I could take you to breakfast? I’m just not tired at all, and I…I’m really…”

“That would be amazing actually. I’d love to. Could I get you a soda at least?”

You and Han chat and get to know each other through the last call, and it's time to kick the last customers out. The grouchy regular is of course the last one out the door.

“Why does your new favorite get to stay?”

“Because I like him more than you. I already told you he's with me! If I hear one more word about this from you, I'll never serve you again. Now get the fuck out” you shout the last part locking the door being them. 

Even though you try to get him to stop, Han helps you with your closing duties, but because you were short staffed tonight and you were kind of neglecting some duties to talk to Han. It's a little after 5 by the time you guys are getting ready to walk out the back door. You pull on your coats and grab your purse,and just as you guys are about to open the door it hits you, you didn't restock, Janie was doing that before she had to leave.

“Fuck, will you help me restock the fridge, it’ll take like 8 minutes if we work together.”

“Lead the way”

Han is handing you bottles and crushing boxes as you organize the shelves. You two make a great team and finish the task in record time, but when Han turns to exit he just stands at the door darting his eyes all over looking for a knob. 

“Here, let me”

You scooch around him, and reach up to the shelf where you keep the emergency “key” that opens the door from the inside, but it's not there. You feel around and nothing. It's not there. You look around on all the surfaces, and it's nowhere to be seen. While walking past the fridge door, you see it in the corner of your eye, but to your dismay, you see it out the window of the fridge door on the counter right outside.

“Heeeeey. Bad news. We’re locked in”

“What?” Han's jaw might as well be on the floor.

“Yeah so there's the key” pointing out the window. Han indirectly squishes you against the door and places his cheek on yours in order to see what you see.

“Fuck” he breathes out. 

“That's what I’m saying. We’ve got options, we left our phones by the door so we can call for help, but we could 1) cause hundreds of dollars in damage and break out and I probably lose my job or 2), which I am leaning towards, another bartender will be here at like 7 for opening stuff and we just chill here for an hour and a half”

“Well… I guess we have plenty to keep us busy” he says gesturing to the surrounding alcohol with a smirk.

“Alcohol actually speeds up the effects of hypothermia” his playful smile drops at your words

“I'm kidding! I mean not really; that is true, but we'll be fine! Here, have a drink” you open a beer and hand it to him. 

Even though you and Han have already been talking for hours, the conversion is never ending. Topics flowing seamlessly into one after another and you guys snack on the drink accoutrements like cherries and such. You have your winter coats on, so the cold is bearable, but you’ve scooted inch by inch close between his legs but facing him with your legs bent over his. You take turns back and forth spraying the whipped cream you have for some of the more elaborate shots available into eachothers mouths. He fills your mouth a bit too much and when you try to close your lips, some spills out onto your chin. Han immediately apologizes and uses his thumb to wipe it off, but his hand lingers on your cheek, and his eyes bounce between your lips and eyes.

Not a second later your lips are smashed together and he is wrapping his arms around to clasp his hand behind your back and pull you into him. His lips are soft and plump and sweet from residual cream. The kisses are slow and passionate. There's tongue but not down your throat, just gentle gliding over lips and dipping in just slightly to get a taste. Things start to heat up when he withdraws slightly to lick over the area that he had wiped, instead of stopping there he licks along your jaw and pushes your hair back to kiss over and behind your ear. Once he pulls away with his head still tilted, you have the opportunity to access his neck leaving wet kisses down to where his shoulder and neck connect. He moans softly as his hands fall down to grip your ass hard. This kiss is truly more intoxicating than any drink, and you recognize that as his noises have a warmth building in your stomach. You’re loving every seconds, but this is risky enough, the last thing you need if for your coworker to find you fucking a stranger in the walk in. You start to slow down a little and Han immediately follows your lead. To be silly and kind of try to help the sexual tension dissipate you feel Han reaching towards his head and then yours. He pulls your hoods up over your heads and is holding them shut to create a kiss cave forcing the passionate kiss to halt due to your grins and giggles.

Soon the bartender arrives and thankfully the staff is pretty close and all really cool so you don't have to explain much, at least not right now. You guys grab your things, and scamper outside. 

“I guess we don’t need breakfast anymore” Han chuckles to himself.

“I could go for coffee”

“Coffee? I could go for a nap! Don’t you need sleep?”

“Sleep? Baby, I have class.” His eyes widen in shock as he reaches out his hand for your phone.

“You’re insane. I have to see you again, but only after you get some rest.”

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A.n- VERY lightly inspired by the anime How I Attended an All Guys Mixer (get into it). Thank you for reading

-mo♥️

Masterlist

[alwaysurvalentine]

marry me (if I ever get the nerve) - st fic

Based on a prompt from my @steddiebingo 12 Days of Christmas card: 'proposal'

wc: 2.4k | cw: none

enjoy! 💛

~

One.

A crowd is blocking the pathway when Eddie and Steve round the corner. Steve cranes his neck to see around the crowd and then scoffs. 

“What, what is it?” Eddie’s trying to see through the people in front of him, but every time he shifts, they do too. 

“Someone’s proposing in the middle of the park. Can’t even imagine how embarrassed she feels right now. Can you imagine?” 

Steve continues to rant, one hand waving in the air while he vents and the other one tugging Eddie along the edges of the crowd to get past. 

Marriage has been brought up between them before, an idea that seemed nice but somehow far away. Even without saying it, Eddie knew it was something that Steve wanted. It’d been an easy plan from there: save up money for a ring, pop the question, and then marry the fuck out of Steve Harrington. So far all Eddie had done was start saving for a ring. 

He stumbled upon the perfect ring just last month, a simple gold band with the option to engrave the inside. Right now he can’t decide what he wants to put there, but he figures he’s still got some time to think about it.

“Like what if she wants to say no? He’s basically put her in a situation where she has to say yes and then go back on that answer later.”

There’s genuine distress in Steve’s voice at this stranger having to deal with this. Eddie squeezes his hand and offers a placating smile. Up ahead is the cafe they’d been heading towards in the first place. For once there isn’t a line and Eddie lets go of Steve’s hand just to open the door and bow. 

“My love.”

All of the tension building up in Steve leaves him with a roll of his eyes and he smiles when he steps in before Eddie. Even though Steve wasn’t a fan of the couple they saw, Eddie sends a quick thanks because now he knows. 

Absolutely no proposing in a crowded public place.

~

Two.

Light always finds Steve. No matter the time of day, if there’s a ray of sunshine, it’s shining on his boyfriend. It’s one of the first things Eddie noticed about him when they started dating. Now is no exception, sun peeking through their blinds to shine on Steve’s face. 

Steve has barely moved from where he left him this morning, mouth slack with a line of drool leading to a small spot on his pillow. Eddie sets the tray holding their breakfast down for a moment, leaning over to swipe the drool away with his thumb. He rubs his hand on his pants and then rests a gentle hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“Good morning, sunshine.” Steve’s eyebrows furrow when he wakes, eyes blinking open just to squint shut at the light. 

“C’mon, I made breakfast.” 

Steve yawns and smiles softly, rubbing at his eyes. Eddie grabs the breakfast tray again, orange juice sloshing in the glass but not spilling with the movement. The small smile on Steve’s face turns into a full blown grin and he smooths over the blanket when he sits up. 

The plate of breakfast smiles back at him, bacon curving up towards two eyes made of eggs. A gentle hand takes his wrist and Eddie’s tugged down close enough for Steve to press a kiss against his cheek. 

“Thanks, baby.” Sleep still paints Steve’s words, a roughness there only because of their activities from the night before. An image of Steve on his knees, eyes half lidded and tongue hanging out of his mouth flashes into Eddie’s mind. He’s quick to dismiss it though, trying to stay on task. 

Afterall, this breakfast is serving a purpose. Today is going to be the day that Eddie proposes to Steve. All he’s got to do now is pull the ring out of his bedside table and ask the question. Just a small, intimate setting for his Stevie. 

He leans toward his dresser drawer right as the phone starts to ring. 

“Hello?”

“Oh, uh, hi Eddie. Is Steve there?” Max is on the other end of the line, voice tight.

“One sec.” Eddie passes the phone over easily and mouths that it’s Max on the other end. 

“Hey, what’s up?” 

Judging by the face Steve makes at something Max says, this proposal is about to be pushed to another day. When Steve shifts the tray off of his lap and scoots out of bed, Eddie knows he’s right. 

“Woah, hey, it’s okay. I’m glad you called. Give me fifteen and we’ll be there.” Another pause and Steve flashes a grimace in Eddie’s direction. 

“You know he would understand. Okay, okay, yeah, it’ll just be me. See you soon Mayfield.” 

Guilt covers Steve’s face when he turns to Eddie. He tosses the phone back onto the bed and pulls jeans over his boxers. 

“Sorry, Max needs me to help her with something real quick, but I’ll be right back after that. Rain check on breakfast in bed?” 

Disappointment curls in Eddie’s stomach but he nods anyway. “Of course, no worries. Is Red okay?” 

Just as much as the kids are Steve’s in all the ways that matter, Eddie’s adopted them too. If one of them is in trouble, he wants to know. 

“Yeah, just something going on with her mom.”

“Why don’t you bring her back here? I can make some more breakfast and we can all do brunch and watch trash TV.” 

Steve closes the distance between them with a few quick strides, pressing a kiss to the corner of Eddie’s mouth. His hands come to rest on Steve’s hips, keeping him close so he can steal a couple close mouthed kisses before Steve leaves.

“That would be great, I love you.” Another kiss and then Eddie lets him go so Steve can brush his teeth before heading over.

Might need to recruit Robin to help make sure proposing doesn’t get interrupted.

~

Three. 

Tuesdays are date nights.

Eddie doesn’t know if it was on purpose, but the first date he and Steve went on was a Tuesday and now it’s just become tradition. It’s the one day of the week that the gremlins know to let them have their night. 

Tonight, Eddie’s even got Robin helping to run interference. Obviously he had to run this plan by her. They both figured while he’ll be popping the question, doing so over a candlelit dinner without getting on his knee was still lowkey enough for Steve to let it pass. 

(Robin also tried to argue that Steve would be fine with a massive proposal because the only answer he’d have for Eddie would be yes. Her puppy dog eyes aren’t nearly as lethal as Steve’s, so he hadn’t caved.)

Eddie had asked Steve to dress up for dinner tonight for a reservation made at The Grillhouse. They don’t always do fancier dinners, more than happy to dance around the kitchen together instead. Steve had asked what the occasion was and squinted skeptically when Eddie stuttered that he had big news he was excited to share. Despite all of his practice as a DM, he still can’t lie to save his life. Luckily, Steve had dropped it and shifted the focus to a story from work. 

Now Eddie finds his palms sweaty, empty plates sitting between them. This is his window.

“Stevie?”

His boyfriend tilts his head to the side, humming quietly to show he’s listening.

“I brought you to dinner saying I had some big news to share. But really, that news couldn’t be possible without you.” 

Steve’s face softens and he reaches across the table to take one of Eddie’s hands. They sit like that for a moment, Eddie swallowing before reaching into his coat pocket to grab the ring. 

The pocket is kind of deep and all he feels is fabric so he digs in a little further. Still, all he feels is the cotton lining against his fingers. 

And then he realizes. 

He forgot the ring.

He forgot the ring. What is he supposed to tell Steve now?

“I’ve decided to send some of me and the guys’ tapes to some producers.” 

The smile on Steve’s face is bright enough to challenge the sun and Eddie knows he’ll be sending out those tapes this week just so that he hasn’t lied to the man in front of him.

“Holy shit!” A couple of people swivel their heads at the sudden exclamation but Steve doesn’t pay them any mind, raising his glass to Eddie. Never one to leave Steve hanging, he’s quick to lift his own glass for Steve’s toast.

“Congratulations, baby, I’m so proud of you!”

Hot tip: don’t forget the ring.

~

Four.

Steve’s bopping his head as he walks through the kitchen. Everyone’s just cleared out of the apartment after spending the night. He hasn’t been able to convince Steve to play D&D, but it doesn’t mean his boyfriend doesn’t love any opportunity to host. Every couple of weeks their apartment is flooded with the full group, pizza for dinner and then Steve pulls out all of the stops for brunch the next day. 

There’s a pile of dishes waiting to be washed in the sink and a couple of pans left to cool on top of the stove, but like always - Steve’s turned on the radio first. Which works perfectly with Eddie’s plan. 

He’d called the radio station earlier in the week and asked them to play their song so he could propose to the love of his life. The girl on the other end had squealed at the request and let Eddie know she’d email with the time they’d be able to put it into the show. 

When he glances over to check the time, he’s surprised to see that there’s only a a couple of minutes to wait until their song is queued up. He’s got just enough time to run upstairs to grab the ring and then he’ll finally be able to ask. Steve’s just grabbing the pans off of the stove to move them towards the sink when Eddie steps out of the kitchen. 

It seems oddly quiet when Eddie makes it downstairs. Maybe it’s just because of how loud it was last night and this morning.Mumbled cursing welcomes him back into the kitchen and Eddie sees the reason behind the quiet. Their radio is currently cradled in Steve’s hands, eyes locked in on the different dials like it’ll suddenly start working if he looks disappointed enough. 

“Steve?” 

The look of horror on Steve’s face has Eddie chuckling as he walks over.

“I broke the radio.” Genuine heartbreak colors Steve’s words and Eddie takes the radio from his hands with a smile.

“That’s okay, looks like it got some water on it. Did something splash out of the sink?” Steve nods, eyes focused on the radio in Eddie’s hands. 

From what Eddie can tell, they might have to just replace the whole thing, somehow Steve’s managed to get the entirety of the speakers wet. His proposal might’ve been foiled again, but at least he gets a huff of a laugh when he rolls up his invisible sleeves to wash the dishes, bumping Steve out of the way. 

Alright, maybe the radio thing was a little complicated, time to regroup.

~

Plus One.

“Wayne, I feel like I’m losing my mind.” 

His uncle just laughs from his side of the table, coffee cup lifted to his mouth despite the steam rising above it. 

“No, I mean it. I’ve tried proposing to him so many times but I keep messing it up!” Eddie runs a hand through his hair and has to stop for a moment when a ring tugs on his curls. The chipped mug in Wayne’s hand gets set down and he leans back, eyes squinted in a smile while he looks Eddie over.

“Alright, let me get this straight. You wanna propose to your boy?” Eddie nods. “Why don’t you just ask him, plain and simple?” 

“Oh, yeah, just ask him plain and simple. Because that’s totally easy. Have you met him?”

Wayne raises a brow, unimpressed at Eddie’s dramatics. 

“I just want it to be perfect, Uncle Wayne. What if this is like the universe telling me not to do it? Everything keeps going wrong…”

Another sip of coffee and then Wayne leans forward, elbows on the table. “Listen here, you love him?”

“Of course I do.”

“And he loves you?”

Eddie can feel the blush when it spreads across his cheeks. 

“He tells me all the time.” 

“Then I think no matter how you ask him, the only answer he’s going to say is yes. Knowing you two, you could just slide the ring on his finger and Steve would have the wedding planned in a week. What’s really holding you back?” 

Damn Wayne for knowing him so well. 

This answer doesn’t come as easy, dread building in Eddie’s gut while he tries to figure out the best answer. If he voices this and Wayne agrees, he’ll probably never recover.

“C’mon, spit it out.” 

“Whatifhedoesn’tthinkI’mworthbeingstuckwithfortherestofourlives?”

Another unimpressed stare, lips pursed at Eddie’s quick speech.

“Just, what if he doesn’t think it’s worth it? Being stuck with me forever?”

“Eddie, listen up, and listen good. No such thing as being stuck with you. I can tell that he adores you, knew as soon as I saw the two of you together. Just because your old man,” and Wayne pauses when Eddie’s head snaps up, “chose to ignore the gift you are, doesn’t mean other people will. I’ve been lucky enough to see you grow from that scrawny kid angry at the world to the man I see now. You’ve got your own family now, one you built all on your own, and not a single one of them feels like they’re stuck with you. Y’hear me?” 

Eddie wants to feel embarrassed at the tears in his eyes, but instead all he feels is warmth all over - loved. He jumps up and scoots into Wayne’s side of the booth, throwing his arms around the older man’s neck just like he did as a kid. When he backs up, Wayne’s eyes look a little teary themselves.

“Alright, let’s go, I gotta get ready for work.”

(When they get back to the trailer, Eddie opens the door to his own makeshift family crowded around the living room. It takes a moment to take it all in, streamers hanging from the ceiling, balloons all over the floor, and then Steve on one knee with a ring held out. 

It’s an easy yes.)

[lqveharrington]

Can I request I can do it with a broken heart for a Lucifer (Morningstar) x reader? Ty and congrats! <3

With a Broken Heart | L.M.

summary: You and Lucifer's relationship has been strained for years, and Charlie tries to mend your broken hearts.

pairing: lucifer morningstar x fem!reader

includes: arguing, cursing, crying, angst, heart break

a/n: luciiiii! it’s been so long 😭 (rules for celebration here!)

Ever since Charlie was born, your relationship with Lucifer had been strained. You both wanted to protect her from all the harm Hell would reign down on your family, but your methods were quite different.

He wanted to make peace with the Heavens — have them back out of their killings once a year. You wanted to hide Charlie from the exterminators until she was able to take care of herself without you or Lucifer. Or until she was able to use her magic properly.

Down to the second Charlie turned eighteen, you and Lucifer continued to argue about what was considered right. Unfortunately, in the heat of the moment after a horrible extermination, Lucifer finally snapped at you when Charlie walked in. She never saw her dad yell at you, and you clearly weren't expecting it either because later that night you left Morningstar Manor.

You hadn’t seen Lucifer since, but Charlie refused to lose contact between you and her dad. She tried to get you two to meet up, but no avail. Not until she needed help with the hotel and refused to admit she invited her dad over when you arrived.

“Charlie, you didn’t call your father to join us, right?" You asked and sighed when she puffed her cheeks out. She was a horrible liar and you knew that came from her being born from two angels. “Great.”

“Mom, whatever you and dad had going on should be history by now! It’s been what? Two centuries since you’ve last seen him?” Charlie grabbed your hands and squeezed them, looking back and forth between your eyes. "It'll be okay."

You opened your mouth to retort but she had already walked away to find Vaggie. Bringing a hand up to your temple, you silently cursed that she was so determined to get everything absolutely perfect.

Although you never officially divorced Lucifer, he still left you with a broken heart that he never attempted to mend. He left all your broken pieces for you to deal with — not caring that you had to handle all the sinners’ affairs as well when he decided to go M.I.A.

“Oh sweet sweet queen of hell,” Angel wrapped an arm around your shoulder while the other popped open a drink, taking a quick swig of the alcoholic drink. “I’m sure you can handle whatever shit his majesty will throw at you.”

“It’s not what I can handle.” You murmur and shake your head, spinning the golden ring on your finger before glaring at it once you realize what you were doing. “It’s if he can handle seeing me after ages of leaving me on my own without anything but my own fucking tears.”

Angel’s eyes widened before toasting to that, chugging the rest of his drink down and pulling you toward the couch. Honestly, you were ready to fight for your side again until you saw him. It was like nothing affected him.

When Lucifer burst into the Hotel like he owned the place, you noticed the façade he put on just to see Charlie smile. He was always putting on a face so she would see the best of him. He was in the middle of meeting all the sinners of the hotel when his gaze shifted to you, face paling when he met your glare.

As if you read his mind, you turned away and immersed yourself in whatever Angel Dust was complaining about to Husk. Charlie looked between the both of you, defeat etching across her face. Nothing was ever going to get done if the two of you refused to acknowledge each other the entire time he was staying with them.

She had to fix her parents' relationship — despite the way the both of you avoided each other like a plague.

"Charlie, are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, your mom looked like she was ready to kill your dad the second he stepped into the hotel." Vaggie looked up her, eye brows creased in doubt. She was never one to doubt her girlfriend, but the King and Queen of Hell could easily kill all the sinners within the snap of their fingers if pushed far enough.

"They may be upset with each other but we won't get anything done if they keep walking eggshells around each other!" Charlie rubbed her forehead and began to pace the foyer, eyes glowing red in frustration. "Besides, my dad regrets ever yelling at my mom. She just... She doesn't know it because they're both too stubborn!"

Charlie's horns poked out before settling, steam releasing from her mouth. She waved a hand over the room's door and let the enchantments settle before whisking Vaggie away. "Anyway, we have to try and do this. If we don't, we can say goodbye to the hotel forever."

"Charlie, sweetheart, what are we even looking for? I can barely see anything in here." You huffed and moved cobwebs away from your face, snapping your fingers to produce small flames. When you didn't hear her respond, you turned around only to be met with the eyes of Lucifer Morningstar himself. "Where's Charlie?"

"Wha— Uhm, she shoved me in here and told me to look for something." Lucifer squeaked out and waved his hand around, letting golden whisps illuminate the small space. "I didn't realize you would be in here."

You rolled your eyes and continued to push away old pieces of furniture, doing your best to ignore the tugging in your chest. However, Lucifer couldn't help but stare. You were just as gorgeous as the day you met, and the lights shining across your face only took his breath away.

"Do you know what we're supposed to be— Lucifer!" You frowned and dragged a hand down your face in annoyance, letting the flames go out. "You know what? I can't deal with this right now."

You moved to the door and tried yanking it open, only to jerk backward. You looked back at Lucifer before trying the door again, this time the handle burning your palms. Wincing, you glare at the door and call out for you daughter.

"Charlie Morningstar, you come here and unlock this door!"

"Not until you and dad make up!" She shouted through the thick door, mind forcing herself to be confident. "And don't even try using your magic because I will send you back in there."

"Charlie!" You groan and bang your forehead on the door, shutting your eyes in disappointment.

Lucifer tugged his hat down to cover his face and moved to sit on an old crate behind him. He couldn't face you. Not yet. Not when you refused to even meet his eyes properly. It was like the Heavens purposely wanted to see him suffer.

Finally admitting defeat, you sat on the opposing crate and held your breath. You didn't think seeing him would affect you so much, especially since it had been cartularies since you last saw him. But Lucifer was always full of surprises and you knew Charlie got that trait from him.

You blew out a breath and spun your ring, eyes glued to the wooden floor. "Why did you do it?"

Lucifer peeked past his hat and looked around the room like it wasn't just you and him. He swallowed and shifted his gaze over to you, pursing his lips when he saw your wedding band. He opened his mouth to speak but shut it, not knowing what to say to you.

"Why did never try and stop me from leaving?" You whispered out and watched his body stiffen.

"I..." Lucifer shook his head and buried his face in his hands, voice muffled. "I don't know."

You brows creased and clasped your hands together, wanting to stop your fidgeting. "Lucifer, you promised to keep your family safe and you didn't even try to get me to stay." You stared at his hands, eyes hardening at the sight of his own wedding ring. "I don't understand—"

"Because you were so paranoid that something horrible was going to happen to us!" Lucifer finally burst and stood from his spot, eyes red and face contorted in dissatisfaction. He began to pace the small room and rubbed the back of his neck, voice cracking. "You were so overprotective of Charlie that you wouldn't even let me near her somedays."

"You were handling the Heavens, Luce! Did you think I wanted to keep her away from her own father? I didn't want her dead from the hands of an exterminator." You paused at the thought of your daughter ever dying from the hands of a supposed holy figure. When Lucifer shook his head, you wiped a stray tear and turned away. "You never understood what I was trying to tell you."

"Neither did you." He stopped his walking and stared at you with solemn eyes. He knew you tried your best to protect Charlie, but he wanted to protect more than his daughter. He also wanted to protect you, but you never understood his plans to do so. "Sometimes I think you wanted to pretend this wasn't our reality, but it is."

"Was it my fault Heaven kicked us out?" You bit your bottom lip and finally met his eyes, watching them soften instantly. You tilted your head to the side and frowned, "You told me you'd love me for all time but the second we landed in Hell, our time was cut short wasn't it?"

The look in your eyes broke Lucifer's heart even further. He always hated arguing with you and for the first time in so long, he wanted to freeze time and just hold you.

"You may think I've been perfectly fine without you, but nursing a broken heart absolutely crushes a person." You whisper before standing and walking toward the enchanted door, muttering your own reversal charms.

Lucifer reached out to you before pulling back, his own eyes glossing over. "Angel..."

"After we help Charlie with her hotel, we're done, okay?" You stay by the door and refuse to face him, doing your best to not have your voice waiver in heartache. When you didn't hear a response, you gripped the handle harder. "Luce?"

"Okay." He murmured back and tapped his cane to the ground, vanishing to a different part of the hotel.

You choked on your tears and covered your mouth, letting your heart completely dissolve to nothing. You knew crying wasn't going to help, but you had to try and be productive. Afterall, you were the Queen of Hell.

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[blitzwhore]

My Helluva Boss fics 2024

An almost-complete list of the HB (mostly Stolitz) fics I've written in 2024! ✨

General Audiences/Teen and Up:

📖 Saving Us (15k, Stolitz). Written pre-Mastermind. After not seeing the owl since Verosika's party, Blitzø jumps in to protect Stolas from Andrealphus, and in doing so gets badly wounded. When he wakes up in a hospital bed some days afterwards, he and Stolas finally talk.

📖 Caramel Kiss (1.2k, Stolitz). Humor, fluff. Blitz criticizes Stolas' ice cream order and Stolas decides to be a tease about it. Chaos ensues.

📖 Left Behind (3.3k, Blitzo & Tilla). Blitzo wants to confess to Fizz, but is terrified of messing up. Terrified enough to ask his mother for help, even if it means coming out to her. In the end, the confession doesn't go as planned. The rest... well. Sadly, the rest is history.

📖 At His Mercy (1.6k, Blitzø & Cash). Of what happens when Blitzø and his crew run into Cash in the street.

📖 Mama's Remedy (1.1k, Stolitz). During their day together as kids, Blitzo finds out Stolas has never climbed the giant tree in his garden and decides that needs to be fixed.

📖 Please, Stay (1k, Stolitz). Pre-Ozzie's. After a BDSM scene during a full moon, Stolas discovers that Blitz's knuckles are wounded from a fight.

📖 Make It Easy on You (831 words, Stolitz). Pre-Full Moon. Stolas wakes up in the middle of the night and finds Blitz curled up around him, sound asleep and completely at peace. The realisation that this is the only way he will ever have what he truly wants is more than he can bear.

📖 You Love Him (Not) (800 words, Stolitz). Pre-Full Moon. A peek into what goes on in Blitzø's mind when he looks at his selfie in bed with Stolas.

📖 If Only (689 words, Stolitz). Pre-Full Moon. Each crying alone in their house, both Stolas and Blitzø imagine the other is there to comfort them.

📖 I Could Never Be Better Off Without You (757 words, Stolitz). Post-Mastermind. Blitzø reassures a guilt-ridden Stolas that he's wanted, even when he has nothing left to give.

Mature:

📚 This Warmth (1k, Stolitz). Pre-Ozzie's. When he wakes up in Stolas' arms after a typical full moon encounter, Blitzø experiences some complicated emotions and wants he has no idea how to navigate.

📚 Relapse (2.8k, Blitzø & Barbie). When they arrive at work, Blitzø and his crew find a wasted Barbie Wire lying on their meeting room floor. Blitzø will do whatever it takes to make sure his sister is safe.

🔥 You're Perfect (And Everything In Between) (19k, Stolitz; WIP, will be explicit). Tattoo artist!AU with trans Blitz, who is very, very gay for the cute, easily flustered, tall-as-hell man that walks into his tattoo shop.

🔥 Pipin' Hot (429 words, Marthaberry). How many times do you have to kill the bitch who fucked your husband before she gets bored and starts flirting with you instead?

Explicit:

🔞 Wear Your Pride (7.9k, Stolitz). After the Imp City Pride Parade, Blitzø and Stolas fuck in the back of the van. Ft. lots of teasing and birdpuss-eating.

🔞 Delectable (3.9k, Stolitz). Blitzø spills some mustard on his bare thighs. Stolas doesn't miss the opportunity to lick him thoroughly clean.

🔞 Just Like This (3.9k, Stolitz). Sub!Blitzø, soft dom!Stolas; puppy play. A leashed Blitzø rides Stolas' leg.

🔞 Good Pup (3.7k, Blitz/Fizz/Ozzie). Sub!Blitzø, dom!Fizz and Ozzie. Blitzø is determined to take all of Ozzie's cock in his ass at the same size as Fizz usually does. Fizz and Ozzie take very good care of him.

After being in the fandom for a few years, it's been a blast actually creating fanworks for it. I look forward to writing so much more in 2025! ❤️

[fashionteahouse]

Ooooo could I do a pt2 of sticky where the reader has a breakdown thinking she is messing up his life. Angst and fluff with smut

sure ofc ! hope you enjoy :)

sticky - paul x reader

<<part one

Blinking slowly at the dark ceiling, you simply couldn't sleep. Every scrape of the tree branch that met the window, made you jumpy. Your breaths were shallow as you then shoved the covers over your head.

You hear a door creak open, you couldn’t help your body that shook from fear. The covers were pulled off of your head, you raise your hands up to block your face.

“It’s just me, Y/N.” Paul says as he peered down at you.

You slowly put your hands down as you let him slide into bed beside you. He held you close, he didn’t want you to be afraid. You caught up on sleep that you missed.

As he softly snored, you crept out of bed. Your phone was buzzing and texts from the other girls were trying to persuade you to come back. You look back at the sleeping man.

You moved your legs fast out of the house before anybody could notice that you were gone.

The greeting you were gifted with, was a pimp slap to the face. Your body hit the floor as you cover your face with an unspilled tear.

A pointed finger was soon thrusted in your face, “You know how much money you done fucked up for me?!”

“I’m sorry-“

“I don’t need your punk ass sorry! You fucked me! Look at what you made me do!” he exclaimed. He circled around your body in the dressing room. The door was shut and locked so he could have no interruptions. As soon as he walked in, the girls scurried out without him having to say anything. That’s when you knew you fucked up by leaving.

He crouched down, making sure that your ear is near his mouth, “Clean up. Put some better clothes on than that. You’re taking a ride with me.”

With that, the door is opened and slammed.

You wipe your face in the mirror. You furrowed your eyebrows at your reflection. There were so many promises in the beginning. So many promises that were spoken to you, that made you believe that you wouldn’t be in this life long.

“What’s wrong with me?” you whispered at your reflection. This was your fate. There was no escape and you weren’t about to have Paul be in the middle of something like this.

You walk out and people turn their heads. Their smiles turn into frowns as they realize you were leaving out instead of performing.

He opened the passenger door from inside, you peered in.

“Get in, girl!” he grins out. You take a step but hear your name being screamed.

You take a look and see a fuming Paul in your direction.

He grabs your arm, pulling you away so fast that you barely processed it.

“Don’t get in that car. I mean it!” Paul says to you.

You take your arm away. You see that the club owner is out of the car, looking at you look at him. He gives you the look. The look that you knew all too well. It was to bring your ass to him. Your stomach was uneasy.

“Do you hear me?” Paul says as he grabs your shoulders. You shrug him off.

“You’re a great guy. I appreciate you. I gotta go.” you say and he grabs you again.

“Y/N, don’t do this. Just come on.”

“No! Let go of me or I will get him over here!” you say loudly.

Paul is shocked, he didn’t expect you to threaten him with the very man that was abusing you.

“Y/N-“

“Look. Just stay away from me? Alright? I don’t even know why you got involved with me in the first place. I broke your engagement up, I interrupted your life, and I interrupted your friend’s lives.” you say.

“Y/N….Just come with me.” he pleaded. The look on his broken face made you look down.

You suck in a breath and walk to the car. Paul still calls your name. You hide your crumbled up face as the club owner puts out his cigarette, stepping on it and getting into the driver side.

You have your arms folded as he drove to another club way across town. He made you work the pole that entire night. As always, all of the money went to him.

He counted the money in the dirty motel that he picked for the night. He chuckled lowly as he shifted through the piles of bills as you lay on your side, praying for the next day to begin.

“Oh yeah, and if I catch you talking to that same motherfucker, I’ll crack your jaw on his head.” he says. You sighed internally before squeezing your eyes shut.

The next night, you shivered at the cold air. He made you walk the track, the very thing you fought to avoid.

He sits close by, making sure you didn’t run. You try to rub your legs together to try to bring some type of warmth from the friction.

He did give you a mink coat, but the skimpy clothes that he made you wear was still making you cold.

A car pulls up, the window rolls down. The girls nearby all start to walk towards the car with their faces lit up.

Paul’s face was shown and you rolled your eyes.

“Y/N.” he calls to you. You pretend to not hear him. You look up and about as you shift your feet.

“I’ll pay you, just get in the car!” he says.

“Girl if you don’t get in, let me make that money then.” a seasoned girl says to you.

Your eyes discreetly flicker your eyes to the car that was idling. There was no way you were risking or chancing it.

“Paul. Go away.” you say.

Just then, another car pulls in. You then walk up to that one. You ignore the pleas as you lean over the driver window.

“How much?” he asks.

“What do you have?” you ask in a sultry voice.

Paul huffed in anger behind the wheel as he seen you climb into the passenger seat.

The man then turns to you with a poker face. You look on his lap and see a badge. Your eyes widened as he then starts to drive. You slump in defeat.

You sit in the cold cell. You bounce your leg as this was your first ever charge.

“When is my phone call?” you ask.

You were ignored. The police pretended like you didn’t matter. They only talked to you when they had to. They only talked to you when they felt like it. You never felt more alone than you did now in this moment. You blink back tears.

After what it felt like forever, an officer bangs to get your attention.

“You made bail.”

You follow the officer with shaky legs. You prepared for the hits, the yells and screams, and the threats. You practiced your apologies.

“Paul?” you ask as the officer unlocked your handcuffs.

“Let’s get out of here.” he says, motioning for you to come closer.

As you both get outside, you walk in the different direction of the running car.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“Look, I’m in enough trouble as it is.” you say but your feet stops as you felt your body be halted.

“No you’re not. Just come on, you can get something to eat and I know you want to lay down.” he says.

You breathe heavy as you push him. He knits his eyebrows together. His wolf inside of him whined as his imprint was hurting him. Pushing him away.

You push him again with more force. He takes your arms. You pushed against him. He lets go.

“Y/N, they’ll come back out here and try to throw you back in that cell.” he says cautiously.

“Let them! Just let them! Maybe jail is an easier environment. I don’t have to worry about how much money I’ve made! I wouldn’t have to worry about no imprint! The spirits…Or whatever..Punished you, Paul. They gave you someone like me!” you say with such belief. The tears dripping down your face flowed out without your consent.

“That’s not true..” he says quietly.

“It is true! You’re always having to rescue me from something! Let me make it easier for you.”

“I’m supposed to! I want to! Do you think I would like you be in danger?”

“I sure as hell don’t have an answer. Just walk away. I’ll walk away.”

“I don’t want to walk away.” he says defiantly.

“Well you should.” you say without emotion.

“Walk away then what? Go back to the dickhead who takes your money, beat on you, and not even bother to care about you. Where the fuck is he? I sure as hell don’t see him! He made you stand out in the cold and he dipped as soon as you got arrested.”

You don’t say anything as you then turn and walk away. You hear your name but you ignore it. Your breath stutters as you walk.

“Fine! Go! You’ll get tired of it all soon!” he tells you. He was frustrated and angry that you were willing to go back to your chaotic life.

You knock on the door. The home was vibrating with music. It opens.

“I was in the neighborhood. Can I use your phone?” you ask someone who buys weed from the club owner. You came to their home often. This time, you were just alone. They let you in.

“I got arrested and you didn’t even come get me.”

“Girl, I was gonna get you in the morning, be happy your ass is out. Now, you gonna have to stay over there. I’m not driving back out there at this time of night.”

“Are you fucking serious?!” you say into the phone.

“Ooo just wait until you’re face to face with me. I bet you won’t speak like that when I’m in your fucking face. Good fucking night.” he says and hangs up.

You halfheartedly give the phone to the man who let you use his phone.

“What did he say?” he asks as he slides his phone into his pocket.

“Nothing…” you say as you slump into the couch.

The man shrugs. He then pulls out a pipe. You watch in curiosity. He meets your eyes.

“The first hit of crystal is always the best. Man, take me back to my very first blow.” he says the last part in reminiscence as he clicks the lighter. He breaths in, hold, and blow out; you watch as the drug enter his system.

“Here.” he offers.

You slowly swallow as you peered at it in his rough hands. This was the place you had to sleep at for the night, you reach for the pipe but a rapid knock made you jump.

The man was disappointed, he had to get up and open the door instead of hitting the dirty pipe.

As soon as the door opened, Paul bullied his way in, pulling you up to your feet. Your feet follow him out of the home as his car was waiting for him.

“How did you find me?”

“Your scent.” he answers as he stared ahead.

You sit in the passenger seat. As you watch the street in front of you, he asks, “Are you alright?”

That question seemed to trigger something. Your shoulders shudder, your eyes squeeze shut as tears flow out. You couldn’t speak. Your sobs said a lot. Paul winced. There was so much hurt, so much emotion behind a cry. He felt the emotions that were inside, his soul being merged with yours. You feel his hand try to interlace with yours but you shake your head as you sob.

You hear the click of his seatbelt.

You sniffle as he pulls you in his chest as you still sit in your seat.

“Just give up.” you say in a broken voice.

“Now, why would I do that?”

You put a hand to his heart.

“So I don’t keep on hurting this.” you say in a small whisper.

“I would give you my heart to break a million times. I’m not going anywhere. Prepare to get tired of me.” he says softly.

You two stay like that for a moment.

You enter Sam and Emily’s home, the house was showing signs of slumber. You both tiptoe through the home.

“I need a shower. These clothes have been contaminated by the stench of jail.” you say quietly. He quietly gives you a towel as he shuts the cabinet.

He was always there. If not him, someone else, whenever he has to go to patrol.

He walks away and you hold the towel in the bathroom and you touch his arm. He looks to you. You didn’t want to be alone. You look down and fiddle with the towel a bit.

“Can you…Join me?” you ask meekly.

He’s stunned. “What?” he asks quietly.

You shake your head and mutter out, “Never mind.” and close the door but he halts it with a hand.

“Sorry you just….Caught me off guard that’s all.” he says and you pull his arm.

“I just don’t want to be alone right now.” you whisper.

You didn’t expect to feel so comfortable and safe in the warm room that was filled with steam. The water beat and rolled down both bodies that were melded, holding each other tight. It wasn’t sexual. This was just something that you both needed in that moment.

“Promise me something?” he asks very quietly and you felt like your troubles were being washed down the drain.

“Yes?” you ask in a small voice.

“Promise me that you’ll leave it all behind. There’s a life here waiting for you that will welcome you in open arms.” he says back.

“Okay….I promise.”

“I mean it Y/N.” he says.

“I know. I do too.” you say.

Some time went past and you realize you didn’t have the itch to go back to the club life or the streets. You were relieved in a way.

Kissing Paul was fun. Especially right now. You both were sitting across from each other stealing pecks from each other at a diner. He treated you with a breakfast. In this moment, it felt like a dream.

“So, this is where you’ve been instead of making some money.” you hear. You freeze. Anxiety builds within you, swallowing you whole as Paul watch you start to hyperventilate.

Paul turns around. The club owner that you used to work for, the one you tried so hard to please and keep happy, was with another girl. Another victim. She was young, close under him as she looked troubled but you stare at the scenery. That girl used to be you.

Paul doesn’t say anything. He takes a sip of his drink before getting up to his feet.

Face to face with the man who made your life miserable, claiming to making it easier, he stared back at Paul without worry. That was the thing, he was afraid of nothing. That’s what made you afraid.

“The fuck are you gonna-“

A loud thud and he’s at Paul’s feet. One punch was all that it took to knock him clean out. You gasp but you don’t move. Something was deeply satisfying to see him get what was coming to him.

The young girl kneels to his side, shaking him in panic. Paul kneels.

“You should get away from him. He’s no good. You don’t have to listen to me, but time will go past and you will wish that you did.” he says to the young girl. She stared at him as she digested his words.

You get up, walking to the man that fed you lies and empty promises. You kick him, you punch him, you scream in anger. You let it out as he drowsily came to.

Paul lifts you away as the diner employees start to call the police. As you walk outside, you see the young girl take his wallet and leave out with a slight jog. You feel a bit better about walking away.

“That felt so good.” you say as you walk inside of Sam and Emily’s home.

“I bet it did.” he says.

You both lay next to each other, the day was still young.

“They’re not here?” you ask him. He shakes his head no.

“I really appreciate you, Paul.” you say to him sincerely.

“I appreciate you.” he says back. With a slight smile, “For what?”

“For showing me what love is.” he says quietly. Your heart stops.

“Love?” you ask.

“Yeah…I wasn’t sure what love was. Even when I was engaged. Now, it’s clear. I would do anything for you. I would rescue you over and over again. I don’t want to ever spend a day without you.” he reveals.

You never heard someone say that to you before. You lay and press your head to his chest. He gladly holds you. A shudder of your shoulders made him ask, “Did I say something wrong?”

“No. Not at all.” you sniff, “You said everything right. That really means a lot.”

You both share a kiss of appreciation to each other. You show how much you both love being in each other’s lives with such heated kiss. Everything was poured out in such kiss.

His eyes were full of permission and you nodded. He felt the mushy warmth that was in between your legs and you’ve never felt something that felt so right. His hands were so talented as you whisper out his name.

It was intimate. You were a bit self cautious as he took his lips from your stomach, lower to your core.

“Just tell me when you want me to stop.” he says quietly. You nod as you let him open your clenched legs, his hands immediately relaxing them.

You didn’t want him to stop. Your eyes squeeze shut as he felt you hold back. His tongue, the noises, his quiet moans were all too much.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. Just let it out.” he whispered and you allow your body to shudder in pleasure.

With your legs over his shoulders, his hands on your legs as he made his way in with the protruding flesh that teased your entry, you look up to him, “Paul. I think…I do. I love you too.” you whisper.

“I love you more.” he says back. You scoot closer to him and this was silent permission for him to slowly sink into you as you sigh out. You didn’t know that you could produce such feeling. Usually, it would hurt. But this was nice and slow. It felt like he was making you melt.

The tingles that ran through your body made you understand why sex was so good in the first place. You wouldn’t have rather wanted to do this with anyone else other than Paul. His hands rubbing up and down your body made you want to feel this feeling forever.

Emily taught you how to bake. You were appreciative of this. That’s when you got an idea.

Your idea made you happily count money on the bed that was in Sam and Emily’s room.

“Where did you get that?” Paul asks. The look on his face was worried.

“Me and Emily made a killing. We sold desserts.” you say as you let some money fall on him. This made him chuckle a bit.

“I have something to tell you.” he says.

“What is it?” you ask.

“I worked really hard and I got us a place. You can get out of Sam and Emily’s.” he says with a bright smile.

“Really?” you ask in disbelief. He nods. You tackle him in a hug.

“So this means that we can live together?”

“Yes.” he says as he rubs your back.

“This means that I can wake up next to you?”

“Yes.” he answers back.

“This means that I can make you breakfast every morning.”

“Oh, hell yes.” he says and you both share a sound of joy. Giving each other a smooch, you both showed no signs of regrets. He wouldn’t want to go back to his old life. You wouldn’t want to go back to your old life. Having each other, there was no way that there could be any signs of regrets.